Page 4 of Hate You Later
“Oh my gosh, this shit is funny.” Kenna scrolls past a photo of Oliver the cat rejecting second-rate caviar, and another of him fussily inspecting the hospital corners on his owner’s tightly tucked bed.
“Where’s his owner?” she asks. “I don’t see anything about whose cat this is.”
“That’s the crazy part.” I smile. “We’re not allowed to reveal who WE are. We signed a contract at the start of the challenge to only interact with each other in the persona of our pets. It’s like a whole method acting/language immersion thing. No revealing our true identities.”
“Really?” Kenna quirks an eyebrow at me. “So let me get this straight. You do Cookie and this other person does Oliver in all your messages? What are they, like texts? Please tell me you’re not talking on the phone doing a dog voice.” She is looking at me now like I’ve lost it a little.
“No, we don’t do voice chats. Mostly, we leave each other messages in the challenge portal. But sometimes we chat too,” I explain.
Kenna bites her lip and nods. This is clearly very amusing to her.
“I’m just trying to picture you pretending to be Cookie, G. I mean, you’re just such a badass, and Cookie is just so … not.” Kenna has tears forming in her eyes as she attempts to stifle her laughter.
“Hey, now,” I defend my dog. “We’re working on Cookie’s image. Have you checked out her account?”
Kenna shakes her head.
“I know, it seems a little weird. But it’s actually been a lot of fun so far. Almost like doing improv. And therapeutic, in a weird way. I feel like I can say anything as Cookie.”
“Mm-hmm.” Kenna nods. “So, tell us where the naughty doggy sniffed you.”
“Not like that!” I swat her with my napkin. “Oliver is so uptight that I can’t resist winding him up. I keep making Cookie’s posts edgier and edgier just to see how he’ll react.”
“Oh yeah. Testing boundaries. You definitely would like that, you freak.” Kenna leans forward and places her hand on her chin. “This plays right into your whole bad-girl-wannabe thing.”
“What do you mean, wannabe?”
Kenna snorts and rolls her eyes. “You don’t fool me. I know that deep down, you’re secretly a big softie, G. I don’t know why you want everyone to think you’re such a badass.”
“Stop trying to fix me, Kenna.” I exhale. “I am what I am.”
She doesn’t seem to get it. There’s no room for weakness in my life. Helpless animals are relying on me. I might be able to stand letting down people, but not the pets.
“So, are you going to show me your texts with this Oliver?” Kenna asks.
“No!” I object, sliding my phone into my pocket. “Definitely not. It’s private.”
“Oh really.” Kenna presses on with renewed interest. “This is sounding a little kinky, actually. I’m getting soft-core porno vibes here. Maybe you should submit this story to theLit Lovers’podcast for an episode. I bet they’d have a field day with it.” She sets down her phone.
“You’ve been listening to too many episodes,” I chide.
“Maybe.” She shrugs. “But tell me, have you given any thought about what Oliver’s owner is like IRL? What if it’s that guy over there? He looks like he might have a high-maintenance Persian cat in his life.”
Kenna tilts her head toward a grizzled, bandanna-capped biker who’s arm wrestling in the corner. “I think he’s got room for an entire litter of kittens in that beard.”
“Stop!” I try not to snarf my drink.
The truth is, I have wondered about Oliver’s owner. But that’s beside the point.
“I can’t go there,” I say. “It’s probably a little old lady or some nerdy teen. It doesn’t really matter.”
I push the flyer away from me to make room for the bartender to set down our chili fries.
Before I can even lift my fork, Kenna snakes her hand under mine, spearing the first fry.
“Too slow!” She laughs and bites into her chili-sauced French fry. Her eyes half-closed, she moans with delight. “Oh God. I wish I could date these fries.”
“Those fries are totally your type.” I laugh. “Dirty, spicy, terrible for you …”
