Page 28 of Reinventing Cato
He stood under the shower and felt like bashing his head against the tiles.How is this different? I’m with a stranger in a motel and we’re going to have sex and never see each other again.
So much for his New Year resolution. So much for his developing a conscience, though Vigge had to be on the same page as him. This was a one-off. Two strangers who’d part ways at Heathrow. So why was Cato thinking of more? Was he mistaking that feeling in his chest for something other than lustful anticipation? He liked Vigge. He’d spent longer talking to him than he had any of his recent hook-ups. Cato didn’t know much about him, but he wanted to know more. Quite an irony that he was probably about to be hoist with his own petard. Vigge was after a one-night stand, and he wasn’t.
Cato was quick. By the time Vigge returned to the room, he was back in his priest’s outfit, but he’d exchanged his glasses for contact lenses.
“I’ve paid,” Vigge said, then gaped at him. “You’re going down like that?”
“I’m saving my other clothes for the interview.”
Cato didn’t have to wait long for the food. Maybe Vigge had lingered downstairs to give him more time in the bathroom.Or to call the boyfriend he said he didn’t have to tell him he’d be back tomorrow. Or call his wife?Cato swallowed, but the lump in his throat didn’t shift. Vigge had said he didn’t lie, but wouldn’t a liar lie about not lying? How did Cato even know he was a policeman?
Maybe he’d ask a few more questions before things went too far. Or maybe he’d just take what he could get. Might as well break his New Year resolution in style.
When Cato got back, he found Vigge wet-haired and barefoot, but wearing the same clothes. Cato took off his boots.
“Have you washed all your important bits?” Cato asked.
“Such as?”
“Behind your ears? Between your toes? Your navel? Your little fingers? Those are all your erogenous places, right?”
“Yep, yep, yep and yep. And no.”
“Well, I’ll just have to lick and nip you all over until I find every one of them.”
Vigge made a choked sound.
“Don’t worry.” Cato grinned. “My teeth aren’t sharp. Only on a full moon. Oops. Itisa full moon.”
“It’s a crescent moon. Are you sure you’re an astrophysicist? And I thought I had to deal with the werewolves? Why are they a problem for you?”
Catolovedthat he’d picked up on what he’d said. “I’m irresistible to my kind. It makes life difficult. I have to keep running. Unless it’s snowing.”
They sat on the bed to eat, their backs against the headboard. Cato clicked on the TV and found a news channel.
“Wow, look at that,” Cato said.
Snow was the main story. There had been heavy falls over the entire country. There were cute shots of kids sledging and people skiing down streets, but the overall transport news was dire. The trans-Pennine routes were closed and there were miles of queueing vehicles in Devon and Cornwall.
“If we’d carried on, we might have got stuck,” Cato said. “I think stopping was sensible.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Are you always sensible?” Cato stared at him.
“Not when it’s a crescent moon.”
Cato smiled. He hadn’t been sure he’d be able to eat but once he’d started, he found he was hungry. Plus, it was likely he’d not get anything else to eat until after his interview. He didn’t need that conversation punctuated by a noisy stomach.
“Is your drink okay?” Vigge asked.
“Did they tell you it was Cristal? Because it’s the wrong colour. They lied.”
Vigge huffed.
“I’d never pay that much for champagne,” Cato said. “I was once at a champagne taste test party and the most expensive came second to last. Though no one had brought Cristal.”
“Cristal is nice.”
