Rusty Nailed (Cocktail 2)

“Look at that view,” I whispered.

“I’ll say,” he muttered from below, peeking up my nightie. The next thing I knew, he’d wiggled me right out of my coordinating panties.

And with the ruffled bottoms abandoned, the pink nightie pushed up around my shin, Simon brought it on home.

And goddamn it if he still didn’t find a way to bang that headboard.

Thump.

“Be careful . . . Oh, God . . . That’s new paint . . . Oh, God.”

“You want me . . . to be . . . Christ, Caroline . . . Careful?”

Thump thump.

“Well . . . maybe . . . a little . . . Oh, God . . . Simon!”

“There’s my Nightie Girl.”

Thump thump thump.

• • •

“Simon?”

“Hmm?”

“You awake?”

“Huh-uh.”

“Just wanted to tell you I love you.”

“Mmm.”

• • •

“Caroline?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you too.”

“Mmm.”

• • •

“Caroline?”

“Mmm?’

“You wanna fool around?”

“If I said no, what would happen?”

“I’d lie here next to you, thinking dirty thoughts.”

“Would they be about me?”

“They’re always about you.”

“Really?”

“You’re literally my fantasy girl.”

“Okay, it’s getting a little thick in here.”

“Speaking of getting thick . . .”

“Oh, kiss me, you big Wallbanger.”

• • •

I sat straight up in bed, body tense and hyperaware. Why had I suddenly awakened? At . . . 2:37 a.m.?

Simon was curled up on his side of the bed and snoring.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled, my skin pebbled into gooseflesh. Something was up, but I couldn’t put my finger on . . . Wait, what was that?

I ran to the window, peering out into the darkness. Nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary. I crept back into bed, not able to shake the feeling that— Oh my God.

“Simon!” I ran out the door and down the hallway. The tiniest hint of a thought took hold on a corner of my heart as I raced downstairs, hearing Simon call out to me as his feet hit the floor. I flew down the stairs, across the living room, and into the dining room. I plastered myself against the window, searching, not wanting to let this feeling take hold, because I couldn’t bear it if it wasn’t . . .

Meow.

It can’t be. He doesn’t know where—

Meow.

“Simon!” I screeched, and he ran around the corner, brandishing a bat.

“Is someone in the house?” he asked, whirling about.

I burst through the patio doors with Simon right behind me, hope now blooming fully and out of control.

There, on the grass right below the dining room window, was Clive. Licking his paws like it was no big thing.

“No way,” Simon breathed behind me as I sank to the ground and opened my arms.

Clive washed his ears like he had all the time in the world, then slow-trotted over to me with the biggest kitty grin I’ve ever seen. He tried to play it cool, but I could hear his rusty purr from four feet away. Tears ran unabashedly down my cheeks as I sobbed on the ground, holding my cat. Who purred and purred and purred. He was skinny, he was muddy, he was cold, and he was back.

Simon crouched next to me, running his hand down Clive’s back as I held him tightly. “There’s a good boy,” he said over and over again as he stroked him and scratched between his ears. When Simon’s eyes met mine, they were shining brightly.

I stood finally, clutching my Clive. I cooed and coddled him, telling him that he could never do that again or I’d kill him, and he could eat steak all day, every day. Simon just smiled as Clive head butted him, eager for more boy-on-boy lovin’.

As I turned to take him into the house, he suddenly dug in with his hind legs and jumped from my arms, running back into the bushes he’d disappeared into weeks ago.

“No! Clive, no!” I yelled.

But before I was even two steps across the lawn, he poked his head back through. He came out, and seemed to shrug his left shoulder. And there, materializing almost out of nowhere, was another cat. A tiny calico, round and plump, with the sweetest face I’d ever seen. She rubbed against Clive, then sat companionably next to him.

“Who’s your friend, Clive?” I asked, kneeling down once more, not wanting to spook them.

Simon crouched next to me and whispered in my ear, “Looks like our boy’s got himself a girlfriend.”

Clive nodded at Simon wisely, and I smothered a laugh.

“I always thought it might be fun to have another cat. Think she belongs to anyone?” Simon asked.

“How do you know she’s a she?”

“Oh, she’s a she, all right,” he responded, and Clive once more nodded at him. If they were closer, a paw bump would have occurred.

Then Clive seemed to shrug his right shoulder, and there before us was a third cat. Beautifully adorned with the most gorgeous long, dark silver fur, she had gleaming green eyes and delicate features. She nuzzled against Clive, who was now flanked with stunning pussy.

“I can’t believe it,” I breathed as Simon chuckled.

“I suppose having three cats isn’t that different from having two, right?” he asked.

“Simon, come on. We can’t have three cats. I mean, can—”

Clive cleared his throat as if to say ahem.

And then, pushing her way in between the plump calico and a grinning Clive, there was a third newcomer. She was playful, bumping into the other cats and throwing herself on the grass in front of Clive, rolling on her back and letting out the funniest little sounds. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was giggling.

“Fuck me—he’s got himself a harem,” I swore, and Simon could no longer contain his laughter. As I shook my head, Clive tended to his ladies. Herding them together with a bap and a nip, he paraded them across the lawn and, one by one, into the house. Just as Clive crossed the threshold, he turned back to us. Leaning against the door frame, he regarded us with all the love in his eyes a cat can muster. Which is a lot. And when the catcalls started inside, he winked.

“Oh for God’s sake,” I said through a face-splitting grin. Still laughing, Simon extended his hand to me.

Linking my fingers through his, we walked across the lawn and into our home, where Clive and his ladies were waiting.

Epilogue

The Last Word

I set off on patrol, keeping track of all the new smells in this new territory. It was different from the last time I’d been here. Shinier in some ways, baubles scattered here and there for me to play with. Two shelves filled with curious bottles for me to knock off. Thoughtful. I’d investigate that further tomorrow. Tonight I had other things on my mind.

For weeks I’d roamed the wilderness of this strange city, boxed in by mountains on one side and water on the other. Water I’d learned the hard way not to trust, fast moving and not drinkable. Saltwater, the captain of the Highsteppers called it. The Highsteppers were the wisest gang of street cats I’d come across in my travels, tough but fair. Not at all like the Whisker Sours, who were just mean.

I’d been offered membership in the Highsteppers, which was a great honor that I appreciated. But I knew which side my Pounce was buttered on and I knew the Feeder must be looking for me. I scoured the hillsides, searching for the home I’d accidentally run from.

Here’s the truth, which no cat wants to admit. We long to be outdoors; we long to run and jump and prance and play. But . . . and here’s the secret . . . you can’t let us out.

Because we can’t always find our way back.

I was one of the lucky ones. I never gave up. I knew how much the Feeder must be missing me, and I couldn’t have that. But then? I found the ladies. Or rather, they found me . . . But that’s a story for a different day.

I knew my people would be so happy to see me, they’d not deprive me of my new lady friends. Now those ladies were safely tucked into a pallet constructed of blankets underneath the coffee table. The Tall One had originally put the bed right out in the open, but I tugged it under the table, knowing my ladies were used to sleeping under more cover. That’s the difference between being smart and being street-smart. The mean streets of Sossa Leeto had taught me that.

I continued to check the perimeter, monitoring a tree branch that was making an unpleasant scratching sound against a window on the east side. Not an immediate threat, but I’d keep my eye on it. I made my way into the dining room, facing down the window that had led to my greatest and most harrowing adventure of my nine lives. I tested the repair; it seemed solid. I gazed at the outside, which had always seemed so big and beautiful and full of excitement. It was.

But now, as I turned to look out over this quiet space, inside, full of nooks and crannies to nap and bathe and run and play, I realized that this was a great adventure as well.

I truly was wise beyond my ears.

Chuckling at my own joke, I left the window and made my way upstairs. As I passed my ladies, I could hear their deep breathing; they were sound asleep. I’d tuck myself in with them soon. I had a spot on the back of my neck that needed cleaning, and it was so much easier to group bathe.

Entering the room of the Feeder and the Tall One, I regarded their sleeping forms. Nothing had changed while I’d been gone, I was pleased to see. The Tall One was curled into a ball on one side, the Feeder sprawled out like a starfish. I’d seen one of those in the saltwater.

Jumping onto our bed, I sat on the pillow between them, wanting a moment with my people. Stretching out so that my front paws rested on the Feeder’s forehead, my back paws touching the Tall One’s chin, I at last relaxed.

I was home.