by Nic Tatano
“The colorful one is really sweet.”
“Oh, you mean the tortoiseshell.”
“Is that what it’s called?”
“Yeah. You’ve also got a tabby, a tuxedo cat and a Russian blue.”
“That kitten is not blue, it’s gray.”
“That’s what the breed is called.”
“Oh. Well, anyway, I’ve got them covered all this week, so if you could start next Monday. It’s just for a while, then I can find homes for all four.”
“Something tells me you’ll be finding homes for three of them.”
“Rory, I can’t have a cat. I’m gone too much.”
“Cats are great pets for people like you. They’re independent, take care of themselves. Self-cleaning. A lot like you. Though right now you’re missing the self-cleaning part.” She starts to laugh.
“What?”
“You know, this is a good look for you.”
I point at my face. “Seriously? With hair that looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket, no makeup, clothes covered in formula and cat hair?”
Rory nods. “Yeah. The look of a girl who blew off a vacation in the Hamptons for a bunch of helpless kittens. You were the girl who never had a hair out of place, who wore hundred dollar jeans to a charity car wash, who put on makeup and heels to go to the grocery store. Today you look like the rest of us.”
“You don’t look sloppy and disheveled, Rory.”
“I didn’t mean that. While I have always loved you dearly since we met, your career has changed you … made you … well … obsessed with outward appearances and high maintenance. And Jeremy made you more superficial. You used to be this cute freckle faced redhead who was comfortable in old jeans and a sweatshirt and the network tried to turn you into a smoking hot babe with the hair and the ridiculous makeup and expensive clothes. And now I can see a little change.”
“I know, I look like a slob.”
“Not in your clothes, in your eyes. There’s a little something I haven’t seen in a while that you always had before your job. What you did last night for those kittens … well, that’s the real you. I mean, think about it. You get stuck with a litter of orphans, you’re up all night, you break up with your boyfriend … and you’re not remotely upset.”
I cock my head at the kittens. “I guess I’d forgotten where I came from, and they reminded me.”
“Well, good. Tell you what, we’ll do our usual Sunday brunch here today. I’ll call the girls. They don’t even know you’re in town.”
I start to get up. “Okay. I’ll go get cleaned up.”
Rory grabs my hand and stops me. “No. I want them to see this.”
Chapter Two
“Put. The cameras. Down.”
The other two members of my tight circle of friends, Tish and A.J., lower their cell phones as Rory laughs. “Aw, c’mon,” says Tish. “One for the scrapbook.”
I put my hand in front of my face. “Yeah, right. You’d post it on social media and my boss would have a fit when it went viral.”
Tish raises her hands, then slowly spreads them apart as she looks up at the ceiling. “I can see it now. Network info-babe revealed as frumpy cat lady. Film at eleven.”
“Very funny. And I know A.J. would use it to blackmail me at some point in the future.”
A.J. twirls a lock of her raven hair. “Well, I am Sicilian. But seriously, when will we ever have a chance to see you in this condition again?”
Rory nods. “Really. It’s like spotting a unicorn.”
I start to dish out some food onto my plate. “Oh, leave me alone. Can we just eat?”
Tish brushes her shoulder length blonde hair behind her ears. “Okay girls, we’ve tortured her enough.”
I smile at her, our college roommate who is the smartest of our group and was top of her class in law school. She also has the coolest office I’ve ever seen, as she rents space in the Empire State Building. Alas, her courtroom shark persona and seriously high IQ are often intimidating to men. Tish is another of those girls who would be really pretty if she tried, with huge blue eyes she hides behind thick horn-rimmed glasses and a good five-foot-eight body she keeps under wraps. But she’s all business and doesn’t spend much time on appearances, relying on very conservative outfits and hairstyles for the courtroom. She only seems to let that hair down around us. When I need someone for pure logic, she’s my first call. She’s also an incredibly loyal friend and would drop whatever she was doing if any of us needed help.
She reaches for the pitcher of mimosas and starts to pour everyone a glass. “We do have another topic to discuss besides kittens and Madison’s current aversion to soap.”
I glare at her. “Bite me.”
A.J. furrows her brow. “What topic is that?”
Tish locks eyes with me. “The little matter of Jeremy getting his exit visa. Which deserves a celebration, in my opinion.” She holds up her glass. “Cheers!”
I roll my eyes. “I know, I know, you all didn’t like him.”
A.J. pops an olive in her mouth. “I wouldn’t say that. I hated the sonofabitch and wanted to kick his ass.”
“Fine, he’s gone. Just be happy I didn’t walk down the aisle with him.”
Rory takes a bite of chicken. “You never would have exchanged vows. There would have been a chorus when the priest did that speak now or forever hold your peace thing.”
“Right,” says Tish. “You would have had to take a number.”
A.J. shakes her head. “It wouldn’t have gone that far. I would have had him whacked.” It should be noted that while A.J. does not have family in the Mob (at least I don’t think so), she is fond of using Sicilian stereotypes.
A.J. runs her family’s delicatessen here on Staten Island, which is appropriate since she is obsessed with food. Though amazingly while working in a place where she’s surrounded by stuff loaded with calories, the petite woman never seems to gain an ounce. I met her as a customer and we immediately hit it off as I pointed at her nameplate and asked her what A.J. stood for. She refused to tell me so I asked her brother who also works there. Get this: Antoinette Josephine. Yikes. (You can see why she goes by A.J. as a spunky attitude doesn’t go with a name like Antoinette or her Noo Yawk accent.) She of course threatened to have me whacked should I ever speak her real name in her presence. A.J. is a spunky little thing with zero tolerance for bull, both from her dates and customers. But if you want someone in a foxhole who will take no prisoners, she’s your girl. Behind those dark eyes lies the soul of a gunslinger. But the heart is pure gold.
I take a sip of my mimosa as I consider her offer to wish Jeremy into the cornfield. “Very funny. But there’s nothing to discuss.”
“Sure there is,” says Rory. “We’ve got that bridesmaids dress from hell wedding next weekend and now you need a plus one. Either that or spend the day dancing with the usher you’re paired with.”
The image makes me cringe. “Oh, crap. I forgot all about that. I’m not hanging out with the groom’s fifteen year old nephew.”
Tish smiles at me. “Hence, we must find you a plus one. Lest you do the Bunny Hop with a pubescent kid’s hands on your ass.”
I exhale in disgust. “Well, this will certainly be a quick rebound. I’m not wild about a blind date to a wedding, but considering the alternative I have no choice. So, who’ve you guys got?”
A.J. perks up. “My cousin Joey—”
“No!” Everyone shouts in unison.
Tish shakes her head. “Once and for all, please stop trying to fix up that particular relative. He’s un-fix-up-able. We can do better.”
A.J. folds her arms. “Fine, Miss legal eagle. Who are you bringin’ to the table?”
“There’s a guy who just rented the office next to mine. He seems nice.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s he do?”
“Don’t know that either.”
“You wanna fix her up with someone
and you don’t even know his name or what he does?”
“He smiled at me when he moved in and said hello. And he’s got a great ass.”
A.J. rolls her eyes. “Gimme a break.” She turns to Rory. “You got anyone?”
Rory taps her chin with one finger. “Well … there’s this guy from a commercial production house I talk to on the phone a lot but I’ve never met him. He’s funny and seems nice. And I know he’s single.”
“How old is he?” asks A.J.
“Don’t know.”
“What’s he look like?”
“Don’t know that either.”
A.J. slowly nods. “So, let me get this straight … you guys shoot down my cousin and yet all you can come up with is a nameless guy with a great ass and a commercial producer who gives good phone but might be seventy years old, fat and bald.”
Rory pulls out her tablet from her purse, taps it a few times. “Fine, let me go to his company website. Maybe there’s a photo.” She waits a beat, taps the screen a few more times, then smiles. “Ooooh, I think he’ll do.” She turns the tablet around so the rest of us can see.
My eyes widen a bit as I take in the photo of a hot, dark-haired guy who looks about thirty-five. “Uh … yeah.”
“Fuhgeddaboudit. He’s doable all right,” cracks A.J.
Rory smiles as she turns back to her food. “Okay, I’ll make the call.”
I pat Rory on the shoulder. “Thanks.” I start to eat but suddenly it hits me. “Uh-oh. We’ve got one more problem.”
“What?” asks Tish.
“Since we’re all going to the wedding, I need a sitter for the kittens. And speaking of permanent cat sitters—”
“I’ll take a kitten,” says Tish.
“Me too,” says A.J. “Hell, with a deli downstairs, the thing will never starve.”
The teenage girl’s eyes bug out as I open the door wearing a bridesmaid’s dress that was obviously designed during a power failure. “Wow, Miss Shaw. You must be a really good friend to someone to wear that.”
“Kelly, remember this phrase when you start being included in bridal parties. You’ll be able to wear this dress again. Biggest lie you’ll ever hear.” I usher her in to my home, giving her enough room to get by my ridiculously puffy sleeves that look like they’re filled with helium and ready to explode. “I really appreciate you doing this.”
“Hey, I love cats. And we actually had an orphaned kitten years ago. I know the routine.” I point out all the cat supplies on the kitchen table. The tall, skinny seventeen year old brunette is the incredibly normal daughter of a neighbor who lives down the street, a teen who actually speaks instead of having her head buried in a cell phone. But she can’t stop giggling as she looks at my outfit. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude—”
“Oh, you should have heard me while I was putting on this monstrosity.” The orange dress (ghastly color for a redhead, or any woman for that matter) is made of this incredibly itchy fabric with a tight waist that makes my ass look like I’ve had a Kardashian upgrade and an angled hemline that starts at the knee on the right and ends at the ankle on the left. With lovely matching ballet slippers. Then for some bizarre reason there’s a circular thing sewn onto the waist that looks like the hand warmers football players wear during cold games. We’re supposed to keep our hands in there as we go down the aisle. Why, I have no clue. (A.J. says it’s to keep us from flipping the bird at the designer who is a friend of the bride and attending the wedding.) I’ll get to wear it again if a pirate ever asks me to a retro seventies disco when it’s ten below zero outside. Or if Macy’s ever needs an orange float in the Thanksgiving Day parade.
“Well, people will be looking at the bride.”
“Yeah, but they’ll be laughing at the bridesmaids.” I hear the car horn outside and know the girls are here to pick me up. “Okay, you’ve got my cell if you need anything.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Shaw, the kittens are in good hands.”
I crack open the door, hoping none of the neighbors will see me but as luck would have it the weather is spectacular and everyone is outside on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. I quickly rush for the car. The guy who lives across the street spots me, starts to laugh, pulls out his cell phone and points it at me to take a photo.
I practically dive into the back seat before he has a chance.
Rory is behind the wheel with Tish riding shotgun while A.J. is next to me. “Drive! Now!”
Rory turns around. “What, you don’t want the neighbors to see you dressed like the Sunkist blimp?”
“Just go!”
She turns back, puts the car in gear and drives off. “Count your blessings. At least you’re not the only one wearing this.”
“Yeah, but I’ll be the only one with a photo that goes viral.”
After a ceremony during which all the people in the church, including the priest, tried their best not to laugh during what is now referred to as “the procession of tangerines”, we all make it to the reception, where thankfully there is an open bar. Of course the bartender can’t help himself and starts laughing as I approach since this outfit just cries out for something sarcastic. He grabs the orange juice and vodka, quickly makes me a Screwdriver. “The perfect accessory for your … dress,” he says, as he hands me the drink.
“Very funny.” But at this point I just need alcohol, so I keep it. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn around to find Rory with my blind date.
It’s all I can do to keep my jaw from dropping, as the guy is even more handsome than his photo. About six-three, short dark hair, deep-set dark eyes, a classic anchorman’s square jaw, and filling out an expensive dark gray suit like a model.
“Madison, this is Rob.”
He extends his hand. “Great to meet you, Madison.”
I shake it as I can’t help but stare at this Greek god. “Uh, yeah, you too. Thanks so much for bailing me out today.”
“My pleasure. I feel like I already know you since I watch your network. You look very different in person.”
“I would imagine since we all just got here from the citrus queen pageant. The talent competition knocked me out.”
He laughs. “I didn’t mean the dress. You look more … real.”
“Well, they do pile on the makeup at the network.”
Rory lightly touches my arm. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”
“Thanks again, Rory.”
“Yes,” says Rob. “Thank you.” He gestures toward a table. “Shall we?”
It’s very late and I’m slightly buzzed as Rob drives me home. Thankfully he has ignored my hideous outfit and we are really hitting it off. He’s a fabulous dancer and a gentleman, with his hands not going anywhere they weren’t supposed to be. Even during the Bunny Hop.
I can’t help but think how much has changed in just a week all because I inherited a box of kittens. How much I’ve changed. And how quickly I am putting Jeremy in the rear-view mirror to the point I can’t even see him.
Pretty easy with a guy like Rob as my escort.
I point at my house as he turns onto my street. “I know it’s late, but would you like a nightcap or some coffee?”
“Sure, that’d be great.”
I look at my watch and see it’s just after midnight. “Well, it’s past twelve. I guess I didn’t have to turn into a pumpkin since I already look like one.”
He laughs as he pulls into my driveway. “So, you ever gonna wear that thing again?”
“If I’m the grand marshal of a Halloween parade. The minute we get inside I’m getting out of this dress.” He gets out of the car, walks around to my side and opens the door for me. “Thank you, kind sir.” I lead him to the front door just as Kelly opens it.
Her eyes widen as she checks out my date. “Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah. Rob, this is Kelly. She lives down the street and was my sitter tonight. So, were the little guys okay?”
“I was just about to feed them again.�
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“I’ll take care of it, Kelly.”
Rob’s face immediately tightens and he puts up his hands. “Whoa, you never said you had kids.”
“I don’t. C’mon in, I’ll show you.” I quickly pay Kelly and thank her. She leaves and I lead Rob over to the box of kittens, beaming like a proud parent. “Aren’t they cute?”
“You hired a babysitter for a litter of kittens?”
“They’re orphans. The mother cat died. So they have to be bottle fed every few hours.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” The tortoiseshell starts meowing, so I pick it up. “This one’s my favorite. Feel how incredibly soft the fur is.”
He actually backs up a step and puts up his hands again. “Uh, that’s okay.”
“What, you don’t like cats?”
“Not a big animal lover. They’re as needy as children.”
Oh, shit. Is he another Jeremy?
I hold the kitten out toward him. “C’mon, he won’t bite.”
The kitten looks at him and hisses.
Well, so much for that. I pull the kitten back. “Tell you what, Rob, I’ll let you feed one and maybe you’ll change your mind.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Can’t you do that later?”
“No, they’re hungry now. They’re on a feeding schedule. It won’t take long. Half as long if you help me.”
“I thought when you said you wanted to get out of that dress … well, you know …” He gives me a seductive look.
“I meant I was gonna change into something normal.”
He moves forward and takes my shoulders. “Well, regardless of what you meant—”
Anndddd … cue the red flag. “No. For God’s sake, Rob, we just met.”
The kitten lets out a guttural growl.
I back away. “Rob, just so we’re clear, I invited you in so we could have a drink and talk some more.”
“I think we had enough conversation at the wedding. Look, Madison, we’re both adults—”
“Apparently one of us isn’t. Get. Out.” (I’m getting good at this, huh?)
“Seriously?”
I point at the door.
He glares at me, shakes his head, says nothing, turns around and leaves.
