The Lost Cats and Lonely Hearts Club

by Nic Tatano

  He nods and gives me a soulful look. “Yeah, I saw that interview you did on the morning show. Must have been tough. Not exactly a normal childhood.”

  The memory makes me cringe a bit.

  He notices. “Sorry, Madison. Didn’t mean to bring it up. I’m sure it’s not an experience you want to re-live.”

  “That’s okay. Actually, it did some good. I’ll be doing some promotional work for Child Social Services to help raise adoption awareness. Try to find some good homes for kids.”

  “You have a good heart, Madison.”

  “I’m no saint. If you’d met me a month ago, you’d be sailing with a different girl. Actually, you wouldn’t have invited me.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Oh, believe it. You know those people in every newsroom who will steamroll anyone to get ahead? That was me. I think I left footprints on some backs climbing up the ladder.”

  “Seriously? I can’t picture you like that.”

  “Yep, that was me. Honestly, Jamison, I had lost my soul. My ambition stole it and I forgot where I came from.”

  “So what changed you?”

  “The kittens. Hard to believe, huh?”

  “Obviously they brought out the real you.”

  “I’m still in shock. It feels like this is my true personality. I went from bitter foster kid to driven reporter to … well, I’m not sure yet.”

  “I am. You’re a good person.”

  “If that’s the case, I’m a work in progress. But I like what I see in the mirror lately.”

  We’re heading to his home after a wonderful day of sailing. I feel invigorated after being on the water, breathing the salt air, just relaxing and enjoying nature. The beautiful beach homes are capturing my attention. “All these houses are gorgeous.”

  “Yeah, and many of them have been here a long time. Most of them even survived Hurricane Sandy.”

  “Like you said, Jamison, older stuff was well built.” I point toward a spectacular home up ahead. “I love that one with the tile roof. You don’t see those too often in this part of the world.”

  He pulls into the driveway. “I was hoping you’d like it.”

  “No way. This is yours?”

  He nods with a big smile. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  “This is your little place on the shore?”

  “It’s a roof over my head.”

  “Damn, Jamison. How in the world do you ever leave this lifestyle and get to work?”

  He gets out of the car, comes around and opens the door for me. “When it’s weather like this, I call in sick. But I can do that since I own the place.”

  I lean back on the teak bench next to Jamison as the sunset lights up the wispy clouds with reds and oranges. “I have really enjoyed the day, young man. Can’t thank you enough. Everything was wonderful. The trip on the water taxi, sailing, lunch, dinner, sitting here looking at the ocean. It’s been perfect.”

  “It would be perfect if we were looking at the Pacific Ocean. We’re stuck with the sunrise here. Gotta go west for the sunsets.”

  “Sky is still gorgeous.” I turn to face him. “Hey, after the sun goes down, know what I’d like to see?”

  “What?”

  “Some of the stories you did as a reporter.”

  His face tightens. “Uh, I really didn’t keep any.”

  “Seriously? C’mon, don’t be shy. I won’t rip your stories apart. Every reporter keeps old resume tapes of their greatest hits. ”

  He shakes his head. “Not this one. My reporting career was so frustrating I choose not to remember it, like it was a different life. I threw everything away when I left the business.”

  “That’s kinda sad, Jamison.”

  “Well, when you get stuck in the middle of nowhere for years and can’t get out, that’s not a memory you want to re-live.”

  “Yeah, I guess I can understand that. But I’ll bet you were good with that great personality.”

  “Thank you, but you’re ten times the reporter I ever was. I really wasn’t cut out to work in journalism even though I’m a news junkie. I’d rather hear about the stories you’re working on. And I’m much better at what I do now.”

  I look around the property. “Yeah, considering all this, I’d say you made a good decision. Long as you’re happy and don’t miss the business.”

  “Honestly, I don’t give it a second thought.” He looks at his watch. “Oh, almost forgot. You have a decision to make.”

  Uh-oh. What’s this? “About what?”

  “The last water taxi leaves in forty minutes. I can send you back on that or drive you home.”

  Whew. Thought he was going to hit me with something serious. “I’ll take the taxi. You know how bad Sunday night traffic is going back to the city, especially during the summer. And you’ve done enough today.”

  “You sure? I don’t mind.”

  “You’ll be in the car for four hours. Besides, I’m sure the view of the Statue of Liberty from the water is spectacular with the thing all lit up.”

  “It is. Well, then, we need to get going in about ten minutes. And there’s one other decision.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Can I see you again?”

  “Seriously, Jamison? You have to ask?” I lean over, take his head in my hands, and give him a soft kiss. “You can take that as a yes.”

  I’m enjoying the view, sitting on one of the outside benches on the water taxi as it passes Miss Liberty illuminated in all her glory, when my cell phone beeps. It’s been such a back-to-nature technology-free day I haven’t checked the thing since this morning. I pull it out and see I’ve got a text that is several hours old.

  Made it to Virginia okay. Thanks again for the ride to the airport. Can’t wait to see you again. Talk soon …

  -Nick

  Annddd … cue the dancing guilt demon.

  My next thought is that I need a hug from my kittens.

  Chapter Twelve

  The newsroom is buzzing as usual with tales of weekend adventures as I arrive on Monday morning. Thankfully there are no cat supplies on my desk.

  But my boss is leaning against it with a smile.

  I toss my purse on the desk as I face him. “Okay, Barry, you’ve got that look like you’ve got a story I’m going to love.”

  “You’ll like what I’m about to tell you more than any assignment I could possibly give you.”

  “The network fired the consultants?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Be serious, Madison. Hell hasn’t frozen over. But it’s almost as good, at least from your point of view.”

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Waddaya got for me?”

  “It came out of your live shot with the kittens on the morning show. Corporate noticed that the response has been overwhelming and hasn’t stopped.”

  “Yeah, I know. People love the kittens and the bottle feeding video.”

  He shakes his head. “Not that. It was the way you looked.”

  Now it’s my turn for the eye roll. “Oh, shit. So let me guess … corporate got emails from people about the fact my hair wasn’t done and I looked like I rolled out of bed. Probably because I did.”

  He shakes his head. “Just the opposite. Viewers loved the fact that you looked so natural.” He hands me a bunch of papers. “Check out some of the emails.”

  I take the papers and begin to read.

  “Madison Shaw is so naturally cute! Why doesn’t she look that way all the time?”

  “Stop trying to make Madison look plastic on the evening news. Love the natural look.”

  “No offense, Miss Shaw, but I love that you look like the rest of us at six in the morning.”

  “She’s a real person who wears sweatpants? Who knew?”

  “Lovin’ me some freckles! Don’t ever cover them up again!”

  I look back at Barry. “You gotta be kidding. People like me as a frump?”

  “You’re not remotely frumpy. I didn’t pr
int out the ones from men who … well, you can read them later if you want a good laugh. Or an ego boost.”

  “Fine, so people like me natural. I like me natural.”

  “Well, now corporate wants you that way all the time.”

  “Rolled out of bed in sweatpants with my hair looking like I stuck my finger in a light socket?”

  “No. Without makeup. And from now on you do your own hair. In other words, the way you look right now is fine for high-def.”

  I point at my face. “This is actually okay.”

  “Yeah.”

  “For network television.”

  “Yep.”

  My eyes widen as does my smile. “I don’t have to get plastered with pancake anymore?”

  “Nope. You’re not wearing makeup now, right?”

  “Correct. Not a bit.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, you are camera ready, young lady. And don’t touch a hair on your head.”

  “So does that also mean the Little Mermaid can still do hard political stories and maintain credibility?”

  “You bet. Your job description doesn’t change. You’re still my top political reporter.”

  “Woo-hoo!” My scream of joy makes everyone in the newsroom turn to me. “Hey everyone, I don’t have to wear makeup anymore!” I open my desk drawer, take out the makeup kit I use in the field, and execute a perfect basketball jump shot sending it into the waste basket. Jennifer the diva practically tramples people as she dives for it, then pulls it out of the trash, beaming like she’s caught the bride’s bouquet.

  Barry then hands me another sheet of paper. “Glad I made your day. Now here’s your assignment.”

  I look at it and see a political investigative story. My favorite. In this case, the ultimate.

  One I’ve been begging to do for years.

  One that every political in reporter in America has failed to break.

  The Great White Whale.

  Another huge smile. “Are you kidding me?”

  “The new CEO hates the guy. Told me personally to turn you loose. His exact words were, ‘Give Madison carte blanche on this. I want that sonofabitch out of office and in jail.’”

  “You’re not yankin’ my chain, are you, Barry?”

  “Nope. Knock yourself out. You need time off the street, photogs for stakeouts, you got it. But since you know the guy’s reputation, please watch your back. The game he plays is beyond hardball.”

  “He doesn’t scare me.”

  “That’s one reason you’re getting the story.”

  I arrive home from work Monday evening to find Rory and Jeff the veterinarian chatting in the living room, each holding a kitten. My pulse spikes. “Oh my God, what happened?”

  Jeff smiles. “Nothing, Madison.”

  I rush to check the tortoiseshell sitting in Rory’s lap. I take him from her, hold him up and look at him. “So they’re okay?”

  “Relax, they’re fine. I came over to help you start weaning them off the bottle. I think it’s time to teach them how to drink from a dish.”

  Big smile. “Seriously? No more bottles?”

  Rory shakes her head. “You’re so easily thrilled these days. I can only imagine how excited you’ll be cleaning the litter box.”

  “Hey, you’re not the one getting up at two in the morning.”

  Jeff stands up with his kitten. “You still have to get up and give them their formula. They can’t exactly use a can opener and you can’t leave the stuff out all night.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “And you have to make sure each one gets the right amount of food. C’mon, class is in session.” Jeff leads us into the kitchen and I see he already has a saucer, a spoon and some formula on the table. He sits down with the tabby while Rory and I watch him pour some of the formula into the saucer. “Okay, we need to teach the kitten to make the connection that the formula is in the saucer.” He dips his finger into the formula and holds it to the kitten’s mouth. The tabby eagerly licks it off. “Now we put a little in a spoon.” He holds the formula filled spoon in front of the kitten and it starts to drink. “Okay, let’s see if he can figure it out.” He puts the kitten on the table next to the saucer and it quickly starts drinking like a normal cat.

  “Wow, he picked that up fast,” says Rory. “Okay, Freckles, your turn.”

  I follow the procedure with the tortoiseshell, holding my finger in front of him. He doesn’t do anything but purr. “C’mon, little fella.” Still nothing.

  “Be patient,” says Jeff. “He’s curious like any cat and wants to learn. He’ll figure it out. Instinct will kick in.”

  Finally the kitten sniffs my finger and starts to lick the formula. After that he licks the spoon clean and quickly makes the connection, joining the tabby already lapping formula from the saucer. I’m beaming like a proud parent. “I taught my kitten to eat!”

  Rory laughs. “Like I said, Doc, she’s easily excited.”

  Tish and A.J. arrive a half hour later for dinner, which will feature leftovers from Saturday night since we made a ton of meatballs and sauce. I was told earlier that an emergency meeting was being convened due to the fact that, a) I had missed Sunday brunch; and b) I was dating two men at the same time for the first time in my life and had two different dates within twenty-four hours. My friends are concerned I have gone off the rails due to the fear of becoming the crazy cat lady spinster of the neighborhood. And that my only friend would be the curmudgeon down the street who sits on his porch waiting desperately to yell “get off my lawn” at kids like Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino, but not being successful since children don’t play outside anymore.

  And, of course, they know I’m dealing with guilt. In spades. Though I’m not sure “coveting” two single guys at the same time is against the rules. I’d check with my priest, but it would be too embarrassing and he thinks I’m a nice girl.

  Tish, being the lawyer, officially brings the meeting to order as we begin dinner. “Okay, explain yourself.”

  “Regarding …”

  “The witness is directed to answer the question.”

  “Fine. I wanted to learn how to cook. How do you like my meatballs?”

  A.J. shakes her head. “Stop being evasive. You know damn well why we’re here.”

  I twirl some pasta onto my fork. “Why, because after a string of bad dates and a boyfriend you wanted to wish into the cornfield, I happen to meet two nice guys at the same time?”

  “Because this isn’t like you, Freckles,” says Rory. She points at her plate. “Neither is this. Damn, this sauce is terrific.”

  “Thank you, but it’s A.J.’s recipe. As for the guys, it’s not like I’m sleeping with multiple partners, which you know I would never do. I just had two very enjoyable first dates on the same weekend.”

  Tish nods. “I see. You do know we need to vet both of them.”

  “You’ve already met the cop.”

  “Yeah, for thirty seconds,” says A.J.

  Rory is focused on her dinner. “He’s okay with me. I wanna know about the other guy. You should have already prepared a dossier for us. Since we do, after all, now have veto power.”

  “Veto power? When the hell did this happen?”

  “We voted on it when you weren’t here Saturday night.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, here’s the deal. His name is Jamison Rogers and he owns a production house where we shot those public service announcements for cats the other day. We have a lot in common since he used to be a TV reporter. He has a beautiful home on the Jersey Shore and took me sailing. He has this gorgeous boat named Miss Right since that’s who he’s looking for.”

  A.J. laughs. “Most guys are looking for Miss Right Now.”

  “Oh, stop it. He was a perfect gentleman. Didn’t make a move. Actually, I had to make the first move.”

  Rory drops her fork and looks up at me. “Excuse me. Something in this sauce is making me hallucinate. What the hell did you put in this?”

  “Oh, s
top it.”

  A.J. rests one hand on my forearm. “This is not you, honey. Why did you of all people make the first move?”

  “Because I did it the night before with the cop and it worked.”

  “Whoa!” A chorus from my friends as their hands go up and the eating stops.

  “What?”

  A.J. turns to me. “You jumped the cop’s bones? I was kidding.”

  “I didn’t jump his bones. I told him to kiss me.”

  Rory studies my face. “And what possessed you to do this?”

  “Duh-uh. Cute guy with his arm around me and I wanted to be kissed.”

  Rory turns to A.J. and Tish. “I think what we have here is a Freaky Friday scenario.”

  “I agree,” says Tish.

  Now I stop eating. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Look,” says Tish. “Since you got out of college you have been a kick-ass reporter who’s not afraid of a damn thing and a single woman terrified of hitting on a man. Since those kittens came into your life, the roles have reversed, just like the personalities switching bodies in the movie. You gave up the dream assignment of the Presidential campaign and now you’re taking the initiative with men. It’s Freaky Friday, the multiple personality edition.”

  “I agree,” says A.J. “Her professional and personal personalities have switched.”

  “Damn,” says Rory. “If we let this continue she might turn into a cougar.”

  I stop for a moment and consider what they’ve said. “Y’know, what you guys are saying actually makes sense. I’m not afraid of men anymore and my career has become secondary. What the hell happened to me?”

  “Meow,” says Rory, wearing the appropriate Cheshire cat grin as she points at one of the kittens.

  Tish starts eating again. “Anyway, back to the two men on your dance card. We need a post-mortem.”

  “Fine. Cooked dinner for the cop Saturday night, and he was impressed, so thank you A.J. for your help. Since I couldn’t get a sitter for the kittens we didn’t go out and he brought a movie. He helped me feed them and then we moved on to the movie.”

  “How was he with the cats?” asks A.J.

  “He likes cats. Oh, my favorite crawled in his lap and purred. A very good sign.”