by Rick Hautala
“Did you see—“ she started to say as she turned around to her co-workers, but Billy and Chris had their handcarts full of books and were already heading out onto the sales floor. By this time, the Beatles were halfway through “Dear Prudence.“ Manda had a mountain of returns to send out, so she put the whole thing out of her mind and got to work.
2
“Hey, you,“ Rob, Manda’s boyfriend, called out as she stepped into the apartment and eased the door shut behind her. She latched the dead bolt, even though they had never had any trouble in the two years they had lived on Munjoy Hill.
“Hey me,“ she replied automatically as she slumped out of her jacket and hung it on the peg by the door beside Rob’s sweatshirt. “How was your day? How’d the writing—?“
She stopped herself when her gaze shifted down to the faded, peeling linoleum floor of the entryway. The braided rug her grandmother had given her as a high school graduation present was gone. She glanced into the closet by the front door, but it wasn’t there, either.
“Hey, Rob?... Where’s my rug?“ She stayed where she was, unable or unwilling to move until she found out what had happened. The rug had been special to her. It was the last hand-braided rug her grandmother—who had died almost six years ago—had made.
The scuffing sound of Rob’s bare feet on the floor drew her attention. He appeared in the doorway, a crooked half-smile on his face.
“Rug...?“ he said, cocking his head to one side and looking like a dog who was listening to a high frequency whistle.
“Yeah. My hand braided rug.“
Manda fought back the urge to shout. It had been a hard enough day at work. The cut on her wrist was still stinging, and she didn’t need this right now.
“You know... The one my grandma made for me. Remember...?“
Rob gave her a blank stare. No longer smiling, his mouth hung open, making him look absolutely stupid.
“The blue and gray one...with the three roses in the middle...“
Rob looked at her expectantly as though waiting for the punch line of a joke he wasn’t quite getting.
“Come on, Robbie. Stop teasing. What’d you do with it?“ Rob took a tentative step forward, then halted as though not feeling entirely safe getting too close to her.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Manda.“
He looked past her, focusing on the wall for a moment, then shifted his gaze back at her.
“Jesus, Rob! It’s been in front of the door since before you moved in. You can’t tell me that you don’t...“
Her voice trailed away as she studied Rob’s confused expression. It wouldn’t surprise her if he’d been smoking pot instead of writing today. Maybe he was putting her on. His eyes seemed clear enough, but she could never tell for sure with Rob.
“Tough day at work, huh?“ he asked as he stepped forward and gave her a hug and kissed her lightly on the cheek. He placed one hand on the back of her head and pulled her close.
“You might say that.“ Manda’s voice was muffled against his chest. “A real bitch! That bastard Aceto started in on me first thing this morning, and he didn’t let up all day.“
“I’m telling yah. You should talk to a lawyer about charging him with sexual harassment or something. That asshole’s been making your job... What’s the legal term for it? ’An unsuitable work environment.’ Yeah, that’s it. He’s making that place an unsuitable work environment for you.“
“To hell with him,“ Manda said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. She broke off their embrace and walked into the living room. Letting out a low groan, she eased herself onto the couch and just sat there, staring blankly out the living room windows. In the corner of the room, away from the distracting view of the city outside the window, was Rob’s writing desk, cluttered as always. The desk light and computer were on, so it sure looked like he had been working.
Manda jumped and let out a little squeal when Muggins, her three-year-old, grossly overweight tiger cat, jumped up onto the couch and started rubbing his head against her thigh.
“Hey, guy,“ she muttered, reaching down and scratching the top of his head. Muggins flopped onto his back and began kneading her leg with his claws. Within seconds, the room filled with his motor-boat loud purring.
Manda leaned back and closed her eyes, lost for a moment in the comfort of her cat. She didn’t even think about what Rob might be doing. Maybe he was looking for the missing rug, but she couldn’t believe him, pretending like he didn’t know what she was talking about.
Silence settled into the room, broken only by the Muggins’ steady purring and the muffled sounds of traffic through the closed windows. Before long, Manda slipped off into a deep sleep.
3
The rest of the week went about as well as Manda could have expected, considering her boss was on her case about every little thing he could think of. He criticized her for the way she handled a cash return with a particularly rude customer; he threatened to write her up for taking too long a break on Wednesday; and he complained several times in one day that she hadn’t gotten all of the returns boxed and shipped fast enough.
She didn’t care.
Even if he fired her, she was sure she could find another job—a much better paying job, too—without too much effort. If Jason gave her any more grief, she was ready to quit on the spot. What she wasn’t ready for was when Psychic Black Holes, which she’d returned to Swann Press on Monday, showed up at the store in Thursday’s mail.
“Christ on a crutch,“ she muttered as she regarded the padded book bag stamped “Return to Sender“ in bright red letters, front and back. She had been shift leader for three hours yesterday because Tim, one of the assistant managers, had called in sick. There were mountains of returns she hadn’t had time to scan out of the system, so her first response was to toss the package onto a shelf until she could get to it. Maybe it’d still be there when she got the nerve to quit. The next person in charge of returns could deal with it.
But she hesitated, hefting the package in one hand, knowing it contained a book she really wanted to own. Hesitantly, she placed it down on her desk beside her now-cold cup of coffee. The back room was deserted, so she sat down at her desk. Sighing, she leaned forward and cupped her chin with both hands, staring long and hard at the package.
“Who would know?“ she muttered, glancing around the vast, book-cluttered room.
It would be so easy to slide the book into her backpack and walk out with it. Even if, sometime in the future, Jason noticed that the return credit never showed up, she would claim that the book must have gotten lost in the mail, or maybe imply that the publisher was trying to screw the store out of the money.
Either way, she’d have the book, free and clear...clear, that is, except for her conscience.
“Yeah, damn it.“
She huffed as she reached past her cold coffee and picked up the package. A terrible sourness filled her stomach. Her hands were clammy as she wedged her fingertips under the stapled flap and started to rip it open.
She let out a cry when an upraised prong of a staple sliced the underside of her forefinger. Dropping the package to the desk, she shook her hand to relieve the sudden sting of pain, then held her finger up to inspect the wound.
It wasn’t so bad.
Not even an inch long.
But the staple had cut deeply. The wound spread open like a tiny eye slit with a bright red bead of blood for an eyeball. Placing the wounded finger in her mouth, she gently sucked on it. The faint, metallic taste of blood teased her tongue.
When she pulled her finger from her mouth and looked closely at the cut again, she decided that she didn’t even need a Band-Aid. Her breath caught in her throat when her gaze shifted down to her desk. A corner of the returned book was sticking out of the padded envelope, and two drops of her blood glistened like miniature rubies on the edge of the black, faux-leather cover.
As she reached to wipe the blood away, something peculiar h
appened. Later that day, Manda all but convinced herself that it had been simply a trick of the light, or maybe there was something wrong with her eyesight; but as she stared at the book, the rich, black tone of the leather cover darkened and swelled. A momentary wave of dizziness swept over her, and before she could react, she watched as the fake leather absorbed the two tiny drops of blood. After they were gone, a hint of deep, dark scarlet swirled inside the textured black cover.
“That is so weird,“ she muttered, taking a quick step back.
“What’s weird?“
The male voice, speaking so suddenly behind her, startled Manda. She let out a sharp squeal and spun around to see Billy, crouching beside his book bin next to a cart stacked with books.
“How long have you been here?“ Manda asked, gasping.
Billy grinned and shrugged as he shot her a lopsided grin.
“Whaddayah mean? I’m just loading up my cart.“ He hesitated, then added, “All right. You caught me. I was reading on the job.“ He held up a book, but Manda couldn’t read the title. “Promise you won’t turn me in to the big bad boss.“
“Yeah—sorry,“ she said, feeling more than a little humiliated. “I was just...“ Her voice drifted off, and she chanced another glance at the book on the table. “You startled me, is all.“
“Yeah. I do that to a lot of people.“ His charming grin spread across his face and in a goofy cartoon voice, he said, “It’s what Tiggers do best.“
Manda couldn’t help but laugh at his impersonation. It was actually quite good. She always found Billy amusing, even when he was cracking crude jokes that many of the female employees found offensive. It was only because of him, she realized, and a few other employees that she stuck with her job here. They were about the only thing that made it tolerable.
Just then, the backroom door swung open so hard it banged against the wall. Jason strode over to the returns station. His gaze immediately fixed on the returned book, and he glared at Manda.
“I thought I told you to return that.“
Looking past him, Manda caught Billy’s eye. Jason’s back was to him, and Billy was twisting his face into a sassy, sour expression. He looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon.
“Yeah, I—I’ll do it first thing today,“ she muttered, avoiding eye contact with Jason because she knew if she looked him in the eye, she would either start laughing hysterically or else run, screaming, out of the store.
4
Later that evening, when she got home from work, Manda did scream. She had put in an extra hour at work trying to catch up and, as a result, had missed the bus she usually took home. Almost two hours later than usual, just as the sun was setting, she got back to the apartment and discovered that Rob wasn’t there. She found a yellow Post-it note stuck to the refrigerator, informing her that he had gone out to Gritty’s for a few beers with Marty and Sheena. She should join them, if she wanted to.
“As if,“ Manda mumbled as she crumpled up the note and tossed it toward the trashcan. She missed but left it where it had landed between the wastebasket and the refrigerator. Opening the refrigerator, she scanned the shelves for something to eat. When her gaze alighted on the half-opened can of cat food covered with Saran-Wrap on the bottom shelf, she realized that Muggins hadn’t greeted her at the door. Turning quickly, she scanned the darkening apartment.
No dark blob on the couch where Muggins usually slept...
No silhouette on the windowsill, looking longingly out at the city lights...
“Muggins...?“ she called out, her voice twisting up as she moved into the living room. She couldn’t ignore the icy clutching sensation in her stomach.
“Muggsie...?“
No answering meow from the bedroom...
She glanced at the floor by the window where she kept Muggins’ litter box. The litter was undisturbed, exactly the way she had left it this morning before rushing off to catch the bus to work.
“Damn, if that jerk let Muggsie get out...“
Manda stomped to the front door, undid the deadbolt, opened the door, and glanced up and down the dimly lit hallway.
Of course, the cat wasn’t there.
Muggins was an indoor cat. Living in the city, he had to be, but Manda knew if he ever did manage to get out, he’d be off chasing pigeons and rats, or wandering the alleys. A dull, burning sensation stung the back of her eyes. Her vision blurred as tears gathered.
“Muggins...?“ she called out softly, looking up and down the corridor once more, then drawing back into the apartment and closing the door.
“Oh, Jesus! Oh, fuck! Goddamn!“ she shouted in frustration.
She clenched her hands into fists and pounded her upper thighs. It’d be just like Rob to space off something like this. Muggins had probably slipped out without him even realizing it...probably darted between his feet and bolted when he was leaving to meet up with Marty and Sheena at the bar.
Or maybe that’s why Rob had gone down to Gritty’s...because he knew Muggins had gotten out, and he didn’t want to face Manda’s wrath when she got home and found her cat was A.W.O.L.
So mad she was sputtering, Manda strode over to the portable phone by the couch, grabbed it, then fished the telephone directory out of the desk drawer. She looked up the number for Gritty’s and hurriedly dialed. A woman answered on the third ring. Manda asked if she would check to see if Rob Stone was there. The woman wasn’t very helpful. She said they didn’t have a PA system, but Manda told her it was a family emergency, so the woman said she’d check.
Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, Manda stalked back and forth across the living room floor while waiting for the woman to get back to her. She was surprised when she heard Rob’s voice above the background din of the pub.
“Hey, what’s up, babe? You comin’ down or what?“
“Where’s Muggins?“ Manda snapped, so suddenly and loudly it sounded to her like a bark over the phone.
After a short pause during which all she could hear was the background noise of the crowded bar, Rob spoke up.
“Huh?“
Manda exhaled loudly, imagining for a moment that her breath was a ball of dragon’s fire that could melt the mouthpiece of the phone.
“Muggins! My goddamned cat, you moron! You didn’t let him get out this morning, did you?“
There was another pause, longer this time. When Rob finally spoke, he sounded confused and tentative, like he thought she might be playing some kind of practical joke on him.
“I—ah, look, Manda.“ He didn’t sound at all sure of himself. “I...umm, I have no idea what you’re talking about, ’kay? A cat?“
“Jesus, Rob! Yes! A cat! My cat, Muggins! He wasn’t in the apartment when I got home from work. If you let him get out, I swear to God I...I’ll...“
Her voice trailed away because, in fact, she had no idea what she would do. Probably end up plastering PET MISSING posters on the telephone poles in the vicinity of their apartment building. Over the years, she had seen plenty of missing pet posters around town and had always considered it a touching but futile gesture.
What were the odds that a missing pet would ever show up?
The city had more than its share of stray cats and dogs, and if a pet was really valuable, chances were it had been stolen to be resold.
But Muggins was no prize. As much as Manda loved him, he was nothing but a “mutt cat,“ as she lovingly called him. If Muggins was gone and missing, it meant only one of two things—either he was wandering around scrounging for food...or else he was dead, maybe flattened by the same city bus she had taken home from work that day.
“Manda? Honey?“ Rob said.
Manda could barely hear him above the music and laughter in the bar. She took a steadying breath, trying hard to focus.
“Muggins...is...missing,“ she said, enunciating each word so there would be no mistake. Tears spilled from her eyes and ran like drops of heated oil down both cheeks. “If you know what happened to him, just tell me. Eve
n if you fucked up and let him get out or something, just fucking tell me, okay? Otherwise...otherwise...“
“I haven’t got a fucking clue what you’re talking about, babe,“ Rob said. Manda detected a slur in his voice and guessed that he had been at the pub for a while. “As far as I know, we don’t—you don’t even own a cat.“ He sniffed with laughter, like he was still half-expecting a punch line. “You always told me you were allergic to them, remember?“
“Wha—“
Manda’s voice choked off. She had no idea what to say to that.
Had Rob gone nuts?
Or did I?
What the hell is he talking about, no cat?
She glanced over her shoulder at the refrigerator. Moving swiftly, she walked over to it and flung the door open. Bending down so fast both of her knees made loud popping sounds, she started to reach for the can of cat food on the bottom shelf when her hand suddenly froze.
It wasn’t there.
The opened cat food was gone.
The only thing on the bottom shelf was Rob’s twelve pack of Miller Lite and something that looked like either very old meat or very new cheese.
“Where’d it go?“ Manda whispered into the phone. Her voice was like metal filings, shredding the inside of her throat.
“What’s that babe?“ Rob yelled. “I can’t quite hear you.“
Manda backed away from the refrigerator, pausing in the doorway to glance into the living room to the corner where she kept Muggins’ litter box.
It wasn’t there, either.
Moving slowly, like she was walking in a dream, she went over to where the litter box should have been and stared down at the threadbare carpet. Even if Rob had taken it out and emptied it, which wasn’t very likely, and then forgotten to put it back, there wasn’t a trace of litter in the corner from when Muggins scratched the fake sand to cover up his poops.
“What’s going on?“ she mumbled, no longer aware that she was still talking into the phone. “Jesus Christ! What in the hell is going on?“
“You gonna join us or what?“ Rob asked. His voice buzzed like an insect in her ear, but Manda made no attempt to understand what he had said. Her hand felt suddenly heavy and numb as she lowered the phone from her ear, switched it off, and let it drop to the floor. When it hit, it sounded like the plastic casing cracked, but she didn’t care.
