Must Love Cats

by Brown, Tara

  I take a selfie and send it to my group chat with Liz and Shawnee.

  Immediately, both respond with praise and compliments.

  My confidence over the whole outfit soars as I walk from the bathroom. Rod is in a navy pinstripe suit with shiny black shoes. He has his mustache winged into something a villain would wear and his eyebrows are darkened, likely with my eyeliner that I’ll now have to throw out. His hair is darker than normal as it’s slicked back with gel. “How do I look?” he asks.

  “Good.” I wait for him to compliment me back, but he doesn’t. Punishment for the heels, though the one-and-a-half-inch heel on his shoes still make him half an inch taller than me. “Then let’s get going before we’re late.” He turns on his huge heel and strides out of the room.

  I can’t tell if he’s annoying me with his childish behavior or if I’m just over this, deadening myself in preparation for us separating eventually.

  How has this become my life?

  Sighing, I walk to the front door.

  The ride is silent for the first ten minutes. I spend it agonizing over the fact I’ll see Elaine. Will she come to me right away and make up a story or apologize in hopes I don’t tell Brent? Or will she simply laugh at me, thinking I’m pathetic for staying? Does she love Rod? Worse, does he love her?

  My stomach twists into a ball my dress doesn’t have room for. I push the thoughts to the back of my mind and decide to pretend everything is fine. It’s not something new at this point.

  “Do you have your character memorized?” Rod asks, finally speaking to me. “When I talked to Paul earlier, he made it sound like there wouldn’t be any reading of the cards. They wanted everyone in character and no breaking it. You say the things to the people you have been instructed to say them to and stay in character all night.”

  “No. Have you?”

  “Nope.” He laughs. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I was thinking we could sneak the cards in and carefully peek at them when we need to.” He shrugs.

  “Why would they ask us to do this party?” I groan. “They don’t even know us.”

  “We want them to like us so he hires us to manage all his properties and not just the ones in Dartmouth.” He leans over, offering his cheek for me to kiss. Forcing myself to keep the peace, I place a soft peck, leaving behind bright-red lipstick and not bothering to wipe it away. It suits the villain eyebrows and villain soul.

  Paul and Saroula’s house is stunning. It’s a Mediterranean oceanfront mansion on the edge of Point Pleasant Park, quite near our office. It’s a dream house and suits the murder-mystery parties they’re famous for. This is our first time going since Rod started managing some of the buildings Paul owns across the harbor in Dartmouth.

  Brent and Elaine have been before, as Elaine is Saroula’s yoga instructor and Brent is practically as rich as Paul, with several franchises in his holdings.

  We are the odd ones out, a property manager and an accountant, but Rod likes to pretend we’re nearly as wealthy. Exaggeration wouldn’t come close to describing that lie.

  A valet opens the door for me, and another takes the keys from Rod when he hands the man our invitation. The valet nods and points to the enormous double-door front entryway.

  “Thanks,” I say and walk up to the door, trying to discreetly adjust my Spanx.

  “Good evening, Professor Callow and Ms. Fortescue. I see you carpooled. How efficient of you.” A man I do not know greets us wearing an expensive suit with a pocket watch and monocle. His mustache, as well as his whole look, reminds me of something from a Sherlock Holmes remake. He’s older, maybe sixty, but quite handsome and fit. “I am Lord Bartholomew and will be your host for the evening, for it is I who has invited you here.” He opens the door wide for us, revealing the most magnificent entrance I’ve ever seen. “Please come in.” His flawless English accent suggests he might in fact be from the UK.

  Rod and I walk in. Immediately, our jackets are taken by two members of the staff who are dressed for the period.

  “Everyone else is waiting in the parlor.” Lord Bartholomew offers me his arm. I take it, glimpsing back at Rod with nerves fluttering about in my stomach. He shrugs, also wide-eyed and worried.

  The parlor is filled with people. Some I know, most are strangers. Everyone is dressed to the nines and in perfect period attire.

  Brent sees us and comes over, smile wide and hand out. He’s incredibly handsome in his old-fashioned breeches and waistcoat. I don’t understand how Elaine could possibly think to cheat on him, and not with someone like Rod. Brent is successful and wealthy, sure. But he’s also considerably better looking than Rod and way fitter. “Captain Emerita, at your service, milady. I’m currently in the city on rest.” He takes my hand and kisses it delicately.

  “Ms. Fortescue, a friend of the family. Charmed,” I say, trying desperately to keep a straight face.

  “Professor Callow,” Rod adds, taking Brent’s hand. “Nice to make your acquaintance.”

  Brent reaches with his long arm and drags Elaine over as she pretends to be too busy talking to another woman. “And this is Lady Godin. She is the heiress to a massive whiskey distillery.”

  The good thing about being so tall is Elaine is way below my eyeline. Even in her short heels she is only five foot two, maybe.

  “Milady,” Brent bows, making Elaine giggle. Her eyes don’t meet mine and she doesn’t greet me. I’m assuming guilt has her tongue. I don’t offer anything back and instead take in the massive room. But if the lights go out and weapons are nearby, she could be the murder mystery we’re solving tonight.

  The host begins speaking, introductions are done, and the first round begins, though it is not indicated or spelled out. Everything is subtle and everyone else is good at this.

  “These people are not messing around, Lil. You need to bring your A game,” Brent whispers when he catches me sneaking a peek at my conversation card in my purse. His mannerisms and jovial nature suggest Elaine has not told him about the weird phone call I intercepted. Her evasiveness toward me is read loud and clear. She doesn’t want to talk about it. And since we have never gotten along, likely because she was having sex with my husband, there is no reason to talk at all.

  I’m fine with that but haven’t yet taken murdering her and Rod off the evening’s itinerary.

  The party moves fast and the drinks are potent. I’m struggling with maintaining sobriety, remembering my character, and the possibility this will turn into some weird Eyes Wide Shut sex game at some point.

  After four rounds of double drinks, Rod asks if I have had any. I tell him one. He is already on his way which is great. He can get trashed and loosen up. God knows what he’ll reveal.

  The fifth round is done and we are now to make our guesses as to who we believe is the killer. It’s anonymous so I write Elaine’s name down and say I think it because she is a home-wrecking whore.

  Lord Bartholomew reads the answers as we gather in the study for the last time. When he says my answer aloud, everyone giggles. Elaine’s laugh is forced but her red face is obvious. Rod doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t meet my gaze though I am staring right at him.

  When midnight is close, I make my way down the hall to the powder room, trying not to talk to anyone. With my back against the closed door, I relax, exhaling deeply for the first time. The Spanx cuts in and I stare at myself.

  I’m a stranger.

  I make my way to the sink and give myself a long hard look as the clock strikes and the crowd in the house goes crazy. I wonder if Elaine and Rod have snuck off to a dark corner to kiss. Are there people who know about the affair?

  It’s there in a random moment of clarity, I promise myself I will humiliate them both as badly as they have done to me. I lean in, whispering, “Happy fucking New Year’s, Lil.”

  I stare at my reflection, expecting her to wink back. She doesn’t, and I’m not drunk enough to hallucinate it. But the glint in her
eyes, my eyes, suggests this is it. The end of the line as far as bullshit is concerned. I need to start taking this, my life and my happiness, more seriously.

  Chapter 8

  January 1, 2020

  The physio office is exactly where James described when he called to tell me Sam had made me a special appointment although the office isn’t technically open. It’s in a gym which makes me feel awkward walking in. I haven’t been in a gym in a decade. And being nearly thirty-six, I have to assume it’s pretty obvious to the trainer’s eye I don’t work out.

  An eye I catch the moment I step in the front door.

  “Hey, happy New Year. How’s it going?” a stunningly handsome man calls from the counter he’s wiping with cleaner.

  “Oh uh, good. Thanks.”

  “You looking for the physio office?” he says with a smile, obviously aware I’m not here to work out. Especially not with how stiff I am.

  “Yes, I have an appointment. They managed to squeeze me in thanks to a—friend. I have a concussion.” It comes out quickly as a weird overshare. My discomfort at being here is palpable.

  “Cool. Yeah, they’re good like that. Linnie’s a great physiotherapist. You’ll love her. Door to the left, just past the washrooms.” He points me in the direction I’m meant to go.

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” He says it and reminds me of Joey from Friends, but shorter and thicker. He flashes me a charming smile, the kind you can’t help but sigh after seeing. Yup, Joey.

  Tearing my gaze from him, I make my way to the hallway and find the door to the office. I knock and it opens quickly.

  “Hey.” A beautiful redhead with a strong but lean build answers, “You must be Lilly. I’m Linnie.”

  Why are they all so hot?

  “Hi. Yes, Lilly.” And apparently, I now cannot form full sentences. This is going to be magical.

  “Nice to meet you. Well, come on in and let’s get to it.” She flashes a bright white smile. Her teeth are stark compared to her tanned skin. “Ignore the blinding choppers. I was forced into a bikini bodybuilding photo shoot two weeks ago. The fake tanning and teeth whitening that goes into it are more than my norm.”

  “Oh, it’s nice. So bright. Reminds me of my mom’s schnauzer.” The statement is insane to anyone who doesn’t know Teddy, who has the whitest human Chiclet teeth you’ve ever seen. But this girl cannot possibly know Teddy. I’ve compared her to a dog.

  “That’s the weirdest thing someone has ever said to me. I’m not even gonna sugarcoat it for you. Weirdest.” She bursts out laughing and I want to crawl under the sofa and die there. I’m just not certain I could make it to the floor. “You and I are going to get along great. My sister is crazy awkward too. Always makes me laugh.” She closes the door behind me, shaking her head. “I need to see this schnauzer.”

  “I’m so sorry. He just—he has the whitest teeth.” With trembling hands, I pull out my phone and find a photo of him in my reel, flashing it at her.

  “Oh damn. That is weird. He has tiny man teeth. Look at him. Why are they so white?” She takes the phone and zooms in on his little face.

  “We don’t know.” I snigger inelegantly. Exactly how this entire session is going to go.

  “My teeth aren’t even that white. That’s impressive. Does your mom floss and brush those?”

  “No. He came that way.”

  “How old is he?” she asks as she hands me back the phone.

  “Four.” I turn off the phone. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean you look like a dog.”

  “No, please. It’s fine. That was funny. And he’s an incredibly handsome little man.” She gives me another blinding grin. “Now, Sam said you were in a car accident and have a serious concussion and some residual effects of a dislocated shoulder and whiplash? That sounds nasty.”

  “It was,” I say with a breathy exhale, grateful to be moving past the awkward dog conversation. “Thanks so much for seeing me on such short notice. And on New Year’s Day.” I feel awful about her squeezing me in.

  “I was coming in for a workout anyway and Sam knew it. I’m so happy to be able to help. Concussions are serious business. Especially when it’s a KO. So let’s get to it.” She claps her hands and offers me a seat on the couch. She sits on a large workout ball. Her energy levels are frightening.

  She is stronger than she appears since she’s at least five inches shorter than I am. The exercises she forces on me are awful. But by the time I’m leaving and she’s waving goodbye from the doorway, I already feel better. Completely wiped but better.

  “Well?” the Joey guy asks from where he’s Swiffering in the corner by the front door.

  “You were right, a miracle worker,” I reply.

  “You’re in good hands with her. Linnie’s the best. Did she mention anything about you needing to start working out to rebuild some muscles?” He lifts his dark eyebrows.

  “Yes, there might have been a mention of working out. I agreed to look into it,” I lie.

  “Well, we have a top-notch facility here and a New Year’s resolution package. You want a tour?” he offers with a hint of flirtatiousness. It twists my stomach in knots to have a sexy man flirt with me. I assume that’s a bad sign. I’m damaged beyond repair.

  “Oh, uhhh, I have to get home. I’m beat. A rain check?” I ask, not wanting to be flirted with. Maybe never again.

  “Of course. Have a great day.”

  “You as well.” I wave.

  “Lil!” Sam calls from behind me as I reach the door.

  “Hi.” I wave awkwardly with my good hand and head outside into the cold day. It doesn’t feel like a new year. It’s got a real “same old bullshit” vibe to it.

  “You need a ride home? I’m headed there now,” Sam asks as he catches up.

  I want to say no but waiting for a cab with the clouds overhead threatening to snow seems like a stupid idea when the car sits not ten feet from us, and I’m close to passing out with exhaustion. “Sure. That would be great.”

  “How was the appointment with Linnie?”

  “She is just as you said, a concussion wizard.” I walk to the car. He gets the door for me. “Thanks.”

  “Watch the head,” he says with a laugh.

  “Shut up.”

  That makes him laugh harder.

  When he gets in, he offers me that smile, the one that pushes in his dimple. “She gave you a list of workouts?”

  “She did. Not before I completely humiliated myself though.” My cheeks flush and I close my eyes, replaying the dog comment in my head.

  “Oh no, not the nervous chattering?” he asks as he starts the car.

  I wince, not loving that he knows me so well even after all this time.

  “You know you have to tell me.”

  “Why am I so awkward?” I ask in a whisper before explaining, “Linnie’s teeth are insanely bright white from a bodybuilding photo shoot she did.”

  “Yeah, they all fake tan, whiten teeth, and shrink wrap for those photo shoots. She’s ripped, huh? So tiny and feisty and strong. Team Canada for rugby before she focused in on her career. Now she plays for fun and assists the team when she can.” He sounds smitten with her. That makes two of us.

  “She did mention she played rugby.” I contemplate her for a second and mutter, “She might be the coolest girl I’ve ever met.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Anyway, I told her that her white teeth reminded me of my mom’s schnauzer.”

  “That’s a weird thing to say, Lil.” He chuckles and turns at the light, driving less like the crazy person he did when he was younger.

  “Not if you’ve seen the schnauzer,” I defend myself and pull up the picture again.

  When he stops at another light, I show him.

  “Oh yeah. Those are funny teeth. So white, like Chiclets. He’s cute.”

  “His name’s Ted.”

  “Ted the schnauzer.” He nods approvingly and drives to our building.

 
“Thanks for getting me the appointment,” I say, needing to thank him again.

  “No problem. I knew she was coming in to work out today anyway.”

  “Are you two dating?” I ask offhandedly.

  “God no. She’s way out of my league.” He glances over as he pulls into our building’s underground parking and winks.

  “That’s fair,” I say with a chuckle. “Are there men in that league?”

  “No, she’s amazing. And truthfully, Linnie is more like a little sister to me than anything. She’s the only physiotherapist I send my concussed patients to. She’s brilliant at her job.” The joking is gone. “And she’s a bit young. She’s only twenty-eight.”

  “And you’re nearly forty.” It’s my turn to wink but for some reason I blink. I’m a mess.

  “I’m only thirty-eight! I have two years.” He hurries around the car and stays close by, maybe watching to ensure I don’t fall walking through the underground parking lot.

  “Isn’t your birthday in April?” I remind him. “You’re nearly thirty-nine.”

  “And yours is in four weeks. You’ll be thirty-seven. I don’t know why you’re so cocky about me turning forty when you’ll be right on my heels.” He grins and gets the elevator.

  “I’m twenty-nine plus taxes, thank you very much.” I use the line Shawnee always says.

  His face brightens. “Twenty-nine plus taxes? I’m using that from now on.”

  “On all the sexy nurses at work?” I chuckle and step into the elevator.

  The joy vanishes from his face, but he tries to muddle on. “Yeah.” He struggles with something I’ve said for a moment before turning back to me. “Has Rod contacted you at all yet?”

  “No, he’s a pathetic coward,” I answer and turn to the shiny metal doors, catching my own reflection as the joy slips from my face too. I think we’ve unintentionally wounded one another.

  The silence that follows is uncomfortable.

  “Thanks again for helping me out,” I say, trying to rescue us from this heavy air and cramped space.