Black Cat Crossing

by Fitz Molly

  I tracked back to the kitchen and found my phone waiting on the counter. I had three missed texts, all from Debbie.

  Hey. Feeling a bit under the weather. Not sure I can make it tonight, the first read. That had been sent just over half an hour ago. Talk about short notice! How was I supposed to find a replacement at this late hour?

  The next message was worse still: Feeling a lot under the weather now. Rain check?

  Rain check? Seriously? This event was happening tonight, with or without our DJ.

  Sorry. Will see if I can find a replacement.

  That was sent ten minutes ago. I hated this. Confrontation was not my forte, but neither was failure. Yes, this event was huge and convoluted and crazy, but we’d already put so much work into making this night a success. I refused to let a case of the sniffles ruin that.

  I took a deep breath and braced myself for the uncomfortable call ahead. Before I could hit the button to place that call though, I received a new text from an unknown number.

  Hey, this is Max. My friend Debbie said you need a DJ for tonight. How much does the gig pay?

  I clenched my jaw. Debbie had agreed to do it on the house. Apparently she hadn’t passed that bit of info on to Max. Still, I’d rather pay for the help than take over the job myself. I already had a million and one things to oversee, and Nan hated my taste in music as it was.

  And so I typed back: $100?

  Sold. Text me the location and I’ll be OMW. Cash only btw.

  Yeah. I didn’t have one hundred dollars on me tonight. In fact, I never did. Credit cards existed for a reason, but fine. Maybe we could pay Max from the donations jar, and I could write a check for the shelter to make up for it.

  Yes, that would have to do. I definitely didn’t have time to rush to the bank so close to go time.

  I sent Max my address and then shoved the phone in my bra for safekeeping. I couldn’t risk missing another cancellation or delay just because the dress Nan forced me to wear had no pockets. No pockets! What kind of dress has no pockets?

  Octo-Cat sauntered into the kitchen with a smug look stretched between his whiskers. “I left you a present on your bedspread,” he announced with a chuckle.

  Please be a hairball and not a dead animal, I mentally pleaded, choosing not to directly acknowledge my jerk of a cat. Yes, I knew he was upset about the shelter cats being in his room, but I also didn’t have time for this.

  I’d deal with this “present” of his later.

  People would start arriving any minute, and I needed to make sure everyone had the time of their life. Happy partiers meant big donations, and the animal shelter could sorely use every single dollar they could get.

  My job tonight was to get those dollars.

  Game on.

  Chapter Three

  Five minutes before the event was scheduled to begin, a hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back.

  I spun to see my grandmother wearing a floor-length gown in hot pink with a large billowing skirt and an incredibly low neckline. She’d completed the look with a pair of ruby stud earrings and a tiara, which was nestled beautifully before a mountain of gray curls that had been piled on top of her head, adding at least three inches to her height.

  “You look amazing,” I whispered breathlessly. Leave it to my seventy-something grandmother to look sexier than not-quite-thirty-yet me.

  “And you look much better now, too,” she said with an approving gaze.

  “Where have you been? It’s almost go time.”

  “Hey, it takes time to look this good.” And then perhaps realizing how vain this sounded, she added, “This will be the first time Grant sees me all gussied up. I had to go big. There’s—”

  “No going home,” we both finished together, then giggled.

  “I’ll be the floater tonight. Can you be the greeter?” Nan motioned toward the door.

  “And I suppose you want me to take their coats, too?”

  “That would be perfect,” she said with a grin. “See, you’re a natural!”

  And with that, she swept into the main room to check over details I’d already personally attended to, leaving me to wait for our first guests so I could roll out the one-woman welcoming committee as instructed.

  The order of events was to be as follows:

  Formal Auction

  Formal Dinner

  5K Fundraiser

  Dance Party

  Both pet adoptions and the silent auction would be happening all night long. The silent auction had been stationed in the upstairs hallway, and the pets were waiting nearby in Octo-Cat’s bedroom with their two designated volunteers. Yes, there were two different styles of auction for the event—and, yes, it was most definitely confusing.

  Although we had a rather stately home, every square foot of space would be filled that night.

  Sure enough, guests flooded into our home the moment those doors opened. I lost track of time as I exchanged hellos, took coats, and directed everyone to the formal auction in the next room.

  Hello. Coat? Auction!

  Again and again it went.

  Nan’s boyfriend, Mr. Grant Gable, came to help me at some point when he saw how overwhelmed I had become keeping up. More than likely Nan had sent him over.

  “What a party!” he said with that warm grin of his. His cufflinks sparkled with what appeared to be real diamonds. I’d expect nothing less from the proud jeweler.

  “If everyone offers some kind of donation, the shelter will be in great shape after tonight,” I agreed. “I thought this Frankensteined event would be too much, but apparently folks in Glendale like to live a little dangerously.”

  He chuckled. “That’s your nan for you. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

  Someone bumped into me from behind, knocking me right into Mr. Gable. Oof.

  “Sorry. Setup’s pretty heavy. By the way, I’ll need my payment up front.” The guy set his load on the floor, almost dropping it on my foot in the process, and pushed a greasy lock of overgrown hair from his face.

  “You must be Max,” I said, putting on my best, most tolerant smile as I appraised his holey jeans and wrinkled T-shirt.

  “Yeah.” He sniffed, but didn’t offer his hand in greeting. Probably for the best, considering how much dirt appeared to be caked under those nails of his.

  “Um, did no one tell you about the black-tie theme?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  Max shrugged and sniffed again. “They told me. That’s why I’m wearing a black shirt. See.”

  “Ah ha. Yes, I see.”

  “C’mon, young man,” Mr. Gable intervened, tossing me a wink as he put his hand on Max’s back and pointed him in the direction of the living room. “I’ll take you where you need to go.”

  “Thank you,” I mouthed when the charming old-timer glanced back over his shoulder and gave me a thumbs up.

  “Hello. Can I come in?” a woman asked from the doorway. She wore a sparkly red dress with a slit cut all the way up the side a la Jessica Rabbit. Even had the heavy purple eye shadow to match. Unlike most of the others in attendance, I’d never seen her a day in my life. I definitely would have remembered if I had.

  “Yes, yes. Welcome to the Black Cat Benefit,” I said, then did jazz hands for some inexplicable reason.

  Jessica Rabbit offered me her hand fingers down, like I was supposed to kiss it. I shook it awkwardly instead.

  Remembering myself and my responsibility here, I smiled and pointed. “We’re starting with the auction. Just to your left in the main room. Have a nice time.”

  Eventually the guests came fewer and farther between, making my post largely unnecessary. Satisfied with a job well done, I decided to check in with the auction and watch Charles in action.

  I slipped in with my back pressed against the wall, and my eyes locked on him where he stood on a small podium that Cal had erected just before the party began.

  He held up a dark brown fur coat and raised an eyebrow at the crowd. “Our ne
xt item is this authentic 100% mink coat. Kind of an odd choice for an animal charity event, but a luxury item nonetheless. Can I start the bidding at $200?”

  The Jessica Rabbit clone clapped her hands together and told all who would hear that she had been the one to make such a generous donation to the cause.

  Meanwhile, no one was bidding.

  “Do I hear $200 for this beautiful coat?” Charles pressed.

  People whispered to their neighbors, cleared their throats, shifted on their feet, did anything but bid.

  Nan stalked over to my side and put a hand on my shoulder to get my intention. “Probably shouldn’t have approved that item, but the donor was insistent.”

  I pushed my lips in a firm line and waited.

  Poor Charles looked so uncomfortable up there. “How about $150? I’m sure this would retail for much higher. If not a fine gift for yourself, how about purchasing it as an investment piece. Eh?”

  The sooner this moment was over, the better it would be for all of us. Maybe I should have bid on it and then sold it over eBay, giving any profits to the shelter. I was just about to speak up when someone else beat me to the punch.

  “I’ll go $100,” a nasally voice said from the back corner of the room where the DJ booth was still being assembled. Max.

  “Going once,” Charles sputtered. “Twice? Sold to that guy!”

  People clapped politely.

  Max smiled to himself and continued to work on his setup.

  Charles moved on to the next item, a pastel landscape painting from one of the ladies at the local retirement home. Needless to say, far more people wanted to bid on this item than its predecessor. I remained close by as the auction continued to its end.

  “Anything I can do to help get ready for the dinner?” I asked Nan, who’d stood at my side for the last half hour or so.

  “Oh, yes. If you could start getting people seated on the other side. Cal and his team will add the tables in over here, and I’ll direct the wait staff in the kitchen.”

  So I would be the hostess again.

  I nodded, committing to the plan like a good granddaughter, then asked, “Have you seen Octo-Cat since we got started?”

  “No, not really. I’d imagine he’s gone off to sulk in his room,” she said distractedly, then departed through the crowd. “See you at dinner,” she called back to me.

  I would bet anything Octo-Cat was staying far away from his bedroom, given that the shelter cats had been set up there. Maybe he was hiding out in my room.

  It wouldn’t hurt to check.

  I returned to the foyer and made my way up our grand staircase in search of my missing feline. True, I didn’t have time to worry about his feelings, but I also wanted to make sure he was safe and not too stressed by all the visitors.

  On my way through the second story hallway, the door to Octo-Cat’s bedroom swung open suddenly, causing me to stop short and suck in a surprised breath.

  Max had his back to me, and he was mumbling something I couldn’t quite make out. Then he turned, slammed the door, and sniffed at me.

  “Hey, it’s you. Can I have my money now?” he asked, hand out.

  Weird. Generally I liked most people, but Max instantly turned me off. And the addition of the mink coat he won at auction made him look like even more of a jerk than before.

  Why? I wondered. And what was he doing up here? And what possible use did he have for that fur coat?

  Chapter Four

  Just as I’d suspected, Octo-Cat had curled up on my bed upstairs. He’d even pushed the door closed behind him, which is where I found Paisley waiting and whining.

  “Brother, brother, let me in!”

  “Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin,” my cat snarked back at her. Lovely.

  “That’s it,” I said, scooping up Paisley and forcing my way into the bedroom. My bedroom.

  “Why are you picking on Paisley?” I demanded, giving Octo-Cat the side eye as I scratched the quivering Chihuahua between her giant triangle ears.

  “I just needed some time to myself. Okay?” he said with a yawn. “It’s no big deal.”

  “I was worried someone might step on me,” Paisley announced with a shiver. “I didn’t want anyone to do that.”

  “I thought you were planning to stay outside during the party so you could still take part in the race,” I reminded her gently. If I had known she’d come back inside, I would have gotten her set up safely straight away.

  Paisley whimpered. “Yeah, but I got lonely all by myself out there.”

  “You poor thing. Why don’t you stay here with Octo-Cat, and I’ll come get you for the race? Okay?” The race, after all, was the whole reason she’d initially opted to remain outside. Ever since Nan had added the 5k to the schedule of events, Paisley had insisted that she would compete and win.

  “Oh, yes please! Thank you, Mommy!” she squealed now as I set her down on the bed beside Octo-Cat.

  “What about what I want?” he asked with wide eyes and ears flat against his head.

  “Stop. You love Paisley.”

  “Sometimes, but you see, I’m already Paisley-ed out today, Angela.” Whenever he used my full name, I knew I was in trouble.

  Paisley let out a mournful howl.

  “Please,” I hissed, more angry than supplicatory. “She needs you.”

  “What about what I need?” he countered, then yawned again.

  Okay, that was enough. This may all be boring to him, but it was hurting Paisley’s feelings and also keeping me from helping with the event.

  “Stop,’” I shouted and stamped my foot with a special kind of finality. “Stop this right now. I’m sorry that our helping other animals has inconvenienced you for a few hours, but it’s literally just a few hours.”

  Octo-Cat’s mouth fell open in shock. “How dare you talk to me like—”

  “Look,” I interrupted, switching from the vinegar approach to honey mid-stream. “What if I drive out to Misty Harbor tomorrow and get you one of those lobster rolls you like so much? Deal?”

  The tabby sat up and wrapped his tail around himself. I had his attention now.

  “One is not enough. You said it yourself, I have to endure a few hours of torture. I should be compensated accordingly.”

  “So what? You want three? You can’t even finish one on your own,” I reminded him. I also didn’t have time to negotiate here. I’d already been gone too long as it was.

  Octo-Cat tilted his head to one side and then the other, toying with me, no doubt. “I want one lobster roll delivered fresh for each hour that I have to endure this thing. One day at a time for as many days as it takes.”

  “But that’s like a thirty-minute drive each way!” I protested.

  He sighed and raised a paw, which he wagged at me. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but it seems you leave me no choice.” His claws came out with a schlink, and he flexed them in front of me. “Oh, Paisley!” he called.

  “Yes, Octavius?” she yapped, coming over with a full-on butt wiggle. Once again, just happy to be included.

  “You wouldn’t,” I said under my breath.

  “Watch me.” Octo-Cat flexed his claws again and slowly moved the weaponized paw toward the unwitting doggie.

  “Fine! One lobster roll per day,” I exploded, hating that he’d gotten the best of me by using such underhanded tactics.

  “As many days as it takes,” he added, claws flexing once more.

  “Yes. Fine. I agree. Now play nice up here.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” Octo-Cat said, re-sheathing his claws and then licking his paw and beginning to groom himself as if that had been his true plan all along.

  “Bye, Mommy,” Paisley called after me as I made my escape.

  Back on the main floor, the auction had just come to an end, and the crowd was milling about, awaiting direction.

  My direction. Crud.

  Mr. Gable met me midway on the grand staircase. “Everyone, listen up!�
� he shouted over the din. Then to me, “You’re on, Angie.”

  “Hi, everyone,” I said as loudly as I could without actually shouting. “Thank you so much for being here tonight. The next portion of our evening is dinner. Seating is already set up on the right-hand side of the house.” I motioned and smiled like a flight attendant. “The left side—” I motioned the other way “—will be ready shortly. Please find a seat at your earliest convenience, and let me know if you need help or have any questions.”

  I marched down the steps and planted myself by the door so I would be easy to find. Searching for Nan, I glanced toward the left side of the house where Cal and his team of volunteers were moving in tables and chairs at lightning speed.

  We’d opted for cheap card tables disguised with fine linen cloths. Nan had also gussied up the rented folding chairs by creating full length covers that fit over them perfectly. A tulle bow had been tied around the crook of each chair, providing extra elegance despite the inexpensive materials.

  I briefly spotted Nan, chatting to a tall man in an impeccable tux at the edge of the kitchen. She wore an enormous smile and nodded her head vigorously the entire time. I wondered if she’d just found an especially generous donor to add to this night’s success. Of course, I couldn’t tell who the man was from this angle. His back was turned to me and he wasn’t someone I knew well enough to recognize in that way.

  “Please, please, take a seat. Dinner will be served shortly,” Mr. Gable called over the crowd, drawing my attention away from Nan and her mystery guest. “I’ll be coming around to collect your vouchers. You should have received them when signing up for tonight’s event via the shelter. A complimentary dinner, of course, was included as a thank-you for your donations. You’ll also find fishbowl centerpieces. They’re empty because they’re for any additional donation you may like to offer to aid the animals. For those looking to add the perfect feline companion to your life, adoptions are being held upstairs for the entire night. We have nine wonderful black cats who would love to join your family. To meet them, just head straight upstairs and look for the door with the sign.”