by Fitz Molly
There weren’t a lot of trick-or-treaters at the mall, mostly just adults without children, probably trying to escape the madness. The mall was actually pretty nice with tons of high-end designer stores, some smaller specialty shops, a massive food court and ohmigosh, a Cheesecake Factory.
Did I like this mall? Did I come here often? Considering all the items I saw in my closet, I must have. I tried to remember anything about Fashion Plaza or Maine but I kept coming up blank. My phone GPS history showed me zipping all around town. I must’ve been popular because I was always going to different people’s houses to visit them. Never for very long, though. I guessed I was short on words. Maybe I was an extreme introvert, which was why I spent all of my time with the cat.
The GPS led me through the dead part of Fashion Plaza, where all of the stores that didn’t do so well were located like Macy’s and Gamestop. Sandwiched between those two retailers was a small staircase that read Fashion Plaza Coworking Mezzanine. It had a list of businesses that included the name Alistair Van Fossen, Private Investigator.
Before I had a chance to knock on the door, it flew open. A scantily clad man with abs to die for, dressed in a gladiator costume, stood before me. His body was covered in what looked like freshly scored cat scratches all over his arms and legs.
“Take him,” he said, holding the door open for me to enter.
“Hi, you must be the Alistair Van Fossen who adopted my cat from the emergency room this morning?” I asked, stepping inside.
The coworking space was actually quite nice. The entire foyer was decked out in rich mahogany cherry wood with a large glass reception table further inside, and some of those super-modern, leather art chairs filled the waiting area.
“I have no idea how that cat ended up back here with me,” he said, motioning for me to follow him down the hall. At the end of the corridor, we came to a large kitchen and dining area with tons of buffet food laid out. The black cat was sitting in one of the tin trays, licking the edges.
“So after taking the cat, you decided to bring him back here to the office and feed him an entire buffet?” I asked.
He shook his head no. “No, of course not. One minute, I was at the hospital following a lead and the next thing I knew, the cat ruined our entire office Halloween party by jumping into all of the food and eating it.”
Was there something in the water causing people to black out?
“Do you remember who you are?” I asked. Maybe the cat was causing amnesia.
“I am not suffering from amnesia if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. Raising an incredibly handsome eyebrow, he took full advantage of his debonair, James Bond look and his slightly-too-long bangs that hung over his right eye. “It was a tiny blackout or something.”
“I just thought…” I was about to finish that sentence with my new theory about the cat being the root cause until I realized how weird that would sound. “What kind of case are you working on?” I asked, changing the subject.
“My client believes that her husband, who is an ER doctor at the hospital, is having an affair with one of the nurses and fears he plans to propose to said nurse tonight,” he said before covering his mouth in astonishment.
“I don’t know why I told you that. All of my cases are confidential. Ever since I picked up that cat, weird things keep happening,” he explained.
Tell me about it! Maybe my cat amnesia theory wasn’t totally off-base. “It’s fine. I won’t say anything. Besides, who would I tell? I don’t know anyone but you and the cat.”
He looked down at his watch and then announced, “It’s too late now, anyway. They’re both off shift and I have no way of tracking them.”
Uh-oh. Now that I thought about it, that doctor already had a wedding band on. Why would you wear a wedding band when you’re planning to propose to someone? The wedding band came after the wedding, not before, unless you were cheating on your spouse with someone else.
“Perhaps I can help,” I said.
“I seriously doubt that,” he replied.
“And why would you say that?” I asked, totally offended. I didn’t know a single thing about myself. How could he?
He looked me up and down before taking a small walk around me.
“I bet you live in a huge mansion that features one of those ridiculous, custom-designed, multi-room walk-in closets filled from wall-to-wall with designer label clothes, shoes and handbags that cost more than some people make in an entire year. The biggest dilemma you faced today was which of your ten luxury, high-end cars you wanted to take out for a spin. The only time you’re not looking at yourself in the mirror is when you’re busy shopping for something else to add to your infinite collection.” I had no idea if I were that type of person but it sounded pretty accurate based on everything I woke up to.
“Ha! You’re wrong. There were only seven cars in the garage,” I retorted, suddenly aware of how vapid and meaningless my existence sounded.
“Pardon me. I should really brush up on my detective skills,” he said.
“How do I know the cat didn’t just tell you all of that? He can talk, you know?” I countered, crossing my arms and nodding my head in agreement with myself. That schizophrenia psychiatrist appointment couldn’t come too soon.
“I don’t know about talking but he sure likes to eat. We tried to distract him so he would stop tearing apart our buffet but that only seemed to make him angry,” he explained, holding up his still bleeding, cat-scratched arms as physical evidence. “I’m here alone. Everyone else fled the office in abject terror.”
“Ouch. Sorry about that,” I said. “Any chance your party was catered by the Cheesecake Factory?”
“Yes, how did you know that?” he asked.
“Just a guess,” I said, making my way over to the treacherous maniac. Maybe I could look into the purchase of some cat mittens to possibly deter his slasher wrath. He was a feline version of Wolverine with fierce paws of steel.
Someone was knocking at the front door. Alistair excused himself to answer it, saying it might be his date.
“If you’re here to apologize to me, you can save it. I will be mad at you forever and a day and then some,” the cat said, turning his back to me. There went my last hope that I didn’t need to make an appointment with the psychiatrist first thing in the morning. I was still projecting that voice in my head from the cat. But why did I have to make him so mean? Why not conjure up a sweet, loving cat that wanted to help me? I planned to ask the psychiatrist about that when I saw him or her.
“Happy Birthday,” I said, approaching him cautiously. Luckily, I brought the larger Hermes Birkin bag with me from the massive closet. The bag provided a significant amount of square footage protection against an unexpected kitty attack. “Did you have a good time here, at least?”
I didn’t know how he couldn’t have, seeing as there were enough food bins here to feed a small army. Even the bread and butter was gone, with a paltry few crumbs as the only evidence they ever existed.
“Yes, no thanks to you,” the cat said, turning his back to flick some butter patties at me. I easily dodged them with a tiny oblique twist.
“I came back to get you,” I said, hoping to score some points with his angry majesty. “I saw all of the photos on my phone. It looks like we’re pretty close.”
I held up the phone and flashed him the gallery.
“Like I would go anywhere with you now. After you tried to get rid of me!” he protested. He replaced the butter patties with a baked potato. He clenched it in his mouth and flung it forcibly my way. I did another oblique twist. I must work out a lot. As did the cat, judging by his jaws of steel.
“Are you sure? I’m on my way now to get a Cinnabon Cheesecake and not just a slice; I intend to buy an entire cake to bring back home with me for a special birthday kitten,” I said. I already spotted a half-eaten red velvet cheesecake at the end of the buffet line. That seemed to perk him up a bit. He slowly approached me, hopping from table-to-table un
til he was right up in front of me.
“But the entire cheesecake is for me, right? You’ll get your own?” he asked.
“Of course. And we can swing by Cinnabon, which I saw in the food court right below us, and grab a few boxes to go,” I added.
“And you’ll splurge for the extra frosting?” he asked, walking between my feet and rubbing himself affectionately against my legs.
“Definitely,” I said. If I didn’t go to the gym regularly before, I for sure needed to start after today. And if the cat weren’t actually talking, then my subconscious was finding plenty of ways to urge me to eat as many desserts as possible.
“In that case, I will consider a temporary return home with you,” he conceded, “during which you will grovel at my paws for forgiveness.”
Of course. I smiled while doing a silent mental eye roll on the inside.
Alistair and a woman dressed up as Cleopatra came back into the room, breaking up our conversation.
“Oh, what a cute little kitty,” she said in a thick Russian accent.
“Sakara, I do not like to be petted by strangers. You get that evil-looking sorceress away from me or I will shred her like parmesan cheese and then some,” he said, already baring his kitty talons.
“Aww, he has such an adorable little meow,” she trilled, barely two dangerous steps away from being julienned.
I stepped in front of the cat and extended my hand. “Hi, I’m Sakara,” I said. “I know it’s a stupid name but as soon as I find my parents, I plan to have a seriously long talk with them about it. I mean, what were they thinking, right?”
She smiled and introduced herself as Ulyanna.
When her hand made contact with mine, that same swoosh of wind went through me even though there was no wind or air gusts anywhere around. A small electric shock also went off in my brain and the entire room went white for a millisecond before a flash of images appeared. There was a huge wharf, a big crowded outdoor concert, tons of people in costumes and a hidden gun under a skirt. I dropped her hand and jumped back like I’d been electrocuted before stumbling and falling on the ground.
Looking down at my hands, I saw they were fine. Nothing was wrong but my mind. More strange images and emotions instantly manifested just like before. Thoughts and feelings that weren’t mine. Or were they? Maybe I was experiencing a memory reboot? Or did I simply superimpose the people in front of me into movie or TV show memories?
Ulyanna looked slightly offended. I recovered quickly and flashed her my plastic medical bracelet from the ER and told her all about the amnesia. She looked doubtful but Alistair confirmed it was all true.
She reached down to help me up and I instinctively accepted her hand. It happened again but this time, I saw a small briefcase full of cash and a redheaded woman. The redhead was telling Ulyanna that it better be done by midnight tonight if she wanted the rest of the money. I popped back up to standing as quickly as possible and wiped my hands on my pants, as if that could take away the creepy images I viewed. I didn’t want any more of those feelings or thoughts flowing towards me.
She was standing close to Alistair like a friendly first date might, but I swear I sensed a huge surge of contempt and disdain toward him from her. However, considering my brain was truly broken, I shook my head to try and force the feelings out.
It was weird. I saw an entire plan laid out for how Ulyanna intended to murder Alistair. Maybe I really liked thriller movies. Or perhaps I was a horror writer like Stephen King?
“Alistair, we should get going. We don’t want to be late,” she said, stepping away from me. Clearly, she sensed that something was off about me. But then again, who wouldn’t, after the way I was acting? “The first band comes onstage in a few minutes.”
“Halloween concert party?” I asked, trying to make things normal again.
“Yes, did you want to join us?” asked Alistair.
“Thanks, but it’s his birthday so we’re going out to celebrate,” I said, pointing to the cat. Wow. Did I do the math right on that driver’s license? I sounded more like a seventy-two-year-old spinster, not a woman in her twenties.
Seeing the looks on their faces, I quickly deduced Alistair and Ulyanna were relieved that I wouldn’t be joining them.
“Yes, we’re finally going to the Cheesecake Factory and Cinnabon!” said the cat, eagerly bolting full speed towards the front door. We all followed him out into the corridor.
“All right, it was great meeting you both, Alistair and Ulyanna. Have a lovely night at your, um, where did you say you were going again?” I asked.
“The Blueberry Bay Halloween Bash down at the Wharf,” said Alistair with a slight hesitation before answering me. He was probably afraid I might actually show up and find him. I could pretty much guarantee he hoped he’d never see me or the cat again.
“Well, have a lovely time at the Wharf Halloween Bash and thank you again for taking such good care of my cat,” I said before making a hasty exit. I wasn’t sure if he were showing his support for me or just anticipation for his favorite desserts, but the cat was right at my feet without any further prompting required.
Chapter Four
After picking up two boxes with extra frosting from Cinnabon, we headed over to the Cheesecake Factory. As the cat previously predicted, there was a long wait for a table. The cat insisted I retrieve his cat carrier from the back of the Maserati. The carrier had a certified emotional support animal tag on it but the hostess was still iffy about letting him inside the restaurant.
The cat unzipped the top, poked his head out and hissed in her face. I was about to apologize when she suddenly switched gears and proceeded to seat us right away.
“How did you do that?” I asked once we were sitting together in a small booth at the rear.
“Magical kitty venom. It puts humans into a trance and persuades them to do whatever I want until it wears off or they wipe it off,” he said. Eww, gross. I didn’t need that visual.
“Is that how you convinced Alistair to bring you back to his office?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“It was his fault. Standing around bragging about his fancy Cheesecake Factory-catered Halloween party that was waiting for him back at his office. He was practically begging me to return with him.”
Great. So in my delusional fantasy, I was a witch with a magical cat sidekick. All right, I could play this game. Maybe I was in one of those transformational journeys that required me to solve some sort of puzzle to wake up from whatever coma or dream I was currently having.
When the waitress came over, I ordered the cat’s full Cinnabon cheesecake and instead of limiting myself to one slice, I ordered an entire full-size Carmelicious Snickers cheesecake as well. Calories didn’t count in dreamland. And if this were a dream, which I was fairly certain it was, then I could thoroughly enjoy as many fake dream calories as possible before I woke up and returned to whatever my normal vegan or intermittent fasting life consisted of.
After our full cheesecakes arrived, I paid the waitress and carried them and the cat back to the car. We were getting tons of stares and even if this were a dream, I preferred to have all of my hallucinatory conversations with my imaginary talking cat in the privacy of my own car. At least I could pretend I was talking to someone on the phone.
“All right, spill it. Who am I? What do I do for a living? Why am I so rich? And why don’t I have any pictures except the ones I have of you in my phone?” I asked once we were situated back in the Maserati.
“I already told you. Is your amnesia back?” he asked, jumping up on my shoulder and whacking my head with his paw.
“Well, if it is, you’re not helping,” I said, gently pushing him off and placing him back into his seat. “I know my name and age from my driver’s license but that’s about it.”
“You did this to yourself,” he said, pushing the cheesecake box open with his paws and diving in for a bite. I couldn't believe he was still hungry after the huge feast he inhaled earlier at Ali
stair’s office. But since this was a dream, it didn’t really matter anyway.
“Did what to myself?” I asked.
“Gave yourself amnesia,” he said.
“Why would I give myself amnesia?” I asked.
“You didn’t mean to. You and your stupid boyfriend broke up and you got all whiny about it, which is dumb because he’s a big tool; but you wanted to stop being sad so you tried to whammy yourself into forgetting about him, but not your entire existence,” he explained. “Like I said, you totally suck at making potions and can’t even cast a spell to conjure up a piece of fruit.”
“Were we really serious? Like, ready to get married serious?” I asked. As a grown twenty-seven-year-old, one would think I’d be able to overcome a silly, little breakup without chemical assistance.
“Seriously. You went to all that trouble to forget about him and he’s the first thing you want me to tell you about?” he asked.
Good point. You can’t miss what you can’t remember. Onto the next mystery.
“How do I have enough money to afford four sports cars, two SUVs and a Tesla? Not to mention the mansion, three closets full of designer clothes, shoes, handbags, accessories and who knows what else? What do I do for a living?” I inquired. I pulled out my wallet with a huge stack of hundreds in it. I counted five thousand dollars in there. Who walks around with that much cash? It was like I was asking to be mugged.
“You blackmail people. That’s how you afford everything,” he said.
“Did you just say blackmail? As in federal felony?” I asked. Was I really a criminal? That sounded awful. Maybe the cat was joking. He did seem to have a wry sense of humor.
