Cattitude (31 page)

“I’m so worried,” she said, using her fright.
“So worried.” She started wailing, putting her hands over her eyes
so the lawyer couldn’t see they were as dry as week-old bread.
Under the cover of her fake cries, she farted.

A second later, the lawyer stepped back.

By the time two Sheriff’s units rolled toward
the house five minutes later, Katie worked herself up to crying
real tears. And she still hadn’t answered Jewel’s question.

Every time her flow of tears slowed, Katie
thought about being fired from her cushy job and she cried
harder.

***

Clinging to a branch in a tree that bordered
the back of Gwen’s home, Sorcha heard Gwen calling, “Princess,
Princess.” Sorcha wanted to meow and go to her, but she held back.
Gwen was too attached to her already.

And she was too attached to Gwen.

When she’d fled the house where Belle was
staying, her fear was submerged by a giant wave of relief.

She didn’t have to be human. The blond woman
tripping Belle was an excuse to run.

Not that she had to justify this to anyone.
After all, she was a cat. Cats, as far as Gwen had observed, didn’t
explain or defend.

Except she wasn’t really a cat. She was a
human in a cat body. Humans knew wrong from right. And it wasn’t
right to remain in the cat’s body. Every day since the switch she’d
heard Belle calling her, wanting to switch back to her old body. If
she ignored Belle and remained a cat, everything her parents said
about her would be right. To be so selfish would prove she really
was Satan’s handmaiden.

And what about Fletcher? She didn’t want to
avenge his death, but she should at least try to tell the world
what Deavers had done. Even though no one would believe her, she
knew the truth and he knew the truth. And in heaven, God was making
good and bad lists like a toga-garbed Santa.

If she didn’t do the right thing, God would
know.

“Please,” Gwen said, her voice throbbing with
tears. “I need you.”

Sorcha dug her claws into the tree branch.
She looked at the sky, a brooding gray.
This is breaking my
heart. Should I go to her? Give me a sign, God.

Beams from flashlights came around the back
of the house. Men’s voices drifted to her. Sorcha heard Gwen gasp
and run toward the farmer’s field. Turning her head 180 degrees,
Sorcha watched Gwen flee, one large bag bouncing at her side, one
on her back.

Sorcha looked at the gray sky again.

Thank you for your answer.

Even if it wasn’t the one she wanted.

***

Max was naked. Caroline stepped back to
admire her handiwork. He looked even better without clothes on.
Wide shoulders, broad chest, muscular definition without
unattractive bulges and veins sticking out. Her gaze slid down.
Flat tummy, though no six-pack. Well, he was a multi-millionaire.
If she wanted, she could afford her own toy boy after they were
married. Although she didn’t think she would. The best sex she’d
ever had didn’t halfway match the raw excitement of the worst candy
bar.

Which brought Caroline to Max’s limp penis,
looking so innocent. She clapped her hand over her mouth and
stifled a laugh. Right, like a sleeping snake was innocent.

Her gaze swept down his long legs and
muscular calves. His feet were too wide. He had a two-inch scar on
his thigh, but otherwise she saw no imperfections. He would do
wonderfully as the father of their children. Two, she decided. She
hoped the boy would get her blond hair, and the girl his red gold
curls.

She picked up the phone by his bedside, sat
on the edge, crossed her legs and called her mother. “I did it,”
she said.

“Oh, my God!” Brenda shrieked. “I’m so
excited. My daughter’s going to marry a millionaire.”

“
Multi-
millionaire,” Caroline
protested. Marrying a millionaire was nothing. Emery had been a
millionaire and look what happened there.

“Tell me everything,” Brenda said.

“It was almost too easy. I already knew Ted
was working, but Tory went to the Brewers game. I put your crushed
sleeping pills in Sorcha’s chicken soup. More than enough to keep
her knocked out all night.”

Brenda laughed. “It’s as if this was meant to
be. You married the wrong cousin.”

“I didn’t meet Max until Emery and I were
engaged. When I did, I had no idea how rich he was.” She glanced
around the plain room. It didn’t even have its own bathroom. Of
course, it was a guest room and Sorcha was occupying the master
suite—Max was too generous, which would stop after they were
married. Even so, was this a way for a wealthy man to live? “Things
will change after we’re married.”

“Of course. What’s the use of being rich if
you can’t show it off?”

“It’s getting late. I just wanted to let you
know our plan worked. Tomorrow I’ll guilt him into marrying
me.”

No shriek came over the line. Caroline’s
excitement shriveled. “What?” she whispered ferociously, as if Max
could hear her. “What’s wrong now?” Something always went wrong,
dammit.

“It’s nothing, baby.”

“Mom! Tell me. I can tell you’re having
second thoughts. I can hear your doubts.”

“It’s silly, but I was waiting to hear from
you and started to wonder... This isn’t Victorian times. Men don’t
think twice about sleeping with women.”

“He’s not like most men.” Caroline spoke
through her clenched teeth. How could Brenda turn on her like this?
“He’s been supporting his family practically since he was a kid.
Rose has been working the guilt thing on him like a stripper works
a pole. It’s ingrained in him.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Brenda laughed
a bit shakily. “It’s just this waiting got on my nerves. You know I
want the best for you.”

“Max is the best. And stop worrying.” She
heard her own voice, as hard as her determination. “I have it all
planned. First I’ll tell him how happy I am that he proposed.
Before he can reply, I’ll tell him that Emery would be thrilled
that we’re getting married, almost as thrilled as I am.”

“You know what else you should say?” Brenda’s
voice trilled with excitement. “Tell him that you’re so happy he
wants to start a family right away, and you hope last night did it.
That it’s your fertile time.”

Caroline sucked in her breath and put her
hand over her breastbone. “That’s brilliant! Just brilliant.”

Brenda giggled and she joined in. She was
still smiling when she hung up a moment later. She considered Max’s
nude body again, admiring her handiwork before she rolled him to
the side. His arm and hip were warm and firm under her hands. His
color and his breath were okay, and she was relieved he didn’t
appear to be adversely affected by the drug. She didn’t want to
hurt him, she just wanted to marry him.

She pulled the blanket from under him, rolled
him onto his back and tossed the blanket over him. Then she
unbuttoned her blouse.

For once in her life, everything was
happening just as she planned. After all these years of rotten
luck, it was finally
her
turn.

She began to sing. Max was unconscious,
Sorcha was in a deep sleep, Ted and Tory were both out. No one was
there to hear her.

“Tomorrow, tomorrow,” she sang the song from
Annie
, her favorite from all the beauty contests.
Unfortunately, it had been the favorite for a lot of contestants.
But she was the only one competing in this contest, so she belted
it out.

“Tomorrow, tomorrow.”

Tomorrow she’d be engaged to a very rich
man.

***

Belle had been sitting in the chair in Max’s
bedroom too long. She put down her book and rubbed the small of her
back—something else she never had to do as a cat. She should have
stretched sooner, but she hadn’t wanted to stop reading about
Harry, Ron and Hermione. Every chapter took them deeper and deeper
in trouble. How could she put it down until she reached the
end?

For now, all three wizards-in-training were
safe, though she wondered what would happen in the next book.

A thought hit her. She wouldn’t have time to
read the next book. Not if she changed back into a cat.

She closed her eyes tight and her human
insides went tight too. Finally she breathed and her muscles
loosened. She stood. She would think about this later.

Her stomach gurgled, telling her to get
something to eat. Of course. She’d only eaten one can of tuna. When
Caroline had left the room to change clothes, Belle had thrown
Caroline’s soup down the sink. Why eat soup when there was tuna and
ice cream sandwiches? Peanut butter and jelly too, though she’d
used up the peanut butter and someone needed to buy more.

She opened the door to the hall, a vision of
ice cream sandwiches in her mind. Whoever invented ice cream
sandwiches was a genius.

The sound of singing came from the room Max
was using. She stiffened, then started toward the room. “Tomorrow,
tomorrow!” the voice sang. Something about the voice made Belle
frown. Max usually didn’t have the stereo turned on so loud. And
why did this song have no music?

The truth hit her as she reached his
door.

Caroline was in the bedroom with him.

She grabbed the handle, turned it and burst
inside. Caroline looked at her, her mouth open, one leg in her
panties and one leg out.

Clinging to an upper tree branch on the
farmer’s land, Gwen watched the bobbing circles of light converge
on the driveway. The sun had gone down, and if a moon was out
tonight, dark clouds blocked its rays. Gwen had watched enough TV
shows to guess the deputies were going to search tomorrow when it
was light.

They’d probably bring a dog. She remembered
watching a TV show where two bloodhounds sniffed out a lost child.
Gwen unwrapped her arms from the branch and carefully climbed down.
This was the one time in her life she didn’t want to be sniffed by
a dog.

She felt around in the tall grasses for her
two bags. Clutching them, she started to run—straight back to the
house.

Her legs wouldn’t go as fast as she wanted.
She was tired and hungry and cold, and her idea wouldn’t work
unless she got home before the deputies left.

A car engine revved, then another. She heard
the faint sound of Katie’s voice and the deeper tone of a man’s
voice answering.

She ran faster. She heard the cars cruise
down the driveway. Another engine revved up, then took off.

She was about a hundred feet from the garden.
A car door slammed. Someone said, “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

Huffing, she slid to a stop in front of the
naked statue of the goddess Athena. She fell to her knees on the
grass and slipped her hand into the dip below the base. She got
almost as far as her knuckles when she got stuck. She’d grown too
much, her hand too big. Panicking, she shoved her hand into the
tiny dip. The statue’s marble stand scratched the top of her hand,
and she pulled back, putting her knuckles to her mouth.

She was never going to get it out in
time!

From the front of the house came Katie’s
voice, and this time a woman answered her. Gwen shoved her hand in
again. She had to get the key before Katie was inside. She had
to!

She shoved her hand through. When the marble
scratched her hand again, she didn’t pull out, but her breath
sobbed and she choked it back.

Shut up,
she ordered herself.
Just
shut up.
She squashed her cheek against the cool marble and
wriggled her fingers through the dirt and stones until they brushed
against smooth metal. Not close enough to grab it. She strained
forward, her teeth gritting. One more inch, that’s all she
needed.

“Oof.” Her hand jerked forward, and her
breath rasped loudly. She gripped the key between her index and
middle fingers, then started to slide her hand out. The key caught.
Setting her mouth, she twisted her hand so the key would lie flat.
Her teeth mashed together, she pulled again.

At first she thought the statue was going to
win and eat up her arm like a monster in a scary movie. She pulled
harder and her hand popped out, the key safe. She fell to the
ground with an ‘Oomph.’ Slapping her scratched and stinging hand
over her mouth, she scrambled to her feet.

A door slammed in the driveway.

She grabbed the two bags and raced to the
door. As she heard the car drive off, she fit the key in the
keyhole. Her hand shook and the tip of the key kept missing the
slot. She tried again, but it was like putting shoes on during an
earthquake. The third time, she wrapped her left hand around her
wrist, but instead of steadying the key, she now had two shaking
hands.

Any minute Katie would be inside and it would
be too late.
Do something!

She jabbed the key forward and this time it
slid in. She didn’t take a second to exult but tumbled inside and
closed the door carefully behind her. She crouched but couldn’t
hear any Katie noises. Taking a deep breath, she ran out of the
kitchen, down the hall and up the staircase. As she reached the
second floor, she heard the front door open.

She shook so much she wouldn’t have been
surprised to hear her bones rattle. Her breaths rasping, she
tiptoed up another staircase to the attic, tensing at every creak.
She’d seen the lights on in all the rooms earlier and the
silhouettes of the deputies as they searched the house for her.

Maybe they wouldn’t search the house again
tomorrow. She could hide here forever and no one would find
her.

As she lay on an old carpet, she wondered if
the police got in touch with her parents. If her mother and father
knew she’d run away, would they return?

Probably not. She curled onto her side, her
legs folded against her stomach. “Princess,” she whispered. “I miss
you.”

Even though she hated crying, hot tears
dribbled down her cheeks.