On the Verge (A Charmed Life Book 1) (3 page)

The cat settled his chin back down on her thigh.  She and the cat enjoyed some silent moments together, and the apartment seemed much less empty than normal.

“I'm still not keeping you,” she said, mildly, less convincingly than before – which was saying a lot.

The rising scent of the cooking salsa chicken slowly filled the kitchen and out into the apartment as she sat there reading her email, typing up a few quick responses before switching over to various social sites.  She inhaled deeply, her stomach making a quiet rumbling of anticipation as the scent just made her even hungrier.  Then she couldn't help but giggle as the cat in her lap pawed lightly at her tummy, looking for the source of the odd little noise.

Tracy curled up a little bit and brought her face down by the feline, who lifted up his own face towards hers.  She touched her nose to his, and his little pink tongue flicked out over her face, making her giggle again.  The cat smelled surprisingly clean, for having been outside so long, carrying with him a scent somewhat like freshly fallen rain, which made absolutely no sense.

She served herself the chicken and rice along with a small bowl of mandarin oranges and a multivitamin, then considered the rest of the chicken breast.  “Sooo…  how do I serve this to you?” she wondered aloud.  She ended up shredding half a chicken breast and setting it on a small plate, placing it down on the floor before the nameless cat.  “All right, see how you like that!”

Tracy sat down at the table and watched the cat in the kitchen carefully approach his meal, taking careful little bites of the pile of shredded chicken.  His paw pressed down lightly on the plate to keep it from sliding away across the floor, eating with a quiet dignity that would befit the finest of nobility.

Tracy was almost done eating her own dinner when the doorbell rang.  Chewing quickly, she hurried over to the door to hit the buzzer.  “Mmnnf?” she asked.

“It's Sing!” came a man's voice, barely sounding over the static.  Tracy hit the buzzer and unlatched the door as she swallowed her mouthful, then hurried towards her bedroom as she pulled off her jacket and work shirt.  She was slipping out of her slacks as she heard the door open and close, felt the faint shift in air pressure.  “Tracy?”

“Hi, Sing! Just give me a couple minutes!” she called, “I'm running a bit late!” She opened her closet and considered the clothes available.  What to wear, what to wear?

Sing called back, “Hey, did you know there's a cat on your table eating your chicken?”

Tracy dropped her face into her palm, giving a sigh.  “He's the reason I'm running late!” she replied.  “Just shoo him away, if you can!”

“What's his name?” Sing asked, his voice quieter but from just the other side of her bedroom door.

“He's nameless!” she responded, checking to make sure he couldn't see her.  She picked a long, loose green skirt decorated with a pattern of summer leaves and wiggled hurriedly into it.

“Why is he nameless?” asked Sing.  She could just picture him leaning back against the wall, no doubt holding the gray cat in his arms, with his mess of long black hair hanging down to cover over half of his face.

Tracy pulled on an off-white, baggy-sleeved poet's shirt as she answered, “He's nameless because I'm not keeping him.”  She checked herself in the mirror briefly.  “You can come in!”

Sing opened the door and leaned against the door-frame, indeed holding the gray cat, his fingers lightly playing along the underside of its chin, which the cat responded to by taking on a rather absurd but blissful expression, eyes half-closed.  “Yeah, right.”  He smirked, teasing her in a friendly manner.  His lanky Asian frame was dressed in black jeans and a shimmering green dress shirt, and he even had a half-undone silvery tie with a hashed design on it.  He somehow made it look relaxed, but not sloppy.  “You hear that, Nameless?  She actually thinks she has a choice in the matter.”

Looking into the mirror, Tracy stuck her tongue out at his reflection as she pulled back her hair into a ponytail with a small white scrunchie.  “I'm not keeping him,” she persisted stubbornly as she applied a light dusting of foundation.  “It'd cost me twenty-five extra a month for this little guy.”

“You,” he said, changing the subject, “Are the only girl I know who still wears those long skirts.  You're so from another age.”

She shrugged.  “They're comfortable,” she said, unconcerned.  “And you're the only boy I know who wears a tie casually.”

Sing grinned and responded with the same easy tone as she had - the tone of someone who's going over familiar ground they've covered a hundred times before.  “Looks good, doesn't it? C'mon, let's get going, the rest of the gang's circling the block.”

Tracy looked down at the nameless feline in Sing's arms.  “And what do we do about you, then, cat?” The cat looked back up at her with its normal, unimpressed stare.  “Hey, Sing, you got him - can you carry him outside for me?”

Sing raised his eyebrows.  “You're really going to put him out?”

Tracy gave him a look.  “I told you I'm not keeping him,” she reminded him.

He shrugged and walked towards the front door, but as he approached it, the cat hissed at him and started to wriggle.  Cautiously, Sing backed away from the front door, and the cat fell still again.

Tracy let out a soft 'huh.'  She paused thoughtfully, then said, “That was weird.  Try that again.”

Sing stepped forward, and the cat hissed.  He stepped back and the cat was still again.

“Right,” Sing said.  “I'm not going anywhere near that door carrying this guy.”

Tracy sighed softly.  “All right, see if he'll go in the bathroom.  We can close the door.  At least if he goes to the bathroom or pukes or something, it won't be on the carpet and it'll be easy to clean up.”

The nameless cat seemed perfectly happy to be in the bathroom, quickly curling up on the soft shag of the bathroom mat.  “Right, he looks comfy,” said Sing.  “Let's run, they're probably wondering where we are.”

Sing and Tracy hurried downstairs and outside, where they hopped up and down in the strong wind that had shifted directions while Tracy had been inside.  It had dropped several degrees, and her breezy skirts were far too cold for the night, but she was hardly going to go change them now.  A pair of oncoming headlights slowed and pulled to the curb, and the two squeezed into the back of Ted's car along with Jill and Alex.  Seat belts, of course, were out of the question, with so many packed into the back.  “Hey, what took you?” asked Stephen from the passenger seat, his large girth always earning him shotgun.

“Cat problems,” Sing brightly chimed in.  “Had to get the little guy settled first.”

“Oooo! Tracy got a cat?” chirped Jill.  “What's he look like, what's his name?”

Tracy shook her head.  “He doesn't have a name, and I'm not keeping him! He just broke into my apartment and demanded food!”

“He's called Nameless.” Sing ignored Tracy, grinning impishly.  “And he's a slim gray cat with very noble posture.” Tracy let out an exasperated sigh.

Tracy closed her eyes and sat back as people talked, and teased each other, and complained about their days.  She inhaled deeply, luxuriating in knowing their smells.

She couldn't smell Ted past the sharp scent of cleaning supplies, but she could smell Stephen – musky even while damp from a recent shower.  Sing always had a hint of a distinctive cologne – spicy and a little flowery.  Alex and Jill, as always, smelled of their beloved cats.  Tracy didn't know why she loved smelling people and things, but it just made them feel more real to her.

It was a short drive, but would have been a long walk through the cold night.  The active conversation and overloaded car combined with the cold night made the windows fog up extremely fast, the front defroster barely able to keep up.  Tracy said little as she listened to the others joking, their closeness a nigh-tangible sensation of support that let her be more than she was alone.

The wind whipped chill up her legs as she stepped out of the car, reminding her again that the long skirt was a mite too thin for the weather.  Tracy shivered and hugged herself tightly, following along with everyone else.  Part of her wanted to hurry ahead to escape into the warm restaurant, but she knew there weren't many days left in the year where she would be able to see herself exhale, and even in the brisk cold she relished in the childlike delight of feeling like some fantasy creature.  She grinned impishly to herself as she pursed her lips and playfully blew out a stream of mist.

Tracy's friends entered the restaurant with an explosion of noise and laughter and extravagant gestures and exuberance.  The wash of warm air and light stole her back to reality, and she hugged herself as the warmth was slow in relieving the deep-set chill.  Anne, the waitress, gathered up six menus.  “Hello again, guys!  Extended Booth, non-smoking, three waters, two diet colas, and a milk?”

Tracy nodded happily, grinning at the familiar waitress.  “You have such a good memory!”  It was a very welcoming feeling to be a regular.  Everyone piled into the booth, with Tracy ending up on the outside next to Sing, and the waitress was already there with their drinks.  Tracy didn't need to look at the menu, but instead drank deep of the cold water, not having realized how dry her throat had been until she had taken a sip, emptying most of the glass in one long draw.

The discussion muted a bit as everyone else mused over the menu, despite having seen it a hundred times before.  It didn't take them long to figure out what they wanted.  Jill, Alex, and Ted ordered dinners while Stephen and Sing ordered breakfasts.  When it came to Tracy, she ordered just a fruit crepe with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, covered in strawberries and the strawberry syrup - her favorite dessert here.

After the waitress had left, Sing said to Tracy, “You know, if you can't afford to eat out, I'm perfectly all right springing for your meal.  You don't have to eat before we go out.” A quiet murmur of agreement came from around the table as the rest of her friends said likewise.

“I'm fine.  I don't want to be one of those girls who has people buy her everything.  It's not like I can't afford it - I just devote my money elsewhere,” Tracy reassured them.  And as usual, she didn't opt to point out that there were few dishes she actually liked at most restaurants – she preferred her own cooking.  She was here for the company.

Sing gave a little grin and had something new to say.  “Tell you what - you let me buy you dinner every so often, and this summer, you can give me a ride in your truck.”

Tracy blinked in surprise.  “I didn't know you were interested in off-roading!” she exclaimed.

He gave a small shrug and a tiny, secretive grin.  “I've never been off-roading,” he admitted, “but you enjoy it so much that it must be worth a try.”

Tracy gave a playful, exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes.  “Fine,” she finally gave in.  “Next time we eat, you can buy my dinner.”

“Point!” Sing crowed lightly.  Tracy blinked and then slapped her forehead.  “That doesn't count!”

“It totally counts,” persisted Sing, grinning, flipping his hair from his face with a flick.  “You know it.”

Tracy sighed and pulled a notebook out of her purse, flipping it open to a much-marked page to put a hash under Sing's name.  “That is so not fair,” she murmured, grinning.

“So it's a date!” Jill chirped cheerfully.  “About time!”

Tracy and Sing both jumped.  “What?” asked Tracy.  “No, it's not a date!”

Jill gave a sly grin.  “He's buying you dinner and you've planned a time to go out and do an activity together, just the two of you.  What do you call it?”

Sing sighed and rolled his eyes almost the same way Tracy had earlier.  “You just don't give up, do you?” he said with a good-natured groan.

“But you two are so perfect for each other!” chirped Jill.  “And neither of you have someone!”

There was something in Jill's voice and the way she glanced at Sing.  Tracy followed that glance with a suspicious look at the lanky guy next to her.  “What, you guys have talked about this before?”

She was suddenly aware of the rest of the table grinning and watching with amusement.  Sing gave a small wave of his hand, as if brushing the subject away.  “Jill's been trying to push me towards asking you out for months now,” he said dismissively.

Tracy looked at Jill for confirmation.

“Well,” Jill said quickly, a little defensively, “He's always the one who goes up and gets you instead of just calling your phone, and you always stick together when we're sitting down, and both of you are always so dressed-up while we're just in jeans and t-shirts, and … and … and lots of stuff!”

“We're friends!” protested Sing, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

“And you're a guy and a girl and you're both cute and why can't you be friends and more?” persisted Jill.  “Why don't you ask her out?”

Tracy turned in her seat to look at Sing, a playful little smirk on her face.  “Yeah,” she said slowly, thoughtfully, “why don't you ask me out?”

Sing opened his mouth to answer and just sat there, a faint strangled noise coming from his throat, a stunned and briefly confused look on his face.

“Point,” chirped Tracy quietly, and put a hash mark onto her side of the notebook page.

Sing groaned and shook his head.  “That's just underhanded.”

Alex demurred lightly, “I don't know, sweetie,” he said to Jill.  “I don't know if anyone who keeps points on each other would make a good couple.”