Chapter Twenty-Six: Purrfectly Pawsitive People
chapter twenty-six
PURRFECTLY PAWSITIVE PEOPLE
Kitty
W
here’s your car?” I stop in the middle of my driveway, noting the distinct absence of Miles’s Tesla.
He stuffs his hand in his pocket and rocks back on his heels. “I left it at home.”
“Why? How did you get here?”
“I Ubered. Do you have your keys, or do you need to go back in and get them?” He pulls on his tie. His eyes dart from me to my car and back again.
“I don’t want to drive that thing.” I sneer at my car as if it’s the reason for all my problems, not a stupid viral video.
“Then I can drive.”
“Let me rephrase that. I don’t want to be seen in that car, regardless of what seat I’m in.” I haven’t driven it since the park fiasco. I’m too mortified. Before, I wasn’t bothered by the sometimes questioning looks I got. But it’s shifted into outright verbal assault. On one hand, I appreciate the animal rights activists’
passion, but being on the receiving end of their wrath unfairly has shown me a very ugly side of humanity.
Miles settles a hand on my shoulder. I stare at his chest. If I look at his handsome face, there’s a chance I’ll get emotional. It’s been like that recently. Spontaneous tears. Questioning my purpose.
“Kitty, look at me.”
I drag my reluctant gaze to his empathetic one.
His expression is soft, but he also looks determined. “I know this has been really hard on you, and that you’re struggling to figure things out, but this”—he motions to the car—“is part of who you are. It makes you distinctly you. And you are loved by a lot of people. Sometimes when we fall, we need to take the hand that’s been offered to us, get back on our feet, dust ourselves off, and keep going.”
I sigh. “I don’t want my car to get vandalized again.”
“I know. It won’t.”
Since the park incident, I’ve been borrowing my sister’s car a lot. And Miles has been good about lending me his. We’re just driving to his place, and after the side of my car was spray painted, they’ve increased the underground parking security. His apartment had footage of the person who did it, but they were wearing a ski mask and nondescript all-black clothes.
“I’ll grab my keys.”
“That’s my girl.” He dips down and presses his lips to mine.
Instead of heading for the highway, Miles goes in the opposite direction, toward downtown.
“Where are we going?”
“I need to make one stop,” Miles informs me.
“What? Why?” I’m suddenly on high alert. Stops were not on the menu. It’s supposed to be a straight shot from my mom’s house to his apartment.
The only places I’ve gone to willingly lately have been Kat’s Cat Café and the grocery store. And only when it’s necessary and I have access to my sister’s car. I also often sneak in the back door, so I don’t have to face anyone but Kat. And I’ve taken to shopping at the grocery store on the edge of town, where fewer people will recognize me and ask me questions.
“It won’t take long,” Miles reassures me.
I don’t know what’s going on, but he’s being . . . sketchy, maybe? He’s more fidgety than usual, but it’s possible my anxiety is rubbing off on him.
A few minutes later Miles parks across the street from Kat’s.
“Why are we here?”
“I have to pick something up.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to pick whatever it is up? I have a key and an office here.”
“I knew you weren’t going to have time to stop here earlier because your schedule was full.”
He’s not wrong, and like all my other clients, he has access to my daily and weekly calendar. Despite the horrible things people are saying about me, most of my clients have been supportive. Only a few of the newer ones jumped ship.
“I promise it’ll be quick, and there are multiple orgasms waiting for you at my place.”
“Okay.” I sigh, wishing the promise of multiples could alleviate my anxiety. I expect the people passing us on the street to yell mean things when I exit the vehicle. No one does, but a couple walking their dog give me a dirty look and crosses to the other side of the street.
“Just ignore the assholes.” Miles settles his palm against my lower back and guides me toward the front door. As we approach the café a woman stops me. I brace for more hate, but she tells me she doesn’t believe what everyone is saying, and she hopes I can get this mess cleared up soon. Then she hugs me, and I almost burst into tears.
“See? You’ve got people on your side.”
“I just miss the days when I had more people on my side than not,” I murmur, swallowing down the emotions.
It’s hard not to let the hurtfulness seep in and taint the good parts. When we reach the entrance, I pull on the door, but the closed sign is hanging in the window. “That’s weird. It’s usually open until nine. Let me get my key.”
Miles knocks on the glass door while I rummage around in my purse.
“Where the heck is it? I was holding my keys a second ago.” I peer inside. People are moving around. “Maybe they had a bathroom accident or something.” It’s happened before. Usually it only takes a few minutes to clean up.
Merlin, one of the baristas, opens the door for us. “Oh great! You’re here. Perfect! Come on in.” He opens the door so Miles and I can squeeze through, then locks it again.
“What’s going on?” I mutter. This seems like we’re getting ready for an illegal cat fight or something.
I move to the right so I’m standing beside Miles instead of behind him. I suck in a shocked breath. When I was here earlier in the week everything was normal. But today the tables have been moved around so the center of the café is open. And in their place is a single table with two plush chairs. Surrounding those chairs are lights, microphones, and a video camera.
But it’s not the setup that has my heart palpitating. It’s the woman sitting in one of the chairs. “Oh my gosh. Is that Brit Sheers?” I grab Miles’s arm because I suddenly feel light-headed.
“It is.”
“What is she doing here? She’s my unicorn. I think I’m going to hyperventilate. Where is Kat? What’s going on? Does she know about this?”
Brit pushes out of the chair, her wide, perfect, white-toothed smile glinting in the camera lights. She’s even more beautiful in real life than she is on camera, and that’s saying something.
“Kitty Hart! It’s so wonderful to finally meet you!” She extends a hand.
“You’re real, and you’re talking to me,” I mumble.
Black spots and white dots swim in the edges of my vision, slowly washing over her face like the tide coming in. I don’t have a chance to hold out my own hand, because suddenly the world goes dark.
“Kitty? Babe?” There’s a hand on my cheek, tapping gently.
I blink.
“I think she’s coming around.” Miles’s face appears, the wave of black slow to recede. “Hey, you okay?”
“I . . . have no idea.” I’m completely disoriented.
Kat is hovering over his shoulder, her fingers at her lips. “I told you the surprise would freak her out.”
Miles helps me into a sitting position. “Take it slow.”
My gaze shifts from Miles to Kat, who is wringing her hands, but also smiling ear to ear. I realize that Brit Sheers wasn’t a strange dream. I’m really sitting on the floor of Kat’s Cat Café, and Brit’s really here.
“Oh my gosh, did I just faint?”
“You did. I’m sorry. I probably should have told you what I was planning, but I didn’t want to give you the chance to back out, and I know how much you love Brit. I thought maybe she would reach out and send you a message, but she wants to interview you, so here we are,” Miles word-vomits those two very long sentences in under ten seconds.
It takes me six times as long to process them because I’m still hazy after my fainting spell.
Brit Sheers hands me a glass of orange juice. “Here, drink this. It’ll help.”
“I can’t believe you’re real and you’re handing me orange juice. I also can’t believe I fainted.” I take the glass, then tack on a “thank you.”
I take several sips, wait a couple minutes for the sugar to work its magic, and then allow Miles and Kat to help me to my feet.
I’m lucky that it’s winter and I’m wearing a dress and leggings, and that I didn’t flash anyone my underwear.
I wobble my way to the chair opposite Brit. “I’m confused about what’s happening here,” I admit.
A trio of people stand off to the side with what looks like a toolbox. Brit holds up her hand. “Give us a minute, then you can work your makeup magic.”
They shuffle off, muttering apologies.
Brit’s attention returns to me. Miles is standing by the treat display with Kat. I would love it if he was holding my hand, but I realize that would be super awkward.
“Miles reached out after what happened on social media, and I saw a great opportunity to showcase you and your business. I’ve been a fan of yours for a long time, and I want more people to know about the woman behind that video and give you a chance to share the true story.”
“That video has been the worst thing to happen to me,” I mutter.
“That video was totally taken out of context. And I know exactly what it’s like to be in your shoes.” Her smile is full of empathy. “I’m hoping we can clear up the misunderstanding with today’s interview.”
“I’m not sure how you’ll do that when there’s no proof that I didn’t intentionally tackle my boyfriend’s dog,” I admit.
“I’ll be able to help with that. I want the world to see the authentic you, the same you that I fell in love with when you started your cat-sitting business four years ago. It’ll be like
having a conversation at the dinner table. Casual and informal. Just be you.”
“I can do that. Just be me.”
Her makeup team swoops in and takes care of my face and hair before they touch her up. And then the camera crew is counting down from five. I glance over at Miles, who gives me a thumbs-up.
As if on cue, Tux comes padding across the room and jumps into my lap as we go live. One of the crew members steps up, as if he’s going to remove the kitty, but Miles stops him.
Tux nudges my chin with his nose, then kneads my legs to make himself comfortable, despite the camera crew and all the lights shining directly on us.
“Hello, fans! I’m on location just outside of Toronto in the quaint town of Terra Cotta, at Kat’s Cat Café and Rescue Shelter with the one and only Kitty Hart, owner of the famous cat-sitting and training company, the Kitty Whisperer. Kitty, it’s a pleasure to have you with us today,” Brit says brightly.
Tux headbutts my face again, so I give him a few pets, then push on his butt. He takes the hint and settles in my lap. “It’s a real pleasure to be here today, Brit, but I have to be honest, I’m really hoping I don’t do anything embarrassing that’s going to result in another meme.” I really wish I’d stopped before the sentence became a run-on. Like I need to give anyone ideas about making more memes. There’s currently one of poor Wilfred with wild eyes and me on his back with the line “get off me, crazy cat lady” on it.
Brit chuckles. “You know you’re in the big leagues when you’re a meme! I remember my first meme. I got caught yawning at the Emmys. I’d been so nervous the night before the event I hadn’t slept a wink, and of course someone caught me mid-yawn.” She holds up an iPad with the meme on it. “Such a flattering picture, isn’t it?” She chuckles and rolls her eyes, then gives her attention back to me. “Jokes aside, can you tell me what the last week has been like for you? I can imagine this hasn’t been easy on you.”
I take a deep breath an exhale some of my anxiety. “I can handle the memes, and I’m used to people poking fun at my car, but the worst part has been how someone took something and twisted it to make it look like I was intentionally harming an animal. I won’t even kill spiders, and I certainly wouldn’t purposely tackle Wilfred.” I pause and clear my throat, the topic making me both emotional and frustrated.
“I’ve been following you for years, Kitty, and while we don’t know each other personally, I can say, with confidence, that I believe you didn’t intentionally set out to hurt your boyfriend’s dog.”
“Thanks. Now I just need to convince the rest of the world.”
“I might be able to help with that.” She nods to the cameraman, who brings over a laptop and sets it on the table between us. On the screen is a social media account of what appears to be a college student. “We were able to track down the origin of the video and the person who posted it. For the sake of protecting that person’s identity, we’re not disclosing his name, but he has
something he wants to say to you, Kitty, if you’re interested in hearing him out.”
“If he’s going to say nasty things, I’ll pass,” I tell her.
She throws her head back and laughs. “This is why I love you, Kitty. No mincing words.”
I blush and shrug. “It’s been a rough week. I don’t need anyone, especially not the person who made it so hard, giving me the gears.”
“No, you certainly don’t,” Brit agrees. “And this young man would like to apologize for the problems he’s caused you, if you’re interested.”
I can’t see Brit bringing this guy on her show if all it was going to do was make things worse, so I nod my agreement.
A video feed comes through, and a second later I’m staring at a college-aged kid. He’s wearing glasses and a manga T-shirt. He looks nervous.
I look to Brit. “Will everyone be able to see his face?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “To be clear, only we will know the identity of the young man who posted the video.”
I nod again. “Okay. People make mistakes, and I would not want the same thing that’s happened to me this week to happen to someone else. Even the person responsible for it.”
“I love that even though this week has been a nightmare for you and you’re seconds away from finding out who that person is, you still don’t want to throw them under the bus. What I’m offering today is proof that the video that’s been making your life a nightmare isn’t even remotely accurate.” Brit turns her attention
to the laptop. “I think you have something you’d like to say to Kitty?”
The young man runs his hands over his jean-covered thighs. “I shouldn’t have posted that clip. I didn’t think about how it would impact anyone, and I didn’t think it would go viral the way it did. And I’m sorry for that. I saw you trip. And I knew you didn’t mean to hurt your dog, and it was wrong of me to edit it and make you look bad.”
“You have the full video?” I glance from him to Brit.
“He’s already sent it to me, and we’ll be airing it.”
“Oh. Oh wow.” I turn back to the young man. “Thank you for apologizing. And for sending Brit the full video.”
He chews on his bottom lip and nods vigorously. “I’m really sorry, Kitty. I wish I could take it back. My mom is a huge fan of yours, and we have two cats. I would never have posted it if I knew the damage it was going to do.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Thank you for being brave enough to come forward and help set the record straight.”
Brit thanks him and runs the full, unedited clip. It’s not particularly flattering, but it does capture the boys who skateboarded far too close to us and the flustered flock of geese. It’s a comedy of errors with the way Prince Francis attaches himself to my hip, and I trip over an uneven crack in the sidewalk, causing me to fall on top of poor Wilfred and accidentally smack him in the nose as I try to wrap my arms around his neck and keep him from lunging or bolting, and it feeds out to everyone watching the live interview.
Once the clip has finished running, Brit’s attention returns to me. “It’s amazing how different that looks when it hasn’t been edited down, isn’t it?”
“You know, before we had the complete video, it was one of those situations where you need to be there to believe it could happen. It was literally the perfect storm for poor Wilfred. And Canada geese, while cute, are aggressive. It’s like Canada channeled all their meanness into that one animal!”
That earns me another laugh from Brit, and then she shifts gears, steering the conversation away from what happened in the park to ask me about the Kitty Whisperer and how it all started.
It’s a great interview, and when it’s over, the outpouring of positive messages helps dull the sting of the negativity that came with the original video that went viral. It’s as though someone has switched the lens I’m looking through, and now all I see is the good that can come from something bad.
As soon as we’re in the door to Miles’s place, I fuse my mouth to his, breaking the kiss only long enough to say, “I can’t believe you did that for me.”
“I had some help.”
Wilfred’s nose nudges against our hips. I put making out on pause while Miles takes him outside for a bathroom break and I fill Wilfred’s bowl. I’m quicker than Miles, so I strip out of most of my clothes, apart from my bra and panties, and wait for them to return.
Wilfred goes straight to his bowl, Miles following down the hall. “Where were w—” His eyes go wide, and he drops Wilfred’s
leash on the floor. “Damn. I missed the striptease.” His gaze moves over me on a hot sweep.
I arch a brow. “Have you ever had a striptease?” Jealousy tints the question. I don’t know why I’m asking this right now, apart from slightly morbid curiosity.
Miles arches a brow in return as he crosses the room. “No. But if it were you unwrapping yourself like a gift for me, I’d be willing to change that.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He cups my face between his palms and tips my chin up, eyes heavy with emotion. “You were so brave today, Kitty.” His lips brush over mine. “I love watching you shine like that.”
“Thank you for making it possible.” I suck his bottom lip and let it slide through my teeth. At the same time I start flicking open the buttons on his shirt.
“Thank you for trusting me.” He lifts me on the counter and steps between my parted thighs.
My fingers tremble as I make my way through his buttons and push his shirt over his shoulders. I run my hands over his chest, pausing to press my palm over his heart as our lips meld and our tongues tangle. Tonight feels different, emotions heightened.
I slide his belt through the loop and free the clasp, then pop the button and drag the zipper down. He covers my hand with his before I can slip it inside his boxers. “Let me take care of you first,” he murmurs against my lips, his free hand flicking the clasp of my bra open.
The straps slide down my shoulders, exposing my breasts, and
he kisses a path over my collarbones. Going lower, his mouth covers a nipple, his free hand cupping my other breast. He drops to his knees and rids me of my panties, then brings me to orgasm with his soft tongue and his gentle teeth.
I’m boneless and desperate by the time his mouth returns to mine, tasting of my desire. I grip his hair and wrap my legs around his waist, keeping him close. “I need you inside me.” I ease a hand between us and free him from his boxers.
He sheaths himself with a condom and then he’s filling me, gaze locked on mine. We both shudder and sigh as our bodies join. Everything slows. I stroke his cheek, and his thumb brushes along the column of my throat. No longer in a rush, we shift and move together, sweet and tender.
“I love you so much,” I whisper.
He smiles, nose brushing my cheek as he speaks against my lips. “I love you, too.”
We stay like that, wrapped in each other, bringing each other to the edge over and over until we tip into bliss.