beds or sofas, but let’s be real, clearly Warren has never had a cat because cats do what they want. Gary yawns in my face, then settles in to stare at me. Which he will do until I magically figure out what he wants.
“Gary,” I say, putting the book down. “Whatever do you want, you tiny troublemaker?”
Gary continues his staredown as Duke edges in around the doorframe, grinning his adorable dog smile.
“Duke!” I coo, because I adore Duke. The whole following rules thing is quite charming in a pet. Duke prances expectantly as Gary continues to stare at me. Wait. Wait one second.
They’re up to something.
And it’s likely Gary’s fault.
“Gary,” I begin in my best mom voice, eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you two up to?”
Gary slow-blinks at me.
Then he exchanges a look with Duke. Seriously. A look. Like, what the hell?
“I’m very busy,” I tell Gary. “Reading,” I add, tapping the book as if that will get through to him. “And don’t tell me this is about food. I’ve already fed you tonight. Both first and second dinner.”
I used a bowl I found in Warren’s outdated kitchen. A very old, very white bowl. I remember thinking it was probably an important bowl, a piece of New York history, and that maybe I should’ve brought Gary a bowl from home. But Gary was hungry, and desperate times and all that.
The point is, I already fed the little beggar. “You’re not getting a third dinner.”
Gary flicks his tail and thumps loudly to the floor, heads to the door and gives me a meaningful look. Duke barks, apparently in agreement.
Obviously I’m going to have to see what they want.
I follow them as Gary prowls ahead, tail in the air. Duke’s thrilled to just be near him, and I have to admit, Gary’s pull is pretty damn magnetic.
They lead me downstairs, Gary stopping every few yards to look back and ensure I’m following like the obedient pet owner I am. To my surprise it’s not the kitchen they lure me to. No, it’s actually the room where I first met Warren, but it’s dark so I assume it’s empty. I have no idea what Gary wants. Unless… oh, God. I hope he hasn’t cornered an unsuspecting mouse in Warren’s office. Or worse, left one on his desk. That’d be a dead giveaway that Gary isn’t obeying the no-furniture rule. Literally dead. Perhaps I should slip in there while Warren’s not home to check for evidence. But as I stand outside, I hear the tell-tale tapping of keys.
“Duke,” Warren calls from inside the office, clearly having heard something. Shit, he’s already home. And if he steps into the hallway now, it’ll look like I’m being a weird stalker, hovering in his office doorway.
Not exactly the kind of person you want as a houseguest.
And definitely not someone you’d want to make out with. Or have sex with.
Duke barks, helpfully cutting off my train of thought. I make a run for it, as quietly as possible in a weird tiptoe sprint, but I’m foiled by an ancient rug and general clumsiness.
“Duke?” Warren calls out, no doubt worried that the giant thud meant Duke was up to something or other.
Which is nice. Much nicer than assuming I was lurking outside of his office and faceplanting onto the floor.
The door opens as I pull myself up to a sitting position, as if this is where I planned to be. I pet Gary for good measure, and he, at least, plays along by stepping onto my lap and purring.
Warren blinks down at me. “Should I ask?”
“Just hanging out,” I say as nonchalantly as possible. From the floor. “Relaxing.”
“That’s relaxing?”
“I was petting Duke,” I improvise, and Duke, God bless him, plops down beside me and rests his head on my knee as if to confirm this ruse.
“Did he trip you?” Warren questions, arms crossed as he gives the three of us sitting in the middle of the hallway a once-over.
“Err, no.” I might be willing to tell a fib every once in a while, but I draw the line at using a dog as a scapegoat. Time to change the subject before Duke gets grounded and I’ve got that hanging over my conscience.
“So, what are you up to?” I ask. Gary’s had enough of the pity cuddle he was giving me and makes a beeline for the open door, Duke of course following. I stand up and dust myself off, eyeing the open door.
I really hope there’s not a mouse