The Predicament of Persians - A.G. Henley Page 0,30
wrap instead?”
“My lady.” He takes the door with a flourish.
I step back inside, wishing I’d picked up a little before Joe came. James’ dinner plates from last night sit on the dresser, the closet door is open, and Juliet’s litter box has a few gifts on offer.
I retrieve my things and say goodbye to her. But she follows me to the open door and eyes Joe. He eyes her back.
“Hello again, gorgeous.” He bends over to hold out his hand to her.
She approaches him cautiously, sniffs, and then rubs herself against his pants, twisting and winding around his feet. She purrs at him like she’s in love. He squats and pets her, scratching her between the ears and running his hands down her body.
I can only stare. Juliet isn’t an unfriendly cat, but she’s usually a little aloof with strangers. Often, she hides under the bed or some other likely spot until they’re gone.
“Wow,” I say. “She took to you right away. I wonder why?”
Joe throws me a wry grin. “Is it that hard to understand?”
I laugh. “No, of course not. I’m just surprised. She sometimes does this with people whose cats she’s met, but . . . that isn’t the case with you.”
He stands abruptly. “Nope. No way that could have happened.”
I tilt my head. “Huh, well, at least she likes you. And she seems okay with Joe Junior, too.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Joe says, but he sounds different. A little . . . guilty, maybe? I can’t be sure. I don’t know him well enough to read his voice accurately yet.
I pick up my cat and carry her to the bed, but she strains to get back to Joe. Odder and odder. Finally, I have to hold her away from the closing room door with my foot to keep her from darting out and following us. Just in time, too, as James throws open the bathroom door and steam rushes out. Knowing him, he’s probably naked.
“Ready?” I say to Joe as I tug the door closed in a hurry.
He smiles and holds out his hand for me to take. “Couldn’t be readier.”
“You look very handsome, by the way,” I tell him. “That’s a great suit.” It’s dark gray, almost black, and he wears a white collared shirt with no tie.
He smooths his shirt and gestures to my dress. “I wish I’d brought my tux for the occasion.”
“I don’t know, I might have swooned,” I joke.
“Then I’m especially sorry I didn’t.” He kisses me.
People gather in the lobby, clearly ready for the awards ceremony. And they’ve taken the advice to dress however they want to heart.
Cat cosplay is on full display. The sheer number of cat ears, tails, and whiskers sewn on to bodysuits is astounding. Others default to all black outfits with painted cat faces, or even dresses and jackets with cat ears. The people who aren’t here for the convention stare, probably wondering what kind of cat fantasy they’ve wandered into.
I spot Viv and Jess. They’re wearing dresses, but in much shorter lengths and more vibrant hues than mine. Viv wears a lacy violet number, and Jess has on a bright red satin crop top and black skirt. They both wear ears. They wave jauntily, and I wave back.
“Do you have your acceptance speech ready?” Joe asks as we leave the hotel and head for the convention center.
I twitch, as my nerves receive a jolt. The short speech is folded neatly in my clutch. I’ve practiced it several times, too. But talking about it feels like it could jinx the results, so I change the subject.
“I heard you hung out with James this afternoon. Now, I know you’re a real gentleman, but that’s going above and beyond the call of duty.”
He laughs. “He’s very—”
“Rude?” I say. “Immature? Slappable?”
“Honest. I admire that in a man.”
“Brutally honest.” But warmth creeps through me that Joe dug deep and found something to like about my brother. James is very honest . . . as honest as you can stand.
Joe opens the giant outside door of the convention center for me. I walk through, and as I turn to wait for him, I realize Boyd is behind us. He’s wearing a simple jacket and tie.
“Good luck tonight,” he says, winking at me.
“You too.” The frost is crisp in my voice.
“Hey, we haven’t met,” he says to Joe with a smile that almost looks mocking. “I’m Boyd Da—er—Boyd.”
Joe’s eyes narrow as he shakes the man’s hand. “Joe Davis.”
“Very happy to meet you,