Purrcy said hello by yowling pitifully, a black swooping shadow of fluff dancing around his feet.
“Hey, hey,” Goldie said. “Hang on, I’ll feed you. Damn. Actin’ like you’re starving.”
Purrcy yowled again as if to say she was indeed about to perish.
Goldie went to the kitchen to pop open a can of her overpriced wet food. He poured it in her bowl and then popped it in the microwave to warm it up because he already knew she would not eat it otherwise.
Once she was happily enjoying her dinner, Goldie headed to the bathroom to take a blistering hot shower. He thought about the young man again, hoping he was somewhere safe. He hated to think of him being out on the street in this weather, and he hoped he had a home to go to. The memory of the young man’s smile made his heart race a little faster, and he was tempted to let his hand drift down between his legs…
Until there was a loud crash from the living room.
Fuckin’ Purrcy.
Goldie got out of the shower, threw on some clothes, and came out to find Purrcy had toppled over a display of memorabilia from a high shelf above the television. He picked up the assortment of toys, cups, and key chains, cursing under his breath.
Purrcy, from her new vantage point on the shelf, meowed.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re lucky you’re cute,” Goldie warned. “You know, you could be outside, freezing your little furry butt off and having to hunt mice. You just remember how good you got it here.”
Purrcy stared at him.
“Jerk.”
Purrcy meowed.
Goldie put the memorabilia up on the bookshelf with the toppled action figures to sort out later. Maybe this weekend he’d try to organize everything and get rid of a few things. Looking over the artifacts of his lost career wasn’t exactly thrilling him right now, and that hole was back, gnawing away at his insides.
He plopped down on the couch with his phone, sighing as he scrolled through to find an app to order food. He settled on Italian, grabbing two plates of baked ziti, some mozzarella sticks, and tiramisu.
Oh, and a cannoli.
Oh, oh, and some fried calamari.
He was hungry and he was going to eat some of these damn pesky feelings.
When Goldie went to check out, he had to reenter the little security code on the back of his credit card to complete the order. He hated to get up, but he couldn’t remember the damn number. He grumbled as he lumbered back into the bathroom to grab his pants from the hamper.
Huh.
His wallet wasn’t there.
Goldie frowned, and he checked the pocket of the hoodie he’d been wearing. It wasn’t there either. He looked in the hamper to see if it had fallen out, and he searched his pants again just to make sure. He really didn’t want to go back downstairs and out to his car, but he had no idea where else it could—
Oh,shit.
That morning, he’d stopped to get coffee. The coffee shop had been crowded because of the early hour rush. In his haste to get out of the way to keep the line moving, he’d put his wallet in the pocket of his trench coat.
The same trench coat he’d given to the mysterious young man.
Shit.
Goldie quickly called his bank and credit card companies to cancel his debit and credit cards. He was going to have to get a new driver’s license too, and his mood went from grumpy to absolutely pissed. He stuck a frozen dinner in the microwave since he couldn’t complete his takeout order and then poured a very, very big glass of whiskey.
He sat back down on the couch with the glass and the bottle, and he mindlessly flipped through streaming services. By the time the microwave dinged, he’d already finished his first glass of whiskey and was working on his second, and he didn’t feel like getting up to grab his dinner. His knees were throbbing no matter how he sat, his neck was joining in on the fun, and he kept drinking until he felt numb.
Purrcy eventually came to join him, snuggling right up against his side and allowing herself to be petted. She seemed to know when he wasn’t feeling well, which lately seemed to be all the time, but he was grateful for the affection. Right now, she was all he had.
He found a comedy special to watch, but he wasn’t really paying attention to any of the jokes. He was drunk, annoyed, and he figured he was going to pass out on the couch because he couldn’t be bothered to get up to go to bed. He’d drink some more, sleep here, and then wake up tomorrow morning to do all the same shit all over again.
