The sheriff gave his nephew a warning look, but Brandon was not good with subtle hints. Without invitation, he came inside, almost bowling me over, and by accident, stepped on Jet’s tail with his boot.
She gave a berserker screech that prickled the hairs on my arms—proving my point. Both men looked at each other in panic, but she wasted no time on the sheriff, who hadn’t caused the offense.
She seemed to fly up from the ground, claws out, and stuck them right into Brandon Stone’s shoulders, her teeth an added weapon.
At one point, they were face to face, and if the situation hadn’t been so serious, it would have been comical. His eyes were as round as saucers. Somehow she clawed her way up to the top of his head, over his neck, and then stuck to his back.
Brandon began to dance with her, screaming at me and at his uncle in spittle-filled intervals. “Ah! Ah! Jesus! Help me!”
My father appeared out of nowhere, gave the situation a second of his attention, and then he turned to the sheriff. “What brings you here?” he asked calmly.
The sheriff stooped over and swiped the envelope from the ground. The paper had been lost in the midst of battle.
“Ah! Someone—ah!—please!”
“This.” Sheriff Stone handed my father the envelope. “This brings us here. Is this some kind of joke, Everett? You said you didn’t want trouble. But it seems to me that your family is bringing it to us.”
For the first time, I noticed the Fausti seal on the outside of the envelope and realized, belatedly, what I had missed. It was an invitation to Romeo and Juliette’s wedding, addressed to the Stone family.
Shit! why would Juliette send them an invitation? Why would she want her ex-fiancé to be there anyway? Why—oh, again, cat vs. man had taken my full attention. Romeo. He had sent it, probably without her knowing, to prove a point.
Simply put, he could, so he did.
“Let’s talk in my office.” My father offered Sheriff Stone some refreshment and asked Eunice to bring coffee to his office, along with cake.
“But—” I pointed outside, to where Jet was still using Brandon as a scratching post. My father and the sheriff were halfway up the stairs. “Never mind,” I muttered to myself, as the damsel went out to rescue the Stone in distress.
“Your cat is in-insane! A d-danger to society!” He yelled at me, his face as hot as a third-degree sunburn, blood starting to peep out from the shreds in his shirt. “Get this fucking creature from the pet cemetery off of me!”
“RAARRRRR!” Jet growled.
“If you’d hold still!” I couldn’t even get close enough to attempt to dislodge her claws from his back. “Hold still, dammit!”
Around and around in circles he went, his arms slapping and hitting nothing. The first bubble of hilarity broke free from my throat, but then died when he started for his monster truck, where he kept his gun. What was he going to do? Try to shoot her off his back? He’d hit me instead, or take out a window!
I took more invasive action by going for the waterspout next to the house, attempting to turn the water on and get it through the hose faster than Brandon could go for the gun. This particular spout had always trickled out first before it gushed.
“Come on, come on,” I chanted to the ancient spout. “Move!”
“You take that gun out, you’d better be prepared to use it on me,” Brando said, appearing seemingly out of thin air, shirtless and ringing with the fruits of his labor. He looked at me. “Turn the faucet off, baby. We don’t need it.”
“Like hell we don’t!” Brandon shouted.
“RAAARRR!”
“We don’t?” I wasn’t so sure about that. Jet really had gone mad. All of her pent-up frustration was turning Brandon’s back into shredded meat.
Brando studied Brandon for a moment. “If you want me to get her off, hold still. Or else.” He lifted one perfect shoulder and then let it fall in a careless shrug.
Brandon came to a complete halt, his eyes narrowed on Brando. He was attempting to hide the fear and hurt in his eyes, but it was hard to do with a cat, claws out, still attached.
Brando strode up to Brandon with his usual swagger; calm, controlled, not a care in the world.
“All right, Jet,” Brando said, his voice firm but with a hint of amusement. “You need to let go now, pretty kitty.”
“Pretty kitty my—” Brandon went to protest, but this was silenced by a hiss and her claws sinking in further. She didn’t seem to like the sound of his voice.
“That’s it,” Brando said, getting her to dislodge one paw. But then she went to swat at him with it. “No, no, we’ll get you a rat later—one you can play with longer.”
