But as the sun slid behind the Manhattan skyline outside her window, she was no closer to finding a replacement client and her stomach had begun to growl obnoxiously. Stifling a growl of her own, she packed up to head home. She’d find something to eat, change into her pajamas, and keep working.
Preferably with a glass of wine.
Since it was going to be a late night, she stopped in the break room to fix herself a coffee for the ride home. She spent her thirty-minute subway ride making notes on her phone, outlining ways to maximize what remained of her advertising budget. While Marlow Marketing wasn’t in any trouble,Do Overwas dangerously close to cancellation. She enjoyed filming the show. It had become an important part of her brand, and perhaps most importantly, it had tripled her income. She wasn’t going to lose it, not when she knew it could be saved.
Her cell phone rang as she exited the subway, and Greta’s name showed on the screen. Eve connected the call. “Please tell me you’re calling with good news.”
“I am, actually,” Greta told her. “They’ve signed off on your revised production budget. All you have to do now is bring us a new client in time to get the replacement episode filmed.”
“Excellent.” Eve exhaled in relief as she dodged a bike messenger, stepping aside to let him pass. “I’ll let you know as soon as I have a name.”
“Friday,” Greta reminded her.
“Got it.” Eve tossed her empty coffee cup into a nearby trash can. A tiny, muffled cry echoed from somewhere, and she paused. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Greta asked.
“Nothing. Listen, I’ll check in with an update tomorrow morning, okay?” She strode down the street toward her building, intent on getting upstairs, out of these heels, and warming up something for dinner. Where had that cry come from? Had it been something on Greta’s end of the line? It hadn’t sounded human, more like an animal. Probably someone nearby on the street was watching a video on their phone or carrying some kind of exotic pet. This was New York City, after all. She’d once seen a man carrying a tiny pig in a backpack.
But an uneasy feeling deep in her gut worried that the sound had come from inside the trash can, and it only grew stronger with each step she took. Holding in a sigh, she turned and walked back to the bin. It was filled almost to the top with garbage. Eve couldn’t believe she was even contemplating poking around in a public trash can. God knew what was inside, but it was sure to be disgusting.
She grimaced as she stood there, listening. Other than the steady hum and honk of traffic, laughter from a couple passing by, and the distant roar of a jet overhead, she couldn’t hear a thing. She was being ridiculous. Hours of work awaited her in her apartment, so she had no idea why she was standing here, staring at a trash can. To satisfy her conscience, she turned on the flashlight on her cell phone and shined it inside.
There was her coffee cup, laying on a plastic grocery bag at the top of the garbage pile. No animals. Nothing but gross, smelly trash. She wrinkled her nose, shining the light quickly over the rest of the bin, but…did that bag just twitch?
Oh, hell.
It twitched again. A sick feeling washed over her, all thoughts of ratings and clients wiped from her mind. With her free hand, she reached cautiously into the bin, nudging aside her coffee cup to uncover the bag beneath it. She hesitated before touching it. What if the movement was caused by a rat, rooting through the rubbish? Or something even less friendly?
But that stubbornly uneasy feeling in her gut made her grasp the knot where the bag had been tied shut and lift it out of the bin. Something inside squealed, and Eve’s heart slammed into her ribs. Her skin prickled. Oh God, there was really a live animal trapped inside this bag. What kind of sick joke…
She knelt and placed the bag on the ground. Cautiously, she tore a hole in the plastic, keeping her fingers well away from the opening in case whatever was inside tried to bite her. She’d just free the rat and be on her way. But the tiny creatures inside weren’t rats. The bag was full of some kind of baby animals that looked like…were those kittens? Tiny newborn kittens, eyes closed and barely moving.
Eve exhaled harshly, as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She ripped the bag all the way open and reached inside. Her fingers brushed soft black fur, and the kitten mewled softly, rooting its head toward her hand. It was cool to the touch.
“Jesus,” she murmured, scanning the rest of the animals. She counted six total, a mixture of black, gray, and one solid white kitten. Not all of them were moving. Ohfuck. Were they even alive?
She stripped out of her blazer and laid it on the ground. Carefully, she lifted the kittens out of the bag one by one and placed them inside her jacket, trying not to notice how cold and stiff they felt beneath her fingers. The temperature hadn’t quite reached seventy today, average for mid-April in Manhattan. She needed to get them inside and warm, and then…what?
She’d call the animal shelter. Yes, that was the logical next step. She eyed the bag they’d been inside of. Should she take it with her? Was it evidence? Was it a crime to throw a litter of kittens in the trash? She sure as hell hoped so. And so she balled up the empty grocery bag and tucked it inside her blazer, which would be going straight into the wash—if not the trash—once she got home. She scooped the edges of the fabric together, forming a makeshift sack for the kittens, and hurried toward her apartment building.
A cool breeze whipped through the thin material of her blouse, and she shivered. Several people gave her strange looks as she cradled her blazer in front of herself. She resisted the urge to tell them off, reasoning that in their position, she’d give herself an odd look too.
Eve Marlow, up-and-coming reality television star, behaving bizarrely among rumors thatDo Over’s second season is off to a disappointing start.
This day could really just stop now. She’d had enough. Walking briskly, she rounded the corner and approached her building. She’d take the kittens inside, call the shelter, and get them on their way to help and veterinary care. Then she could get back to work.
Morris, the doorman, held the door open for her. “Good evening, Ms. Marlow.”
“Evening, Morris. Thank you.” She offered him a brief but grateful smile on her way to the elevator. There hadn’t been a peep out of the kittens since she’d put them in her blazer. No wriggling. God help her if she was carrying a jacket full of dead kittens up to her apartment right now. What if they were covered in fleas? Or had rabies? Was she endangering herself by bringing them inside?
She punched the button with her elbow and waited, toe tapping impatiently, until the elevator arrived. It carried her swiftly to the eighth floor, and she let herself into her apartment. There, she stood for a moment, unsure what to do next and halfway terrified to look inside her blazer.
But her discomfort was no excuse for further endangering their lives. She lay her blazer on the kitchen table, spreading it flat. A few of the kittens stirred, mewling as they scrambled toward each other for warmth.
Several of them didn’t move at all.
She shuddered. They were so cold. Thinking fast, she went into the bedroom, rummaging through her closet until she found the heating pad she used when her back started acting up. She carried it to the kitchen table and plugged it in before laying the jacket full of kittens on top of it. “Now to find someone to take you.”