Kitty had an affinity for animal prints and minimalism. Which meant that while the outside of the house looked like the rest of the historic neighborhood, the inside was cheetah, zebra, and snakeskin…minimalism.
After her son went off to college, Kitty had had nearly all the walls of her home torn out to create one great room with slightly rusted, reclaimed aluminum roofing lining the exterior walls. She’d had to leave those walls because if she hadn’t there wouldn’t have been a house anymore. This was actually a conversation that Kitty had had with April during the demolition of all the other walls in the house.
April didn’t let her kids play here very much because she worried that they’d come home with tetanus from the rusted aluminum walls.
“Your room is just this way.” Kitty maneuvered around her leopard print sofa to what would be Jack’s room.
April used the term in the stretchiest interpretation.
She and Jack followed Kitty, and the hairs on the back of April’s neck prickled. She was certain Jack would run back to Los Angeles before the tour was even over.
“Your home is very…” Jack seemed to search through all the corners of his psyche for something to compliment. “Unique.”
That was, in fact, the perfect word to describe the space.
“Aren’t you just the sweetest?” Kitty turned her attention from painting her nails with cleavage polish to Jack. “I still charge extra for soap. One person just has to ruin it for everyone else.”
Kitty gestured to Jack’s space and April watched as he gulped. Hard.
Given the concern of potential blood-borne bacteria from the walls, April didn’t come over frequently. Also, Kitty usually had guests for the vacation rental. More to the point, well, to be honest, April didn’t have much time for visiting. There was always something she needed to get done.
The great room held normal living room furniture with a television and a La-Z-Boy and a kitchen to the left with Kitty’s bedroom and bathroom to the right. Kitty’s rooms were of the normal variety.
But just near the back of the enormous space, she’d set up glass panes of office cubicle walls and—boom—her vacation rental was born.
Kitty gestured to the opening that led into the cubicle.
“There aren’t any walls,” Jack said. For the first time since April had known him, his warm, butterscotch voice had a touch of ominous.
“There are walls.” Kitty smacked the glass. It wobbled.
April stepped back a foot, just in case it all came down.
“They don’t reach the ceiling.” Jack strode into the clear fish-tank of a room. “And they’re transparent.”
“Only if you want them to be.” Kitty pushed a button, and blinds tucked between the panes of glass motored down to the ground. Well, dang, April didn’t know they did that.
“I can’t see over the top, don’t you worry about that. Your privacy is very important to me,” Kitty chirped.
April totally called pickle-flavored-bubble-gum on that assertion.
No one’s privacy was important to Kitty. Jack had effectively checked his at the door.
“How’s that hotel looking now?” April whispered out of the side of her mouth.
Unfortunately, Jack got a flash in his eyes like her kids did when one of them dared the other to do something ridiculous and they planned on seeing it through.
“This is great. Thank you so much.” Jack raised his eyebrows toward April.
Suddenly, she didn’t really want that time alone. She wanted to stay right here and watch Kitty’s fish bowl with her.
Unfortunately, she had kids, and she had a crap load of life scrubbing to do.
“Do you have dinner plans?” she asked, because if she could put off the start of their collaboration and all his multipronged plans, then she’d have more time to scrub her life. At this point, every minute mattered. Bonus, no negotiation, she just took the control right into her own hands.
“Dinner plans?” Kitty asked.
“You know, when you eat later in the afternoon or early evening.” Or late evening, whatever worked. “I’m sure Jack knows what I mean.”
