“Jack’s also allergic to cats.” April seemed to evaluate him closely, and he sort of hoped Yelena had an allergic reaction kit in the cabinet of her downstairs bathroom, too.
“Cat.” Lola pointed to the cat again.
April held out her hands. “What is the protocol when you find a strange cat in your bedroom?”
Jack sneezed, his nose tickling and his throat itching. He should probably move away from the cat. Which he would’ve, if there were anywhere to go. Unfortunately, there was only the big bed in front of him and a group of women behind him blocking his exit.
Simone studied the cat, then she crouched down and held her hand to the dude. “Hey,” she said. “Come to Auntie Simone.”
The cat hissed at her.
Jack sneezed.
Kitty—where the hell had she come from?—pushed her way through the growing crowd. “Here kitty, kitty,” she sang, leaning down and putting her hand out.
Well, fuck him on a Tuesday—the cat sauntered toward her.
Right past Jack, which, again, made himah-choo.
“He’s all skin and bones.” Kitty lifted the cat so she could speak directly in his face. “This guy needs to put some meat on him.”
“Jack?” April asked. “Maybe you should go someplace else.”
“You need an antihistamine,” Yelena said matter-of-factly.
He agreed. No one, however, moved so he could get through.
“Should we call the police or something to report that we accidentally stole a cat?” Simone asked.
Ah hell, if there were cops involved, Jack was really dreading the answers he was going to have to give about furniture polish and blood and how he should probably never be allowed to supervise children again.
“You didn’t steal him.” Kitty continued scratching the cat’s neck. “He looks like a stray. He’s too much of a lovebug to be feral.”
Jack’s eyes watered further. He started to head past Simone and Yelena, but no one moved to let him past them on the stairs. And now he was just closer to the cat.
“Maybe we should report that we found him,” Simone suggested. She stepped closer, hand out to give the little guy a pet.
He hissed at her and snuggled into Kitty’s…uh…cleavage.
“You are all a bunch of sillies.” Still snuggling the cat, Kitty started down the stairs. “He can stay with me until tomorrow, then I’ll take him down to the shelter for a checkup.”
Uh…Jack lived in a glass room with half walls at Kitty’s. Having the cat there was a terrible idea for him. He’d never had anaphylaxis before, but it didn’t seem like it would be the best way to end this evening.
“What’s going to happen to him if he doesn’t have a family?” April asked, her brows furrowing in concern. For the cat.
Jack scratched at the hives forming along his neck. Was the air thicker? He seemed to be having a hard time catching a breath. “I’m sure he’ll find a home. He’s…achoo…sweet.”
Yes, Jack felt sad, too, because the guy deserved a home. Everybody deserved a home.
“What should we call you?” Kitty asked the cat, as though the cat was actually going to answer the question.
“Jack,” Lola said, pointing at the cat.
Kitty shook her head. “That’ll be too confusing, little one. We’ll say, ‘Jack, come here,’ and no one will know who we’re talking to.”
“Banana,” Lola said, her tone low and nearly a snarl. Then she pointed to the cat again. “Jack.”
Kitty gave Lola an odd look. Apparently, no one had briefed her on the banana language.
