GEEK TATTOO
CHAPTERONE
MATTY
“Beautiful weather for a cat funeral,don’t you think?” Ayla asks.
“Mixie Meow would have loved it,” I agree as I drop a cooler to the grass. “Although it’s not a funeral.”
“Right. Beautiful weather for a cat memorial.”
I gesture to the park around us, peacefully quiet on an early autumn afternoon. “These were her favorite days. Not too hot, not too cold, and best of all, no dogs or loud people around.”
“I’ll always remember how happy she looked with her little leash on, staring up at all the birds in the tree.”
“She never even tried to get one,” I sigh sadly. “What a sweetheart.”
Ayla arches an eyebrow. “I think she was just kind of lazy, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I agree with another sigh. “The cutest, laziest cat there was.”
We set up for the memorial service under an old maple tree, which towers near the edge of our favorite quiet Chicago park. It’s a month after Mixie passed, and I still think about her every day.
A brown tabby with big, wide eyes, she came into my teenage life as a stray who wouldn’t leave my family’s barn. Outside of a year where I lived in the dorms at college, she’d been with me ever since, my constant companion and comfort.
“Maybe I should dye my hair her color of brown. That might be a good tribute.”
“And lose that electric blue? Bright hair is your signature look, Matty.”
I run a few fingers through my hair. “True. I haven’t seen myself in a natural color in years.”
Ayla pulls a few framed pictures of Mixie from her bag and sets them up around the tree. “Most people wouldn’t even throw a memorial, but then again, most people—”
“Most people don’t have cats as hilarious and charming as lazy Mixie,” I say, jumping in to finish her sentence. “Cats who sit on your feet when they’re cold and who meow along when you’re singing to the radio.”
Ayla laughs and shoots me a grin. “I was going to say, most people aren’t as uniquely passionate as you are.”
I hand her a few of Mixie’s stuffed toy mice, each in various states of chewed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You know it is.”
Ayla is one of my oldest friends. She’s short, with big round glasses and blunt bangs. The owner of a vintage dress collection that makes even non-dress-wearers like me jealous, her energy is a perfect combination of laidback fun and mild sarcasm.
She’s also one of the first true friends I made, right after Mixie. We met at a comic con my senior year of high school, where she convinced me to apply to the same college as her. After years in a tiny town where I always felt alone, Ayla helped me find the group of nerdy, weird friends I’d always dreamed of.
Who else but a bunch of gay geeks would be willing to show up for a cat memorial on their lunch breaks?
“What do you think?” she asks, stepping back to admire the scene. “We’ve got all of her favorite toys, the sparkly Mixie Meow banner from her tenth adoption day anniversary, and a cooler full of chilled fizzy water and salmon snacks for the human guests.”
I frown and tap my chin. “Should I have invited more cats?”
“Mixie always pretended to sleep when there were other pets around. I think she’d prefer the humans.”
I nod. “You’re right. We’ll honor the life she lived.” I pull my Bluetooth speaker out from my bag, then find my phone. “Now we just need her favorite tunes, and we’ll be all set.”
The opening notes ofLa Bohemedrift over the speaker, and my emotions begin to swell. I know it’s silly, throwing an event like this, but after all Mixie gave me, I need to send her out right.
A rumbling noise cuts through the air, tearing my attention away from the peaceful scene. A man on an exhaust-belching motorcycle rolls into the park, and behind him, a crew of seven or eight people saunters. They’re dressed in black, covered in tattoos, and carrying heavy bags.
