We made our way down the spiral stairs, not in any hurry since Betty would be gone all day. The room’s scent hit me, the sweet, musky rose and vanilla smell that was distinctly hers. I let it permeate my lungs with a flashback to the night I knew everything changed for me—the night I fell hopelessly in love with Betty.
She was more than I imagined she would be in person, even more beautiful than she was on camera stealing the Rembrandt from my uncle’s office. She moved like vapor and spoke to me in shadows and dreams.
I rounded her nearly empty bed in the middle of the room. Mr. Beans was curled into a ball in a nest of blankets. He hadn’t noticed us yet—I was surprised—but as the kitten mewed at the sight of him, Mr. Beans shot up onto his toes, immediately hissing.
“Oh, calm down, grumpy asshole,” I said. I had to pry the kitten off my back, one nail at a time. Cradling the tiny thing entirely in one hand, I blooped Mr. Beans on the nose before lowering the kitten closer so they could smell each other. Inch by inch, we drew near.
I was nervous that Mr. Beans might reject the kitten and put an end to my hopes of a friendship between the two. To my surprise, Mr. Beans calmed quickly, nosing forward to brush whiskers with the kitten. I set the kitten down, and Mr. Beans immediately circled him before clamping a mouth down on the back of the kitten’s neck.
“Mr. Beans, no,” I scolded.
As I reached toward him, however, Mr. Beans let out a low growl before pulling the kitten away from me and placing him in his nest of blankets. He released the kitten’s neck and began grooming him instead.
“Okay, fine then. You keep him.” I’d been dismissed.
The kitten was purring, eyes closing at the feel of the grooming session. I guess where I hadn’t brought Betty flowers, a kitten was as good as anything. It was a satisfactory apology for leaving her this long.
With my hands in my pockets, I spent a little time perusing the shelves in her room before turning on the hot water in the shower and taking the liberty of cleaning up after the long journey. After that, I went down to her fridge and put together a sandwich. At one point, while sitting at the island eating, Mr. Beans entered the room, the little black kitten in his wake like a dutiful soldier, trying to catch Mr. Beans’fluffy tail.
I finished the sandwich and washed my plate, drying it before placing it back in the cabinet. Rummaging through her fridge again, I found a beer and tucked it into my pocket for later. There were also some fudge cookies in her pantry, and I stole a few of those as well, munching them down before returning to the top floor.
Entering Betty’s closet, I searched the shelves for a strip of ribbon or something I could use to tie a bow around the kitten’s neck. My eye caught sight of a basket filled with colorful, lacy things. A bright red thong stood out on top, delighting me.
Hooking a finger into the delicate band, my knees buckled at the sight of it. It was sheer and soft, just a whisper of fabric. Unable to resist, I brought the fabric to my nose; it smelled faintly of her. This was the perfect solution. Just the thing to get her attention.
Mr. Beans was following me, and sure enough, the kitten was also hiding under the hanging garments and swatting at hemlines. I grabbed him out with one hand and sat him in my lap, tying the thong around his neck and doing my best to make a gift bow of it. It was a little haphazard, but conveyed the message.
For good measure, I plucked a black pair of panties from the basket and stuffed them in my pocket with the beer before leaving her closet. She wouldn’t miss them. I took the spiral stairs two at a time. The cats barreled after me like some sort of game. My hand found the knotted rope, and I hoisted myself out through the skylight. When I latched it behind me, the two cats were watching from below, looking sad that I’d left.
I put a finger to my lips as though to swear them to secrecy. I was excited to see the look on Betty’s face when she saw them together. Even more excited now that I’d added the tied bow around his neck. She would know it was me, and I couldn’t wait to see that reaction.
Chapter 8
Betty
Several times during my workday, I’d glanced out the office windows down onto the street. The Crown Vic was a constant presence, sitting there like a blue stain on the otherwise upscale streets in this area of the city.
My anger stewed with each passing hour, and by the end of the workday, I was fed up feeling like a simmering crock-pot. Once I’d gathered up my belongings and turned off the lights in my workspace, I rummaged in my purse for something specific. A devious grin spread across my lips when I found the item, gripping it in my angry fist.
Chin held high, I marched my way to the elevator. The small, tubular object rolled in my hand as I descended. I pushed back my fear and let adrenaline feed me. With a gait full of stalwart ferocity, nothing would get in my way as I left the building and arrived on the sidewalk.
Frederick was already there in the loading zone, bolstering my confidence further. If anything horrible happened, which I doubted given the traffic-packed street, at least he’d be there to back me up. I acknowledged him briefly before my gaze skated over the cars in and along the rows of traffic until it landed upon the blue Crown Vic across the street.
All the vehicles between me and the blue car were at a standstill. The traffic light in front of our building was red. I stepped out onto the road, weaving between traffic, hoisting my Birkin onto my shoulder with my back straight and nose in the air. My heels clacked and hips swayed between taxis and cars in my sharp pencil skirt, eliciting a few honks and jeers.
Marching right up to the blue car, I pounded on the tinted window with the heel of my palm, seeing the outline of the man inside. Nothing happened for a moment until I saw the burning spark of a lighter, followed by the amber glow of a cigarette tip illuminating the dark cab. The window dropped an inch, but before I could make out a face, smoke billowed toward me through the crack.
Jerking back, anger overcame me. My veins flooded with a tingly, unhinged prickle, igniting every one of my nerve endings. A frustrated scream of anger exploded from my mouth. Forming a fist, I pounded the window with the meaty part of my hand, hard enough to form a small crack in the glass.
Good.
The man shut the window immediately.
I tried to ignore the sting of pain radiating up my arm, refusing to show weakness.
Teeth clenched, I squeezed the weapon in my other hand before popping off the lid with my thumb and rounding the windshield. In big, sweeping cursive letters, I wrote“Fuck off” in my very best dark garnet shade of NARS lipstick—aptly named‘Unrestrained’. With a flourish—my body half lying on the hood at this point—I signed it with a heart and kissed the windshield.
The man inside didn’t react.
