Page 13 of Root

I pause stroking the kitten. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“Aw, c’mon. You’re meant to make him softer and cuddlier, not be like him.”

She shrugs. “Niko is not soft and cuddly. He’s a bad man.”

I wince. I get the feeling the bad man would hate her calling him that in such a loving voice, even to me.

“Why are you mad? You’re the one-woman machine of Queenstown. I’m beginning to think people are more scared of you than him.”

“They’re scared they’ll piss him off if they upset me.” Rose grins, but then remembers she’s mad and goes back to pacing. “And I’m just boosting the business. I’m still killing him.”

“I think he might kill you first…well, lightly maim. I don’t think he’s into pets.” But he’s into Rose and he’ll suffer for her. Nikolai is a softy where she’s concerned. “Why do you want to kill him, anyway?”

She stomps off. They’ve been married almost five years now, and I’ve never seen Nikolai happier. At least, whatever passes as happiness for the old fuck face.

Rose nabs a bottle of Nikolai’s precious whiskey from the bar then narrows her eyes at me. “Whatever you’re thinking, you better not say it to him. He might shoot you, just a little. Nothing, y’know, fatal.”

“My face is fine.”

She laughs darkly. “You give away everything, Rush.”

“Hey, at least I turned up to your wedding, unlike the two of you.”

She gives me a sour look. “Genius says you slept with a different girl every night. Gross.”

“What’s gross is you and Niko.” Now, she smiles stupidly. I roll my eyes. “You, Rose, just had to run off.”

“We had a Nikolai-style wedding.”

I sigh and change the subject. “What’s this thing called?”

I look down at the black kitten in my lap. It opens its green eyes, blinks, yawns, shows me its fangs, and then latches on with tiny needle claws and bites. “Ow!”

“Little Nicky, no!”

“Oh, fuck, he’s definitely killing you.” I shake my head. “Like that fucking old movie?”

“He’s a baby Satan, aren’t you?” She waggles a finger at the kitten, but otherwise makes no attempt to pull him off me. I manage that myself. I’m bleeding, but she smiles like the damn thing did something praiseworthy.

“Rose.”

“Good boy, are you hungry?”

“I’m not into eating kittens.”

“I’m talking to the cat, not you.” Rose meets my eye. “I couldn’t leave him. He was sitting there today, so lost and skinny, so now he’s mine.”

I’m pretty sure this is Rose’s metaphor for life. She sort of ended up turning the tables and making Nikolai hers.

“Jesus.”

“His name is actually Dante, I think.”

“Another little Nicky?” I snicker. “Like the Hell story?”

“Yes, and like Nikolai’s tattoos.”

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