Page 33 of Catnapped

“You are. You deserve everything you want and more, May.”

She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling, and I feel another surge of heat. In my veins, and in my heart. God, she’s beautiful.

“Come on. Let’s get the intel.” She cocks her head toward the sound of voices.

We ease along the hallway until we come to a room with male voices inside. She listens at the door, then makes a face.

“Hmm?” I ask, keeping watch for anyone coming down the hall.

“They’re talking about their affairs. Gross.”

“Let’s keep moving.” I pull her farther along, deeper into the morass of money and privilege, until we come to another salon. Women’s voices ring from inside, and May doesn’t have to press her ear to the door to hear them. They’re discussing one of their daughters’ weddings, something about how the bridesmaid had been sleeping with the groom, but the money was too good for the bride to walk away.

May wrinkles her nose. “Nothing’s worth that.”

“Worth what?” I whisper.

“Your dignity.”

“Fair.” I nod.

She pulls herself up and gives me a hard look. “I’m going in.”

I take her elbow. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. What are you going to say?”

She shrugs, and before I can stop her, she pushes her way into the room. I back away quickly before the women inside see me lingering.

The room goes quiet.

“Excuse me, I was looking for my cat.”

Someone laughs.

Another woman asks, “A cat?”

“Yes. He’s a show cat, you see. A beautiful Birman. Mr. Archibald was going to purchase him, but he ran off. Have you seen him?”

“No, we haven’t seen a cat.”

“Ugh, this reminds me of that dreadful woman. What’s her name?”

“Farrol?” an older woman, her voice cracking with age, offers.

“Yes. Her and her obsession with cats. I can’t believe they haven’t redone the Farrol room by now. She must’ve donated half her fortune to keep it this long.”

“The Farrol room?” May asks.

“She’s a crazy cat lady,” another woman pipes up. “Used to come here quite often. Won several best in shows or whatever it’s called. Embarrassing, really, to be exhibiting cats. Dogs are so much more wholesome and beautiful. One dog is worth a thousand cats. In fact, I think–”

“What does it feel like to be this wrong about something?” May’s voice shakes.

“Excuse me?” The woman’s voice rises an octave.

“Cats are everything. They have personality. They have desires and thoughts and ideas. Dogs only want to please you. They cater to you. Cats–you have to earn their respect and their love, but I see you don’t have the chance of earning either. I’m done here. I’ll find my cat on my own.” May reappears and slams the door behind her.

The women inside are silent for a few beats, then one of them says, “Did I just have a stroke or did some strange woman come in here and lecture me about cats?”

The others laugh as I take May’s hand and lead her away from the door.

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