Page 46 of Accidentally Amy

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” I said, scooping the cat food out of the mixing bowl and pressing it into the airtight container with a rubber spatula. “Let’s talk about your car.”

She sighed, and the speakerphone sent her breath across the expanse of my kitchen. “Let’s not.”

“Iz, listen to me. I don’t want to get in your business, but my dad is a mechanic. I grew up around cars. There’s a good chance I can fix it.”

“Oh, my God, you have a dad?” she said, always the smart-ass.

“Ha ha,” I said, picturing the asshole who’d taught me about cars when it was one of his court-appointed “dad” weekends.

“Blake, I just can’t.”

“I thought of a favor,” I said, grabbing a towel to wipe the outside of the Pyrex bowl. “If you need that to make it okay.”

She said, “I’m scared, but lay it on me.”

I put the cat food in the fridge, then took the bowl to the sink and started filling it with soapy water. “I have to go to Boston on Wednesday, and you could take care of my cats while I’m gone.”

She didn’t say anything, but I thought I heard her squeak.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Um.” She cleared her throat and said, “What exactly would that entail? Because pouring food into a bowl is not the equivalent of labor-intensive automobile repairs.”

“Oh, trust me.” I washed my hands, then turned off the water and let the bowl soak. “They’re very high-maintenance.”

“Tell me everything,” she said, sounding interested, which made me smile. She was so weird.

I went into the living room, sat down on the couch, and turned on the TV. Both of the cats were immediately on my lap; it was like they were on guard, just waiting for me to sit. They liked to paw around to get comfortable, but I put my hands on their backs and helped them settle into a sit so they didn’t drive me crazy. “Goodyear is blind, so everything has to be routine or he just walks in circles, meowing, because he can’t figure out what’s going on.”

“Oh, my God, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said.

“When you walk in the door, you have to say his name a few times, so he knows you’re there. I usually pick him up and pethim when he finally appears, just to ensure he knows everything is okay.”

Izzy squeaked again, which for some bizarre reason made me happy as I scratched Goodyear’s head and looked for something to watch.

“He likes his food—which I keep in the fridge—warmed up. He also needs his food and water to be in the exact same spot at all times, or again with the circles.”

“I’m so in love with your cat, Phillips, you don’t even know,” she said.

Which made me grin like a dipshit, all alone in my fucking living room. “He has pills that I have to crush and put in homemade applesauce, which he licks off a plastic spoon.”

“While you hold it?” she asked.

“Why do I feel like this is a cat-lady version of phone sex?”

She started laughing—hard—and said, “Oh, my God, itsois, Blake.Tell me what you’re wearing when you’re holding the spoon. Does he lick it fast or slow?”

She started cackling, and I couldn’t help but laugh right along with her as I switched and gave Hole’s chin a scratch. “You little fucking deviant, quit using my elderly cat’s needs to scratch your weirdo itch.”

“My apologies, Mr. Chest.” She cleared her throat and said, “Please continue.”

I flipped pastLittle Houseand wondered if she was watching. “My other cat, Hole, is diabetic, so he needs two injections a day.”

“Are you kidding me with all of this?” she said, still laughing a little.

“I’m afraid not,” I said, wondering if it was too much for her.

“This is very incredible.” I could hear the smile lingering in her voice. “Also please explain your cats’ names.”

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