Page 36 of Missing Chord

“He seems really nice, too.”

“Yeah.” Then I chanted“But he’ll be leaving”a few times in my head as a reminder. Some of the patrons had figured out who Griffin was, and he’d begun signing napkins and drink receipts with a sleek black cat in the crook of one arm. When the cat wiggled, he set her down and smiled at her tail-flicking departure across the floor before turning to the next fan.

“What else do I need to do for the adoption?” I asked the woman working the counter.

“We run a background check and call your references, and then if everything looks good—”

“Oh, no,” Quentin said beside me. “I mean, yeah, that’s our normal procedure. But if you’re Griffin Marsh’s boyfriend then I hardly have to worry about that stuff.”

“I don’t want to jump the queue,” I protested, although I totally wanted to bring Willow home with me right away. “And we’re just friends.”

“Whatever. Plus.” He’d picked up my form and glanced through it. “You’re a nurse working with the elderly. If folks can trust you with their grandmother, I can trust you with a cat. We do a one-week follow-up visit anyhow, so it’s not like I’m being reckless. Unless your home isn’t ready.”

“I’ll need to buy a litterbox and stuff, but that should be easy.” I gave in, peering down into Willow’s green eyes. “Do you want to come home with me? Prepare to be spoiled.”

“But don’t let her get more overweight,” Quentin lectured, diving into three verbal paragraphs of ideal cat care, and ending, “We have a folder for you with her health records and all that info written down. She’s lost two pounds with us, and she needs to continue to slim down. Let me get that from the office.”

He hustled off to the back as Griffin shook one last hand and then ambled my way. “So, what do you think? Putting your name down for Willow?”

“Quentin’s letting me take her today.”

“Ooh, pet toy shopping coming up. The only kind of shopping I enjoy.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Not clothes? What kind of gay man are you?”

“The kind still wearing the beret he got in France on his first ever world tour, and the T-shirt he borrowed from a friend in some second-rate motel in 2007?”

“That’s why it fits so damned good,” I said, before realizing how that sounded. “I mean, it’s a little thin and tight, compared to your usual.”And I don’t hate that.

Griffin chuckled. “Yeah, I figured we were cleaning out a storage unit and not going to be seen in public.”

“No one’s complaining,” the young woman behind the counter murmured, then gave Griffin an innocent look when he turned her way.

Quentin hustled over with a cardboard carrier, a small bag of cat food, and a manila envelope. I signed papers, with Griffin insisting on covering the adoption fee and a donation besides. Then Miss Willow deigned to enter the carrier for a little tuna snack. I brought the car around to the front, we got in, and we were on our way.

Griffin sat on the passenger side with Willow’s box in his lap. “What’s your mom going to say?”

“‘You adopted it, you clean the litterbox’?” I huffed a laugh. “Not sure. But either way, I want Willow. I think Mom will resist her charms for all of twelve and a half seconds.”

“Do you want to drop me off before you bring her home?”

“Hell, no. I need you to take my side and convince Mom that the pathos of all those poor homeless cats overwhelmed me and I did the right thing.”

“I’ll try.” Griffin hummed a note, then sang, “Every kitty in that café, Needs a home beneath their feet, And our fluffy little Willow, Is the sweetest you will meet.”

“Don’t give up your day job,” I told him. “Wait, that is your day job.”

“Everyone’s a critic.” Griffin spoke down to Willow. “You liked it, didn’t you? Cats have good taste.”

Willow purred loud enough to be heard above the engine.

“You should get a cat too,” I told Griffin.

He shook his head. “I don’t want to let anyone else down. If I somehow screw up and break my parole, I could bounce straight into prison. I don’t want anyone depending on me.”

That should’ve been a good reminder to keep my distance, but instead it made me mad. “You won’t screw up. You’re not going to prison. You’ll make amends and then you’ll shine like a fucking star again. All those people in the café? They know that.”

“Nice to think so.”

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