A Cat Called Cupid: A Romantic Comedy Novella Read Online Free Page B

but—”
    “ I really need to know. Who are you?” The doorbell ringer was persistent.  
    “I’m his girlfriend ,” Ann answered. Then, as an afterthought, she once again inquired into the doorbell ringer’s identity. It did her no good.
    There was a gap of silence. I left my post on the couch and slunk my way across the living room floor until I was peeking out from between Ann’s ankles.
    I looked up at the woman standing in the doorway. She was exactly as I had imagined her: bottle-blond hair, big earrings and impractical shoes. 
    “Jimmy texted me ,” the woman said.
    “Jimmy’s not here.”
    “But he gave me this address. I’m Vanessa, by the way.”
    “Never heard of you,” Ann replied and slammed the door in her face.
    My Lady didn’t cry . Instead, she found a bag of chocolate bars in the back of the refrigerator. I felt sick just watching her, but then I’m not much of a one for sweets. I retreated to the living room, partly because it’s always revolting to watch another creature gorge themselves, but mostly because now that Part A of my nefarious scheme was out of the way, I had a little groundwork to lay for Part B.
    I nudged the phone out from under the coffee table where I’d left it after texting Vanessa. I activated the touch screen and signed in. I meowed politely, but the fascination of the chocolate must have been too strong. My Lady didn’t even acknowledge me.  I meowed a bit louder. Ann went right on tearing off chunks of candy bar as if she were taking bites out of Cat Hater’s arm and liking it. Never eat in anger, I’ve always said, but My Lady obviously subscribes to a different philosophy. To each his own.
    D esperate times call for desperate measures, so I gave up on meowing and emitted a full-on fur-raising war cry. It was a yowl capable of putting the most battle-hardened of alley cats on notice, and it certainly got Ann’s attention. She dropped the candy bar and hurried over. At first the focus was all on me, but I calmed right down and started giving myself a tongue bath, so it wasn’t long before she discovered the phone.
    She picked it up and took it back to the kitchen table. For a few minutes there was nothing, then there was a ding which indicated a new text had been delivered. It was not long after that when My Lady emitted a noise not unlike the yowl I had unloosed earlier. It, too, was a battle cry. Cat Hater was dead meat.
     
    The following evening, at the usual time, Cat Hater arrived at the apartment. It was obvious that he didn’t yet know his days were numbered. I felt sorry for him. Almost.
    He hadn’t even removed his jacket or kicked off his shoes when My Lady of Wrath descended upon him, phone in hand.
    “I found your phone,” she said. It was like the calm before a storm: she might have been informing him that she was making lasagna for dinner, or asking if he’d remembered to pick up a gallon of milk on the way over.
    “Great!” Cat Hater grabbed his phone and clutched it to his chest. For one revolting moment, I thought he might kiss it.  Cat Hater and his phone share a profound emotional bond. But he didn’t kiss it. He just put it in the front pocket of his shirt, nestled next to his heart.
    “You missed a text last night,” My Lady informed him.
    “Did I?” Cat Hater planted a kiss on My Lady. I suspect he was thinking of his phone the whole time, though. I wonder if he thinks about his phone while in the throes of passion. Probably.
    “Aren’t you going to look at your texts?” Ann asked.
    “I’ll do it later.” Cat Hater kicked off his shoes and headed for his customary spot on the couch.
    “Do it now!” It was an order , not a request. 
    “OK. OK. If you want me to look at my ####### texts, I’ll look at my ####### texts!”
    I could have told him that getting defensive would do him no good, but at this point I didn’t think anything would do him any good, so I retreated to the top of the bookcase by the window