Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“I’m so sorry.” May leans across and pats Mrs. Farrol’s hand gently. “I can’t imagine.”
“So, your son?” I use my bent pen to make notes. “How old is he? When was he last seen? I’ll need a description. Photos, usual whereabouts, contacts–”
“My son?” Mrs. Farrol looks over at me, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Teddy is in the Azores with Mrs. USA, the one from Argentina. What a fiasco that is.” She rolls her eyes.
I cock my head to the side. “So you know where he is?”
“I know where Teddy is. But His Royal Highness Fitzroy Windsor St. John FuzzyBottom IV has been stolen! Absconded with! Purloined!” She points to one of the pop art paintings on the wall. There, in varying hues of pink, is the portrait of a cat wearing a crown and sitting on a tufted pillow. Beneath it, inscribed in flowery script, it says HRH Fitzroy Windsor St. John FuzzyBottom IV.
This time, I break my pen completely in half. “A cat?”
2
MAY
Iwant to ask the giant man if he’s okay, but that cat has my tongue. Based on the guy’s reaction, he must be as upset as I am that a sweet feline is missing. I mean, he snapped his pen completely in two. That might not be a challenge for him. Holding it too hard in his bear-paw-sized hand would surely make it break with no effort. I don’t ask, though, because he’s kind of scary. But also, really handsome.
The man’s size alone is intimidating. Now add in the grumpy expression and his irritation and it makes him more so. I’m not sure what to make of him, but I’ve never been great at reading people. Cats, sure. I even get along okay with dogs, but not with people. I perform even worse with people of the opposite sex. They aren’t typically cat people.
“Yes, my cat!” Mrs. Farrol pulls out a silk-embroidered handkerchief to blot under her eyes. I don’t see any tears, but I can tell she’s distressed. I can’t blame her. I would feel the same exact way if I had a furbaby who went missing.
“That cat?” Carson snaps again, pointing his broken pen at the painting. A drop of ink falls onto the rug, which likely cost more than my life. Mrs. Farrol is too upset to notice. I just hope he doesn’t point out that it's not the cutest cat. That would be rude.
Sadly, it’s not even the kind that is so ugly that it ends up cute. It really only has a face that a mother can love. I keep all those thoughts to myself. I learned early on to keep things to myself. Or try to soften them for pet owners. They can be quite irrational.
“Of course, my cat! Who else?” Mrs. Farrol clutches the handkerchief to her chest. Her face starts to flush. Carson stands up. I quickly realize he’s not worried about the cat. By the looks of it, I would say he’s about to leave. I am equally certain that Mrs. Farrol is on the brink of a stroke.
“It’s going to be okay.” I try to reassure her. I reach out and grab Carson’s forearm. I can’t even wrap my fingers all the way around it. The man really is a freaking beast. He’s going to scare off every cat within miles. We’ll need to get some catnip and put it in his pockets. Not that I think he’ll voluntarily let me. I’ll have to find a way to sneak it in.
Carson’s eyes drop to where my hand is trying to wrap around his arm. I give him a squeeze. He flicks his gaze at me. I give him a pleading look. I need this job. It alone could save the shelter. There’s no way I can turn it down. Even if I had to take a plane to get here, not that I’m complaining. It was a fancy, private one that Mrs. Farrol sent for me. She’d found me on TikTok. She was pleading with me to come and help her find her missing cat. At first, I was skeptical of the whole thing but also desperate enough to take her up on her offer.
Please, I mouth to Carson. He slowly sits back down. “See, Mrs. Farrol? He’s only worked up. I mean, a cat is missing, after all.” I let go of his arm to pat his thigh. I stop and feel it, rubbing it. It’s hard as a rock. I give it a poke.
“May.” He growls my name, making me jerk my hand back.
“Sorry.” Heat rushes to my face. What is wrong with me? Was I petting him? I’ve been hanging out with cats too much. I’m losing it.
“I know. Seeing how adorable he is.” Mrs. Farrol motions toward the painting. "And knowing such a gorgeous cat is missing must be hard for you, too." She sniffles. “I’m being selfish. That’s the thing about my darling baby; he’s a joy to be shared with the world, you know?”