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  I started to protest that no one would hurt Whiskers, but then I remembered my first impressions of Valencia. She didn't seem like the most well-adjusted individual, and she had sounded fiercely possessive of Sanford. Maybe hurting a poor, defenseless animal like Whiskers wasn't beyond the realm of possibility for her.

  "So where can I go?" I asked, but even as I said these words, one answer did occur to me. It was an awful option, but it was a possibility.

  "There's always your parents?" Della asked, voicing the thought in my head. "Aren't they just twenty minutes away or so? And didn't you say a couple weeks ago that they really wanted you to visit?"

  I had said that to Della, I recalled. Hard to believe that the last call from them had only been a couple of weeks ago. With all the time spent with Sanford, it felt like longer, like he'd been a part of my life for much more than just a month.

  Then again, maybe if we'd gone on much longer, I might have started to see some of the holes in his story, to see through his lies. "Yeah, I guess I could go and stay with my parents for a little while," I gave in. My mother would be overjoyed, at least. I wasn't so thrilled about the possibility of moving back home, but at least it would get me away from Sanford. "I could wait for the asshole to pay my bill, and then figure out what to do with the money."

  "Like I was telling you the other day, you need to take a vacation!" Della insisted. "Trust me, this is even more of a reason to do it. You've got the money, you don't have any reason now to stick around, and getting away will help you clear your head, maybe even help you move on past this total jerkwad. You can come back in a couple of weeks, all tanned and bronzed from spending time in the sun, and you can tell me all about how you let a bunch of hunky Latin men do all sorts of wild and crazy, sultry things to your body!"

  "Della!" I exclaimed, but perhaps for the very first time since I went over to the Winterhearst mansion that morning, I cracked a smile. "That's awful!"

  "Hey, I'm just letting you know how I'd grieve over finding this out," she replied with a shrug, but I saw her smiling in triumph at getting my lips to at least briefly quirk upwards. "And my grieving process has a necessary step where I go out and find the sexist man around, whisper in his ear all the dirty, nasty things that I want him to do to my body, and then drag him back to my hotel room and go nuts until the maids at that place hate me."

  Okay, that was ridiculous. A snorting laugh escaped my lips before I could help myself. "Della, you're awful," I told her. "Absolutely despicable."

  "And that's why I'm your best friend," she filled in the rest of my sentence. "Now, get out of here and go home and pack before the asshole gets back from his trip and realizes that you know the truth!"

  "You can still use his name, you know."

  "Nuh uh." Della shook her head, wild curls of hair bouncing around her face. "From now on, he's the asshole. I don't even care if his bitch fiancee finds out about his cheating and leaves him. Good riddance to bad rubbish all around, I say."

  I didn't feel like trying to persuade her to call Sanford by his name. After all, it might not be politically correct, but "asshole" summed up my feelings towards him, as well, despite the little voice inside my head that insisted that he was still a good guy, that he really did have deep feelings for me. That voice would just have to wither away and die - hopefully sooner, rather than later.

  Maybe I did need to consider Della's advice and throw myself into the bed of another man to get my mind off of Sanford.

  In any case, I headed home and hurriedly threw together a suitcase, tossing in clothes haphazardly without thinking about any sort of organization or what I'd need. I called up my mom to tell her that I'd be coming to stay with them for a few days, and her squeal of happiness practically burst one of my eardrums. I threw my suitcase into the little trunk of my car, and then grabbed the cat carrier and starting hunting around for Whiskers.

  I couldn't find him.

  Oh, perfect. Just perfect. "Whiskers, honey, come out!" I begged, trying to keep the edge of hysteria out of my voice. "Come here, baby, we're going on a trip! I promise that it's not to the vet!"

  Whoops. Probably shouldn't have said that. In any case, Whiskers didn't appear, even when I resorted to giving his treat bag a loud, rattling shake, or even opening up a fresh can of cat food and waving it around, as if the smell would magically conjure him out of the air. I was fairly sure that he hadn't managed to sneak out of my house this morning, but I couldn't find him anywhere.

  Eventually, I just put out the open can of cat food and double-checked to make sure that all of the doors and windows were securely shut. He had plenty of water and food, and I'd just cleaned his litter box the other day. He'd be fine for a day or so, until I came by to pick him up again, or maybe just replenish his food and water.

  Still unable to look up at the big house on the lot beside my own, I climbed into my car and drove away, telling myself that this time away would be good for me.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  *

  My parents, apparently determined to embarrass me from the moment that I arrived at their house, were both waiting outside on the wraparound front porch for me to arrive. My mother rushed down to greet me in the driveway, even before I turned off the engine of my car, while my dad just gave me a wave from his seat up on the porch.

  "Oh, we're so happy to have you, honey!" my mom exclaimed, throwing her arms around me when I was halfway out of the car. "And we've got so much to catch up on. You won't believe how big that boy, Tommy, who lived just down the street from you when you were growing up, has gotten. And he looks just like-"

  Of course, these words immediately provoked a new wave of tears from me. "Mom, I really don't want to talk about guys or dates or anything," I choked out, trying to fight back the wetness already welling up around the corners of my eyes. "Can we just go inside, please?"

  My mother might be pushy about wanting me to find a boyfriend, but she still had her mothering instincts, and those won out over her pushiness as soon as she saw the tears in my eyes. "Oh, honey, of course," she immediately said, totally changing her tune and squeezing me tightly again. "Here, come inside. I've got a bunch of cookies fresh out of the oven. You can have as many as you want as you tell me about whatever's on your mind."

  How could I refuse that offer? I headed inside, pausing to give my dad a quick hug to say hello. "Stay as long as you want, kiddo," he said to me as I bent down to wrap my arms around him.

  "Thanks, Dad," I said back to him. "See you inside?"

  He nodded. "I think we're doing meatloaf for dinner."

  That, at least, put a shaky smile on my face. Meatloaf was the quintessential Dean family meal. I swore that my mother had an infinite supply of frozen meatloaf in a chest freezer somewhere, and she just pulled out a brick whenever she needed something comforting that would stick to the ribs of everyone who consumed it. I'd eaten countless meatloaf dinners growing up, and it always made me feel a little better, comforted.

  Inside, I alternated between stuffing my face with my mom's delicious cookies and telling her about what brought me back home. My mom managed to keep her face fairly straight, clucking in sympathy when I told her about how I discovered Sanford's dirty secret by running into his fiancee.

  "That's awful," she commiserated. "But don't worry, honey, you can stay here as long as you need. Your father and I are happy to have you."

  Once I had tallied up the number of cookies I'd eaten and realized that I'd probably explode if I tried to get down another, I carried my suitcase up to my room. Walking into my childhood room brought back another wave of nostalgia, and I sank down on the bed, burying my face in the covers and inhaling that faint scent of off-brand laundry detergent that my mom always used.

  I was home, and here, at least, Sanford couldn't get to me and fill my head with any other lies.

  Still, it was impossible for me not to think about him, and our time together. The way he moved with me, the way he loved up my body - I still cou
ldn't believe that he'd only done that because he wanted sex. Surely, there would have been an easier way to get it from someone? And besides, he seemed like a smart man - why would he risk problems for his marriage by having an affair with the woman literally living next door?

  Eventually, despite the thoughts buzzing in my head, I drifted off into an uneasy doze. I didn't wake up until my mother called upstairs to tell me that dinner was ready.

  The next couple days drifted by in a similar daze. I did some organization on my computer, but there wasn't much unfinished work for me to do. After all, I'd finished almost all the research for Sanford's home, and I just needed to wait for him to pay my bill that I'd left behind. After all, even if he didn't want me selling any of his items - and at this point, I was fairly sure that I'd turn him down if he asked, despite the tempting extra commission - I'd still make more than enough off of the work I'd done already to settle all my debts and be able to afford a nice vacation.

  I didn't start looking for any vacation destinations, however. Somehow, that felt like putting the final nail in whatever Sanford and I had together, and I couldn't yet bring myself to do it. So instead, I just waited, helped my parents with uncountable numbers of little tasks around the house, and tried to not think about Sanford.

  He wasn't making it easy, of course. Sanford called me a couple of times, even though I declined the calls. He sent me a couple of texts, as well, asking what I was up to - apparently, he hadn't realized that I'd run into his fiancee.

  Well, he could figure out on his own that I knew his game, that the jig was up. I wasn't going to be his other woman. I deleted the texts without replying, and then blocked his number for good measure. I didn't want to take a chance on having my heart broken again, on having to listen to or read his lies.

  I did call Della, asking her to stop by my house and check on Whiskers for me. She already had a spare key, and she promised me that she would swing by and make sure that he had adequate water, food, and a clean litterbox. "And I'm happy to keep on doing this, if you want to take a trip somewhere sunny and exotic for a week or two," she said to me when I spoke to her.

  "Thanks, Della," I replied, not telling her about how I refused to kill that last, tiny little guttering spark of hope that still flickered inside my breast.

  Hopefully, it would eventually extinguish itself, I prayed.

  Since no one else wanted to get in contact with me, I started in surprise when my phone rang on the morning of my third day at my parents' house. I fished it out of my pocket, expecting to see Della's face displayed on the screen.

  Instead, however, I saw a number that I didn't recognize. For a moment, I suspiciously wondered if Sanford might be calling me from a different number, but decided that I could still answer it. If it turned out to be Sanford, I'd just hang up on him immediately. For all I knew, it might be another potential client, another job to take my mind off of how my most recent one ended in heartbreak and disaster.

  "Hello?" I said, after swiping across the screen and lifting the phone up to my ear.

  Across the table from me, my mom glared at me for taking a phone call during breakfast. I stuck out my tongue at her, but got up and moved over to the living room.

  "Hello - is this a Miss Elaine Dean?" I didn't recognize the voice at the other end, but it wasn't Sanford. I breathed a little more easily.

  "Yes, I'm Elaine," I replied. "Who is this?"

  "This is the Midtown Veterinary Clinic," the man at the other end of the line replied, and my anxiety rushed back into my brain. "You're listed as the owner of a cat, er..." The voice paused for a second. "Admiral Theodore Whiskers?"

  "Yes, he's my cat. Why? What's going on?" Had something happened? Had Della brought him in to the vet? Why hadn't she called or texted me to let me know?

  "Er, Miss Dean, are you able to make it over to us? It seems that your cat was in some sort of accident - the man who brought him in said that he was accidentally hit by a car-"

  "Oh my god." My throat seized up for a moment. "Is he alive? What happened? Please, tell me that he's okay!"

  "Miss Dean, I'm afraid that he's currently in surgery. Are you able to come here? The man who brought him in is saying-"

  I wasn't listening any longer. "I'm coming, I'm on my way," I half-shouted into the phone, dropping it down onto the couch without even hanging up as I lunged back into the kitchen to retrieve my purse.

  Still sitting at the kitchen table, my mom frowned up at me. "Honey, what's going on?" she asked, her cup of coffee still halfway to her lips.

  "Whiskers is at the vet," I gasped back to her, snatching up my purse and fumbling around inside of it for my keys. "He got hurt, hit by a car or something. I need to go there, they said that he's in surgery-"

  Thankfully, my mom understood how much my cat meant to me. "Go, go," she shooed me, waving her hands towards the door. "Don't let us stop you."

  My father, at the head of the table, had even put down his newspaper. "Do you need me to drive you?" he asked, as if I was somehow incapable of driving because of this sudden news, like I was the injured one.

  "No, that's okay," I said, already headed out of the kitchen. "I'll call you from the vet, okay?" I didn't wait for an answer before leaving.

  I snatched up my phone from the couch and ran out to my car in the driveway. I jammed the keys into the ignition and gunned it out the driveway, my brain filled with horrible images of poor Whiskers, yowling and in pain, hit by a car and in agony-

  "No, no, please," I prayed out loud to myself as I drove, trying to glare at the cars in front of me to mentally force them out of the way.

  I'd already lost Sanford, one of the two men in my life. I couldn't bear to even think of losing Whiskers, as well.

  I had to get there, had to make sure that he was okay. Whatever it took - I needed to save my cat.

  How in the world had he even gotten out? Hadn't he been inside, or had Della accidentally opened a door or window or something and he'd slipped out? He usually knew enough to stay away from scary, dangerous things like cars, but I'd always wanted to protect him and keep him as an indoor cat, just because I feared that something like this would happen, that he'd get hurt and I wouldn't be there-

  "Oh god, oh god, come on," I whispered. I knew where the vet was, and I blew across town, probably breaking half a dozen traffic laws, not even counting the speeding. Surely, any police officer would understand.

  I came to a sudden stop in the veterinary clinic's parking lot, my tires screeching across the asphalt as I pulled into an open parking space and yanking the keys out of the ignition. Snatching up my purse and phone, I bolted out of my car, across the lot, and into the clinic.

  "Whiskers!" I shouted out as I came inside, looking around as if my cat would be right there, just inside the door.

  Behind the counter, the receptionist looked alarmed at this crazy woman bursting in and shouting at her about facial hair, but a pair of hands settled on my shoulders. "He's still in surgery," said a strong, deep, familiar voice - the last voice that I wanted to hear.

  My heart pounding, although I couldn't say if it was out of anger or fear or love or some combination of the three, I turned around.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  *

  I heard the voice, and I immediately knew who stood behind me. A part of me wanted to close my eyes and ears, turn away and not confront him, but I knew that I couldn't give in and do that.

  I turned, and looked up into Sanford's concerned, anxious, drawn looking face.

  "I tried to call you, but you didn't pick up," he said, gazing down at me with far more compassion and kindness in his eyes than I wanted to see from him. "The vet said they'd try, too - they must have been able to reach you. I'm so sorry, but I promise you that-"

  "You promise me what?" I snapped at him, anger suddenly welling up to run, red and sharp, through my concern and fear and panic. "That you're here to help? That you've told me the truth? That you aren't just using me?"

&nb
sp; "What?" He blinked, and surprise entered his eyes. "Elaine, what are you talking about?"

  "I'm telling you that you don't need to keep up the act any longer!" I yelled, aware that we were in public and that this was totally the wrong place to have this conversation, but forging ahead nonetheless. "I know your secret, asshole!"

  "My secret?" He still looked confused, not yet comprehending that his whole tower of lies had crumbled. "I don't understand-"

  "I talked to Valencia!" I said, throwing the name into his face like venom. "That's right - your fiancee! And she told me everything I needed to know about you, what a total scumbag you are!"

  There, finally. I'd forced it out, and now I saw anger finally darken his face. "Valencia," he growled, and even though I'd been expecting it, I was caught off guard by the rage boiling just under the surface of his voice.

  "That's right," I went on, driving the metaphorical knife blade of betrayal home. "And she told me about how the two of you are all nice and happy together, and how she's so glad that I've been cleaning up the house so that you two can move in together. That's why you hired me, isn't it? You just wanted me to get rid of all the junk, and then you decided that you'd go ahead and help yourself, too, since you're all that and I'm nothing-"

  "Enough!"

  The word hit me like thunder, and my jaw snapped shut almost unconsciously from the heat in his voice. For just a moment, Sanford's eyes blazed down at me, and he looked every inch the dark, avenging god of war.

  "It's not like that," he said, after taking a moment to breathe in deeply. "Elaine, you've got entirely the wrong idea about this-"

  "Yeah? What's wrong?" I asked. "That you're engaged? That you decided to help yourself to the little cupcake living next door because it was easy, a break from the diet food? That you've been lying to me, all this time?"