Outta the Bag by MaryJanice Davidson

Author:MaryJanice Davidson [Davidson, MaryJanice]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2010-09-07T04:00:00+00:00

“Mistake,” he told his date(s).

“She fell on you,” Hi-my-name-is-Sherry guessed.

“I wish.”

“The cat fell on you.”

“That,” he sighed, “would have been nice.”

* * *

“It is slipping!”

“The cat?”

“The ladder,” she snapped. There was a lurch and then the ladder fell past him and crashed to the ground. He jerked back and saw the blonde was barely clinging to a thick branch, legs swinging, fingers laced but slipping. “Disgusting beast,” she snarled. “If I concuss myself, I shall skin you alive.”

“I hope you’re talking to the cat—whoa.”

The blonde had done something—he hadn’t had the best view but it was quick and athletic, whatever it was—and now she was hanging upside down by her legs. Her head swung back and forth, a foot above his.

“Shiro’s sleeping! Ha!”

“Uh, can you come down? If I put the ladder back up, will you be able to—hey!”

She’d playfully snatched at him, and he felt his cap disappear. She jammed it on her own head and was now swinging gently back-and-forth, wearing his BETTER PLUMBER cap. “Coulda shoulda woulda been a plumber,” she sang, “but I don’t like shiny pipes! No I do not!”

“I think you’re scaring Little Pat. And you’re freaking me right the hell out.”

“Little Pat! Is a little cat! It’s fleece was white! As! Snow!”

“Ooookay. I’m gonna—“

“Hello, Kitty!” Raised around cats, Clive had never seen one look so astonished. Somehow the blonde had made another spooky-quick lunge and Little Pat was now suspended from one of the blonde’s hands. This was a gymnastic feat that would have scored the blonde the gold, if she wasn’t so completely unstable. Little Pat kept trying to curl into a ball of misery. He made a sound that was something between a yowl and a whimper. “Good-bye, kitty!”

“Hey!” He lunged as she let go, and caught Little Pat, who thanked him by raking both sets of claws across his nose and forehead. “Aw, shit!”

He heard a heavy ‘thud’ and turned, grimly holding onto a severely pissed Little Pat. The blonde had executed another odd gymnastic move…she’d stood on the branch, ran almost to the end of it, leapt forward, twisted in mid-air, and landed on the roof of his van.

“No one’s Better Better Better Better Better Better than Better!” She stood, then sat, then slid down the windshield onto the hood. “Better Better Better Better Better cat catcher! Better plumber! Better plumbing cat catcher! Ha!”

“I’m going to drive my van away from you now,” he explained, eyeing Little Pat with more than a touch of suspicion. After the initial clawing, the cat had gone limp and apologetic. Clive slid open the side panel, gently tossed Little Pat inside, then quickly slid the door shut. He turned to say a polite yet fearful goodbye to the blonde.

She wasn’t there.

* * *

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