The whole lobby seemed to gasp.
Some people were staring up at the mezzanine and others hurried in different directions, like they were trying to hide. Wylder saw one guy who gaped like a hungry fish.
But what were they looking at? Too many waving arms and fancy hats in the way. And where was Addy? Was all this fuss something to do with her?
Wylder tried jumping up and down, but it just made him dizzy. If only he could get a better view.
Duh! He took the comic from under his shirt. He smoothed it out and examined the pictures.
Now he could see the action perfectly …
The darned rat had landed on his face!
And then, using Wylder’s nose as a launchpad for those skittery little claws, Catnip rocketed to the top of his head where he messed with Wylder’s hair before burrowing down between his shirt and his backpack. Wylder frantically shrugged off the straps, but he still couldn’t reach the rat.
You know that itchy spot in the middle of your back that you can’t reach from over your shoulder or underneath your armpit? That was where Catnip clung, chirping away like a cricket. Wylder spun around and around until he got dizzy. When he stopped spinning, the rat scrambled up to his shoulder. Wylder turned his head and found two beady pink eyes staring calmly into his. Fast as a snake striking, Catnip bent forward and … licked his cheek.
Ewww! Wylder shuddered all over.
“That’s quite the trick, Cowboy.”
Wylder froze. Ever so slowly, he turned around.
Flynn Goster was an acrobat and a trickster and a master of disguise—the coolest guy around. He could look like anyone, but his eyes shone with a trademark twinkle that was his alone. His mustache had a singular flair. He addressed women as “little lady” and he called men “cowboy.”
And here he was.
The lobby was still in an uproar, everyone exclaiming about the show-stopping rescue and applauding Isadora, who was trying to assist the baby’s nanny as she tucked her charge back into the stroller. ServiDudes rolled here and there, picking up dropped items, mopping and tidying.
And in the midst of the chaos, Wylder was sharing a quiet moment with Flynn—it had to be him—who stroked his superb mustache.
“Is that your rat? Fine-looking animal. Mischievous. Reminds me of me.”
Yes, his eyes were twinkling all right.
“My rat?”
Catnip gave him another lick. Wylder tried not to shudder. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “Kind of. I mean, it’s my friend’s, really, but I’m looking after it for her. I mean, uh, yes, Mr. Goster. This is Catnip.”
His heart was pounding. Wait until he told his friend Jerry! Yeah, I was in this super-luxury hotel talking to Flynn Goster. Yeah, Flynn and me. Pals. Called me “Cowboy.” Jerry would pee his pants with envy.
Acting as though he did it every day, Wylder picked the rat off his shoulder and stroked him.
“Nice ratty.”
Catnip cocked a little pink-lined ear. Almost as if he understood what was going on.
“I think you have me confused with someone else, Cowboy.” Flynn touched his finger to Catnip’s head with a smile. “My name is Mammon. Mr. Oliver Mammon, from Kalamazoo.”
He said this in a loud voice, for the benefit of bystanders.
But then he looked straight at Wylder and winked.
It was lucky that Wylder shrieked, because Addy now knew exactly where Catnip had landed. Silly boy. What was so scary about a rat?
Addy raced down the escalator in a breathless whoosh! She snaked her way through the crowd that lingered around the baby carriage, pausing for a second to watch the nanny practically kiss Isadora’s hand in gratitude. Talk about a plot twist, Addy thought. What if the baby had broken its neck halfway through the comic? She moved on, straight for her darling ratty-kins, who was—what the heck?!—being admired by Flynn Goster and stroked by Wylder Wallace?
And whoa!
Wasn’t Catnip … bigger? Almost too big to fit comfortably on Wylder’s trembling palm.
“Hi, Mr. Goster.” Addy reached for her pet. “Way to save the baby!”
Catnip ran up her arm, tail zinging back and forth.
She couldn’t help smiling at Wylder’s look of relief when she reclaimed her rat. She wouldn’t be so mean as to yell at him in front of his hero, but sure as sludge she’d get her comic back and then make him apologize, big time.
“I believe you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” said Flynn Goster. “Both of you. Same mistake.”
“Oh,” said Addy. “Right.”
She could feel Catnip snuggling under her chin, his tiny heart pattering beneath his soft pelt. She looked at Flynn’s elegant gray gloves.
“You’re the … um, billionaire at the moment, right?”
Isadora swept up just then, her face shining with the glow of someone who’s just won a race.
“Hello, my dears.” The charm bracelet on her wrist clinked softly as she rested light fingers on Addy’s shoulder and then shook Wylder’s hand.
“Are you quite recovered from your flight?” she murmured to Catnip, stroking his head.
Darting forward, Isadora planted a kiss on Flynn’s cheek before turning to the photographers with a wink.
Laughter and cheers from the audience. Flynn stroked his mustache.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “Aren’t I the lucky fellow?”
“Kissing?!” Wylder frowned at Addy. “Is this what the ‘FLYNN IN LOVE’ teaser was about?”
“No comment,” she said.
Catnip nosed his way into one of her pockets. Wylder turned his head away, as if he could cancel the kiss by not watching.
Flynn and Isadora continued to gaze at each other, eyes sparkling and cheeks aglow. The photographers edged closer, calling Isadora’s name to make her turn her head. Addy didn’t blame Wylder for thinking it was a bit sickening.
Funny how some of the comic story had changed, but other parts were working out exactly as Vim had written them.
Nevins scuttled across the marble floor, parcel in hand. Addy had a strong urge to kick him in the pants. Pay him back for torturing Catnip. Wouldn’t that feel good?
Nevins deked around a ServiDude carrying a tray of lemonade. Addy charged after him, one hand cupped over the pocket where Catnip was getting a jouncing ride.
“Where are you going?” she heard Wylder call.
The revolving door spun around, taking Nevins with it. A lady holding a basket stepped in front of Addy, forcing her to wait for the next rotation. Wylder chugged up, puffing and red in the face.
“MISS ADDY CROWE!”
A silver colored ServiDude rolled across the lobby floor calling her name.
“PAGING MISS ADDY CROWE.” It spoke in a slightly raspy voice. “VAPORLINK FOR MISS ADDY CROWE!”
