“I hope you’re in the mood for some fried chicken,” Charles said at the same moment I spotted the red-and-white containers stacked in the center of the table. “It seemed comfort food-y,” he added with a grin as the two of us moved into the dining room.
“It smells so good,” I cooed. Then I remembered the one time I’d attempted to bring fast food chicken into the house while living with Octo-Cat. He’d claimed the greasy smell bothered him so much that he’d swatted the still-full bucket off the edge of the table, sending wings, thighs, and drumsticks cascading across the dusty floor and rendering my dinner plans obsolete.
That guy. He always did love making a scene.
Charles studied me carefully as he scooped a giant heap of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “What’s up?” he asked softly.
“Just thinking about him,” I admitted, returning to that sad, anxiety-filled place inside of me. “Do you really think he’s okay?”
“Angie, look at me,” Charles demanded, his stern expression brooking no argument. “That cat of yours could probably survive a nuclear holocaust if he wanted to. You know, he’s kind of like a cockroach in that way. Nothing stands in the way of him and what he wants, and I guarantee he wants to get home to you. And he will. Okay?”
“Okay,” I mumbled. Should I be offended that he basically just called my cat a cockroach? Octo-Cat certainly wouldn’t like that comparison if he were here. But he wasn’t here, and I was beginning to worry we’d never find him—especially not in time to make his court date.
Charles gave me a few minutes alone with my thoughts, but the whole time his gaze didn’t waver from my face. “Tell me you believe me,” he said at last.
“Yes, yes, I believe you,” I hurried to assure him. In some ways I did, but in others? It was hard to keep the faith when I had no idea what we were dealing with. “It’s still hard, though,” I added, unable to hide the emotional turmoil that raged on the inside. Had I somehow caused this? If so, I would never forgive myself.
“Eat,” Charles commanded, motioning to my plate, where the salty pile of comfort food still sat untouched.
Even though I knew Charles was just trying to help, my stomach churned at the sight of it. I twisted my face into a grimace and leaned away from the table, trying to gain at least a little distance from the nauseating aroma before me.
My thoughts immediately turned back to Octo-Cat. “Do you think he has access to Evian and Fancy Feast wherever he is? What if he’s starving or dying of thirst? What if—?”
“Okay, that’s it,” Charles said firmly as he set his fork down and pushed his plate to the side. “You’re officially not allowed to talk until you get something in your stomach.”
“But—“ I argued, unsure of how I wanted to finish this particular sentence. Luckily, I didn’t have to.
“But nothing,” Charles huffed, folding his arms in front of him. “While you eat, I’ll do the talking. Got it?”
I sat, staring at him with a furrowed brow, which elicited a deep sigh from Charles.
Both his voice and expression softened then. “C’mon. I’m trying to be a good friend here.”
Even though my gut still roiled with anxiety, I obediently picked up a chicken leg and smiled at Charles with wide eyes before taking a large, juicy bite. Instead of feeling worse like I’d feared, something like relief settled over me. Maybe I really was hungry, after all.
“Thank you,” he said with a quick nod in my direction. “Now, we have a couple of big issues to address. Let’s start with the arbitration, because I’m assuming it will be easier for you to focus on your dinner while I’m yammering on about the boring stuff.”
I gave him a thumbs up and waited to see what he’d say next.
“Like I said before, we should have Octo-Cat back by then, which means it probably won’t be a problem for us.” He held up his hand to silence me before I could even begin to offer another argument.
“However,” he continued emphatically. “Just to make sure all our bases are covered, I’ll stop by the county court tomorrow to request a continuance. Meanwhile, I shouldn’t need much to prepare your argument against the arbitration. Ethel Fulton made her will very clear in regard to how she wanted her assets divided and who she most wanted to see benefited by them. And while she was certainly the most generous with Octo-Cat, she didn’t cut any of the family out, either.”
He paused to take a quick drink from his glass of tap water. Funny how my cat had more particular tastes than the senior partner at my law firm. “Now, they might argue that Octo-Cat and his monthly trust fund payments should have remained with one of the members of their family, but that won’t be a problem, either. We have lots of evidence that you’re a fantastic pet owner. Many witnesses who would attest to that fact as well.”
I pushed my plate aside, already having eaten all I could stomach for the time being. I did feel better in some ways, but in others nothing had changed. And now my head swam with all the new information Charles had provided about how we were going to fight this arbitration.
“Well, maybe I was a fantastic pet owner,” I murmured with a frown. “But now my pet either ran away or was stolen right out from under my nose.”
Charles waved his fork at me, sending a small lump of mashed potatoes soaring half way across the table. We both stared at the spot where they’d landed for a moment without saying anything.
“We’re going to find him,” he promised again. “And you know how you’re going to do it, right?”
I lifted my eyes to his with what I assume must have appeared to be a blank expression, when inside my head was reeling with all the places we had yet to look, all the things that might have possibly gone wrong in the meanwhile.
“Um, hello!” he cried, waving his hand between us with a flourish. “You can talk to other animals now. That’s huge!”
“J and J weren’t exactly thrilled to see me,” I hedged. Even though I could talk to other animals, I hadn’t done much of that yet. I was still learning, and there was so much I needed to figure out, given that each species seemed to have its own personality, lingo, and set of social guidelines. Heck, I was still figuring out Octo-Cat more and more with each new day, and now I had an entire world of creatures I knew very little about. It wasn’t as if I had anyone I could ask for advice on this particular issue, either.
“Not them,” Charles said with a dismissive chuckle, referring to his two moody felines. “I’m sure there are at least a dozen forest animals that regularly hang out in your yard or in the woods by your yard. Maybe one of them saw something.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re right,” I said, suddenly eager to get home again. Even if I didn’t know exactly how to act with them, at least I had my words. At this point I’d try anything—risk almost everything—to find my missing friend again.
Charles simpered at me. “Do you feel better now?”
I knew I wouldn’t feel better until I had Octo-Cat safe in my arms again. Granted, he would probably scratch me like crazy, considering how hard I planned to hug his furry little body once I found him again. Even the sting a of fresh wound would be welcome right about now. Anything to prove that my cat was still here and that he didn’t blame me for his sudden disappearance.
Actually, even if he did blame me, that would still be okay. I’d have to work harder to make sure nothing like this ever happened again.
“Thanks for talking me off the ledge,” I said as Charles began to clear our plates from the table.
“No more ledges for you,” he said with a laugh. “You hear me?”
I knew he was just joking, but still I couldn’t promise anything. If Octo-Cat needed me to walk a tightrope a hundred feet off the ground, I would jump at the chance to do it.
Anything to bring my number one guy home safe and sound…