“Maybe in a few days. For now, I’ll drop you off. Besides, I can pick you up on my way back home later.”
“You can’t be serious. What happens if I can’t stand him?”
“You’ll just have to get over it. Now get going.” Pop says, pushing me along.
Fifteen minutes and we’re stopping in front of a house in the middle of the woods, set back and out of the way.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” I ask Pop.
“Yes, now take this lunch box with stuff in case you get hungry or thirsty. He didn’t look like someone that would have much more than liquor.”
“Thanks, Pop.” I shut the door, waving at him before walking up the porch stairs and knocking on the front door. The doors are all glass and covered by semi-sheer curtains, which after a moment, swish slightly. My eyes are drawn to the movement, and staring up at me from the other side is a black cat with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. It yowls loud enough that I can hear it just before it’s pushed aside by a long, lean jean leg. The door opens, and there is the asshole.
“You’re early.” Leaving the door open, he walks away barefoot with a hand wave for me to follow.
“Better than late.” I roll my eyes shutting the door. The entryway is empty, but it opens into a nice living room. Hardwood flooring with a stone fireplace. I start to look closer at the pictures I see on the wall when my leg is rubbed against. I squat down, petting the black kitty. “Hey, does the cat have a name?”
A door opens behind me, and I hear his boots on the hardwood. “I asked. He didn’t say, so I just call him the cat.”
“Are you already drunk?” The words just sort of fall out of my mouth as I pick the kitty up. “He didn’t even give you a name. Shame on him.”