Page 46 of Cats Never Fly

“Ithas changed under my management,”Isaid.Iwas used to this conversation.Theold reputation was the reason my lawyer had suggestedIchange the name whenIbought it, butIrather liked the sound ofTheDrunkenDrake.

“Quitinterrogating the boy,” a man boomed from deeper in the house. “Myporridge is getting cold.”

EveryoneexceptSimonand me scurried away, presumably to the kitchen to be served cold porridge.Icouldn’t even pretend to find that idea appetizing.AllIcoulddo was try to keep my expression neutral.MaybeIcould talkSimoninto stopping at a diner for a second breakfast once we were released from his family’s clutches.Iwas not usually a fan of the hobbit lifestyle, butIsaw the merit in this situation.

“I’llexplain everything,”Isaid, taking his hand in mine and squeezing. “Don’tworry.I’mnot nearly as nefarious as that conversation suggested.”

Simon’scheeks were still flushed, but he merely nodded, then dragged me down the hallway toward what was promising to be the most unusual breakfast experience of my life.

Chapter Fifteen

SIMON

IfIwas in my cat form,Iwould be manically licking my fur off about now.I’dnever been so uncomfortable at a family breakfast before.Cleaningmyself was the only soothing thingIcould think of that might calm my nerves.

Iwasn’t sure what was worse:WarrenandClivecollectingOgdenfrom my apartment,Mamatalking about a strip club, or discoveringOgdenowned that strip club.NowthatI’dhad a few minutes to replay the conversation,IrealizedIhadheard ofTheDrunkenDrake.I’dnever been, but the rest of my brothers had—even the twins, who were three years younger than me.

Buthadn’tIheard it’d closed?

Ofcourse, that’s whatOgdenhad suggested, right?Hesaid he was the new owner.ButIstill wanted to know what his role was there.Didhe just own it and let others run it?Orwas he more hands on—or clothes off, rather?

Clawspushed through the tips of my toes, ruininganother pair of socks, at the thought of my pretty dragon taking his clothing off in front of strangers.Okay, okay.ItwasOgden’sbody; he could do what he liked with it.But…Istill wanted to rip all those strangers apart for ogling him, getting aroused by him, getting off on memories of him.Imight be the size of a house cat in my shifted form, butIgrew up in a house with lots of aggressive siblings.Whenwe were teenagers, with bodies suddenly pumped full of testosterone, the house had been the backdrop to our own personalHungerGames.Imight prefer to run and hide, butIknew how to fight dirty whenIhad to.

Beingterritorial was part of being a cat shifter, but people weren’t property.Ireally needed to suffocate those asshole impulses and bury them in the back garden.

WarrenandClivewere still snickering whenOgdenandImade it to the table.Assoon as we sat, everyone slipped into their usual roles.Mamascanned the table to make sure nothing was missing, like she did every morning.CliveandWarrenfought over the cream for their porridge, spilling half of it on the table.Thetwins,EliandTheo, were stuffing their faces and didn’t look up to acknowledge us.AndPopsmerely passed a plate of bacon toOgdenbefore reaching for the syrup.

Myparents, brothers, andIwere all sitting in our usual spots, but it was strange to seeOgdensitting inJustin’splace.Justinhadn’t attended family breakfast in years and, apparently,I’dgotten used to seeing his spot sit empty.Mamaalways set a plate for him, though, just in case.Noneof us questioned her about it.

Iwondered if she’d start adding another place setting after today or whetherMamawould assignJustin’splacetoOgdenfrom here on out.LastIheard, our brother didn’t have any plans to return toWillowLake.Mamasaid every generation in her family had a tomcat likeJustin, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t find his way home again.Noneof us tried to change her mind about that either.

Mamawas very much the ruler of our family.

Thatthought had my mind circling back to what’d happened whenOgdenarrived.Ihadn’t known what to do when he had essentially told her off.Sure, he’d been polite, but we all knew that’s what he was doing.Andthe weird thing was, she let him.

Ididn’t understand any of this.

HadImade a mistake in making a bond between us?

Ididn’t think so.Honestly,I’dkind of liked him trying to stand up for me, even if it was to my mama, who loved all of us kittens with an unwavering ferocityIhad never once questioned.Ididn’t question her love now, either.Shewas worried about me and this strangerI’dinvited into my life—well, not so much invited as summoned like an evil wizard.

Isighed.IwishedIcould see myself asOgden’ssavior, like he suggested, butIdidn’t deserve the title.It’dbeen pure chance thatI’dblown the whistle whenIhad.Dumbluck wasn’t heroic.Anothersharp urge to shift and clean myself swept over me.SinceMamawould skin me alive ifIdid that at the breakfast table,Iforced myself to eat instead.

Thiswas the weirdest breakfast ever, even worse than when the power had gone out andMamaserved us anchovies from a can.Itwouldn’t have been so bad if she’d left the fish alone, but occasionallyMamadecidedshe was a culinary genius and did terrible things to food.Mostof her creations weren’t genius; they were diabolical.

Thatbreakfast was the worst.She’dtried dressing up the anchovies with syrup—saying something about balancing the salty flavor with something sweet—except she’d grabbed the strawberry syrup instead of the maple syrup by mistake.Itwas awful, althoughIdon’t think it would have been much better with maple syrup.She’dbeen so upset when my brothers andItried to make excuses to leave the table without eating a bite.ThenPopshad given us alook, and we’d all done our best to choke down the fruity fish.Istill gagged at the memory.Theonly good that’d come of that wasPopsinvesting in an outdoor cooking station fueled by propane the following week.

Ascutlery scraped and clinked against plates,Mamabegan her daily interrogations.

“Warren, why are you bleeding at the table?”Mamaeyed his bloody forearm.Itlooked like he’d gone skidding along a gravel road.Hemust have gotten into a scuffle withClive.Theinjury looked familiar.Askme howIknew.

Cliveshot a warning glance atWarren.Mamafrowned.

“Clive, what did you do?”

“We’dagreedIwas driving.Iwas just getting the keys back,”Clivesaid.Iknew exactly what that meant, and apparently, so didMama.

“WhathaveItold you about fighting with your brother?Youaren’t kittens anymore.”