Page 3 of The Music of Us
“Lucy!”
Turning, I saw Amber coming into the back room.
“Lucy,” Amber repeated, keeping her voice low so the customers out front couldn’t hear. “You’re never going to guess what’s happening in there.”
“Well, if someone’s ChapStick has gone missing, I think Rumple has it,” I replied, squinting at his hoard. “And I really don’t think they’ll want it back.”
“No, it’s worse than that. I think a couple in the cat room are breaking up.”
“What?” Criminal feline forgotten, I stood. Who’d break up at acat café? “Why do you think that?”
“Because this guy just told his date, ‘I think we should break up.’”
Well, I couldn’t argue with that evidence.
“He left,” Amber informed me. “But now the girl looks like she’s going to start crying.”
“Wha—” I shook my head. “What are you going to do?”
“Me?I’m gettingyou.”
“Why me?”
Amber gave me a pointed look. “Because since your mom’s not here, that technically makes you my boss right now, remember?”
Right. It still took some getting used to. Since Mom’s car accident and her knee surgery a couple months ago, she hadn’t been able to manage the café. I’d stepped in for most of the summer.
“So,” Amber said, crossing her arms in amusement, “what are you going to do, boss?”
“Tell you to go back out there and talk to her?”
“What? Come on, Lucy, please handle this one,” Amber begged. She clasped her hands together and batted her eyes pleadingly, nearly blinding me with her bright—but admittedly cool—micro-glitter eyeshadow. “You’re really good with people,” she plunged on. “And I’m... not.”
“It’s not that you’rebadwith people,” I said encouragingly. “It’s just that you value honesty and being up-front.” Amber had a habit of saying whatever was on her mind, unapologetically loud and unfiltered. “But sometimes strangers don’t, uh... take to that as well as the cats do.”
“See?” Amber replied, gesturing in aDid you just hear yourself?way. “Example A. Good with people. You successfully avoided telling me I’m terrible.” I laughed as she continued. “I know your break just started, so I’ll make it up to you by lettingyou choose the music for the rest of the day.” Amber was in charge of the playlist during all her shifts. “Iknowyou’ll want to change the playlist I’ve got on now because it’s got, like, six Usual Suspects songs.”
I paused slightly, a familiar zing going through my pulse.
“‘Lovely, Aren’t Ya’ is on there,” Amber added, coaxing me to take the deal. “And I know you must hate that song because you always get a weird look on your face when it plays.”
Iwhat? No I didn’t. Did I?
“I don’t get a weird look,” I argued.
“Yeah, you do. It’s the one you’re giving me right now.” Amber contemplated my expression, squinting one eye and holding her hands up like a frame around my face. “It looks like the kind a cat makes before coughing up a hair ball.”
Seriously? I resisted the urge to find the closest reflective surface and take a look.
“You know what? You’ve got yourself a deal,” I said, skirting away from the conversation. “I’m going.”
Making my escape, I left Amber behind as I stepped into the cat room.
I surveyed The Tiny Tiger, looking for the girl who just got broken up with. At first, all I saw was cats. There were three in front of the TV, intently watching a celebrity gossip show. Two on the winding catwalk overhead, enacting the infamous Mufasa and Scar scene, and...there.
A girl about my age sat alone at a table against the back wall, across from an empty chair, sniffling.
Before I could approach her, something soft and silky wove against my legs, and I looked down to see one of the friendliest cats in the café.
