Page 5 of The Music of Us
Reporters erupted into pandemonium, flashbulbs bursting like fireworks.
“He’s got style,” Becky commented, watching as Jake slipped on a pair of sunglasses and turned his back to the reporters. “I’ll give him that.”
“He should’ve taken the jacket off before that stunt,” I muttered, thinking of the designer details I’d catalogued: Racer cut. Full-grain noir leather. Gunmetal accents. The embossed crown logo on the pocket. I knew enough about fashion to say Jakedefinitelyshouldn’t be using a quality piece like that as a scuba suit.
“You know,” Becky said thoughtfully, “Jake’s advertised as the band’s bad boy, but I still think there’s a heart of gold in there that just doesn’t get much publicity.”
“I can see that,” I said mildly. I had several years’ worth of memories to support her theory, despite the way he acted now. Jake helping me with my English worksheets. Jake tidying up at the café just because he was there at closing. Jake going out of his way to walk me home after school.
But that was before he left. Now, seeing him on TV was like watching a show with a character I didn’t know, played by an actor I’d seen before. It was him in every way—but it also was not.
Becky sighed. “At least if Jake Moody broke my heart, he’d do it with a little more flair than dumping me in a cat café.”
The irony.
“Are you sure about that?” I asked distractedly, eyes still on the TV. “Because he seems like the kind of guy who’d be full of empty promises and just vanish into thin air one day.”
From across the table, Becky let out a confused, “Huh?”
“Never mind,” I muttered, forcing my gaze away from the TV. I didn’t know this person anymore—and I didn’t even know if I’d like him now if we met again.
I looked across the table at Becky and Snickers.
“Anyway,” I continued brightly, refocusing her attention to what mattered, “there’s an important lesson we can learn here!”
“A lesson?” Becky questioned, only half listening as she scratched behind Snickers’s ears. “What’s that?”
“Crushes are temporary,” I said. “Cats are forever.”
Then I reached into my apron pocket, pulled out adoption papers, and slid them over.
Chapter Two
Slow grin, quick wit. Sharp and silver-tongued
Wild laugh, soft touch. Met you, fell in love
And now all I can think is, you’re lovely, aren’t ya?
Oh, you’re lovely, aren’t ya?
And now all I can dream is, you’re lovely, aren’t ya?
Oh, you’re lovely, aren’t ya?
—US Lyric Bot [@HourlyUs]
In case its name didn’t give it away, The Tiny Tiger’s décor was jungle themed. The walls of the cat room were painted to look as if you’re outdoors, among swooping vines and lush leaves. Cat trees shaped like actual trees took up the corners of the room, and shimmering toy snakes and tiger-striped cat beds dotted the floor. But if you concentrated on those alone, you’d miss everything going onaboveyour head.
Like a real jungle, The Tiny Tiger had a canopy section too. Mom built catwalks that hung from the ceiling so cats couldroam overhead and look down at everyone below, or take a whack at the feathered birds hanging off the ramps.
But if the part of the café customers saw was an enchanted miniature jungle, then Mom’s back office was like a dark, scary cave out ofIndiana Jones and the Teetering Stack of Paperwork.
“Is there really only one cat room reservation tomorrow?” I whispered to myself, staring down at the schedule.
My eyes skipped to next week, where RENTDUEwas written in bright red. A twinge of worry uncoiled in my chest like a live wire—a feeling that hadn’t been unfamiliar lately.
At first, Mom had been hesitant to let me take charge of the café while she was laid up, even though she couldn’t afford to hire any staff.
