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Mrs. Owens’s phone beeped with a text from Ivory. Need bowl of water and plain meat on back terrace, it read. A second message added, Please. She could already see where this was headed—trouble—but dutifully complied.
Sure enough, when she walked out to the back terrace Ivory was sitting on the ground, with a fluffy white cat in his lap. “Yes, you’re so pretty, aren’t you,” he cooed, petting it. The cat purred loudly to encourage his attentions, but as soon as it sensed another person, who was carrying food, it abandoned Ivory and approached Mrs. Owens with vociferous meows. She set the food and water down and the cat dug in with gusto. Ivory, unoffended (he could appreciate the survival instinct), crawled over to sit closer to it.
“He’s not going to like it,” she warned the boy. They both knew who she was talking about.
Ivory shrugged. “I will persuade him,” he replied, and she had no doubt that was true, but how much grief would the rest of them get about it?
**
“A stray cat.” Heahmund’s tone might have been about something he’d wiped off the bottom of his shoe with a tissue.
Ivory took issue with this immediately. “She’s not some mangy alley cat!” he protested. “Look how beautiful she is!” He was sitting on the couch on the screened-in porch, the cat rumbling on his lap as he stroked its long, white fur. Heahmund stood, keeping his distance. “She is truly a worthy companion for the goddess of beauty!” Ivory declared dramatically. “That is why I am going to call her Freya.”
“If the cat’s in such good condition, she probably belongs to someone,” Heahmund theorized. Of course, he wasn’t sure how one went about determining that. Like a good suburban mansion owner, he had no idea who his neighbors were, and he didn’t want Ivory putting up ‘found cat’ posters that drew attention to them. “Take her to the vet and see if they recognize her.” Surely vets did that.
“Yes, I will take you to the doctor, Freya, to make sure you’re healthy,” Ivory told the cat in nauseating baby-talk, rubbing under her chin.
Heahmund rolled his eyes. “Don’t let her in the house, she probably has fleas,” he ordered, adding over Ivory’s objections, “It’s plenty warm enough at night, and maybe she’ll go back where she belongs.” He narrowed his eyes at the cat lolling all over Ivory. “You probably have fleas now, too, not to mention cat fur everywhere.” He swore he could see a tuft floating past. “Change before you come further in.”
“What are you such an animal-hater for?” Ivory complained. “Oh, are you allergic?” He was very disappointed at this thought, but was prepared to be understanding.
“No,” Heahmund replied, and Ivory retracted any compassion. “I’ve not had good experiences with animals,” he added, which was vague enough to be meaningless.
“Well, Freya did not cause them, so don’t be so rude to her,” Ivory insisted. “She’s very sensitive.” Heahmund huffed and went back to get some work done, since Ivory was otherwise occupied.
**
Freya did not like being put in a box for transport to the vet. “I’m sorry, kitty,” Ivory tried to tell her, lying on the floor next to the carrier while she yowled inside. “It’s for your own good! It won’t hurt you! It’s so you’ll be safe in the car! Please don’t cry, kitty cat.” He seemed near tears himself.
Heahmund drifted unwillingly out of his office. “What’s the delay?” he wanted to know. The cat was not making a pleasant noise, and Ivory was getting upset by it.
“George is bringing the car,” Ivory sniffled. “She hates me! She think I’m taking her to kitty jail!”
Heahmund crouched down in front of the carrier, making sure the cat was safely contained within. “I suppose…” he began slowly, “I suppose she could be singing.”
“Singing?” Ivory asked moistly.
“It’s an epic saga,” Heahmund described seriously, “from the ancient legends of her people, about a warrior cat going in to battle against an unknown enemy.”
Ivory swiped at his eyes. He could be rude to real people all day, but the cat didn’t know he was trying to help her, and was scared of him, which he just couldn’t stand. “Are you singing, Freya?” he asked her in a calmer tone. “Are you reciting a great poem, like a Viking? I will tell you a story about the goddess Freya…”
George returned and put the carrier in the back seat of the car, and Ivory climbed up beside her, still talking to her soothingly. The cat was, maybe, slightly quieter; but Heahmund was only concerned about Ivory. Even if the cat belonged to someone, he had a feeling Ivory would be wanting one of his own soon. Was a cat better than a dog, at least? Probably. Time for some research, then.
**
The cat was more subdued when they returned from the vet; George set the carrier down in the backyard and opened the door, and the cat shot out like a white streak, heading for cover.
Ivory watched with some anxiety. “I think the cat just needs some time alone,” he told Heahmund, trying to convince himself.
“Yes, she’ll come back when she’s hungry,” he agreed. “Let’s go back inside.” He was not fond of the outdoors, even his own backyard. “What did the vet say?”
He settled on the couch with his tea, narrowly avoiding spilling it on Ivory when the boy flopped over beside him, his head in Heahmund’s lap. He rubbed the boy’s side, determinedly not comparing it to petting a cat.
“Well, there was no microchip or anything, so they don’t know who the owner might be,” Ivory reported. “Also, the cat is a boy, so I cannot call him Freya.”
“Ah. I guess he’s been fixed,” Heahmund surmised.
“Yes. So he was owned by someone else, but obviously they were inadequate and he has left them,” Ivory judged. “And, he does not have fleas! But we got him a flea collar and some shots and things.”
Of course he did, Heahmund scoffed. “Are you going to call him Frey now?” No doubt he would be fraying Heahmund’s patience and potentially the curtains, so it seemed fitting.
Ivory huffed at this notion, however. “No! You cannot just interchange Freya and Frey, they are totally different gods,” he asserted.
“Sorry.”
“I will have to come up with a new name.” He paused. “If we are keeping him, I mean,” he added leadingly. Heahmund was loathe to actually say it. “Please, can we keep him, Heahmund?” Ivory asked, rolling over so he could meet the other man’s eyes. Heahmund didn’t want to make it that easy, though. “Please, I will take care of him!”
At this Heahmund snorted. “Right, we all know how that goes, don’t we?”
“Yes, with your staff picking up after him,” Ivory shot back, which Heahmund had to admit was a good point. “No one is going to expect you to clean his litter box.”
Still. “Being responsible for a living creature is very serious,” Heahmund impressed upon him. “You have to give him food and water, make sure he’s healthy, yes, clean the litter boxes—he should have at least one on every floor. Do you have to go to a different floor to use the loo?” he asked at Ivory’s look. “No, I made sure you could use them on every floor.”
“Oh, s—t,” Ivory realized. “Because I am the pet. And now… I… have… a pet…” This was getting too meta for him.
“Yes, I make sure you eat every day, stay clean, play with you,” Heahmund deadpanned. “Proper stimulation is very important for a pet’s well-being.”
“You are a sick man,” Ivory declared, sitting up. “I will take care of the cat, and you will not make any more sexual innuendos about him.”
Heahmund smirked slightly. “Alright,” he agreed. “Go buy some kind of cat owner book and some supplies.”
“Assuming he comes back, and doesn’t hate me forever,” Ivory sighed pessimistically.
**
The cat came back. And he didn’t hate Ivory, if the forceful purring and the smug look he gave Heahmund was any indication. If Ivory even took one hand away from petting him, the cat meowed in complaint.
“I can tell this is going to work really well,” Heahmund predicted flatly, since he also had things he wanted Ivory’s hands to be doing.
“He is just starved for affection after his period of homelessness,” Ivory assessed, brushing the cat’s long fur assiduously. “There, now you are all groomed, shall we take some more photos?” He picked up his phone and shockingly, the cat seemed to know what to do, moving to the coffee table to pose regally.
Heahmund knew better than to comment about taking photos of the cat, because he liked to take photos of Ivory. “What did you name him?” he asked instead. So he would know what to shout when he was annoyed.
“Coconut!” Ivory revealed proudly.
Great, shouting that would really make Heahmund feel better.
Ivory tapped rapidly at his phone. “Are you posting the photos now?” Heahmund checked his own phone, where he kept tabs on all of Ivory’s social media accounts.
“Yes, Coconut is going to be an Instagram star!” Ivory declared, which was apparently something people his age saw as a normal ambition.
“Maybe instead, you could teach him to sleep later in the morning?” Heahmund suggested. He was an early riser, true, but the cat had him beat, crying at their bedroom door at the crack of dawn.
Ivory waved this off. “You cannot teach cats anything, they have to want to learn,” he claimed. “Look, Coconut, more followers today!” he added, showing the cat his screen. The cat meowed approvingly—apparently he wanted to learn to be a diva.
**
Ivory crawled into the living room, slower and more careful than usual—because he had a cat perched on his back. Heahmund rolled his eyes. “Coconut is so smart,” Ivory announced forcefully. Heahmund was not allowed to say mean things to or about the cat anymore, since this apparently hurt Coconut’s feelings. Ivory could not forbid him from giving off bad vibes, though.
“This is how you end up with scratches on your shoulders,” Heahmund pointed out, unimpressed. “Leanna thought it was me, and I had to tell her no, I’ve been usurped by a—” Ivory gave him a warning look. “—a cat,” Heahmund finished, adding all the malice he could to the syllable.
Ivory crawled over to the couch and Coconut jumped onto it from his back; the teen couldn’t quite hide his wince. “It’s just until he feels more secure moving that way,” he insisted, boosting himself up onto the couch also. “He used to not like riding in my wheelchair, and now he’s fine with it.”
The cat meowed at Heahmund, who stayed calm but did nothing inviting. “No,” Heahmund told him shortly, and he turned back to settle on Ivory’s lap.
“See, he respects your boundaries,” Ivory claimed, cooing at the cat. “Yes, you’re so respectful, aren’t you, Coconut?”
**
Ivory and Heahmund were sitting on the couch in the basement watching TV. It was supposed to be a violent movie at some point, and Heahmund could feel the anticipation building. Then something jumped on him (not Ivory). Nonchalantly Coconut walked across him to settle on Ivory’s lap. “Am I just a piece of furniture now?”
Ivory scoffed at his irritation. “Take it as a compliment,” he suggested. “He knows you don’t want to pet him.”
“Should I also take it as a compliment when he rubs all over my suits, leaving white fur on them?” Heahmund shot back. He was infamous for not caring what he got on his expensive suits, but he would rather have something that might be mistaken for blood, than white cat fur. Not very tough or mysterious. “Or when he sleeps in my laundry basket, on top of the clean clothes?” Only when the clothes were clean, and dark.
“Coconut is not going to sleep somewhere dirty,” Ivory protested. “And, please, like you even know where the laundry comes from.” Things just disappeared from the hamper and reappeared in the drawers. But Coconut was fond of keeping Mrs. Owens company while Ivory was at school all day.
“Let’s finish this movie upstairs,” Heahmund suggested. The cat was not allowed in his/their bedroom. Ivory hesitated, since Coconut had just arrived. “I’m not making out with you in front of the cat, he’s too judgmental.”
Ivory could not deny that, Coconut was a very judgmental cat. “Hop down, Coconut,” he said, giving the cat a push. “I have to pay attention to Heahmund now.” He knew he was going to pay for that remark later, but the indignant noise Heahmund made was worth it.
**
Coconut was missing.
Ivory had called for him all over the house and opened every door he might’ve gotten caught behind, and he’d gone outside and called for him, too. The staff had joined in and Heahmund was forced to participate as well, once he saw how upset Ivory was getting.
“You need to go to bed now, Ivory,” he told the boy, gently but firmly. He was already in his pajamas but wanted to take one last look around the house.
“But what if he’s hurt somewhere?” Ivory worried. “What if he’s stuck in a box or a cabinet?” He’d opened every one he could reach, or that someone else could reach for him, but he might have missed one.
“We’ve been all over the house and haven’t heard him,” Heahmund reminded the teen, guiding him into bed. This was not exactly reassuring. “He probably got out somehow and is off having an adventure.” He tried to tuck the boy in. “He’ll come back in the morning and tell you all about it.”
Ivory got teary-eyed whenever he thought of another bad scenario. “What if he got out and got hit by a car?” His face started to crumple up and Heahmund pulled him close.
“Shh, stop thinking about it and go to sleep,” he advised, kissing him. “He’ll turn up when he’s good and ready.”
Heahmund left Ivory’s bedroom with a mission. “We need to find that f-----g cat,” he told George in a steely tone.
“I’ve reviewed the security footage,” George informed him. “I don’t think he got out.”
“I want a GPS tracker on his collar, when we find him,” Heahmund planned. He was sure they made such things for human pets, so surely they also made them for animals. “Go out in the backyard and call for him anyway,” Heahmund decided. The house was big, but the cat had surely heard them, no matter where he was inside it. Which left either willful disobedience, or outside. “Put on dark clothing first,” he added.
George blinked at him. “Is that so the neighbors won’t see me, sir?” he checked.
“No, it’s because the cat is only attracted to dark clothes,” Heahmund corrected, which he thought should be obvious by now. “No point in shedding on something where it can’t be seen.”
George went off on this task and Heahmund began a systematic search, starting on the ground floor, closing doors firmly behind himself so the cat couldn’t move around and avoid detection, if that’s what it was doing. He located some of the food and litter boxes, which seemed undisturbed; if he had to, he would put a camera on them, to catch the creature when it snuck out of hiding. He was obviously a pessimist, but also cynical, which was why his mind went to deliberate defiance rather than the cat being injured somewhere. Deliberate defiance was something he knew a lot about, so he tried to put himself in that mindset and guess where he might go.
Eventually his thoughts led him to the garage. The cat was very curious about that space because he was rarely allowed in it, and there were plenty of nooks and crannies to hide in and explore—many more than, say, Heahmund’s office, where he also wasn’t allowed.
Heahmund opened the door to the garage and switched on the light. Everything seemed quiet and still. They had searched here before, of course, several people with frantic summoning calls. “Coconut. Time to end this nonsense.” Heahmund spoke with complete confidence, although he didn’t know if the creature was present; he’d observed the cat responded to such things, though. Like any predator, it could smell fear.
Silently, the white fluffy cat walked out from behind a car. “Meow?” he asked innocently.
Heahmund was not impressed. “Get inside,” he ordered, holding the door open. The cat acquiesced, but not hurriedly, and Heahmund shut the door to the garage and then scooped the cat up. He protested being carried, or maybe just being carried by Heahmund, but he was complaining to the wrong person. “I don’t care what your f-----g excuse is,” Heahmund snapped. “You know Ivory’s upset, so you’d better consider your behavior very carefully in the future.”
Heahmund knocked on the teen’s bedroom door, then opened it. “Ivory?” There was a movement in bed and Heahmund let the cat leap down from his arms with a meow.
“Coconut!” The cat jumped onto the bed, purring and bumping heads with Ivory, who cuddled him gratefully. “Oh, Coconut, I was so worried about you!”
Heahmund sat down on the edge of the bed. “He was in the garage,” he tattled.
“The garage? We looked in there!” Ivory complained. “Coconut, why didn’t you come out when we called? Maybe there were too many people, and he got scared.” Heahmund snorted, finding this explanation far too charitable. Ivory looked over at him. “Did you hear him, or did you keep looking for him?” he asked Heahmund with a little smile.
“Of course I kept looking for him,” Heahmund admitted with some disgust, and Ivory grinned and scooted over to lean against him. Heahmund put his arm around the teen and kissed his temple. “But I’m deeply unimpressed with his selfish behavior,” he added sternly.
Ivory made cooing noises to the cat that probably undermined any authority Heahmund was projecting. “I love you, Coconut! I’m so glad you came back! Such a good kitty, yes you are!”
“Oh, I should probably go tell George to stop shouting for the cat in the backyard,” Heahmund realized, and Ivory laughed. The older man stood, always reluctant to leave the teen, but now it was even later and he needed to get some sleep before school. “I’m going to shut the door,” he decided, not wanting the cat to wander off again.
“Okay. Thank you, Heahmund!” It had been implied before, but Ivory still wanted it said.
“You’re welcome. Goodnight.”
**
Heahmund walked into the foyer to see Ivory limply sprawled on the floor, his pose mimicking that of the cat, who was also limply sprawled on the floor. Attached to the cat was a harness and lead, and attached to that was Mrs. Owens. Heahmund raised an eyebrow.
Ivory sprang to a sitting position. “See, Coconut, that is how silly you look,” he chided. “Even Heahmund thinks you look silly!” The cat let out a pathetic meep.
“Dare I ask?” said Heahmund warily.
“I am trying to train Coconut to walk on a leash!” Ivory explained. Mrs. Owens gave a gentle tug, pulling the cat along a few inches, like a wet mop.
“Is it going well?” Heahmund questioned, clearly unsure.
Ivory gave him an exasperated look. “No,” he admitted. Then he laid back down on the floor to face the cat. “Coconut, this is for your own safety, in case we have to go out on the street! I don’t want you to get scared and run away.” The cat meeped again, longer and sadder. “And,” Ivory continued with forced brightness, “I want to take you to Pet World, where you can walk around the store and pick out things you want! But you have to wear a leash and harness. It is the rule.”
This failed to elicit much enthusiasm from the cat, and Ivory sighed. “Okay, we are done for today,” he conceded. “Here is your treat for being such a good kitty.” Coconut perked up to eat his treat and Ivory unhooked the harness. “Good kitty, you’re such a good kitty—” Coconut darted off for some alone time. “Okay. Thank you, Mrs. Owens.” The housekeeper handed him the leash and went back to her other duties.
Heahmund walked over to Ivory, who sat there on the floor looking dejected, and nudged him with his knee. “Do I need to harness train you?” he asked playfully.
“Oh, I know you want to,” Ivory scoffed. “I know you want to keep me in a cage and feed me from one of those upside-down hamster bottles!” Heahmund’s expression said he might have given this some thought.
He brushed Ivory’s head with his hand. “Well, if your feline duties are done,” he began suggestively, “let’s go do something fun.”
**
There was a crash from the living room and Heahmund ran in. “Ivory, don’t, watch the glass!” he ordered, seeing the boy about to crawl through the debris.
“I have to get to Coconut!” he answered frantically. “He might be hurt!”
“I’ll get him,” Heahmund said. “Just stay put.” Carefully he picked his way across the broken glass to where the cat lurked in the corner. “Come here.” The cat meowed, perhaps in protest, when Heahmund picked him up, but Heahmund carried him back across the debris field and deposited him safely in Ivory’s arms.
“Coconut, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Ivory asked, patting his fluffy body down. He rubbed his furry face against Ivory’s, seemingly fine.
“What happened?” Heahmund asked, as Mrs. Owens arrived to sweep up the glass.
Ivory became slightly evasive. “I’m not really sure,” he claimed. “I mean, Coconut was sitting on the table, and I think I scared him somehow, and the lamp got knocked over…”
“The cat knocked the lamp over,” Heahmund translated shortly.
“Well not on purpose,” Ivory insisted, cuddling Coconut close. “It was an accident.”
Heahmund rolled his eyes. “I’ll dock his wages,” he claimed. “Mrs. Owens, please obtain another lamp.”
She was getting out the vacuum to clean up the smallest glass shards, and Ivory rolled over so the cat could climb up on his back. “We’ll go downstairs,” he announced, crawling away quickly. “Coconut doesn’t like the vacuum.”
**
Heahmund sat on the couch reading. Ivory sat on the couch next to him, grooming Coconut, which took up a lot of his time these days.
“Coconut, I know you don’t like me to brush your tummy, but you have a big tangle there,” he was telling the cat calmly, brushing his underfur as the cat twitched and batted at his hand warningly. “Look at this knot, what have you been doing, Coconut? I’m going to have to cut this out.” Ivory picked up a small pair of scissors and carefully snipped the fur ball from Coconut’s belly. Then he set it aside on the growing debris pile.
Heahmund let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “That was like watching you defuse a bomb,” he declared, and Ivory laughed.
“Coconut knows I am trying to help him look beautiful!” Ivory insisted, taking some new pictures of the freshly-fluffed cat. “Our public is waiting for new content!” He tapped eagerly at his phone as Coconut nosed his hand.
Heahmund glanced at the pile of removed fur. “You could knit mittens out of that,” he claimed. “To sell to your public.”
Ivory huffed and gave him a look, and Coconut decided he was done with work for the day and trotted off. Ivory turned his attention to Heahmund, who paused him to get the lint roller. “You are covered in cat hair, per usual,” he complained, running it over Ivory’s chest.
Ivory bore his attentions patiently, with a smirk. “Not sure you really need to lint roller me that thoroughly,” he teased.
Heahmund leaned closer. “Let’s take what we can get, before the cat comes back,” he murmured.
**
Heahmund was focused on the computer screen in his office when he heard a far-too-close meow. He glanced up to see Coconut in the doorway. “Go away,” he ordered flatly. The cat meowed again, and started to leave but then turned back to look at Heahmund. “Why are you bothering me?” Heahmund asked with annoyance. He was probably the only person in the household who didn’t give a d—n about the cat and wouldn’t do anything for him, as long as literally anyone else was available.
Which the cat usually understood. But now he was in Heahmund’s office, meowing and starting to leave, but then coming back. Suspicious, Heahmund stood and walked towards the cat, who immediately hurried away, heading for the stairs. Again he looked back at Heahmund and meowed.
He understood the cat wanted Heahmund to follow him. To what end, however, was unclear. If he just wanted to complain about his food bowl needing a refill (because he could see the bottom, so therefore it was empty), the cat was going to get a severe chiding (which never worked). “Alright, fine, let’s go,” Heahmund allowed, and headed up the stairs, which the cat bounded up with alacrity. He headed for Ivory’s room, no surprise there, that’s where his food bowl and a litter box were kept.
“Ivory—”
“Heahmund! I need your help!”
Heahmund pushed through the bedroom door and hurried over to Ivory, who was on the floor on the far side of the bed. His skin and hair were damp from the shower and he was clutching a towel around his waist.
“I slipped and hurt my ankle,” Ivory admitted, through gritted teeth, as Heahmund helped him to turn over and sit up, leaning against the bed.
“Alright, I’ll get Leanna,” Heahmund planned, and he hurried out to the landing to shout for the physical therapist over the railing. George looked out at the sound, so Heahmund was confident the message would be conveyed. Then he went back to the boy, helping him pull a sweatshirt on so he wasn’t as cold. “Where’s your phone?” Heahmund asked, putting his arms around Ivory.
“I think I left it downstairs,” the teen admitted. “I was going to just yell from the hallway—”
“Effective, but obviously not as fast as your cat,” Heahmund observed.
Leanna popped in. “Lower right,” Ivory told her in frustration. “I don’t think it’s broken. What do you mean?” he demanded of Heahmund. Coconut had jumped onto the boy’s lap and wanted his attention, even though it was an awkward situation.
“Your cat came into my office and fetched me, and led me up here,” Heahmund described. He was actually rather impressed with this—not that he liked the cat more now, but he could see a certain amount of intelligence and usefulness here, finally. “He knows he’s not allowed in there and I won’t do anything for him, but I suppose he realized I would help you.”
“Oh, Coconut, you’re so smart,” Ivory enthused, his tone slightly strained as Leanna prodded at his ankle. "I thought he--I thought he left because I was boring and wouldn’t pet him.” He held the cat close and kissed his furry head. “But instead you ran to get help! What a good kitty.”
“I don’t think it’s broken,” Leanna agreed, “just sprained. I’ll wrap it and we’ll put some ice on it for a while.”
Heahmund gave Ivory something to brace against. “You’re handling this very well,” he complimented. “Usually there’s considerably more shouting and swearing.”
“I don’t want to upset Coconut,” Ivory said, wincing. “He’s very sensitive.”
When Leanna finished, Coconut had to step aside while Ivory was helped into bed; then the cat jumped back up on the blankets to sit with him. The teen sighed at the not-uncommon predicament he found himself in, not relishing another day spent resting in bed. He knew the rules, though.
“TV remote, laptop, Kindle,” Heahmund listed, putting the items within reach. “I will find your phone, and send Mrs. Owens up with breakfast. You need anything else right now?”
“Can you have Mrs. Owens bring a treat for Coconut?” Ivory requested. “I think he deserves one for being such a smart, brave kitty!” Naturally he directed this to the cat who pushed his way onto his lap, probably preventing him from entertaining himself with anything else.
Heahmund suddenly wondered if he and the cat shared any selfish, demanding attitudes, which might explain why Ivory liked them both. “Yes, definitely a reward,” he agreed.