Dog-Eared Delinquent

Chapter Five

Nan put me to work the moment I stepped through the door. She tossed me an apron and declared me in charge of mixing batter and rolling dough, the two tasks that were the most difficult to mess up, I noticed.

“It’s all hands on deck. Only five hours until go time, and we have to make our ruse look believable,” she explained with a curt nod. She’d changed out of her black satin gown from earlier and was now wearing a dainty crushed velvet number patterned with Chinese dragons. She’d replaced her smoky eye with a shimmering gold shadow and had contoured her cheeks like a Kardashian.

“I expect you to dress up, too, my dear,” she explained while studying my unassuming floral dress with its giant, oversized belt and large hoop earrings as if it was the worst outfit anyone on earth had ever cobbled together.

Octo-Cat laughed between licks of his paw. “Being a human can be the pits, huh? A cat would never…” His eyes grew comically wide as his words trailed into oblivion.

I followed his line of sight to where Nan had been rummaging through the junk drawer. She now held out a red bow tie as she moved toward Octo-Cat with a broad, reassuring smile that only seemed to heighten his discomfort. “You, too, young man. We must all look our best tonight.”

Nan then proceeded to fasten the bowtie to his collar with skilled and gentle fingers, but she may as well have been strangling the cat, given his over-the-top reaction.

“I am tainted!” he cried, shaking and twitching and throwing himself against the tile floor repeatedly. “Don’t you know? I was born with all the clothes I’ll ever need. So why add this? It’s even the same color as that wretched dot! That’s just taking things too far.”

He heaved a giant sigh and fell over on his side when Nan had finished. I had to admit, he looked rather dashing. I did not, however, admit that aloud, or else I’d end up with cat puke in my bed.

Instead, I simply covered my mouth and tittered softly against my hand.

Nan smiled at our tabby approvingly. “Very handsome,” she said in a way that was reminiscent of how she’d talked to Peter at the office that morning.

Octo-Cat continued to shriek and toss himself around the kitchen, pausing only briefing to shake his head and whisper, “Et tu, Nan? I thought you loved me.”

“Chin up. It could be worse,” I told him as I continued stirring and stirring until my hand cramped from the vigorous, repetitive motion.

“I don’t see how,” my cat told me, rolling onto his back and wiggling back and forth in an ill-fated attempt to shimmy loose of his adornment.

“Well, for starters, you’re going to have to spend time with Peter tonight. Peter’s the worst,” I explained with a shudder as I placed the bowl back on the counter and flexed my hand. I would definitely be getting Nan a stand mixer for the next gift-giving holiday. Sure, they cost a lot, but it would be worth it to save my hands, and hers, too.

Nan popped a tray into the oven, but we had so many different dishes underway that I had no idea what was on it. “Now, Angie,” she said, turning back toward me with a wagging finger. “If Operation: My Enemy is My Friend is to be a success, you need to commit to character.”

“Hey, I never agreed to take on a character and, by the way, neither did he.” I tilted my head toward Octo-Cat, who was too busy trying to find a way out of his collar to notice I’d just stuck up for him. Figured.

Nan tutted. “If you don’t believe it, then how will our guest?” she asked, then grabbed my wrist and pulled me to attention. “It is an honor to have Peter with us tonight. We’re friends, and as such, we tell each other things without hesitation.”

“Like what he knows and how he found out?” I said drolly.

“Precisely,” she said, punctuating the word by jabbing a dripping spatula at my apron. “But if you remain hostile, we won’t get anywhere. Can you soften up a little so that we don’t have to fall back on plan B please?”

“What’s plan B?” I asked, biting my lip as I waited for the answer.

Nan let out a little laugh. “Well, we—”

“You know what? It doesn’t matter,” I interrupted. It would be easier if I didn’t know too much ahead of time. I was a terrible actress, anyway. “I’m in. The sooner we figure out the deal with Peter, the sooner we can be done and rid of him.”

“Now there’s the sweet girl I raised,” Nan said with a chuckle, returning to the other side of the kitchen to ice an enormous layered cake.

Octo-Cat flopped onto my feet, rubbing himself all over my socks until they practically changed color from all the shucked off fur. “I… can’t… breathe,” he exclaimed between gasps. “I think this is how I die!”

I bent down to pet him and slipped my fingers beneath his collar to make sure it wasn’t suddenly too tight. “It’s just for a little while,” I assured him. “I promise we’ll take it off the moment Peter leaves.”

He sat up and swished his tail behind him as he thought. A scary smile stretched across his fuzzy little face. “So, if he were to leave sooner rather than later, I could have my freedom?”

I nodded emphatically. I had no idea how he intended to make that happen, but if agreeing meant he’d try to help tonight, then I was all for making a deal. “Yes, definitely. I don’t want him around, either,” I reminded my cat.

“Then our goals align.” Octo-Cat returned to all four feet and blinked hard. “If you’ll excuse me. I need to prepare.”

I watched him trot away, then moved to wash my hands in the sink so I could get back to work. Nan didn’t need to know about whatever Octo-Cat had planned. In reality, I didn’t even know what he had planned, but I had no doubt it would be amusing—if not mortifying. It was starting to feel as if I didn’t even need to do anything now that Nan and Octo-Cat both had grand plans of their own.

Once I’d done all I could to help in the kitchen, Nan ushered me upstairs and informed me that I would be wearing my red party dress with tiny white polka-dots that evening. Well, at least Octo-Cat and I would match for the upcoming festivities.

I bided my time, even going so far as painting my nails a shining ruby red, figuring that Nan would appreciate this small gesture of my commitment to the character. By the time I floated back down the stairs, Peter seemed to have just arrived. He stood inside the foyer with Nan, wearing the exact same outfit he’d had on earlier that day.

“Well, don’t you look quite fetching,” Nan said kindly as she studied the faux tux printed on his old T-shirt. “I love the irony of that ensemble. So clever.”

Peter raked a hand through his messy hair and gave her a boyish grin, charmed as anyone who found themselves the subject of Nan’s attentions.

Octo-Cat came racing down the stairs as well, a glint of determination shining in his amber eyes. “This ends now,” he ground out as he passed me.

He walked straight up to Peter and rubbed against his legs while purring. Next, he transitioned to his hind legs and pawed at Peter’s knees. He didn’t do that for anyone. Not ever. Man, he must have been really desperate to get rid of that bowtie. I’d definitely have to remember that trick the next time I needed to trick him into doing something.

“He likes you,” Nan said with a wink. “Why don’t you pick him up?”

“I’m really more of a dog person,” Peter said hesitantly.

“A dog person?” Octo-Cat asked in horror. “Blech. Gag me with a spoon. But, yeah, I can smell that canine stink all over this one. Totally not surprised.”

Peter flinched, then cracked his neck on either side. “Should we go try the desserts? After all, that is why you invited me. Right?”

“Yes, dear. Come along.” Nan led him toward the dining room while Octo-Cat and I stayed behind in the foyer.

“Was it just me, or…?” I began but let my words trail off. He’d flinched in response to what Octo-Cat had said. I was sure of it, and yet… there was no way. It was far too crazy to be believed.

“He reacted to me,” Octo-Cat agreed. “I thought so, too.”

“It was probably just a fluke,” I said, keeping my voice low so as not to be overheard by Nan and Peter in the next room.

“But if it wasn’t…” Octo-Cat shook his head and took a deep breath. “Now I’m just as curious as you are. Something’s off about this one, and I’m going to prove it. C’mon, Angela.”

He trotted off and I trailed helplessly behind, wondering what my cat could possibly have planned now and also wondering if Peter might really be like me. Did he get zapped by that old coffee maker, too?

I desperately hoped I’d have the answer by the time the evening was through, because if this big production didn’t work, we probably wouldn’t get another chance.

Peter already seemed on guard that evening. Had he finally realized that we might be on to him just as much as he was on to us? And if he didn’t want to be found out, then why was he working so hard to push my buttons?

Was everything in my overworked imagination, or was my entire world about to change?

I honestly didn’t know which option I preferred…