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Tuesdays were supposed to be quiet. Nothing about Tuesday was supposed to be unpredictable or inexplicable.
Roy looked at the keys in his hand, the keys he just used to unlock the door; they were definitely his keys, in the exact order he kept them – home, office, storage unit, P.O. box, Riza’s spare, and the one Chris didn’t know he still had to the alley entrance of the bar. Roy looked up to confirm the number on the open door. It was still the same as when he left that morning, the wrought iron ‘3’ shinier than the ‘2’ because it had been replaced a month ago when the couple in number 25 knocked it down during their weekly domestic dispute.
This was his apartment, that much was certain.
Which meant that the stunning young man on his couch and the cat in his lap were the things that didn’t belong.
“You don’t own any cat stuff.” The young man accused, scratching at the cat’s face with one hand and stroking its back with the other.
He was handsome – broad shoulders and sharp features accented by gold, made all the more charming by the way he was gazing at the cat on his lap, like the little gremlin was god’s perfect creature instead of an obvious criminal.
Roy decided to close the door. If he was finally having that breakdown he kept promising Riza he was headed towards, he would rather do it in private. He set his bag down and shrugged out of his jacket, setting it over the back of the chair he always draped it over.
When Roy did not address the young man’s statement, he spoke again.
“Seriously dude, like, not even a food or water dish, what the fuck is up with that?”
Clearly his hallucination wasn’t going to let this slide.
“Possibly because I don’t own a cat.”
The young man froze.
“You. What?”
The cat mrowed loudly and flopped onto its back, reaching for a hand. Roy tilted his head and gestured at the animal.
“That’s not my cat. I don’t own a cat. I’m not even sure how one got in here.”
“Huh. Well, that saves me the trouble of an ass-kicking.”
Roy blinked. This felt less and less like something his overworked brain would manufacture and more and more like someone broke into his apartment to accuse him of neglecting a pet he did not own.
“Do you frequently break into people’s homes to assault them on behalf of animals they don’t have or am I a special exception?”
The young man finally met his eye and grinned.
“So… since this isn’t your cat, I guess I should say ‘this isn’t what it looks like’?”
“Honestly, at this point, I’m not sure what it does look like. If you hadn’t stayed to accuse me of neglecting it, I would guess you were hired by one of my enemies to plant this cat in my apartment, got distracted by your charge, and were unable to flee before I arrived home.”
The young man stared openly at him, a tiny, discontented knot developing between his brows.
“Do you talk like that to everybody? Because I have a theory on why you have enemies. Also, if you’re gonna leave an animal as a threat, why a cat? Why not a badger? Or a pile of those massive ants?”
“Or a grizzly bear. Or a hyena. Or any number of large, apex predators, and I’m sorry, we still haven’t answered the question of who you are or why you are in my home with this feline.”
“He was stuck in your blinds.” He replied, as if this explained everything.
“How did he get in?” Roy asked, alarmed.
“I don’t know!”
“Well, how did you get in?”
“Through the window.” He hooked a thumb back towards the bedroom.
Roy staggered back to his room, wondering if the odd floating sensation was the beginnings of a stroke or some sort of actual psychotic episode. Riza did keep warning him that his insomnia was going to kill him.
Sure enough, his bedroom window was open, white curtains fluttering out to the balcony to brush against his potted tomato plants. He stuck his head out to peer at the next balcony. It was still empty, as it had been since the last tenant moved out. The window was open, though, and Roy could see the familiar brown of moving boxes stacked against one wall. Apparently, he had a new neighbor. One with no boundaries and a criminal skill set. Lovely.
He returned to the living room just in time to see his neighbor returning his phone to his pocket. He looked up when Roy entered. The cat was purring loudly on his lap, his eyes narrowed at Roy in what Roy felt was an overly judgmental way. He had not, after all, actually neglected the beast.
“Let me get this straight,” Roy started, because half the picture was now clear, and he figured they may never know where the damn cat came from, “At some point today, a cat found its way in here. Then managed to tangle itself in my blinds so thoroughly that you were compelled to commit a handful of misdemeanors in order to rescue it – “
“It was only one or two misdemeanors, not a ‘handful’.”
“ – at which point,” Roy pressed on, “you decided to remain at the scene of the crime in order to threaten me over my assumed mistreatment of said cat – “
“Well when you put it like that…”
“ – and announce that you have access to my apartment apparently whenever you like. Do I about have the gist of this?”
The young man tilted his head and a waterfall of gold cascaded over his shoulder, the tip of his ponytail dangling close enough that the cat in question stretched out to sniff at it before extending a curious paw to poke it.
“You a lawyer or something?”
“Or something.” Roy wasn’t feeling much like answering any questions until he had a better sense of his new neighbor.
“Awesome. Al keeps telling me I’m going to break into the wrong house one day.”
“Is the criminal activity a hobby or a profession? Either way, I have a number of suggestions for alternative ways to keep yourself entertained.”
“Eh, mostly a hobby. I haven’t had to do the whole ‘crime as a way to live’ thing since I graduated high school.”
Before Roy could stop himself, he blurted out, “You’ve graduated?”
He did look young. Not young enough to still be in high school, but Roy was feeling less charitable than normal.
His guest rolled his eyes.
“I’m actually a grad student.”
Roy looked him over again.
“Your skin care routine must be amazing.” There was no way he was old enough to be in graduate school.
His guest grinned up at him.
“Yeah, picked it up from this Bathory chick a while back, it’s been keeping me looking this young for years.”
“You can’t be a vampire, you wouldn’t have been able to get in otherwise.”
“That only applies to doors. Turns out windows are fair game. Side note, quit leaving yours unlocked.”
“We live on the fifth floor.”
“Yeah, I meant to ask somebody about that – what’s up with the way this place is numbered?”
“I’ve never asked.”
“You live in number 23, which is on the fifth floor, and you’ve… never asked?”
Roy shrugged. He found the building’s numbering system odd, of course, but it never bothered him enough to hunt down answers. Which was an egregious mistake, judging by the expression on his neighbor’s face.
“The rental agency didn’t include it in my contract so I assumed knowing this information was not a prerequisite for living here. I was not prepared for criminally-inclined grad students issuing surprise quizzes in my living room. Had I known, I would have looked for the answer much sooner.”
To his surprise, this earned him a laugh.
“Ok. Fair. Uh. Speaking of ‘criminally-inclined’, I swear I don’t usually do this.” He held up the cat, who appeared to be asleep, of all things, and waggled him gently at Roy. “Just couldn’t leave this guy in distress.”
“Obviously. I don’t suppose your apartment is equipped for pets.”
“Dude, my apartment is barely equipped for people, I moved in this morning.”
“Welcome to the building.” Roy deadpanned. Another bright, sharp grin.
“Good news is my brother is wild for these guys, so he’s on his way over with a carrier. He and his girlfriend are gonna take this guy to the vet, see if he’s got a chip.”
“A reasonable plan. Then what?”
He shrugged, “Probably order takeout and see how many boxes I can get unpacked.”
“I recommend Vera’s for burgers, Sunny’s for noodles, and the aptly named ‘Little Italy’ for pizza. Don’t order anything else from them, though, the pizza is the only decent thing on the menu.”
“You give takeout recommendations to everyone who breaks in here?”
“I find it keeps the vandalism down.”
“You’re funny.”
“I’ve worked hard to become so.”
“And he’s got OK taste in movies!” His guest said to the cat, poking gently at a paw. He looked up to see Roy still watching him and glanced back down at the cat. “I guess I should take this guy back to my place to wait for Al. Uh. Sorry to have bothered you? But seriously, lock your windows, this building has so much fucking flouncy shit on it that my grandma could climb it.”
He stood and bundled the cat into his arms, who responded with an inquisitive chirp, a quick glance at Roy, and then an impressive scramble over the young man’s shoulder and back to Roy’s couch, where he began aggressively kneading one of the pillows.
Roy stared at the cat. His guest stared at the cat. The cat continued to purr and claw at the silk.
“You want the good news or the bad news?” His guest asked.
“I suppose bad news first.”
“Looks like you might have a cat after all.”
“And the good news?”
“You’ve got a charming new neighbor who knows a shit ton about cats.”