Chapter One
“What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?
- Romeo and Juliet (Act 1, Scene 5)
Kathleen
My skin prickles with anticipation as I walk through the lobby of the Hyatt Regency Denver and under the banner hanging overhead that shouts, Welcome to CatFest! The logo for the convention has black font on a grass green background with a cat’s tail sprouting from the top of the final t and underlining the words.
Everywhere I look a clowder of cat lovers mills, sporting things like T-shirts featuring their favorite cartoon cats, rubber kitty noses with whiskers, and plastic claws on their fingers or fake fur tails hanging from belts.
I grab James’s arm and squeal. “I can’t believe we’re finally here!”
“Yeah, it’s incredibly exciting,” my younger brother deadpans. He puffs a breath of air to blow his hair out of his eyes. His straight, fine, light blonde locks, like a toddler’s, fall into his face constantly. I move his bangs to the side so he can see, but he only looks grumpier when the hair slides back again.
James rolls his battered black suitcase in one hand, and he has my Persian cat, Juliet’s, carrier in the other. I push my oversized pink suitcase with a tote bag on top stuffed full of Juliet’s food, bowls, grooming equipment, and toothbrush.
“Let’s get our keys.” I still need to check in for the convention, but first I want to drop my stuff in the room. “I’m sure my poor girl wants out of there, and it’s her dinnertime.”
“For me, too,” my brother says. “You’re buying, right? I want room service.”
“James, I told you I’d pay all your expenses for coming with me to CatFest. Are you going to ask me if I’m buying every time you want something?”
“Yes.” He makes a juvenile face that makes me want to poke him—hard.
I sigh instead. “Just put meals on the room and I’ll settle up with you on Sunday when the conference is over.” We walk to the reception desk where a petite Latina in her late twenties greets us.
“Checking in for Kathleen Caplin,” I say. “I should have a reservation for two nights.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The agent taps away at her computer keyboard with manicured nails, painted a soft pink.
While she types, I peek in at Juliet. She’s looking out at the lobby, her emerald green eyes alert. Her fur, washed and brushed into luxurious perfection this morning before we left, has held up through the two-hour drive from our home in Colorado Springs, the bathroom stop along I-25, and an extended snack break for James.
“Are you okay, beautiful?” I murmur to her. She meows, the sound gentle and pealing, like a delicate bell. As always, her flat face floods my heart with love.
Juliet’s fur is white with black tips on her back that give her a silvery appearance. Like most silver chinchilla Persians, her brick red nose has a black outline. She also has the large, bright green eyes that seem to droop just a bit, giving her a sad kitty look. Her gorgeous looks are why we’re here. Juliet is my Instagram CelebriCat and hundreds of people are coming to the con this weekend to meet her, including a representative from Purina’s sponsorship program.
The agent glances at my brother. “And do you have a reservation, sir?”
“You got me my own room, right?” James asks me in a loud voice.
I wince and hand the agent my credit card. “No, James, we’re sharing.”
“What?” He drops a hand on the desk with a sharp smack. “Sharing wasn’t part of the deal.”
The agent stares, open-mouthed, at my brother. He only has one volume when he’s annoyed—earsplitting. I put a hand on his arm and lower my voice.
“James, the rooms were over three-hundred dollars a night. I could only afford one.”
He groans. “I hope the room at least has a big tub.”
“I’m sure it does.” I speak through gritted teeth. Oh, how I wish I didn’t know how much my brother likes his baths.
With a hesitant smile, and another sidelong glance at James, the agent hands me a small folder with two keycards inside. “Your room is on the twelfth floor. The elevators are just there, to the left.” She points the way.
“You have room service, right?” James asks her.
“Yes, sir, of course.”
“Then, I want a BLT with fries and a beer.”
Her eyes dart to me, and I infuse as much apology as I can into my expression. Down the desk, a man checking in seems to be listening. He can hardly help it, thanks to James. His own desk agent keeps snatching glances at us, too.
The eavesdropper’s hair color captures my eye. It’s almost the exact same shade as mine—deep red with gold highlights. But his skin is bronzed, like he lives somewhere much warmer year-round than Colorado. His full mouth and his cornflower blue eyes curl up with amusement. I smile apologetically at him, too, and then turn back to my agent. After a flustered pause, she seems to be trying to come up with a polite response to my brother.
“Um, yes sir, if you’ll just pick up the phone in your room and push the in-room dining button, you’ll be able to order from our extensive menu of—”
James grunts. “What kind of place is this? I can’t order room service at the desk?”
I grip his forearm and speak to the woman, who looks completely flustered. “We’ll do that, thank you so much.”
With an aghast glance at the handsome ginger-haired man, I grab my wallet and the key cards and push James and all our stuff along in front of me.
I bend down to whisper in my brother’s ear, grateful for my five feet eleven inches. It gives me a tiny bit of authority. “Can you please not be rude to everyone in the hotel this weekend? This conference means a lot to me.”
As he well knows. He grunts again. “Whatever. I’m hungry.”
My limbs feel stiff with humiliation as I march toward the elevators. Why didn’t I have a normal brother? Why did I get an oversized child? James has been the downfall of so many of my plans over the years, but with our parents gone, no one else will put up with him.
Even though the elevator button is already lit, my brother uses his elbow to bang it an extra five times, drawing looks from a couple waiting to go upstairs. They wear matching shirts with one giant cat face on them—looks like a tabby with the “M” on the forehead split between them. The woman wears the left side of the cat’s face, and the man wears the right.
James looks them up and down and shakes his head. “Bunch of crazy cat lovers. I’ll bet you all have mad-cat disease.”
I close my eyes to avoid their justifiably offended stares. How can I already regret bringing him to CatFest when we haven’t even gotten to our room yet?
Chapter Two
“Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.”
- Romeo and Juliet (Act 1, Scene 3)
Kathleen
One hour, and one tense exchange with a disgruntled room service waiter later, I escape from the hotel room.
James had called the poor man at least five times to tell him to hurry up while I was changing clothes and freshening my makeup in the bathroom, and then he’d refused to put on pants to answer the door when the food came. James always takes his pants off the moment he gets home, and hotel rooms are no different. I’d ended up answering the door and getting the tray. James would have scared the guy half to death; he hasn’t bought new underwear in about ten years.