The food fight loses steam. Everyone picks bits of bread and salad off themselves and uses napkins to blot creamer and coffee from their clothes.
The same security guy from earlier runs in from the back, and onstage Margot seems at a loss for words. I don’t blame her.
I hurry back to Kathleen who’s lecturing an unrepentant-looking James.
“We better go,” I say in her ear, “it’s dark back here. James might not have been recognized as the stabber.”
Kathleen rushes to collect her things at our table as I hustle James out of the room. Other attendees stream out of the event room now, chattering and reliving the fight.
“Now that was worth coming for,” James says as Kathleen joins us out in the lobby.
She extracts a soggy packet of sugar from her brother’s collar and hisses, “Go back to the room and stay there. If you lay low until it’s time to go home tomorrow, maybe you won’t be arrested.”
“Good idea,” I say.
Still smiling with satisfaction, James exits the building.
“This has been the best CatFest ever!” A passing woman says between snorts of laughter.
I look at Kathleen. “Well, that was . . . something. I never thought I’d see adults having a food fight over the results of an award at a cat convention.” I put an arm around her shoulders and pull her close to my side. “Look, what can I do to make this better? Do you want to get a drink? Go for a walk? Should I challenge that Boyd guy to a duel?”
I can imagine the profanity-laced reaction I’d get from my cousin. I’ve got a boatload of apologizing and atoning to do with him as it is. But guilt surges through me at the pained look on Kathleen’s face. This is all my fault, like Boyd said.
“Maybe a short walk,” she suggests.
“Okay.” I take her hand and we walk under the big blue bear and away from the people heading back to the hotel. Laughter rings in the air.
“I guess that was pretty funny to watch,” I say.
She doesn’t speak for a moment. “Why do you think Boyd handed you the trophy? He acted like you’d stabbed him instead of James.”
I swallow. Now would be a very good time to tell the truth. The words come to my mouth, but fear grips me. I can’t lose her now.
“Who knows?” I say lightly. “I was the closest one to him.”
My thoughts race as we walk a little farther. Tonight didn’t go the way I’d planned. But there has to be some way for Kathleen to get the sponsorship she needs. And for me to still have a chance with her.
I guide her into a small courtyard where a fountain bubbles outside of a quiet cafe. Music plays, and strings of lights around the square twinkle. It could be the perfect spot to propose . . . but it’s too soon. I don’t want to scare her away. And I don’t want to ask her to marry me under a cloud of guilt.
“Kathleen, listen. I have an idea.” I turn to her, lightly rubbing her wrap-covered arms. “Why don’t I sponsor you and Juliet? Call it a loan if you want, although you won’t need to pay me back. I just want to see you two succeed.”
Her eyes go glassy. “That is such an incredibly kind and generous offer . . . but I can’t accept it.”
I caress her cheek with the backs of my fingers. “Why not? I want to do this for you.”
“Thank you, but I can’t take your money.” Her face crumples.
I pull her into my chest and arrange her shawl closer around her, as her quiet tears wet my coffee-stained suit coat. There must be something I can do.
Another idea comes to me. If she won’t take money from me, maybe she still will from Purina.
“If you won’t let me help, then we’ll figure out another way,” I say.
“How?” she asks.
“Trust me.”
“I do.” Even with tears streaking her cheeks, she’s still devastatingly beautiful. “Somehow, even though I met you twenty-four hours ago, I do trust you. But Joe, I need to figure this out on my own. You’ve done so much for me. Made this one of the best birthdays I’ve had, made the convention amazing and romantic even though Juliet and I didn’t win. You’ve been wonderful. But now it’s time for the magic to end. It’s over.”
“We’ll work something out.” I kiss her head. “I promise.”
Now, to figure out how.
Chapter Nineteen
“These times of woe afford no time to woo.
Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.”
- Romeo and Juliet (Act 3, Scene 4)
Kathleen
Joe escorts me back to my room and kisses me by the door again. While it’s wonderful to feel his lips on mine again, my heart’s not in it. He seems to understand. So much was riding on that sponsorship, and now I’m sure it’s going to Boyd.
I can’t be resentful of Romeo. He’s a cat. Juliet had seemed to like him at the meet and greet, and I trust her judgment. But I can certainly loathe his owner. And I do. Oh, I do.
I step inside my room, trying to be quiet in case James is already asleep. But the television glows. He glances at me from his bed.
I hang up my wrap in the closet, trying to decide what to say to my brother. “James, what you did tonight was wrong. I know you only bruised Boyd, and I doubt he can press charges for that, but it could have been much worse.” I sit on my bed. “That said, thank you for taking my side, at least. I appreciated the support.”
He shrugs. “I joined the underdogs.”
I kick off my heels, anger suddenly, finally, coursing through me. “Why do you say it like that? Why don’t you support me, James?”
He rolls his eyes and goes back to watching television.
“No, really.” I flip on the bedside table light, grab the remote and switch the TV off. “I want to know. I support you. I let you live with me even though you don’t help with rent or bills. I pay you to take care of Juliet, although you should want to do it to help out, and because she loves you, too.”
Even now, my cat is curled up beside James. She does love him. Sometimes I think he loves her back. Sometimes I don’t think he loves anyone.
“So, what it is about me you find so repellent?” I ask. “Why aren’t you more willing to help out, or at least to be supportive when I need you? Why do I have to cajole you, pay you, and plead with you like you’re a moody teenager?”
He stares at me. The low light from the bedside table makes him look older than he usually does. “Is that what you think of me?”
I throw out a hand. “Yes, James. It is. You aren’t kind, you aren’t thoughtful, you don’t help around the house. You do things for Juliet, which I appreciate, but you get paid to do it. What else can I think but that my brother, my only family, is a real grade-A ass?”
He snorts. “I do plenty of things to help. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Because I bribed you.” My temples pulse with anger. “You know, I think when we get back, you need to find somewhere else to live.”
“What?” he says.
“You heard me.”
“You’ll change your mind.”