Monster (4 page)

Everything had been going swimmingly these last twenty-seven years. Then the old lady had moved in next door, and now Evelyn spent three or four hours a day staring at cats, yammering about cats.

“It’s out there again,” she whispered. “It’s sitting on the porch.”

Rob sighed. “It’s just a cat.” While he had no use for cats, these particular felines, while numerous, weren’t generally much of a nuisance. Once in a while, one of the little beasts might start howling in the middle of the night, but it was far less frequent and disturbing than the parties thrown by the swingers across the street.

“Have you ever taken a look at them?” asked Evelyn. “I mean
really
taken a look at them.”

“They’re cats. What’s to see?”

“Their eyes. There’s something wrong with their eyes.” She peeked out the front-door window at the cat sitting on the porch. “And their shadows aren’t right either.”

“Jeezus, Evelyn. How much time do you spend watching those things?”

“And don’t you ever notice that, except for this one, they always stay in her yard?” she said. “There’s always ten or twenty out there, but they never get outside the fence.”

“Who’s complaining?” he replied. “She’s got them trained.”

“You can’t train a cat to stay in a yard. It can’t be done.”

“Obviously, it can.”

“Something destroyed my rosebushes. Explain that.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Raccoon, maybe?”

“Raccoons don’t burn down rosebushes,” she said. “Burned? You think cats set fire to your rosebushes?”

“Not cats. Cat.
That
cat! Just look at it. It knows I know, and it’s rubbing my nose in it.”

Rob was beginning to doubt that spouses belonged in that subcategory after all. But at least her inexplicable paranoia gave him a reason to look forward to work. Eight blissful hours of middle management drudgery seemed almost like paradise compared to listening to Evelyn ramble on about her furry arch-nemesis.

He started to open the front door, but she slapped away his hand. “For God’s sake, Rob, use the back door. It’s out there.”

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud.” He pushed her aside and opened the door.

The cat stood and stretched. It glanced at Rob and Evelyn but didn’t seem very interested in either of them.

Evelyn hid halfway behind the door and a few steps away from the threshold. “If you were any kind of man, you’d confront her. Tell her that we know what she’s up to.”

“You aren’t serious. You want me to go and yell at an old lady who has never done anything to us except have a cat that likes to sit on our porch?”

“And burns down rosebushes,” she added. “And I think the beast ate the Newtons’ dog. The one that disappeared a week ago.”

“The Saint Bernard?”

She nodded.

The cat raised its head and licked its lips in a manner that even Rob had to admit looked very satisfied.

Evelyn moved a few steps back.

“Oh, for the love of Pete,” said Rob. “Look, if I take the cat back where it belongs and tell them that we’d prefer they keep it inside, would that make you happy?”

He really didn’t care if it made her happy, but he was hoping it might make her shut up. All he’d ever asked of her was a certain degree of bland agreeableness. It seemed ridiculous that one cat should destroy that. If it meant yelling at an old lady to restore her sanity and his peace, then he was perfectly willing to do so.

She smiled. Her smile always struck him as forced and counterproductive, more disturbing than reassuring. His smile was even worse, but at least he had the good sense to use it only on special occasions. He never inflicted it on his wife.

“Won’t you?” she asked. “I can’t stand the dreadful thing. If she could just keep it inside…”

Rob picked up the cat. It didn’t try to run away. He didn’t grab it by the back of the neck, but gently cradled it in his arms. This wasn’t motivated by care or concern but by an awkwardness with touching living things. Whenever someone offered to let him hold their baby, which was thankfully a rare occurrence, he always excused himself to use the bathroom.

He strolled over to the neighbor’s house, passing through the white picket fence around the neatly trimmed yard and colorful flower beds planted along the cobblestone path from the sidewalk to the door. The many cats on her lawn, at least a dozen, all raised their heads as he undid the latch and opened the gate.

The cat in his arms didn’t squirm at all until he reached the quaint front door and knocked. Then it twisted loose and hit the porch. The cat waited patiently with Rob for the door to open.

He checked the time. He had another five minutes before rush hour really set in.

The door swung open and a tall young woman appeared. Her face was thin, and she didn’t have much of a chest either. She made up for this with a nice figure and a pair of slender, athletic legs with just a hint of muscular power. Rob had always been a leg man, and he had a preference for brunettes. This woman’s hair was long and shimmering, just the way he preferred.

“Oh, my—Pendragon,” she said. “There you are! And who is this you’ve brought with you?”

The cat meowed once, then went inside without saying anything else.

“Wherever did you find him?” She smiled widely, displaying long white teeth that were just short of an overbite. They were not her best feature, but he was willing to overlook it.

“Your cat keeps—” he started. “Pendragon,” she corrected. “His name’s Pendragon.”

“Uh, yeah. Your cat, Pendragon, he keeps coming over to my house and bothering my wife.”

“He has?” She gasped theatrically. “That’s most distressing. Mrs. Lotus will be most upset with him. Come in, come in.”

“I have to get to work.”

“Oh, nonsense.” The woman took his hand. “We must tell Mrs. Lotus. I’m sure she’ll want to hear your story.”

He started to protest, but he was at that point in his life at which two hours of traffic jam seemed a fair trade for five minutes of miniskirted legs. It wasn’t as if anyone at the office would notice. The guy in the cubicle next to him still called him Ron. Rob might’ve been insulted except he’d never even bothered to learn the guy’s name.

The young lady drew him inside and shut the door. There were a lot of cats. So many that they were perched on every piece of furniture and every other step of the staircase, under every table and in every corner. They were all quiet and none seemed very interested in him after an initial glance. Despite their overwhelming numbers, the house smelled of gingerbread and coffee.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” said the woman. “I’m Ed.”

“Ed?” said Rob. “Is that short for something?”

“No, it’s just Ed. Just a little joke, or so Mrs. Lotus told me. I don’t get it myself, but I’m sure it’s very funny.” Ed laughed. It was rough and unladylike, and it ended with a snort.

“Rob,” he said. “I’m Rob.”

“What a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Do you live here?” he asked. “Oh, yes. We all do. Mrs. Lotus has a weakness for strays.” She led him deeper into the house, past more cats and down a hallway.

“I’ve never seen you outside,” he said. “We’re not usually allowed outside,” she said. “Mrs. Lotus says that will change soon, but for now we’re supposed to stay inside. That’s why I’m sure she’ll be ever so mad at Pendragon. He really should know better.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d stumbled into, but there was definitely something unwholesome going on in here. He didn’t have the imagination to think of anything specific.

Ed led him into a cozy den decorated in shades of blue and suspiciously absent of cats. She guided him into a comfortable chair. “We were just about to have some tea. You must join us.”

“I don’t like tea,” he said. “Oh, but you’ll love this. It’s Mrs. Lotus’s own special blend.” She took the pot from the small table, poured a small cup, and handed it to him. “Just a sip.”

She frowned. There was an ugly expression on her long face. Rob was more fixated on her legs as she uncrossed and crossed them. She poured herself a cup and offered a toast.

“To good neighbors.”

He clinked his cup against hers and watched her slurp down her drink. Rob did the same. If he’d had just a bit more imagination he might’ve thought it was poisoned or laced with a narcotic, but he wasn’t really thinking about it. He tried not to think about most things, as the answers he reached were rarely comforting.

The tea tasted good. Very good. Like strawberries. He had another cup. Then another. Then two more. It filled his stomach with soft, comforting warmth.

Ed filled the room with small talk. He was only vaguely aware of it, but he nodded as if he were paying attention.

Pendragon walked into the room. The cat sat at Rob’s feet. He meowed, and a small tongue of flame erupted from his throat.

Rob was taken aback, though he was feeling too good to make a big deal about it. “Did you see that?” he asked Ed.

“He has to do that sometimes. Set Mrs. Lotus’s favorite tablecloth aflame the other day. Pendragon, you must be more careful.”

“I guess Evelyn was right. The little bastard did burn down her rosebushes.” Rob giggled. He felt better than he had in years. Better than he ever had in his entire life, which admittedly wasn’t saying much.

Mrs. Lotus appeared in the doorway. He’d seen her a few times, even waved to her once or twice, but Rob had never seen her up close before. She was perhaps eighty, he guessed, and had long gray hair and wrinkles to show for it. Yet she was a striking woman, tall, lean, slight in frame yet powerful in presence. She wore a skirt that ended midthigh, and Rob noticed that her legs were impossibly long and well formed. They were the legs of a ballet dancer in her prime and didn’t really fit on her.

“Hello,” he said.

She didn’t reply right away. Just nodded slightly to herself. And she didn’t blink. Not once.

“Hello, Rob. So nice of you to join us.”

“I know you’ll be very happy here,” said Ed. “Won’t he, Mrs. Lotus?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Lotus. “Very happy.”

“Happy,” agreed Rob as he drifted off to sleep.

Lotus asked, “Now, Ed, what did I tell you about serving my special tea to uninvited guests?”

“Oh, I know, but he seemed so nice. And also, Pendragon invited him.”

Lotus eyed the cat, who merely turned and sauntered out of the room without apology.

“I suppose there’s no harm in it. I’ll be back shortly, Ed. In the meantime, put our guest someplace more comfortable.”

Ed eagerly picked up the cat snoozing comfortably in Rob’s chair. “Where are you going?”

Lotus took the teapot in hand. “I’ll be getting to know Rob’s lovely wife over a cup of tea.”

Monster’s alarm went off, and the bright light filtering through the windows told him it was earlier than expected.

Without opening his eyes, he reached for it. His hand wrapped around the squealing doll. Another of Liz’s damn devil dolls. He struggled to remember how to hit Snooze. He tugged on its arms and legs, but that didn’t have any effect.

“You’re supposed to be set for three,” he grumbled. “It’s not three, is it?”

The doll cut short its squeal. “At the sound of the beep, the time will be one minute after twelve in the afternoon.” Its voice was loud and congenial with a hint of contempt, just like your average television announcer’s.

The doll resumed squealing.

Monster tugged on all the limbs again and tried shaking it, but the doll continued. Fortunately, he was prepared. He rolled over and reached under the bed. He felt around in the junk under there and found a lockbox. He dropped the alarm doll into the box and shut it. The squealing was not entirely dampened, but it was muted. Monster had perfected this procedure to the point that he could do it without ever opening his eyes or having to wake fully. He rolled over and went back to sleep.

Or tried.

If the alarm was ringing at noon, then Liz must’ve reset it. She must’ve had some errand she needed him to run.

“Screw that,” he mumbled.

The doll continued its squeal of urgency. Despite his best efforts, Monster couldn’t overlook it.

“Goddamn.”

Monster opened his eyes to discover he was purple today. He couldn’t remember the effect purple had on him, but he did know he hated the color. He stretched out the kinks and opened the lockbox. The squealing alarm doll sprang up.

Monster rubbed his heavy eyes and yawned. “What the hell is it?”

The doll announced in Liz’s damningly sweet voice, “Hey, honey. Can you do me a favor and pick up the dry cleaning today? Oh, and maybe get a few groceries before you have to head off to work? There’s a list on the fridge.”

“Why can’t she pick up her own stupid dry cleaning?”

The alarm doll only offered a sympathetic shrug.

Monster rose, took his shower, and ate some cold spaghetti for breakfast. He found his color code book and looked up purple. There wasn’t an entry. He’d never been purple. He hated new colors. At least with the old ones, he knew what to expect.