Complete Novel

The Black Knight Squash Fiction League Match #3

The Loose Strings  The Racketeers
.
CHAPTER 22

Here, Kitty-Kitty
By Tammy Mehmed

It is so nice being here with just mom – I don’t want to share her right now.  I have missed her so much.  I realize now how amazing she is.  Of course my family of murderers is no Cleaver family – but I’d like to think we only kill the bad guys. 

“Mom, who’s cleaning up your house?  I think we left some carnage behind.”

Ted calmly answered, “Oh, we did leave quite a mess didn’t we.  I sent the team a message to clean the place, inside and out.  They are there now making sure it’s cleaned up by sunrise, honey.  Not to mention, checking the security system and the cameras so I can safely return home tomorrow.”

Of course, she has it all handled already.  “Mom, I’m exhausted.  It’s been quite a ride the last few days.  I can’t keep my eyes open and this whiskey has taken the edge off.  Do you mind if I just crash here on the sofa – I want to stay near you.”

“Of course, dear.  I just have some more correspondence to finish up and then I’ll hit the lights.  We’ll talk some more tomorrow.  I hope you can get some rest, dear.”  And as I wrapped myself in a blanket and leaned on a sofa pillow, mom kept working on her phone, not skipping a beat.   I decided to keep using my burner phone, just in case, and sent a text to Marc-Andre, “I can’t even tell U how sorry I am.  I hear U R OK.  Can I C U tomorrow?  I O U - Meow.”  Moments later a return message, “See you at the club tomorrow a.m., Petit Chaton.”

***********

Mom’s ride to the office, a black Lincoln Towncar, pulled up to the cabin just as we finished our coffee and breakfast.  M-A had a nicely stocked fridge.  I was so hungry this morning and my mother actually made me pancakes and sausage.  She needed an early start back to Montreal and hoped the aroma would wake me.  And it did.  Of course, my mom hadn’t made me breakfast since I last saw her prior to the ‘accident’ when I was at Princeton.  I feel like she has been more of a mother to me in the last 24 hours, than the last five years she was alive. 

“Hayden, I know you need to get that car back to your friends.  Have you coordinated that?”

“Yes, mom.  I’m going to meet Marc-Andre back at the club.  Then he’ll give me a lift back to the Manitou parking lot where my original rental car is parked. Oh here are the keys to the trashy little Bug I bought at Rent-A-Wreck.  It’s right down the street from your house.  I’ll meet you at your office later this afternoon before I head to the airport.  Thanks for taking care of my flight back to JFK at 6 tonight.”

With that, my mother, hugged me and kissed each cheek, “À tout à l'heure!”

**************

As I drove back up the mountain to Faucon Bleu later in the morning, I knew I would have to pay up with Marc-Andre.  He did me a favor and I nearly got him and Chantal killed.  As I approached the club parking lot, I could feel a tinge of excitement.  Yesterday, was not how I wanted to see M-A for a reunion.  When I decided to leave Faucon Bleu, I was his favorite dancer and he had become my family.  So typical of the industry, he took care of his girls.  And with both my parents “dead” at the time, he became my family. 

I parked Chantal’s car next to his very alluring Jaguar convertible.  He had a thing for cats.  Not real, mind you, just the get-ups.  He loved leopard print.  He thoughtfully unlocked the dancers’ entrance so I could slip in.  I found my way to the costume rack.  As I pushed through the rack, so many memories, the blood leaped through my veins, remembering those days.  Ah, there it is.  The kitty costume that M-A loves so much.  Leopard print mini dress with halter top and fingerless glovelets, and of course the leopard kitty ears. I went through the lingerie drawers and found a sheer black set to slip underneath.  He knew I had arrived, because, as if on cue, he turned on my favorite dance piece from ‘Enigma’.   I found the kitten heels, and slinked onto the stage and up to the pole.   There he was sitting at his table with two glasses of champagne in front of him.  Sigh. 

As the rhythmic chanting of Sadeness played, off came the gloves, which I artfully used to help me maneuver the pole.  Marc-Andre loved the costume and the dance in all this.  He wanted the performance to lead his imagination as to what was underneath the kitty.  As the song ended, I made my way off the stage and sauntered over to him.  He pulled his chair away from the table and I sat across his lap.  I kissed each cheek hello. 

“Thank you, Bebe.  I have missed you.  I understand if you cannot tell me what is going on, but I do hope you are safe now,” he whispered.

“Oh M-A, my life is so confusing right now.  My time here with you was so much simpler.  But I didn’t know who I was – I was so confused back then.  I floundered when my parents died.  I made good money and you always kept me safe and treated me with respect.  So many things have changed in my life in the last six months, and I am no longer that lost little kitten.

“I’m so happy to hear this.”  And with that, he handed me a glass of champagne, the bottle of Cristal sitting in a bucket on the table.  “Here is to you and your new life, my Bebe.”

We toasted and both gulped down our glass of bubbly.  He gently put his arm under the crook of my knees, which were bent over his lap, and he slowly stood.  I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck for balance, and he carried me over to his private office.  He had the girls he slept with, but I was such a money maker, I became taboo for him.  He did not want to ruin the business I brought in, so he kept me at bay.  The sexual tension was always hot between us, which probably made me a more motivated dancer.  When I was on stage, my dance was for him.  And now, there were no limitations.  As he carried me through the threshold of his office door, I said to him “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused yesterday.  I know it was a nightmare, so I hope now I can be your daydream.”

************

After sorting out the cars and saying good bye to mom, I headed to Montreal’s Trudeau airport.  On board the Air Canada flight to JFK, I stared out the window, sad to leave mom and Marc-Andre behind.  But New York is where I belong and being able to work for mom at their New York office thrilled me.  After I walked off the plane at JFK, I noticed two suits following me.  They quickly flanked either side of me, “Miss Vaughn,” one started, “we’d like to take you down to our office for some questioning about a friend of yours ... Oliver Fox.”