leave Aunt Polly in the well while you dined on Mahi Mahi and Brandy Alexanders.â
âHave a little patience and trust me,â said Stinky, âIf this relationship is going to work, youâre going to have to trust me. And your shoelace is untied.â
âRelationship?â Roland started to protest as he bent to tie his shoe lace. His hand touched Velcro straps. âYou lying feline, there arenât any shoelaces on sandaââ before he could get the words out with the right degree of acrimony, a young woman, dressed in a short skirt and a long, fish-stained apron came flying from the door of the restaurant, down a short set of steps from the restaurant door toward the street, cussing a blue streak.
âFuck you, you fucking fuck!â The woman shouted at a man standing in the doorway waving a bloody chefâs hat at her, red-faced and yelling. Stinky slithered between the womanâs feet causing her to trip and fall down the stairs. Arms cartwheeling, she tumbled, ass over tin cup, over the kneeling form of Roland. Roland tried to catch her at the last minute and ended up sprawled in the street with the woman sitting in his lap.
âI fucking quit, you fucking fuck,â the woman screamed from Rolandâs lap, over her shoulder, at the man in the doorway. Realizing she was sitting in a strange manâs lap on the sidewalk, the woman turned her head and stared at Roland, her eyes sparking with anger and curiosity.
Roland stared back at the foul-mouthed woman on his lap.
âWhat are you looking at?â the woman said, angry, with a tinge of humor.
âYou look like you could use a drink,â Roland said.
âAre you buying, Fuckhead?â A smile appeared at the corner of her mouth.
âYou have a mouth on you,â said Roland.
âAnd I know how to use it.â She broke into a full-on alligator grin. âIâm Dee Dee.â
Roland slipped Dee Dee off his lap and helped her to her feet. âRoland,â he said, extending his hand.
Dee Dee touched Rolandâs outstretched hand softly in a mock shake then brushed herself off. She was straightening her skirt when she spied the cat. Stinky had been following their conversation intently.
âHey Stinky, whaddya know?â said Dee Dee.
âYou know this animal?â Roland said.
âYeah, I know the little shit.â Dee Dee, rose to her feet. âHe spends a lot of time in the dumpster out behind the restaurant. At least I see him there during the day sometimes.â
âThat would explain the smell,â said Roland, adjusting his baggy shorts and T-shirt.
âI donât know what the furry little fucker does at night.â
âHe hustles drinks at Sloppy Joeâs.â Roland picked a waterlogged cigarette butt off his shirt.
âSpeaking of drinks,â said Dee Dee. âDid you say you were buying?â
âSure.â Roland, wondered how he got lucky enough to have a beautiful woman fall into his lap.
âIt wasnât luck,â said Stinky in his head, âI planned it this way. Kurt Vonnegut used to call me âWampeter.â It was his word for something or someone that brings two forces together that would never have met otherwise.â
âSo now you knew Kurt Vonnegut,â Roland.
âI used to sit on his lap while he dictated his novels to his secretary,â said Stinky. âRemember Catâs Cradle? He was going to call it Bokonism Footsie. Changing the title to Catâs Cradle was my idea.â
The voice was smug in Rolandâs head.
Stinky gazed up at the sun. âMust be around noon. The Head chef comes in around noon and he must have found all that rotten fish in his hat. Since he and Dee Dee here have had a little rivalry going on recently, he must have assumed it was her.â
Roland stared at the black cat.
âI suggest the Hogâs Breath Saloon,â he heard Stinky say. âThey have
Learning to Kill: Stories