Something firm brushed my leg. Unprepared, I jumped sideways, knocking over a shelf of books over. “What the hell?” I gasped.
At my feet, a calico cat flipped its tail and purred.
“Are you alright?” A young woman asked, hurrying over to me, her green apron marking her as an employee. On top of her black, cropped hair, a pair of fluffy white ears perched.
Slowly, I scanned the room again. Then, even slower, I looked up at the chalkboard over on the wall. The name of the shop was scrawled there, and I understood that I'd misread it outside.
It wasn't Caffeine, it was Caffeline.
A cat cafe.
Scratching my cheek, I said, “I'm fine, sorry.” When I knelt to fix the books, another cat came my way, purring and nudging my thigh.
“It's alright,” the cat-eared woman giggled. “The kittens forgive you, so all is well.”
Blushing, I straightened the last of the books. Reaching over, I gave the newest cat a quick rub behind its cheek. “I've never been inside this kind of coffee shop before.”
“We're new.” Waving for me to follow her, the woman said, “My name's Amina. Here, have a seat and when you're ready, just pick from this menu and flag me down.”
I sat on top of a big fluffy beanbag, sinking deep in the far corner of the shop. It was pretty busy inside, most chairs occupied by people who chatted or browsed on their laptops. Fingering the menu, I grinned at the tiny drawings of kittens and the funny drink names.
I took it upon myself to order two drinks. Silver shoved through the front door moments after Amina set them in front of me.
He was wearing a midnight blue jacket, open so I could see the black shirt clinging to his torso. Maybe the cats will attack him, shredding his clothes. The idea of his sudden nudity made me swallow.
“Pet,” he said softly, sitting across from me. His amber irises were burning with a need for answers. “What happened, why aren't you at work?”
I started to answer, then I stopped. “How do you know I was supposed to be working?”
“Do you think I don't keep tabs on where you are?” He chuckled, like I was the ridiculous one.
I hid behind my small white cup of green tea. “That's not normal.”
“I know.”
I'd expected him to act differently, maybe deny right out of the gate that he'd been stalking me. Instead, he was almost proud of it.
He lifted the cup in front of him, sniffing it. “What's this?”
“It's called a Silver Lynx,” I said, my cheeks going pinker. “I thought you'd appreciate the name.”
Grinning, he watched me intently. “I do.” His sip was slow, lingering. When he finished, he breathed out. “We should talk.”
“About the other night? Yeah. I think we should, too.” My tongue pressed each word like a hammer on an anvil, giving them all a blade's edge. “I need to know how long you've been following me.”
“You're very demanding for a pet.”
“I'm not your pet.”
“You are.” Glancing down, he motioned at a black cat that was stretched out on the cafe floor. It flicked its ears, miraculously swaying over so Silver could rub its head. “You're not wearing a leash anyone can see, but it's there.” When he shot his stare back to me, I stiffened. “And I'm holding the other end of it.”
Bunching up my shoulders, I sighed. “Tell me how you know me.”
“Tell me what had you so flustered earlier.”
I came close to arguing with him. Really, though, I was too burnt out to find the energy. If I give him answers, he might finally give me some. Hanging my head, I glanced at the nearby wall. “There's a detective that's been following me as much as you have.” I frowned at him. “He's been trying to grill me for information.”
Silver sat up so quickly that the cat jumped away. “Detective?”
“It's stupid.” Shaking my head, I peered through my eyelashes at him. “I feel weird explaining it, even.”
“Don't, just take your time,” he said gently.
He switches from domineering to kind like a flip of a light switch. In spite of my observation, the sudden warmth inside of me wasn't just from my tea. “Alright. Well, this guy—Detective Roose—he thinks I can help him with an old case. Except, I don't think I can. I kind of don't remember much about what happened, and it was so long ago, you know?”
Silver considered me, his hands resting lightly on the table. “I see. He wants your help, even though you can't remember the details he needs? Why can't you remember, amnesia?”
My laugh was nervous. “Amnesia is too intense a word for it. I can recall bits and pieces, if I try.” I don't want to try. “He thought he had a way to fix it so I'd remember more clearly. Earlier, he took me back to where it all happened—the crime, I mean. Guess he wanted the location to jog my memory.”