Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Advice. Purrfect Passion. A Purrfect Gnomeful

Wounded to the core of her immortal soul, she’d retreated to her lodgings, which were also Chase’s lodgings, and Brutus’s, the latter telling her not to take these things personally, as cameramen will be cameramen and apparently this one was as anti-cat as they came.

During the campfire, she’d positioned herself on Chase’s lap, and had remained there throughout, until Chase had become all agog at the sight of Odelia sitting on the beach in her bikini chatting with a hunk in trunks and Harriet had been flung from his lap when he’d started gesticulating wildly.

And during Chase’s dinner date with Donna, she’d managed to walk into the picture a couple of times, until one of the producers had bodily grabbed her and deposited her elsewhere.

“The gall of these people!” she cried. “To manhandle me. Me!”

“Yeah, that wasn’t nice,” Brutus agreed.

They were back in Chase’s room, where they’d returned after this most recent and infuriating incident.

“I’m going to tell Chase to write a strongly worded email to the producer that this kind of thing can’t go on. This island is full of cat haters and something must be done.”

“At least they can’t cut you from the frame, sweet puss. Or else they’ll have to cut Chase, too, and they’re not going to do that.”

“They can edit me out. These people can do anything. Edit me in or out as they see fit. Just like Stalin.”

“Stalin?”

“He used to edit people out of his pictures all the time. At least that’s what Dooley told me.” She frowned darkly. “If this keeps up I’m going to be deleted from history completely. As if I was never even here!”

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” said Brutus soothingly.

“I wouldn’t be too sure. These people are capable of anything, even feline deletion!”

Just then, Gran and Scarlett both came bursting into the room.

“Harriet, Brutus!” whispered Gran, as if afraid she might be overheard. “How did Chase’s date go?”

“Yeah, how did it go?” Scarlett echoed.

“They kicked me out,” said Harriet. “Can you believe it? There I was, strutting my stuff for all I’m worth, and some minion came and grabbed me and told me in no uncertain terms to get lost.”

“Huh,” said Gran, not really showing the kind of compassion a cat scorned likes to see in her human. “So was there any kissing going on? Things heating up between Donna and Chase?”

“No kissing,” said Brutus categorically. “I checked.”

“Good,” said Gran, satisfied. She turned to her friend. “No kissing,” she explained.

“Doesn’t mean anything,” was Scarlett’s prompt response. “They could be kissing up a storm right now, and heading this way for some after-dinner nookie.”

“Over my dead body,” Gran growled. “Harriet, Brutus. New mission. The moment Donna sets foot in this villa you have my permission to do whatever it takes to get her out again.”

Harriet perked up at this. In every cat lurks a touch of the wild. They may have allowed themselves to be domesticated but, unlike the canine species, have managed to retain the hunter’s instinct their ancestors possessed. Under normal circumstances a cat tamps down on its primeval instincts, but to give it permission to unleash these urges is like giving a pyromaniac a set of matches and telling him to go and build a nice bonfire.

“Anything at all?” asked Harriet, sheathing and unsheathing her sharp claws.

“Whatever it takes,” Gran repeated. “That campfire was a disaster, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Chase decided to get some of his own back after watching Odelia schmooze with that musclehead.”

“I thought he was very handsome,” said Scarlett. “In fact I wouldn’t mind making his acquaintance one of these days.”

Scarlett had lamented on more than one occasion that the four candidates weren’t much to write home about, and she’d much rather have a go at the seducers over on the other island instead. But since beggars can’t be choosers she’d decided to help Gran.

“You and I are going to hide under the bed,” said Gran now.

“Wait, what?!” cried Scarlett.

“That way we can make sure Chase doesn’t do anything stupid. Like cheat on Odelia.”

“I’m not crawling under that bed,” said Scarlett.

“Fine. You can hide in the closet then.”

“How about I hide in the bathroom? When they catch me I can always tell them I got confused. These villas all look the same anyway.”

“It’s either the closet or the bed. You choose.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll take the closet. But I’m not staying in there all night. I need my beauty sleep.”

“It won’t take long, believe me,” said Gran with a resolute look on her face.

“So if Chase and Donna walk in, we pounce?” asked Harriet eagerly. “Go for the jugular?”

“Take it easy, princess,” said Gran. “We want to scare the woman, not create a bloodbath. No, when they walk in, you create a big fuss. And when that doesn’t work, Scarlett and I will come out of hiding and try to talk some sense into the guy.”

“It will be hard,” said Scarlett. “By the time Chase walks in with Donna he’ll be so hot and bothered he could get belligerent when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

“That’s where Brutus comes in.” Gran crouched down, causing her knees and hips to creak dangerously. “Brutus, you hit Chase with anxious puss face. You know, like Puss in Boots from those Shrek movies.”

Brutus frowned.

“No, not like that.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen that movie,” he said, looking a little confused.

“Brutus doesn’t really do anxious,” said Harriet. “He does scary very well, though.”

“Fine, you do scary and Harriet, you do anxious puss.”

“I don’t do anxious either,” said Harriet haughtily. “It isn’t in my repertoire, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, fine! So you both do scary.” Gran then slid underneath the bed. “The things I do for my granddaughter,” she muttered.

Scarlett disappeared into the bathroom and Vesta yelled after her. “Where are you going?”

“Touch up my makeup. I want to look good for the cameras.”

“Get back here.”

“Yes, boss,” said Scarlett, tripping back into the room.

“Now into the closet with you, and be quick about it!” Vesta barked.

Scarlett giggled. “This is so exciting!”

And thus the scene was set.

Now all it took was for Chase to walk in with Donna and the show was a go.

Chapter 30

I was feeling slightly embarrassed about the predicament we’d landed our human in. Mike apparently had been spooked to such an extent he wanted to go home, and even Clint had come down to declare the plaza and its surroundings off-limits for cats from now on. And since Dooley and I were the only cats on the island that clearly meant us.

Odelia herself wasn’t mad. I think she was even proud of the protective instincts that had guided our misguided attempt to make her remain faithful to her chosen one.

She was also very tired, though, so she’d turned in for the night the moment Mike had been patched up sufficiently and the date had officially been written off as a total loss.

So it was with mixed emotions that I walked into Odelia’s villa, Odelia pretty much dead on her feet and Dooley still speculating whether Mike had worn a toupee or not.

“I felt his hair shift when I landed on top of his head,” he repeated. “I’m sure he’s wearing a hairpiece, Max.”

“It could be a weave,” I countered. “A hairpiece would have come off when he was on that speedboat dragging Odelia behind him on her water skis.”

“Not when he’s glued it in place.”