Chris walked in the door.
Max reared back and pounced on him.
“OUCH! F——ing cat!” Chris brushed the cat off him.
“You’re late,” Max said. “What was it this time? Flat tire. Met some strange woman who wanted help moving her couch? You’ve run out of lies, I think.”
Chris plopped on the couch and sighed. “It was work. It’s always work.”
His phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket. Sam.
“Are you going to answer that?” asked Max.
Chris silenced his phone. “No. It’s Sam. He probably wants me to jump his car.”
“Are you sure? Not just going to call back in ten minutes and go jump?”
“You know, you are the meanest cat I’ve ever known.”
Max climbed on the couch and nuzzled Chris. “It’s for your own good, you know.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it cool.”
Max licked Chris’s arm.
“Please, Max,” Chris flinched. “Do we have to?”
“No, we don’t have to, but I’d really like to.”
Chris sighed and untensed his arm.
Max opened his mouth and clamped down on Chris’s arm. Blood poured from the wound. Max sucked it up.
“You’ve got to stop letting people take advantage of you, Chris.”
Chris was pale in the dark of the house. “I know, I know.”
#70
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