Like Cats and Dogs Kate McMurray (best ereader for comics .TXT) 📖

evicting them if he bought the building…hypothetically. Or replacing the café with something more lucrative, like a bank or a cell phone store. Since technically Diane owned the Cat Café, the café closing would put her at the sort of financial disadvantage that might make her more inclined to sell as well. Lauren reasoned there were a lot of possibilities here, and many of them involved shutting down the Cat Café if Randolph had his way.

She looked around. Diane chatted with what looked like a middle-aged gay male couple—they were similarly groomed and also holding hands—and she wore a purple dress that was a little too formal for the occasion. She held a travel coffee cup with kittens on it in her hand, rather than drinking out of a glass from the bar. It was all very Diane.

Lauren wanted to get out of this conversation but didn’t want to ruin Diane’s evening by inflicting these guys on her. So Lauren said, “If you’re not interested in adopting a cat, we are also taking donations for no-kill shelters in Brooklyn to help them cover their expenses. You can see Monique at the door if you’re interested in donating.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

Randolph continued to stand there, looking at her in a way that made her uncomfortable, like he was trying to wear her down. To what end, she didn’t know; it wasn’t like she owned this property.

Then Randolph said, “Do you get much business from the tenants in the apartments upstairs?”

Oh, this was bad. If he was inquiring about the tenants upstairs, he was likely wondering if he could evict them, too. Not wanting to admit she was one of those tenants, Lauren said, “Some. A lot of people who live between Henry Street and the subway station at the end of the block stop in here for coffee on their way to work. Some of them stop and pet the cats, but a lot of them just get their morning cup o’ joe and a pastry.” Lauren was thinking about starting a loyalty program with little cards, a “buy ten, get one free” sort of thing for the morning crowd, hoping to keep her customers loyal when a new coffee shop inevitably opened nearby. “Any ideas with what you will do with the old Star Café space now that you own it?”

“Not yet,” said Randolph.

When no more information seemed to be forthcoming, Lauren said, “Well, it was nice chatting with you. I better mingle and make sure my staff is doing okay. Please help yourself to anything on offer and remember to talk to Monique about donations on your way out!”

Lauren slid away before Randolph could rope her into further conversation. He seemed to take the hint and went to the bar. His presence here was deeply unsettling, but Lauren didn’t want to let that hamper her enjoyment of the evening. Instead, she sought out Paige, who stood on the corner surveying her kingdom.

“Successful evening,” Lauren said.

“Much bigger crowd than I was expecting!”

“It’s good, though. Maybe people will be charmed and continue coming back to the café.”

“Was that the real estate developer you were just talking to?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why he’s here. I wouldn’t worry too much. Diane said she wasn’t selling. End of story, as far as I’m concerned. He can keep trying, but as long as Diane digs in her heels regarding selling, we’re fine.”

Paige smiled. “Good, good. In the meantime, let’s get some more cats into good homes!”

***

The odd thing about talking to Evan was that Caleb got the impression Evan was rooting for him.

Well, that, and when they first shook hands, Caleb felt a spike of jealousy. It was unfounded—a few minutes of speaking with Evan revealed he was gay—but that it had happened at all was an unpleasant surprise. Caleb had no claim on Lauren. They weren’t seeing each other exclusively. They weren’t even in a relationship. Hell, they weren’t even friends. They were two people who verbally sparred sometimes and then had sex.

He moved about the party. All of the vets had to wear official blue Whitman Street Veterinary Clinic T-shirts so they would be easily identifiable to the party guests, which meant he fielded some questions from potential cat parents. He knew most of the cats at the café were rescues who came from shelters, so he also assumed the cats had been screened for devastating diseases like feline leukemia and the feline version of HIV. Maybe the years of treating sick cats had made him too pessimistic, but all these people drinking and thinking taking home a cat was a good idea made him a little wary.

Which was why he inserted himself into a conversation with a woman who was telling a prospective cat adopter that she didn’t take her cat to the vet regularly because the cat stayed inside all the time and didn’t need shots.

“You really should, just in case,” Caleb said to the woman.

“Well, sure,” she said, glancing at his shirt. “You want us to pay you hundreds of dollars every year.”

“No, I want to prevent the spread of feline diseases should your cat escape your apartment or otherwise be exposed to other cats.”

“He would never escape.”

“I passed four different missing cat posters on the way to work just this morning. You never know.”

The woman just scoffed at him.

So he wasn’t feeling very sociable when he finally ran into Lauren again. She looked to be a couple of cocktails into her evening, but she greeted him pleasantly enough.

“All right, cat lady. Do you screen or do a background check on any of the people who adopt cats?” he asked.

“We make them answer a series of questions to make sure they’re ready to take in a cat. The cats who live in the café have already been spayed or neutered and their shots are up to date, so that’s already taken care of. We get everyone’s contact information, and Paige calls them to follow-up in a few weeks. That’s