Chasing Tails
BEV SAT ON A CUSHION on the carpet, petting the orange ball of fur in Savita’s lap. Was this one Georgette or Malabar? The ginger tabbies were from the same litter, and too similar to tell apart.
“If he talks about paper trails one more time I’m going to jump off a building,” Bev said. “It makes me feel like a criminal. No, actually, it makes me feel like a crime. I’m this big surreptitious wrongdoing in his life and he has to cover me up by any means necessary.”
Savita nodded absently. She seemed perpetually distracted by the cats these days. No matter what Bev said, her reaction was always the same: pet the animal for a few seconds before murmuring, “Huh?”
“Joseph,” Bev said.
The least she could hope for was a sympathetic ear when she poured her heart out. That
