2017 Top Ten Gay Romance

Chapter 1-3

When the street door was secured, Dez headed upstairs. He managed to close the door into Francis’s flat without leaving his prints on it, and headed for the cat room. It was locked, but Dez found Francis’ keys. Things had gone quiet inside. He slipped inside, wary of any feline escape attempts.

He found a room with dim, soft lighting. It didn’t have much in the way of furniture—not for humans anyway—but had a lot of cat beds, a couple of tall elaborate play towers, and various ramps and shelves on the walls, forming walkways for the cats, so they could climb high. Boxes of cat toys stood against the walls. There was even a cat-sized exercise wheel. Several pairs of eyes, flashing in reflected light, watched Dez from the high shelves or the top platforms of the play towers. They probably felt safer up there, with all the noise and strange voices. A few braver souls had remained on the floor, but hiding inside various kitty houses and small pop-up tents.

Dez put his fists on his hips and looked around. “Right, who’s in charge here?” he asked, voice mock stern. The cats continued to stare. Well, he knew the best way to a cat’s heart.

He found the small kitchen area and the long row of food bowls. Diligently, he cleaned the bowls, piling them on the draining rack. As he worked, he heard a few soft thumps as cats made their way down from the high places. When he glanced at the door, he saw several of them watching him warily. At last, one bravely ventured into the room. A big ginger tabby. It sat by Dez’s feet, looking up at him. After the trailblazer, others followed, and before Dez knew it, he had an audience of several cats. When he got the food pouches out of the cupboard and filled the bowls, the cats started to meow and slalom around his feet, tails stuck straight in the air. Yes, this was definitely the way to a cat’s heart.

They must have been trained not to jump on the counter as they stayed on the floor. When he started laying down the bowls, quite a scrum ensued, but at last he had ten bowls out and the cats split up to a bowl each. He kept an eye on them, making sure none of the bigger ones swiped food from the smaller ones. Eventually sated, they started to wander off to the other room again. A couple hoovered up any food other cats had left. Probably ex-strays, he thought. Never leave food, because you never know when there will be more.

When they were all done, he washed up and stacked the bowls by the sink again, then followed his charges into the other room. Many of them had curled up to sleep, some in beds, but several in other places. There were no armchairs for humans, just a couple of beanbags. This wasn’t part of the public area, like the café downstairs, but where the cats lived outside of opening hours, so the place was set up for them, not for people.

Dez sighed. Beanbags. Good grief. Carefully, he sat in one and found it wasn’t so bad if he reclined. In fact, as he settled in, it felt quite comfortable. He could easily go to sleep…

No. No sleep. He was supposed to be on guard. And he feared nightmares, triggered by the police, the ambulance, the blood, the gun…that wasn’t a gun. He’d been certain in that moment, when the light had fallen on it, and he’d seen it was clearly not a gun. Yet he’d remained frozen to the spot. Now, he had to turn his thoughts from it, but it wasn’t easy with nothing to distract him. Images flashed in his head and he groaned. Not now. No flashbacks. Gotta look after these damn cats. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face.

He felt himself starting to spiral down when a weight on his legs made him open his eyes. The trailblazer, the ginger tabby, was climbing up his legs. He flinched a bit, hoping it kept in its claws when it walked over his crotch. It did and stopped on his stomach. It looked at him for a while, out of yellow eyes. It appeared older, and its fur stuck out oddly in places, like it had been stitched back together. All the cats were from a rescue center, Dez remembered reading on a poster outside the café. Cautiously, not wanting to spook it, he reached to the disc on the cat’s collar, which showed the name Riley.

“Hello, Riley,” Dez said.

Riley c****d his head, pushing it under Dez’s hand. Dez took the hint and gave him some ear and cheek rubs. Riley approved with some purring. After a couple of minutes, he settled onto Dez’s stomach after kneading it for a moment. Warmth spread through Dez, like he had a furry hot water bottle sitting on him. He left off the ear-scritchies and stroked the cat’s back instead. It began to purr steadily, eyes closed and whiskers quivering. Around them, a couple of cats still wandered around playing for a while, but soon they, too, curled up into furry balls and slept.