A/N: This is a commission I wrote for callowGuru. This story takes place AFTER the events of Hustle Cat, following the 'Mason' route. It comes from the perspective of an original character. I've broken it into two pieces for easier reading here. Enioy.
Hustle Cat
Trendjacking
A delicious donut, as expected. Early worm purchase, too, so it's still fresh. That old man makes the best damn donuts I know. It's a little bit of a pain to walk past the café just to visit his corner store, only to loop back around, but...I like him. I like his donuts. I want to support the guy. Plus, well, he's got ties to my roommate, in a sense? Just seems like a nice thing to do.
Also, did I mention how damn delicious his donuts are?
I always end up buying two, because one of them is often gone by the time I've looped back around to the Cat's Paw café, and the entire point is to have a delicious donut to eat with the delicious coffee.
Sometimes I feel a little guilty, like I'm passively telling Mason 'your grandpa's donuts are better.' And I mean, I'm no chef, so I can't explain why, but they are better, even if slightly so. Not that I would ever tell her that. And not like I never buy Mason's donuts instead sometimes. I totally do. Try to keep it even. Almost event. Two-to-three ratio? It's, ya know, it's negligible, the difference between these donuts. Why bother even dwelling on it, right?
Where was I?
On my way back to the Cat's Paw for some morning coffee. And probably lunch. Brunch? I guess technically you could call it brunch, since I substitute donuts for breakfast, and donuts really don't count as actual breakfast.
Ah, yea – splitting hairs again, sorry. You're probably here for the tense silences between acquaintances, where eyes are glazed over and awkward flirting abounds.
Well, I'm getting there, keep your pants on, you perv. These things typically take time, ya know?
Granted, I am skipping over some of it, aren't I? Months of it. A bit of a cheap tactic, I know. But let's be honest, 'ain't nobody got time for that.' Plus? Would you really want me to bore you with pages and pages of 'omigosh MAGIC how wut how do?'
Because there was totally a lot of that. But we're past it.
Avery caught me up quick enough, and what can I say? I'm always fussing over the details, getting hung up on the slightest lack of cohesion, lack of explanation. And believe me, my new friends out here, they just simmer in the vagueness. It confounds, but it's also not quite my business. Not quite my place.
After all, I'm just a customer.
A regular. Uh, that is, a Regular. Capital 'R,' there. Everybody knows me – even the eccentric owner, Graves, that goth loon who's barely there. He let me use his personal apartment bathroom that one time. And then also all of the times after that, mainly because he wasn't there to say 'not again,' and secondly because none of his employees thought to stop me. Sort of like an extended family member, I guess? That weird but loveable cousin you find cute 'but not too cute because dude, she's your cousin, gross, but yea, anyway, you know where the bathroom is, feel free to take something from the fridge if you're hungry, but Mason'll have dinner ready in like an hour, so don't spoil your appetite.'
Uh. But yea.
I really like this place. The café, I mean.
More of a dog person, though.
A little ironic, right? It is, of course, a cat café. Literally full of cats. All the time.
And yea, I know about the whole, like...'we were all secret cats' thing, with the employees? That was maybe the hardest part to believe when Avery got into all the magic shtick with the place.
And then I had a fucking conversation with Jelly Donut. THE Jelly Donut, viral Internet sensation.
Who also happens to be the cutest employee working at the damn place. Go figure.
I looked her name up. Uh, the meaning of her name, I mean. Her given name: Finley.
'Fair-haired warrior,' 'fair hero', or some such. Depends on who you ask.
Finley is definitely all of those things, though, so it's fitting.
Not that – I mean, a person's name doesn't define what they are, or anything like that.
Mine sure doesn't.
"Kassandra~"
HOH, shit, Finley is eager to see me. I-I mean, why...wouldn't she be? Right?
We made plans to hang out today. After work. Alone. For the first time.
I'm actually more nervous about, like, people finding out about our date than I am about the date itself.
Yea, see? I'm even calling it a date. That's totally what it is. We both know it.
Just because we haven't said it out loud yet, that doesn't mean we both don't know what it is.
Just, I don't know, everyone else doesn't need to know about it. Yet. Or maybe even ever. At all.
Gah, that's impossible, obviously. And it would be crap to hide it from them, really.
I mean, imagine if I had no idea about Avery and Mason, right? It'd be weird.
Like there's any point in even dwelling on this stuff. We all know Finley will have made it abundantly obvious to everyone else that we're an item. And I do mean everyone, as in, potentially the entire populace of the planet, because she will totally selfie-post on social media before our date is even over. I can already imagine the captions and hashtags she'll use...
"Hey, gurrrrrlllpp..." Finley lowers her voice to a low rumble, rolling her 'rrr' out into that...that sound a cat makes when they're happy to see you? You know the one I mean.
It's goddamn adorable and turns me on – fuck, she knows, she can tell, she's teasing and taunting me, damnit, is this going to be the rest of my day now?– and I hate that it turns me on, too, by the way.
I told you, I'm a dog person. I promise.
But I make exceptions. For this café. For this girl.
Oh, right. So let me me super clear here: Finley can do magic. She can turn herself into a cat.
Not just any cat. Like I said, Jelly Donut, like, the meme cat. She's got to be up there with 'Droopy French Frog' and 'House On Fire But It's OK.' Well, those are pictures, whereas Jelly Donut is more of a video thing, so, I don't know, like...Keyboard Parrot? Orrrrrr Triple Rainbow?
Ahhh yea, yea, I should probably be more focused on, like...how I'm going to go on a date with an Internet Celeb who is also MAGIC, huh? Good call. Probably more interesting than the search results frequency chart I desperately want to look up between Jelly Donut and other memes.
So, yea. Resisting the urge to pull that up.
Jelly Donut, in her equally adorable but actually-someone-I-want-to-make-out-with form, aka Finley, was totally into me. Obviously, I was into her, too. Beyond just the whole 'super pretty, celebrity, also MAGIC' stuff. You could knock out two of those three things and I'd still be all into her. Hell, knock off the third one and I'd still at least have an interest, right? Pretty sure.
But she's also just great, generally, at being a human being.
Also a cat. A fucking magic cat. Kind of a cool bonus.
Even if I'm not a cat person.
Huh. That thought makes me wonder...-
Right-right-right, she's a human at the moment, and it is very distracting, the way she's guiding me toward the kitchen. Her hand hovers at the base of my back, just barely resting on the top curve of my butt. Knows what she likes, I figure, and the shorts I'm wearing today were strategically chosen to take advantage of that. I don't know if she likes denim, but the way she's hooking her finger through a belt loop make me think 'yes.'
As she nudges me through the café, I notice it is surprisingly barren for a Saturday morning. I finish eating my first donut, which I've really been taking my time with, and I now have white powder caked all over me. Finley snags a napkin from one of the tables as we pass by and dusts me down a little, giggling into my ear in a way that causes my cheeks to sizzle. Not, like, a nervous sizzle, like an accidentally sparked match, but more similar to, say, a barbecue. And I'm definitely grilling up something. I don't know what it is, exactly, yet, but...I know I'll figure it out when we get there.
Finley practically kicks open the door to the kitchen, shoving me inside.
Whoa, I've never really been back here before, have I?
It's...not as magical as I'd assume. Given the whole, you know...fucking MAGIC aspect? Of this place?
Still feels pretty cool to be here, though. Just saying. A little more magic would've been nice.
"Oh Aves..." Finley teases to my grey-haired friend in the back. They're working hard at...something. With a mixing bowl. Potentially losing a fight with it?
"Busy," Avery blurts back, their tongue sticking out a little as they feverishly stir a wooden spoon.
Mason, who's setting an oven, pauses to watch Avery, struggling with the bowl.
"Gotta...-" Mason starts up, grumbling. "'S not the way to hold...-"
"No, no, yea, I got it, I remember," Avery sputters out, clumsily shifting their hands around to get a better grip on things as they stir.
"Huh," Mason puffs out simply. With a content, shockingly warm mutter of "Better," she finishes getting the oven baking, before moving on to rolling out dough. Finley nudges me with her elbow, wriggling her brows and shifting her eyes to Mason.
Mason is...smiling? Just a little, but on her, it's super noticeable.
"'S not allowed, ya know," Mason grunts, not even looking up at us. She continues to flatten dough, that hint of a smile having withered away. "Can't be back here."
"I can't?" I mumble, a little wary at the dissatisfied glint in Mason's eye.
"Oh, hey," Avery greets, looking over their shoulder. They'd been so fixated on stirring that they didn't even notice me.
"Hey." I smile awkwardly and wave, but they've looked back down at their bowl.
"Can leave now," Mason blurts, thinning out the edges of her dough.
"Ah, come on," Finley growls with an eyeroll. "It's Kassy, nobody cares."
"I care," Mason bluntly declares. "'M working. Outta my kitchen. Both o' ya."
"But w-"
"Out."
Mason stops what she's doing to send Finley the sharpest, coldest of glares. I get second-hand shivers from it. Damn, that woman can be scary when she wants to.
Finley is frozen solid for a second until Mason's growl of "Now!" causes her to yelp with alarm, flinching against me (given where one of her hands is, I kinda don't mind, but am also spooked, so, it's weird).
Shuddering, Finley whirls us around, peeling her hands off of me as we both fly out from whence we came. We stop immediately outside the door, which Finley briskly closes. After exchanging sheepish looks, we hear the strangest thing: Mason laughing with Avery. I've never heard Mason laugh before. I'd assumed she wasn't capable.
I take a deep breath, stifling my own giggle as I exhale. Finley's worried look dissolves into a blushing snort-giggle.
"I feel like...we should've known better," I decide as we head toward the central couch circle of the café. "You should've known better."
"Heh, well, I...-" Finley's eyes do a loop as a smirk is drawn upon her face. "-...do like to push my boundaries..." She slides a couple of her fingers into a belt loop on my hip and gives them a tuhh—eeep, little too hard there...! Whew.
Coughing a little from the surprisingly forceful gesture, I give her a playful shove – she reacts melodramatically, falling over onto one of the couches and scattering the two cats who were residing there. Sprawled across the couch, she wipes masses of black hair from her face, coyly staring up at me. I narrow my eyes and grin toothily back at her, kicking at the base of her shoe with the toe of my boot.
Finley's giving me quite the suggestive look, and I do reciprocate, but tease her right back by sitting not beside her, but across from her. Hash Browns, the mangy sack of fur, eagerly plops into my lap, sniffing around at the donut bag still clenched in my hand. I shoo him away from it – three times, because, well, he's a damned cat – and he finally gives up, plopping into my lap and flinging his tail to and fro against my hip. Now that he's finally calmed down, I reward him with some pets on the head.
Finley, still flayed out across the couch – and getting gradually surrounded by curious cats – gives me quite the pout.
"Jealous?" I taunt her, scratching Hash Browns behind both ears – something I know Jelly Donut seems to enjoy quite a bit.
"I get it," Finley declares brusquely. "You're just...saving all of your affections for later."
"Have me alllll figured out, do ya?" I reply slyly, smiling warmly down at Hash Browns, while thinking about how this same thing might feel with a human Finley in his position.
"You're easy to read," Finley decides. "You're like a...sponge. You absorb whatever's going on around you. Which means as long as I keep flirting with you...-" Her expression shimmers with a certain dark glee.
"Yo!" barks a voice from in front of me – behind the couch Finley is lounging on. "What gives? You on break or something? Already?"
Ah, it's Reese. That pint-sized powerhouse of frustration. Like a human version of those mini cans of 'super energy drink' or something.
"There's no one else here," Finley whimpers out a bored defense. She shoves herself up and fusses her hair into a presentable place.
"Which-!" Reese cockily blurts, flashing up an index finger. "-makes it the perfect time for you to clean out the litter boxes..." He flicks at the brim of his cap, smiling devilishly at her.
"Ugh-!" Finley puffs with a pout. "But-...That...-!"
"You know it's your turn," Reese rubs it in, rocking on his heels as he shoves his hands into his pockets.
"Yessssss," Finley hisses through her palms, which are planted across her face. She suddenly removes them, giving me a twinkly-eyed look. "Hey Kassandra..."
"Nope," I spit out, cutting her idea off at the pass.
Hey. Just because I'm crushing on her does not mean I am doing her literal dirty work, especially not while she's on shift and I'm having the day off.
Finley slaps her wrists against the cushions at her side.
"What's even the point of buttering you up, Kass, if you're not gonna do favors for me?"
I shrug, continuing to pet Hash Browns, who is a purring blob in my lap.
"Oh, I'm sure there's favors I can do," I tease, "but cleaning up cat shit is not one of them."
Finley attempts to counter with "Yea? Well, I'll...make Hayes mess up your...macchiato, or...-"
Reese groans, rolling his eyes at our mutual teasing. "Stop harassing customers and get to work."
Finley frowns, hopping up from the couch to give him a sarcastic salute. She stops off toward a back room. Reese watches her with suspicion for a moment. Then, his glance turns suspicion on me. I look back innocently enough.
"Is, uh, Hayes here yet?" I ask him.
Scratching at his neck and leaning slightly to one side, he shrugs up one shoulder.
"Think so, yea," he mumbles. "You want something to drink? The usual?"
"I'll go get it," I insist, dumping Hash Browns off to one side. He tumbles without resistance into a pillow on the couch. Toting my donut bag roughly, I adjust my cap a little, making sure it's appropriately crooked at a one-eighths angle. I loosen my ponytail from the back of my shirt, trying to brush off some cat hair that probably got caught in it. A tension starts to build in my chest from the look Reese is giving me.
"Oh, uh...-" Reese seems like he wants to say something, buuuut I'm not interested. For a while there, I thought maybe he had a thing for me – I don't think that anymore. At this point, I'm pretty sure he's trying to sway me off the Finley train, and hop aboard a different one. As I head for the stairs, Reese stumbles behind me a bit, mumbling out, "Hayes is a bit under the weather today, so, like...-"
I pause, swivel on my heel, and face Reese, who catches up with me.
"Spit it out," I quietly advise him, any patience I had now drained from my expression.
Reese doesn't flinch, but glances off to one side. He shrugs yet again, sways a little left and right, and looks me right in the eye.
Reese mutters at me, "Finley was blabbing about your little...date."
The tension in my chest fizzes out like carbonated air upon opening a can of soda.
"And Hayes is gloomy about it," I immediately reply, dead-pan.
Reese seems surprised I know. Seriously? It's not that hard to piece together. I figured there was a fifty-percent chance Finley would gossip about it before the date happened. I asked her not to. So this puts a wrinkle on things. But, she's...her, and so...-
It'd be like asking me to not dwell on analyzing things so much, right? Wait, what if that's actually a thing Finley has picked up on? What if she secretly wishes I stopped doing it? Would she tell everyone else and not me? Would she expect someone like Mason or Avery to nudge me in the 'right direction?' Ugh, I can't believe she would, and I'm so annoyed she told people about our date! When I specifically asked her not to! She...-
Oh. Reese is looking confused and annoyed at once.
"That's it?" Reese grunts. "You don't care?"
"What do you want me to say?" I growl back through clenched teeth, trying to keep my voice down. "Did I do something wrong?"
Reese's eyelids droop with impatience.
"Guess not," he concedes.
The entrance door's bell chimes as a pair of customers come in.
"Look," I sigh, the paper bag in my hand crinkling within my fist. "I like Hayes as much as the rest of you, all right? But he's a big boy, he can deal with a little rejection. If you care so much, why don't you take him out on a date?"
"Whhh...-?" Reese's eyes bug out for a split-second, his face lighting up.
Ha. That'll shut him up. And I mean, hey, am I wrong? They'd probably make a cute enough couple, as far as the whole 'opposites-attract' business goes, right?
"Oh, good morning, Kass," greets Landry, descending the stairwell.
I tip my chin up at him and nod. "Yea, morning," I reply.
He notices Reese's off-kilter expression and lifts a brow, revealing a smirk.
"Everything...all right?" he checks.
"We're good," Reese blurts, rushing off to greet the customers who have just entered.
I laugh through my nose and let Landry reach the ground level.
"Just putting Reese in his place," I joke, giving Landry a cocked eyebrow. "You next in line?"
Landry rolls with the punch and chuckles with a mix of wariness and irritation.
"Quite the chip on your shoulder today, huh?" he says softly, pleasantly enough, while brushing right past me. "Just don't take anything out on the cats..."
"I won't," I call back, heading upstairs.
Yea, we, uh...we tolerate each other, he and I. Just sorta rub each other the wrong way, you know? Goes that way with people sometimes. You can either hang yourself up on it, or roll with it. We roll with it.
I hit up the café counter upstairs. Hayes must've heard me coming a mile off, because he's sulking by the espresso machine. I drop my donut bag on an empty table nearby and lean against the counter, marveling at the donuts on display. I can't help but admire the cute little post-it note taped to the inside the glass, right above where the house special 'Jelly Donut' is. A scribble I drew of Finley in her cat form a week back – winking, with stars popping off of her. Looks like someone decided it was decent enough advertising, huh?
I drum my fingers along the glass a few times, and after the glowing tingle over that post-it note wears off, I realize how long I've been waiting with no response from Hayes.
"Heya, Bud," I say, trying to keep my tone neutral.
His shoulders tighten instantly at the sound of my voice. Yeesh.
"Kassandra," he calls back, his low but soft voice like the humming of the machine he's operating. "H-how are you?"
"Pretty good, pretty good," I casually respond, reading his body language to get a gauge on things. Now I'm kinda pissed that Reese told me what he did. I'll be self-conscious about it all day. "And, uh, and you?" I pose.
"O-oh, I'm...-" Hayes shakes his head slightly. As he turns around to get some steamed milk going, I see his nose wrinkle up with frustration. "I'm fine," he sighs out. Though clearly, he's lying.
Gah. Not my fucking problem, all right? Sorry, little guy. My stretched fingers, once drumming, have balled up into a fist, and I am lightly knocking my knuckles now. A little awkwardly.
It's weird, I guess, how I'm so infatuated by Finley yet can keep up with her just fine, and yet with Hayes, I just end up...pretty quickly turning into my most awkward self.
OK, OK, yea, maybe I feel a little guilty. Me and Hayes had a stint of back and forth for a bit – in as much as you can with someone as shy and introvertedly dipped in awksauce as Hayes is. Finley, being Finley, took a quick interest in this. Aaaand in her attempts at poking and prodding about it, we kinda...got into each other? Instead?
Look, it's not like I meant anyone any harm, all right? I never committed anything to anyone, no promises were made, no poetry recited, not even a date. So, don't judge me so hard. Is Hayes cute? Of course he is. If it weren't for Finley, would something have happened? Maybe. I don't know! It doesn't matter. I like Finley, she likes me, that's just how things worked out. Even if I could go back in time, make different decisions, I don't – yea, you know what? I don't think I would. I'd do everything the same. Sorry, Hayes. No offense, Bud. You'll find somebody who likes you that way 100% instead of, like, 45%? I mean, hell, Mason found a partner, and she's...about as socially awkward as you are, so, yea, keep your chin up, kid.
Damn, I know Hayes isn't a kid. I've gotta stop thinking of him that way.
"K-Kassandra...?"
Oh, shit. He's been murmuring so quietly I didn't even notice him. Like I need to make him look less cared about right now...
"Sorry, spaced out there," I chuckle weakly, tugging at my ponytail a little. The curls in my hair are starting to bug out, all this humidity...
"R-right, you, um, you...do that a lot," Hayes points out, gingerly sliding a big ol' ceramic mug of macchiato across the counter. "Here's the usual."
"Ah-!" I blank out for a second before my hand fumbles its way into my hoodie, producing a bill of cash. I drop it onto the counter and force a smile, my mind tumbling with worries. "Thanks, dude. Bro. Buddy. Bud." Ffffffffffrrrrghhh- "Ha. Haha." I devolve into dumb, plastic laughs to try and save face.
Hayes laughs gently but earnestly at my awkwardness, smiling a little as he rings up the order. He extends a hand to give me my change, and I hesitate. So does he. He then goes to place it on the counter but I scoop it up instead, my fingers sliding across his.
Yikes, wrong move, he freaks out, flinging the change into my palm, which then scatters across the glass top when I flinch.
"Sorry! Sorry, sorry," he squeaks, backing up. "I didn't mean to...-"
"Fine, it's fine!" I wearily insist, scooping up coins and shoving them into my pocket – damn tight shorts make that feat harder than it could be. "Listen, Hayes, I...-"
Might as well rip the bandage off, here.
"It's OK, Kassy, you...-"
He tries to respond when I falter, only to falter himself.
We both gawk anywhere but toward each other for a few seconds.
"I like Finley," I blurt. "Super into her." He nods. I keep going. "Sorry if I, like, got your...hopes up? Or something? I didn't-...Well, didn't mean to-..." I stop myself, stick up my palm. "OK. You're awesome. Totally. It sucks, this idea, right? – that you'll think you're not awesome? Just 'cuz one moron like me isn't into you like that? It sucks. Don't do that." Unsure of what to do with myself, I take a sip of my macciato – fucking delicious. "Just because me and Finley might become a thing, doesn't mean you're backwash coffee. Or...-"
"What?" Hayes looks confused and offended.
"Ayyyyyeeeee said you weren't that," I blabber, propping out my lower lip before sipping more of my drink. Damnit, I didn't even pay attention to whatever he drew with the foam! I'm such a bad friend! I'm messing this up! What if there's a thing between us where we're all dumb and awkward? It'll be terrible.
"Aw, takin' your first coffee break without me?"
It's Finley. Good, maybe having her around will clear up all of my awksauce!
"Ah, just-...Ya know." I lean against the counter, sipping at my drink. "Telling Hayes I'm into you, apologizing for, I dunno, leading him on – unintentionally. Ah, like-" I yank my ponytail a bit, then just opt to undo/redo the thing while I talk. "-I mean, the focus here is on...the apologizing, right? That I'm sorry for mixed communication type-stuff?"
By the time I've got my hair back in a somewhat presentable state, and have my hat back to a one-eighths angle, I notice the other two are quiet.
"Ih-It's OK," Hayes manages to say. Whoa, nice job, guy, proud of you! "I, um-..." He clenches his jaw, grabs his arm with the opposing hand, and sighs – but a smile comes out. "I feel like Finley's always fussing over...a-all of our love lives. It's...I-I don't know, it's nice to...see you happy with someone for once." He tips his head to Finley, whose expression melts.
Clasping her cheeks, she showers him with whimpering noises, leaning over the counter to give him as much of a hug as she can. These guys at the Cat's Paw are really close, huh? Avery wasn't kidding when they said it was like a family.
I'm still not sure how I feel about that.
I've lost myself in thought again as Finley coos out gratitude, but my attention is swiftly and decisively brought back to earth as Finley sidles right up in front of me. Grabbing my chunky hips, she gives my love-handles a brisk squeeze, then a pat.
"You're 'into me' now?" she whispers slyly, our noses inches apart.
I frown a little, lowering my eyelids at her, and shrug.
"Who said that?" I taunt.
"You did," Finley jabs back, pressing her fingertip into my nose.
I sputter and snicker, pushing her away.
"Hey, hey!" Gahhhh, Reese again! "The hell, Finley? You're on the gonna make Hayes uncomfortable."
"A-actually, I was...fine with...-"
"See? He's all shaken up. No PDA while the store's open. It's against policy."
"Oh, and I bet you enforce that with Mason," Finley retorts.
Reese huffs at this, crossing his arms.
He tries to reason, "Mason works in the kitchen, where none of the customers see her."
"That sounds like a double-standard to me," Finley breathes out stubbornly, raising her eyebrows at me, her eyelids at half-mast. I can't help but smirk back, but I do have to admit, it's awkward to have all of this going on simultaneously. "Why don't we go bring this up with Avery and their girlfriend, huh?" Finley poses to Reese, giving my stomach a slap with the back of her wrist.
"I am...staying clear outta this," I insist with a swipe of my hands. Finley shrugs, and bumps shoulders against Reese as she blows by him. The runt practically hisses steam through his nostrils as he follows her.
The customers who had entered earlier come up the stairs shortly after. Hayes is occupied with filling their order, so I finally go about eating that second donut and enjoying my macchiato. As the customers take a seat at the table next to me, I overhear them talking about the cats, wondering where Jelly Donut is. Heh. I can't help but feel a bit of pride at that.
But it also has a side effect of me questioning myself. Is the Finley I'm into the real Finley? Am I into her because of her or because she's good at making people like her? Am I the type of girl to go for the type of girl who's willing to turn into a magical cat to get people's attention and seek internet celebrity? Or am I just-
Ohp.
My coffee ran out.
Slurping what foam remains, I drum my fingers against the table. Leaning over the edge of the loft from my seat, I notice Finley is busy chatting up some customers. I decide there's no use analyzing things with her. Either she's exactly who I need and vice versa, or not, and it'll reveal itself later, and we'll move on. I'm better off enjoying what we've found, anyway.
Uncertain as to when Finley will be free again, I decide to check my e-mail on my phone. There's fortunately just one work-related message to deal with, which I make quick work of. But then I start noticing that I've got an ass-ton of notifications on one of my apps. I check it, and turns out, it's a photo of me that's blown up. A photo of me and Finley, that. Something uploaded a week ago, which I wasn't tagged in until now. It's a candid shot of the two of us lounging together on one of the couches, surrounded by cats. Finley is, uh, cuddling up right on me, her face is in my neck.
I suddenly remember the moment in question – a moment of quiet we'd snuck in near closing the prior Thursday, some time right after I'd asked Finley out on this date. But I don't recognize the uploader, which gives me a gross feeling.
The pic hasn't become too noticed yet, but definitely more than I'd like. Hundreds of likes and like fifty comments. A bunch of them are, erh, well, flat and boring emoji-laden compliments about our looks. There's some typical trolling swill, a few rainbow-themed ones of support, but it's the caption from the uploader itself that has me the most worried.
[ girls like this piss me off. teasing us every day with selfies and showing themselves off and when you try to take them up on it theyre just lesbos like wtf? ]
For starters, neither of us are lesbians, so there's that to be irked by – bi-erasure and all that, though, er, I guess I can't really speak for Finley, but, anyway. And then there's this whole other issue with the tone. Bad take is bad.
Also? Having our love life creeped on by a stranger is totally not OK with me, and having it publicized is extremely fucking not OK with me.
Should I do something? Should I tell Finley? Should I be worried that I was tagged in this by some other rando customer that follows me? Well, Finley's tagged, too. She's gonna find out sooner or later, maybe I should talk with her about this?
"Well, well – you appear troubled today." My body freezes up and I instinctively flip my phone upside down to the table. It's Graves. The hell did he come from? "I suppose if I steeped myself in the comings and goings of random strangers with such frequency, I, too, might be...troubled."
Graves has gone and sat himself down, placing a cup of Hayes' coffee on a saucer before him.
"Gonna give me a 'back in my day' lecture?" I mock him, scratching behind my ear and crossing one leg over the opposing knee.
"I see you've already had your morning macchiato, and still your mood is sour," he notes, taking a prim sip with his pinky out – ironically? Not ironically? I'm unsure. "You truly are troubled today." His dual-colored eyes are hard to read today. "Should I be concerned? Must I have a chat with someone under my employ?"
I shrug, crossing my arms over my chest as I lean back in my chair.
"Mayhap you shalt be concerned-eth with...-" My eyes slip to and fro at Graves' bemused smirk. "-...one of thou...paying customers..." I could come up with a more accurate, eloquent way of phrasing it but I'd need time to plan ahead.
Why did I even do that, anyway? I must be thrown off from this social media nightmare.
Graves ponders my mess of a statement, tilting over the loft's end to gaze down at the wide open lobby below.
"Has someone harassed you?" he questions quietly, scanning the café.
"Oh, wh-...Nah, no one here," I sputter out, at once flattered and squeamish. It'd be cool to see Graves take care of business, given his reputation, but I feel dumb for having spread my worries to someone not involved.
"But someone has," Graves takes note.
Damn, no use hiding from this guy, is there?
Sifting my nails through my ponytail, I let my eyes do a little roll as I nod half-heartedly.
"Someone's stalking us, maybe," I confess in a mumble, making sure Hayes is out of earshot. "Uh, me and Finley."
"Mm." I see Graves' eyes narrow before he diverts his gaze back to me. With a smile as warm as...leftover tomato soup that's been put in the fridge, he assures me, "Any of my employees can take care of such matters as needed. Though if...an altercation might transpire while I'm not around, might I recommend deferring to Mason?"
"You, uh, you might," I chuckle with a grin. "She's scary as fuck. Urh, in a good way!"
He laughs through nose, his lukewarm smile unchanging.
"Fear begets security, depending on perspective," he muses. He takes a good few gulps of his coffee. "The opposite is true, as well, of course."
"Of course," I spit out, having not entirely processed what he's even said, but assuming I get the gist.
"In either case," Graves continues, drinking more inbetween pieces of sentences, "I believe that by now, you've no-doubt become aware of just how much the crew of this establishment are...inter-linked. In every facet of things."
I nod, wide-eyed, jiggling my foot by its ankle against my knee.
"As I understand it, Kassandra, my employee Avery has filled you in on many of the seedy details of the Cat's Paw. Even allowed you to peruse through a certain...text?"
He pauses for confirmation, to which I hesitate with a side-glance before shrugging up one shoulder. From what Avery has told me, they seemed pretty frustrated with this dude's secrecy. I get it, though. I'd hate if Finley or Avery or whoever was lying to me, but only because of how close I am with them now. A stranger, though? You damned well know I'd be hiding things like this.
Graves has every reason to be concerned. I've seen Avery reading that shady book of his. I have some idea of how suspicious this whole place is.
"I won't dwell on the matter any further," Graves offers, "If Avery trusts your judgment, then I will let that stand. I would only request that you approach my marketing manager with respect and with caution, and that you keep what you know within the bounds of the employees here."
I swallow the lump that's gathered in my throat, wet my dried lips a little, and nod.
"Understood, Sir."
Graves pauses, his two eyes like a sword and a spear's tips pressed against my neck. Just as I realize I've stopped breathing for a sec, he dissolves the tension with a light laugh and finishes his coffee.
"No need to be so formal," he slides words out. "Graves is perfectly adequate between us. You've slept on my couch before, after all."
"Heh." I push out a smile, recalling that night. I'd made the mistake of stumbling in late after bar-hopping with some of the gang – Finley and Avery had goaded me into drinking more than I could handle – and they'd deemed it safer to hole me up in Graves' apartment then try and drag my ass back home. Apparently Mason had offered, but even she had been so falling-down drunk she'd nearly dropped me through a table on the way out. None of us drank for a month after that night. But waking up with Jelly Donut curled at my side was nice – even if I immediately bailed for the bathroom for like half an hour.
By now, Graves has already headed off, probably bidding farewell while I've been spacing.
I hear Finley behind me, asking him if there's anything in particular he needs her to take care of. My ears are ringing a little. Graves did a good job of distracting me but now I'm right back to freaking the hell out over our stalker.
I try to keep my cool as Finley practically bounds toward the same seat Graves was in – hands locked behind her back, eyes narrow. She whirls around with a flourish as she descends into the chair.
"Soooo," she begins slowly, waiting on me while I just gawk. "How was your breakfast? Have a nice chat?"
I nod, captivated by the twinkly playfulness in her eyes. My hand hovers by my phone as I begin wondering what Finley will want to do about our situation.
"Um," Finley blurts, resting her cheeks in her palms, elbows to the table. She's off-put by my silence. I fuss with my hat, avoiding her gaze. Finley follows up with "Thanks for, like, tackling that elephant in the room with Hayes. That all went smoother than I expected."
"Mmmm-hm," I hum, trying to placate. My palm rests over my phone.
Finley finally catches wise and frowns.
Leaning in a bit, she whispers, "Did Graves say something weird to you?"
"Ah, not really," I sigh. My fingers tighten around I phone. I decide to just do it.
I flip my phone over, unlock it, and slide it across the table with a huff.
"Eh?" Finley cocks her side at an angle curiously. I watch her eyes slowly widen, her jaws clench up, her chest expand as she inhales deeply. "...What?" she hisses. "That...-!" She grinds her jaws, scratching her fingernails against the table. Snorting out hot air, she passes my phone back to me.
"Yea," I spit out dully. "This? Very not cool. This is why I get so fucking paranoid when you start pulling out your phone, and...-"
"This is not the same as me posting selfies – with your consent?"
"No, but it-...I'm just-...It's the whole...-"
Finley shakes her head, flashes up a palm, and tightens her lips – my signs to shut it up, shut it up now.
It's, um, kind of our signal when we really don't want to get into an argument right then and there. And I should've known better than to bring this up, as it's something we've fought about in the past (when she posted a pic of me online without my permission!). We've set some ground rules, but I'm still weird about my face being on the internet.
"I know this stalker," Finley growls, clawing her fingers through her hair. "He tried to ask me out a while back – was the nicest person, right up until then. He's been leaving nasty troll comments on my selfies and I had to block him from the Cat's Paw social media feeds, even."
"A Nice Guy (Trademark). Sounds...fun," I eke out with worry. "He still come around here?"
"Apparently," she puffs out, her palms digging into her eye sockets. "That post was from last week."
"Oh, r-right, yea..." I feel stupid for even asking, but my mind is whirling. "So, what do we do about it?"
"I already blocked him," Finley grumbled, her hands having wiped their way down her face to her neck. With a brisk breath, she folds her hands together on the table. "If he minds his manners when he's here, it's...fine. But I've already warned everyone about him, so if he tries to make some kind of scene...-"
"-...we get to watch Mason chuck him through a window," I cheekily conclude, to which Finley smiles.
Putting on some kind of a voice, Finley declares, "I like yer thinkin', toots."
I snort-laugh. "Ew." I can feel my cheeks burn up.
"Hee." Finley's eyes squint as she grins toothily. "Promise I'll never do that again..."
"Good," I solemnly accept. "Good..."
Finley straightens her hair back behind her shoulders, pulls out her phone, and begins tapping away.
"Let me handle the photo, here, Kass. I've got my daily rounds to make, anyway."
"Sure."