4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

L A woke up like he normally did.

Sore, cranky, and already in a bad mood because he knew he would have to limp his way to the bathroom to take his first piss of the day.

But there was something not so normal about this morning.

Namely, the large furry imp still cuddled around him.

LA touched Cass's forearm, sliding his fingers toward Cass's paw.

So much for Cass being a figment of his imagination.

There was a part of LA that didn't want to move and risk losing the physical connection because it really did feel so nice to be held. Cass was warm and strong, and LA could almost drift off back to sleep.

Except he really had to use the damn bathroom.

Wincing, LA wiggled forward to slide out of bed and hopefully not disturb Cass. He managed to stand, his hips and lower back throbbing in complaint and forcing him to hunch. He shuffled to the bathroom, though he did pause to glance back at Cass.

Still asleep.

LA smiled.

Cass was annoying, there was no doubt about that, but he was also kind, patient, and more attractive than LA was comfortable admitting. He'd never met anyone so ridiculously positive, as if Cass was capable of sneezing out literal sunshine and rainbows.

He limped into the bathroom, used the toilet, and then washed his hands and face. He looked at himself in the mirror and grimaced at his reflection. He needed to shave, he had dark bags under his eyes, and combined with his fair skin, he looked practically ghoulish.

Maybe a bit of sunshine was exactly what he needed.

He headed back into the bedroom, surprised to find that Cass was gone.

The bed had been made and LA swore he saw a few bubbles floating through the air. Either he had imagined them or they simply popped before he could confirm what he was seeing. He snorted, shaking his head as he looked around for his phone.

It wasn't on the bedside table where he thought he'd left it.

Huh.

He remembered having it yesterday when he and Cass had been talking about texting Brandon, so perhaps he'd left it down in the living room.

LA headed downstairs, leaning on the railing of the stairs until he finally reached the bottom. He thought he smelled something, like cookies baking, but he dismissed the idea. His focus now was getting a cup of coffee, his morning meds, and then trying to figure out what to do today.

Oh, and finding his damn phone.

He didn't see it in the living room either, and he wondered if Cass might know where it had gotten off to. Maybe Cass had a phone of his own and could call it to help track it down. LA wondered if it would be a regular sized phone or a big monster phone, and he smiled at the silly thought.

His smile, however, vanished when he walked into his kitchen.

The cabinets were all open with their contents strewn across the counters like a hurricane had come barreling through. There was a creamy yellow batter splattered everywhere including the floor plus a heavy dusting of flour. Cass was standing in the middle of the mess and judging by the footprints in the flour, had been pacing back and forth for several minutes. The disaster had even spread over to the kitchen table where it appeared Cass was making some sort of sugary crumble.

"Oh! Good morning!" Cass beamed. "Did you sleep well? I wasn't sure if you—"

"What the fuck is this shit?" LA snapped.

"This is a kitchen." Cass grinned sheepishly. "That I maybe sort of made a little bit of a mess in—"

"A little bit?" LA seethed as he stalked toward the table. "What the fuck did you do? I was in the bathroom for like ten fuckin' minutes tops and—"

"I'm going to clean it up, cranky pants," Cass soothed. "I thought it would be nice for you to start the day with a yummy breakfast!"

"Nice? Wrecking my entire fucking kitchen is nice ?" LA scowled as he grabbed one of his pill bottles that was dripping with batter. "Oh my fucking God."

"Okay, so, I was in a tiny bit of a hurry because I wanted to surprise you—"

"Mission accomplished! I'm very fucking surprised!" LA wiped off the batter, growled since he had no idea where to wipe it off his hand, and flung it at the floor in frustration.

"I was going to clean up!" Cass protested with a perfectly pitiful pout.

"The fuck were you thinking?" LA pulled out a chair from the table, glaring at Cass as he moved to sit down. "You should have fucking asked me first. Now the whole place is a fucking disaster and—"

Cass poked LA's nose.

LA snorted, his nostrils flaring. "What the fuck was that?"

"Booping you seemed like the nicest way to make you stop yelling." Cass smiled warmly.

LA blinked rapidly. "Okay."

Cass clapped his paws and the entire mess vanished in a blink. Everything was back in the cabinets, the floors and counters were sparkling, and there was no sign that anything had ever been amiss. Even the pill bottles were perfectly clean and LA was so stunned that he jumped when the timer for the oven went off.

"Oh! Muffins!" Cass cooed excitedly as he hurried over to the oven, his wings flapping.

"Why didn't you just tell me that you could magically poof it all away, huh?" LA opened up his other prescriptions to make a little pile of pills for himself.

"I told you I was going to clean it up!" Cass scolded, donning mitts to retrieve a tray of muffins from the oven. He set them on top of the stove, closing the oven with a swing of his tail. " You didn't believe me."

"Sorry," LA muttered.

"What was that?"

"Sorry," LA said louder.

"Wow." Cass gasped dramatically, a cup of coffee in his paws that wasn't there before. He set it down in front of LA, his bright eyes wide as if he was in shock.

LA stared expectantly. "What?"

"You can apologize!" Cass giggled. "That's amazing!"

"Ha ha." LA rolled his eyes and grabbed the coffee to sip on and take his pills.

Cass eyed the colorful collection. "You have to take those every day?"

"Some of ‘em twice." LA poked a box of lidocaine patches. "Sometimes I throw those on too. I don't think they do shit personally, but I get desperate enough to try."

Cass lumbered back to the stove. He carefully picked out the muffins to set on a plate, asking, "Is there really nothing else that helps?"

LA shook his head. "Nope. Doctors say it's not bad enough for surgery, pain management says it's not enough for stronger meds, so here I am."

"Oh. Well." Cass fidgeted. "Would you like a muffin?"

"No."

"They're nice and warm." Cass tiptoed over with the plate like he was sneaking LA some forbidden treat. "Just came out of the oven."

"No, I do not want a fuckin' muffin."

"They're blueberry ."

LA sighed. "Fine. Give me a fucking muffin."

"Yay!" Cass offered out the plate with a grin. "Oh, get that one there on the edge. It has extra crumble on top."

"Thanks." LA grabbed the muffin so he could set it down on the table. He didn't really want it, but at least it would get Cass to stop babbling about damn muffins.

"So!" Cass clasped his paws together and did a happy shimmy. "While you're eating your delicious muffin, we can review our itinerary for the day."

"Which is what?" LA was instantly suspicious.

"Well, first of all, you are going to text your friend, Brannon!" Cass held out LA's phone.

"Hey!" LA snatched it back, staring at the screen.

There was text message already typed out but it hadn't been sent:

Hi Brannon! It's me! Your friend LA. I would like to sincerely apologize for my lack of communication, but I am hoping to rekindle our friendship as I have parted from Gavin. If it's not being too forward, I would very much like to visit you and catch up! Perhaps we can discuss displaying my art as we once discussed? Hugs and kisses, LA

"You took my damn phone?" LA picked up the muffin, snarling. "How the fuck did you even unlock it? And why did you use so many fucking emojis? Nobody talks like that!"

"Uh, magical imp, hello." Cass snorted. "And what's wrong with emojis? They're cute! Like confetti for words!" He started to raise his paw.

"No more confetti." LA gritted his teeth. "Please."

Cass pouted but dropped his paw.

"Emojis are stupid."

"Is the rest of the message to your grumpy satisfaction at least?"

"Look, it's fine, whatever. But you can't just go through people's fucking phones!" LA threw the muffin at Cass. It bounced off his chest and hit the floor. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"My muffin!" Cass gasped, dropping to his knees to retrieve it.

"Fuck your muffin." LA glared. "We gotta set some boundaries right now, okay? It's not okay for you to one, wreck my kitchen, or two, take my phone without permission and—"

"Shouldn't the phone thing be first?"

"Oh my God. Give me that damn muffin so I can throw it at you again."

Cass cradled the muffin against his chest. "No, I will not. See? Boundaries ."

"You mean like the ones you stomped on?"

"Yes, the ones you just reaffirmed with me and that I lightly stepped on." Cass waved his paw. "See, you can draw lines when it comes to how people treat you!"

LA scoffed. "Okay, but taking someone's phone is obviously crossing a line!"

"So is when they stop you from seeing your friends," Cass said sweetly.

"You…! Ugh ." LA groaned. "I get what you're doing, but Gavin's deal and what you did are not the fucking same thing."

"But they should be," Cass countered. "They can both be signs of an emotionally abusive relationship. Violating your privacy is just another branch of the ick tree as manipulating you, isolating you, claiming to be jealous or insecure—"

"Are you saying we're in an abusive relationship?" LA cut in, rolling his eyes.

"What? No!" Cass pouted. "I am very sorry that I took your phone to draft a text message to Brandon and then made a little mess in your kitchen—"

" Little ?"

"It's very important for you to stand up for yourself though." Cass continued to pout. "Why can you tell me no but not Gavin?"

"Because…" LA didn't have an answer for that. "Because shut up ."

The phone had locked automatically, so LA opened it again to stare at the unsent message. It was not what he would have written, but he hadn't even been able to type a simple greeting. Maybe it was—

Cass pressed send.

"Hey!" LA snapped.

"My paw slipped."

"You are such an asshole! The head asshole! No, no, the king of assholes!" LA groaned loudly. "Fuck, he's gonna think I've lost my mind or joined a cult where they only speak in emojis."

"I will not do it again, I promise."

"What? Send a text or fuck up my kitchen?"

Cass frowned. "Either thing. Both. All? Oh my God. Please stop looking at me like you hate me."

"I don't hate you." LA sighed. "Just givin' you shit."

"Oh. Well!" Cass relaxed, visibly relieved. "I am glad you are giving me shit. Thank you for giving me your shit."

"Don't say it like that."

"Oh, okay!"

LA drank more coffee, flinching when his phone went off with a text notification.

It was Brandon.

He was definitely surprised to hear from LA but it was downright celebratory regarding the breakup.

Wow, and LA had thought Cass had used too many emojis.

"Why did you have to tell him me and Gavin broke up?"

Cass had a mouthful of muffin. "Wah? Uo anted meh oo ie?"

LA grunted.

Cass chewed and swallowed. "You wanted me to lie ?"

"It's fine." LA grumbled, glancing back at his phone. "He wants to meet for lunch tomorrow and says to bring some of my paintings."

"That's wonderful news!" Cass took another bite of muffin.

"Wait, is that the floor muffin?"

"Five second rule."

LA made a face. "All right, well, if you're done meddling, I need to make some phone calls."

"Can I help?" Cass asked hopefully.

"No, you've already done enough." LA looked back down at his phone. "I do appreciate you writing up that message to Brandon for me, even if it was stupid. I honestly don't know what I would have said. Even just saying hello felt… hard."

"That's what I'm here for." Cass patted LA's shoulder. "I really do want to help you, Elly. Sometimes that means stealing your phone and texting your friends." He held his head high. "But never again!"

"Don't worry." LA squeezed Cass's paw and grinned. "I am confident you'll find lots of other ways to piss me off."

And indeed Cass did.

LA spent the next few hours looking up phone numbers for workers' compensation attorneys and trying to schedule a consultation. He was sure that what the funeral home had done was against the law somehow and he was determined to fight for his job. There had to be some way to get it back.

He was looking forward to seeing Brandon and although he didn't expect anything to happen with his paintings, he'd figured it didn't hurt to try and it might get Cass to lay off for a while.

Cass, however, hovered and buzzed around like a giant, fluffy fly. He was very curious what LA was doing and when he wasn't pestering him to ask questions while LA was on the phone, he was going around poking at the paintings on the wall.

LA would grab a pillow and wordlessly threaten to hit Cass only to have him flit over to another painting.

When he wasn't being absolutely annoying, Cass was slightly helpful. He refilled LA's coffee mug, gave him lots of thumbs ups, and brought him a pen when the one he'd been using ran out of ink.

It was sort of nice to have some company at least.

Even if said company wouldn't stop poking at the paintings and nearly knocked one off the wall.

LA hung up from his latest call, scolding, "Will you stop? You're going to break something!"

"I'm helping you decide which paintings to bring!" Cass argued.

"How exactly are you doing that?"

"Well, I'm no art critic, so I'm picking the ones that you seem to get the most upset about me messing with." Cass beamed. "I believe those are the ones you care about the most!"

"That is insane."

"Is it working?"

"I dunno." LA sighed and stretched out across the couch. "Which ones did you wanna bring?"

"This one with the ghoulish face in blue that has what I believe to be intestines made of buttons? And oh, this one orange ghoulish face with the biohazard tape and gauze." Cass clapped excitedly. "Last but not least, this pair of ghoulish faces with their tongues, that I believe are old latex balloons, tied together!"

"Those aren't balloons. Those are condoms."

"Oh!"

LA chuckled. "Don't worry. They're not used."

"Well, was I right?"

"Pretty close." LA rolled his eyes. "The condom one can stay here though. I'd rather take the one over there with the trees."

"What are the trees made out of?"

"Cassette tape."

"Ah. Your mind is a wonderfully weird place."

LA actually smiled at that. "Thanks."

"So!" Cass came over to the couch. "How did your phone calls go, hmm?"

"Not great." LA rubbed his forehead. "No one would answer any of my questions over the phone and the soonest anybody can talk to me would be this Friday."

"And what's today?"

"Tuesday."

"So, five days."

"Three."

"Close enough."

LA chuckled. "Well, the firm who can call me on Friday is one of the biggest and has the best reviews online. So, here's hoping."

"Do you really think you'll be able to get your job back?"

"I'm gonna try like hell." LA sighed. "Let me get changed and… Fuck ! My car."

"What?" Cass gasped. "Why would you want to do that?"

"No! Oh my God . I had a flat tire and no spare. I called to get it towed yesterday and…" LA stood up slowly, tipped his head back, and shouted, "Fuck!" He gritted his teeth, frustrated with himself that he'd forgotten all about his car.

Granted, the magical imp was pretty distracting.

Like his bright smile, the shimmer of his tail, his luscious, thick fur…

Shit.

LA scrolled through his phone as he headed to the stairs, but he didn't have any missed calls from roadside assistance or the assigned towing company. He dialed roadside first and did his best to navigate the automated messaging system. He couldn't get a hold of a human and his temper was boiling by the time he gave up and tried to call the towing service.

He flopped into bed, eager to stretch out and ease the tension in his back. While the line rang, he stared at Cass hovering in the bedroom doorway. "What?"

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Cass asked.

"Can you make these assholes answer the phone?"

"Hmm." Cass paused. "No."

"Then nope. Thanks, I'm good." LA continued to listen to the line ring, expecting to hit an answering machine or a recorded message or something.

But no.

Just ring ring ring .

"Uh, hello, Speabart Towing! Anna speaking," a young woman's voice answered, sounding frazzled. "How may I help you?"

"Hi." LA forced a smile into his voice. "My name is Lawrence Holmes, calling about a 2006 Chevy Cobalt that got picked up yesterday. No one called me to let me know what was going on. Can it be patched or—"

"Last name?"

"Holmes."

"And, and the car?"

"A 2006 Chevy Cobalt."

"I'm… I'm sorry, sir." Anna's voice hit a higher pitch. "I, I don't have any records matching your name or, or that car."

LA gritted his teeth. "Try again."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"I said, try again . I just got off the phone with roadside assistance and I couldn't get a real person to talk to, but Smeebert whatever Towing is the name they gave me in the automated text they sent out. I dialed that number, got you, and here we are, having this delightful real person conversation."

"Uh…"

"Yes?"

"C-can you spell your last name?"

"Holmes. H-O-L-M-E-S." LA braced himself for the inevitable Sherlock reference.

"Oh! Like the serial killer."

"Sure. Yup." LA snorted.

"Yes, okay!" Anna sighed in relief. "I am so sorry for the confusion, sir, but yes, your car is here. We have it. They, they couldn't, we couldn't get a hold of you to confirm repairs so—"

"Repairs? What repairs?"

"The tire? If, if you wanted it patched or—"

"Can it be patched?"

"Yes, sir. It should only take us about thirty minutes and it'll be twenty-nine—"

"That's fine."

"Or, or for a new tire it would be—"

"Bye." LA hung up abruptly and pulled himself back to his feet. He shooed at Cass. "You. Get out."

"That phone call sounded promising?" Cass didn't budge. "They have located your vehicle and will make the repairs?"

"Yeah, it's just a patch. It should be ready in half an hour which means I need to get ready." LA waved his hands again. "Which means you get out unless you wanna see me change clothes."

"Oh. Oh !" Cass sputtered for a few moments and then scurried out of the room, babbling away until the door shut, "Sorry! I'm so sorry! I don't wish to! I don't not wish to, that is, but not like this, and, and shutting up because—" He kept going, though it was muffled. "Goodness, I am just going to stop talking. Yup. Any second now. Stopping…"

LA snorted to himself.

Wait.

Did Cass say that he didn't not want to? Which was a double negative, which meant…

LA must have misheard him.

Still, the thought heated his cheeks as he changed into a pair of black jeans and a red short-sleeved button down shirt with a cartoon skull pattern. He had to move slowly, still a bit stiff from all the walking yesterday, and he sat on the bed to pull his socks on. He put on his sneakers and then opened the door.

He half-expected to find Cass right there, but the hallway was empty.

"Cass?" LA went downstairs. "Did all my dreams come true? Did you finally leave?"

Cass pouted at him from the couch. "That is not nice."

"Damn." LA grinned. "Still here." He pulled up a ride share app on his phone. "Getting a ride now. You stay put and do whatever it is you do, okay?"

Cass laughed. "You silly little bean! I'm going with you."

"Uh, no."

"Yes."

"No way." LA narrowed his eyes. "How am I supposed to explain talking to the giant fuzzy monster that no one else can fucking see?"

"Well, I could let them see me, but then we'd have much bigger problems than getting your strength back."

LA crossed his arms. "I'm just going to pick up my car. That's it. No need for you to come with me."

"I disagree!" Cass hopped up, his wings flapping. "Every precious second of the day is an opportunity waiting to be seized!"

"Literally just going to pick up my car."

"But you could be picking up a new chance to—"

"Oh my God . Will you just—" LA's phone buzzed. "Look, my driver is here and she's in a Prius. How the fuck do you expect to fit, huh?"

Cass exploded in a cloud of confetti and emerged unscathed but smaller.

Much smaller.

He was about the size of a teddy bear now. He flapped his wings, flying up to perch on LA's shoulder as he cheered, "Ta-dah!"

"Of fucking course. And oh look, more confetti."

"Oh! Do you want more?"

"No." LA grumbled as he headed outside. "What I want is a tiny mute button."

"Really?" Cass blinked in confusion. "What for?"

"Never mind."

The driver arrived then to take them to the tow yard, and Cass was thankfully quiet. So was the driver, which was even better.

LA scrolled through his phone, swiping over to his text conversation with Gavin.

Still nothing.

Maybe LA should check on him, see if—

Cass flicked his ear.

"Fuck!" LA jerked and swatted at Cass.

"You all right, sir?" the driver asked worriedly.

"Fine." LA hissed.

"You'll thank me later!" Cass whispered.

LA very pointedly used his middle finger to continue scrolling.

"Mmhmm." Cass huffed. "Very mature."

Once they were at Speabart Towing, LA quickly got out of the car. He made sure the door was shut before he mumbled, "I'll show you fuckin' mature ."

"Oh? Will you?" Cass cooed sweetly. "Are you going to speak to the representative with kindness and respect? That would be nice! Because you weren't very polite on the phone—"

"It's fine." LA growled. "I'm going to be super fuckin' nice, okay?"

Cass patted the side of his head. "Good! Sometimes when you put positive energy out into the universe, you get it back! Just like baking a cake."

"What?" LA headed toward the front door.

"Baking a cake!" Cass gushed. "You put good things in a cake, then you get a good cake! But if you're full of bad things, then it will be a very, very not yummy cake."

"Oh my God. Just… Shut up for a minute? Please?"

Cass huffed but fell silent as LA walked inside the office.

It was small, cluttered, and there were no chairs. A large counter separated the waiting area from the rest of the space, and a young woman with dark hair and a nervous smile was there on the other side.

"Oh! Hello!" she said. "May I help you?"

"Anna?" LA thought he recognized her voice. "I'm LA Holmes, here to pick up the Chevy Cobalt."

"Right! Yes." Anna turned to a computer on the corner of the counter so she could start typing. "They're not done putting the tires on, but I can go ahead and ring you up."

"Wait, what tires? I asked for a patch—"

"It'll be two hundred and sixty-six dollars."

"For a fucking patch ?"

Anna looked alarmed. "No, sir? You, on the phone, I asked you if you wanted new tires—"

"And I said no."

"No, sir! I, I heard you very clearly! You said hai , which is yes in Japanese and then you hung up. I, I thought you—"

"Why the fuck would I speak Japanese?"

"I don't know! I did think it was a little odd."

LA snarled furiously and gripped the edge of the counter, certain all the blood in his body was rushing to his head and it was going to pop at any second now.

"Remember what you said, Elly," Cass urged gently. "You said you would be nice!"

"I fucking lied ."