Cat.
Cat woke in a hot sweat, her bed sheets tangled around her limbs in a damp mess and the dull thrum of the ceiling fan above her. She swept her hair out of her eyes and reached lazily across to the window, parting the blinds and squinting in to the daylight. The sky was clear and still, and she could almost see the heat hanging heavy in the air. The skyline of South Beach rippled in the late morning sun. Sitting, she unwrapped herself from the bed and stretched her long legs out before her, flexing her toes in turn. Despite living in Miami all her life, Cat had never been able to catch a tan. Her skin remained pale and soft, and would burn a horrible red if she ever dared expose it to the elements unprotected. Her whole family were the same; clear skin, long limbs and dark auburn hair were the hallmarks of her family, along with a propensity to sunburn. She had never resented it though, even as she was forced to cover herself in factor 50 every day. Her looks marked her as a Tully. Her fathers' daughter.
Hoster Tully was sat at the kitchen counter, a small cup of black coffee in his hand and the morning papers spread out before him. He kissed his daughter lightly on the cheek as she stopped beside him.
'I need you down at the club later sweetie' he said, returning to read the paper. 'Edmure is covering the restaurant tonight.'
Cat sighed, quietly she hoped, and busied herself looking for the milk. She wanted to know where Lysa was, and why she couldn't be at the club today. Her bed hadn't been slept in. Their father must have noticed. Why wasn't he asking about Lysa? All these questions died on her tongue of course, and she emerged from the fridge, milk in hand and an accepting smile on her face.
'Petyr is there today' her father was saying, absently. 'He can cover until about 9, but then I want him back with me at the office. You'll need to do close down.'
Cat sat opposite him with her bowl of cereal and nodded silently. The club was near the seafront, in amongst the rest of the neon lit parade along Washington Avenue. Cat had worked there in some form or other since she was 14, and enjoyed it for the most part. The drinks were expensive and door men strict, meaning the clientele were a more refined breed. They were less likely to grab her ass or make lewd comments. Not that Cat had ever had to suffer that problem. People knew better than to harass Hoster Tully's little girl. Nevertheless, the club didn't close until 4am. It would be a long night.
She sighed again, apparently a little louder this time, causing her father to look up. He had a strange, tight look about him.
'Cat, you're 18 now. In a few years, I'll be signing that club over to you. I shouldn't be telling you to go down there. You should be there all the time, getting to know it.'
Cat met his pale gaze with her own large, blue eyes and set the smile back on her face.
'I know dad. And I've been there nearly every day since I turned 18. I was just hoping to have a night off maybe…. Lysa said she'd be around to cover me if I needed….' She hadn't meant to mention her sister, and she tried to compensate by making her expression the sweetest she could muster. Hoster did not seem moved.
'Lysa can't be relied upon; you should know that by now. Besides, she has no interest in running a business.'
Cat looked back down to her cereal and prodded it sullenly with the edge of her spoon. Their father had used to speak proudly of the day his children would take over his businesses – all of his children. The club and the restaurant, the gym over on Lenox. All of it, divided amongst the Tully children to continue his great legacy. And then as they got older, Lysa became less and less of a feature in his plans. Neither of them seemed to care, or even acknowledge the rift between them. It made Cat sad to think of the closeness they had once all had. And it made her angry to think that Lysa had managed to shirk her responsibilities simply by creeping out to party every night. She couldn't shake the feeling that if she tried the same trick, their father would be much less inclined to let her slip his grasp.
'Little Cat.' His voice interrupted her train of thought and she looked back up to find his expression much less stern.
'I just want you to be prepared' he said kindly. 'There won't be any nights off once it's all yours.'
Cat reached out to his hand, giving it a little squeeze.
'You can't rely on other people' he said, nodding sagely. 'Not if you want to make something of yourself.'
Cat chuckled, and felt her resentment leaving her as quickly as it had appeared.
'Well except me' laughed Hoster, returning to his paper. 'I'm family.'
The club office was on the top floor of the building, a surprisingly small room made even smaller by the large desk in the centre. Petyr was sat at it when Cat came in, tapping slowly at the computers' keyboard. When he saw her, he jumped to his feet so quickly a stack of papers fell to the floor. She laughed gently and bent to help him pick them up.
'I didn't think I'd see you until 9' he said as they collected the fallen invoices and returned them to their nesting place. Petyr had a disconcerting habit of holding Cat's eye for slightly longer than was comfortable with. He was doing it now, his grey flecked eyes holding steady on hers, even after she looked away. Cat was suddenly rather conscious of her choice of outfit - dark jeans that hugged her hips and a thin red vest. Nothing overly revealing but under his gaze, she felt rather bare. She should have been used to it, and yet it seemed that she was never fully prepared. She smiled, trying to brush the uneasiness aside.
'I know' she said brightly. 'But I was sat at the apartment doing nothing. Might as well come and make myself useful here.'
The office was warm and damp, despite the air conditioning, but Petyr managed to look cool and unwrinkled in a suit and tie. The jacket was hung on the back of the chair, and the top button of his shirt was open but otherwise, he looked as if he had only just gotten dressed – not been at work for last 9 hours. The suit was his customary dark grey, expensive and lined with dark green silk. His tie was a matching green, with a slim silver tie pin clipped half way down. A little bird perched on the edge, wrought in fine detail with a tiny emerald chip for its eye.
'My dad wants you over at the office tonight, did he tell you?' Cat continued. She perched at the edge of the desk, just out of arms reach. Petyr was still looking at her, even as he continued to tidy up the invoices.
'I know. I'll go over in a little while' he said, finally breaking his gaze for a moment to look back at the computer. 'I thought Lysa was….' He trailed off and raised an eyebrow, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.
Cat shrugged and turned away to look out of the little window. South Beach was ablaze with light and noise, heat and movement. People danced along the road with songs on their lips and tanned skin glistening under neon. For a moment, she wished she were down there with them.
'Yeah, I thought so too. But here we are.'
Either she was more lost in her own thoughts than she realised, or else Petyr moved without making the slightest sound. Either way, when she turned back around, he was stood a lot closer to her. She flinched back, her hand slipping on the polished desk. She swore he seemed to be laughing at her, although no sound escaped him and his face remained a mask. It was all in his eyes.
She righted herself, shifting her weight back to find a more stable position, quickly turning back to the window.
'Lysa didn't come home last night. Was she with you?'
She immediately regretted being so blunt, but he was beginning to annoy her. She kept her eyes out of the window, but could hear his soft chuckle beside her.
'No. I think our little Lysa has found herself another to keep her warm at night. Alas, I feel I have been kicked to the curb.'
His tone was mocking, she could tell, and it grated on her. Plus he was lying. Lysa had her habits, but bed hopping was not one. When they had been younger, and there had been no secrets between them, it was always Cat who brought the stories about kisses in alleyways and holding hands under tables. Even back then, Lysa only had eyes for Petyr. Whatever she was doing these days, she was not doing it with another man. Her annoyance bloomed in to hot anger.
'You don't need to stay Petyr. I'm here now, you can go.' She slipped from the table and walked to the chair, taking a seat and trying to look busy. She could feel him still there, at the edge of the desk. He didn't seem to be moving.
'I'll be fine' she heard herself say, somewhat redundantly. She'd been running these books for years now. She knew them better than he did.
'Cat…' he said, suddenly soft.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him move from the table towards her. She tensed, pursing her lips and concentrating on the job she was pretending to do. He was next to her in moments, and his hand reached forward. She braced herself, not sure whether to ignore it or hit him. And then, suddenly, she realised he was picking up his jacket from the back of the chair. In another moment, he was standing at the door. She allowed herself to look up then, and found him watching her still with those bright grey eyes, laughing again. She gave him a terse smile but said nothing. She could hear him chuckling as he walked away down the corridor.
