Green eyes stared at a front door's archway, the key still in big, rough hands. Feet trapped in big boots walked forward almost involuntarily, nearly tripping over the white cat twining itself through his legs. Momentarily distracted from the house, he set his things down to scratch behind her ears. He remembered Lisa's words about this cat.
"I take it you're Belle," he said, wondering fleetingly why he was talking to a cat. "I'm James." James? James! JAMES? Where the hell had James come from? He was not James. James had a heart. James fell in love. James gave a damn. He was NOT James.
"Mrau," the cat replied. She had taken the liberty of sitting down, her startling blue eyes regarding him with proper catlike indifference. He sighed and grabbed his bags, remembering to nudge the door shut only after Belle had meowed reproachfully. The feline led him through the house, stopping at a dark paneled door. Ja-Sawyer opened it, figuring it would be where the cat's food was. He was wrong.
Ja-Sawyer looked inside the room, then down at the cat, who regarded him guardedly, then back into the room.
"Well, I'll be. Cat led me to my own room." He looked back at the cat. "Smart girl, Belle." He realized this housesitting thing wouldn't be so bad after all.
Sirens woke Ja-Sawyer on his third night. He sat up with a start, rousing Belle, who had taken to sleeping just above his head. A bright searchlight flooded the window. The man swore, and walked to the window, lifting it to speak with the officers whose guns were trained on him.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?" he asked, rather irritably.
"Come out of the house, sir. You're being arrested for robbery."
"Officer…I don't understand."
"The neighbors have reported a scruffy, unkempt man repeatedly entering and leaving the house, presumably with stolen goods. I can only assume that man is you." Jame-Sawyer took a deep breath, hurling silent curses at the bourgeoisie.
"Officer, I am housesitting for the owner, Lisa Catron. I have a key, and notes in Lisa's own hand detailing instructions for feeding the cat." The officer, who Jame-Sawyer could now identify as a portly man in his mid forties, narrowed his eyes.
"And do you have anyone to corroborate this claim, sir?"
"Yes, officer. You can call Lisa herself." The officer, just put his gun back in its holster.
"We'll settle this at the station, sir." Jame-Sawyer rolled his eyes, moving back to push the window closed. He grabbed his phone and Lisa's notes, sliding the key into his rumpled pants pocket.
Jame-Sawyer sat at a table with a hard-earned cup of coffee in front of him. The portly police officer sat opposite the scruffy man, making is formal apologies. Jame-Sawyer just waved them off, merely wanting to go back and check on Belle.
"…so, sir," the man was saying, "is there anything we can do to make up for our mistake?" Jame-Sawyer stood.
"You can take me back so I can feed the cat."
Belle was sitting in James' lap when Lisa came home. They were in the living room, actually reading a book. Lisa laughed.
"Well, I've never seen Belle so content! How did you do it?" James just shook his head.
Belle just winked.