Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

Author's Note: Thank you, my sweet reviewers, signed-in and anon.

CHAPTER 6
CONSOLATION DOUBLE

Shade loped up to Hyde when he entered the Burkharts' foyer. Hyde reached down to pet his fuzzy cheek and received a "Mrow!" in return.

"Yeah, I can't believe she left, either," Hyde said. He stepped forward, but Shade rubbed his side against Hyde's denim clad legs. Walking would be dangerous with Shade blocking his way. "I got ya, Cat. I got ya." He picked Shade up and draped him over his shoulder. "No worries, man."

Shade began to purr, but the rumble gave Hyde little comfort. He scratched the top of Shade's head and moved deeper into the house. Sunlight brightened the living room, but Jackie's absence made the place seem like a guitar with no strings. She'd left Shade's carrier, a huge bag of litter, and various other cat supplies by the coffee table. Hyde scanned them quietly, hoping she'd left him another note, something with less finality than her first.

She hadn't.

Remnants of her last actions in the house, however,—of her presence—were evident in the rumple of the litter bag, in the cat carrier's door not being properly shut.

Bringing Shade near the carrier would make him scramble for escape, and Hyde sympathized. The thing was a cage, and it usually meant something unpleasant was about to happen, like a vet visit or a change in living quarters. The cat really did take after his old man, but Hyde's own scrambling had cost them both dearly.

"I screwed up, Cat," he said. "I'm sorry." His contrition was sincere, but he let out a laugh. Never in his life did he think he'd be apologizing to an animal, but Shade was more than a cat. He was family. "You're not gonna like the next twenty minutes or so," Hyde said and stroked Shade's back, "but they gotta be done."

Jackie had a trick to get Shade into the carrier. She shut him in the bathroom then brought the carrier inside. Shade had no place to flee, and though he still fought for his freedom, his imprisonment was inevitable.

Hyde used the same trick now. Inside the bathroom, he locked Shade securely in the carrier, and Shade began to howl. The cries were deep, guttural sounds, unlike anything he ever emoted, and they startled Hyde into urgency. He raced to the Burkharts' gravel driveway with Shade's supplies, dumped them into the Camino's flatbed, and put the yowling Shade into the car.

"We're goin', we're goin'," Hyde said and pressed on the gas. The Camino sped from the Burkharts' property, but Hyde made sure to keep the ride smooth. Shade's carrier was on the floor in front of the passenger seat.

They arrived at the Pinciottis' in good time. Donna had been expecting them. She helped Hyde unload Shade's things from the Camino, and they brought them inside her house together. Her own cat, Mr. Twinkle Toes, was shut in her room for now. Shade needed time to get reacquainted with his former home, without the added stress of being hissed at.

"Nothing's changed," Donna said to Shade as he sniffed around the living room. "You should be smelling the same smells—Mr. Twinkle Toes and my dad's cologne."

Hyde chuckled softly. Once Shade was fed, and his toys were scattered all over the place, he'd probably be fine. Jackie had left one of her pajama tops in the bag of cat supplies. It was to keep her scent with him. Hyde almost swiped it for himself, but Shade would make better use of it.

Shade's body was pressed low to the ground as he explored the house. He walked a few feet then paused at something to sniff. He wandered to the kitchen that way, and Hyde grabbed Shade's food and water bowls.

"Yeah, putting food out for him is a good idea," Donna said. She took a can of his grub and went with Hyde to the kitchen. On the floor by the fridge was an empty paper shopping bag. She shook her head, "Dad," and moved to pick it up. Bob must have bought a few things from the Piggly Wiggly and skipped out.

"Leave it," Hyde said. "Shade digs 'em." Then he squeezed Donna's shoulder. "Thanks, man... for everything." He was relieved she'd taken Shade in. If she hadn't, Hyde would've smuggled the cat back to the Formans', but that was not a situation he wanted to repeat.

"It's no problem." She opened the can of cat food as Hyde filled the water bowl. "I'm not looking forward to separating the cats during feedings again, but I'll deal." She put Shade's food bowl down in its former spot, and Hyde placed the water bowl beside it. "Mr. Twinkle Toes would never admit it," she said, "but he missed having Shade around... So," she leaned back against the kitchen counter, and her gaze landed squarely on Hyde, "what were you going to say?

"About what?

"To Jackie"

"About what?" Hyde repeated. He was watching Shade now. The cat had cautiously approached his food bowl and took a few nibbles.

Donna hit Hyde's arm. "About marrying her, you dink."

"Nothin'." He glanced up at her. "What hotel is she staying in?"

"Why do you need to know that?"

"In case Shade gets sick. She'd wanna know. What's her hotel?"

"Motel,and I promised her I wouldn't tell you." Donna bent down and petted Shade's back. Shade's tail perked up, but he trotted off to another area of the kitchen. "Shade'll be fine, and if he isn't, I'll let Jackie know."

"Donna, Forman's going off to Africa," Hyde said. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if that would conceal the truth behind his next words. "It's a big continent. If I knew what country he was teaching in—and you didn't— would you want me to tell you?"

"Well, yeah, but Eric and I are together..." Her lips quirked into a smile. "Oh, my God—you were gonna say yes! You were gonna marry her."

He uncrossed his arms. "Maybe I was..." The cat was freakin' out of the bag now, literally. Shade had crawled into the paper bag by the fridge, but he darted out again. Something must have spooked him, and he scurried to the living room. He had an easy escape route, unlike Hyde. A small pet door cut was cut into the kitchen's front door. "So, the motel?

"The Travel Inn," Donna said.

"Thanks." Hyde went to the kitchen's back door. "Take care of Shade while I'm gone."

"You're going to Chicago?"

"Jackie doesn't know all the info, man. She jumped the gun—just like I did once. She's earned a pass, but she's also got a few choices she hasn't heard of yet."

Donna's brow furrowed. "Like what?"

"Later. Gotta hit the road."

He exited out to the Pinciottis' backyard. The Camino was still parked in their driveway, but he headed to the Formans' house and down to the basement. In his room, he packed his green duffel bag with essentials. Then he wrote the Formans a note telling them where he was off to.

He also wrote Forman a separate note, in case he missed Forman's send-off to Africa. He didn't want to miss it, but Jackie was right. The path to his future lay before him, and it was crumbling. He had to chase his future down before the road disintegrated beneath his feet.

He had to get to her.

Jackie had been crying in the motel bathroom for hours. The tiled floor was covered in crumpled toilet paper, and her eyes burned from spilling so many tears. She should have waited until noon. Steven was always a little slow when it came to their relationship. Maybe he would've shown up at her house at 11:59 a.m. Maybe he would've told her the answer she'd wanted to hear—that he fully intended to marry her someday.

Then again, he'd already given her an answer months ago. He'd shrugged at her first plea about their future. Had he shown up before noon today, he would have said goodbye.

That terrible thought heaved fresh sobs from her body. He was gone from her life, might as well have been dead. Her chest was an aching cavern only he could fill.

"Jackie," Michael shouted, "please get outta the bathroom!" He was on the other side of the door and pounding on it. He'd been pleading with her for the last five minutes. "I gotta pee!"

She pushed herself off the floor. It was a mess of snotty toilet paper and tears, and she longed to mash Steven's face into it, to make him feel what she was feeling. But she flung the door open, and Michael took a step back. He seemed shocked at the state of her face. It had to be red, puffy, and moist.

"You're really that upset over Hyde?" He shook his head. "Man, you keep picking the wrong guys to force into a proposal."

"Shut up, Michael!" she shouted but hurled herself into his arms. She buried her heated, weeping face into his chest. "Just... be quiet."

Michael's hands hesitated before sliding over her back. "I'm sorry," he said with a sigh. "Maybe the third time, it'll be the right guy you force into a proposal."

She gripped his shirt, "I said shut up!" but he was rubbing her back now. He had to mean well in his idiot way. "Steven and I," she said into his chest, "we were a family. I saw it in his eyes, Michael. He felt the same way! So why—why did he do this? Why didn't he beg me not to leave?"

"I don't know..." Michael's hands grew still on her back, "but I do know this: doin' it always clears my head."

Her tears turned to ice on her cheek, and her sobs froze in place. "You're right." She pulled away from his arms. "Steven and I are finished, " she said and glanced back at the bed. "I have to get over him, or I won't be able to function tomorrow. I'll lose everything."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. All I have left is that job. I need to clear my head of all Steven-thoughts, clear my heart of all Steven-feelings. And you're perfect."

"I am?" Michael flinched, as if her words had surprised him. "I mean, yeah. I am..." He paused a moment. His eyes narrowed, and his tongue peeked out from the corner of his mouth. "For what?"

"For doing it, you imbecile!"

"Oh! We're gonna do it?"

"After you brush your teeth and take a shower..." She rushed to the window and pushed aside the curtains. They were too sheer for her liking. "And make sure no one can see us doing it from the parking lot. I don't need any Fez-like pervs watching."

He pumped his fists in the air. "All right!" Then he dashed into the bathroom and shut the door.

Jackie's heart jackhammered against her ribs. She had to relax. She opened one of her suitcases and removed her nightgown and a Cosmo magazine. They were just what she needed. She put on the gown, and its gentle silk soothed her skin. The magazine would distract her thoughts, too, once she let it.

She lay stomach-side down on the bed. Her fingers flipped through the Cosmo, but her eyes didn't register any of the ads or articles. She half-expected Shade to jump onto the bed with his foam ball. She'd brought one of them with her. Photographs were wonderful, but sometimes a tactile reminder was necessary, something she could squeeze in her hand.

Like the shirt Steven had given her.

She'd left it back home. No, not home; the house she'd grown up in. Steven's shirt, with his scent and her memories of him, was balled up in her closet. She couldn't bear to touch it while she packed.

This was the start of a new life for herself. Too bad Cosmo didn't have any articles on that. She hadn't made love to anyone but Steven in over two years. Michael was far from a stranger. They'd lost their virginity to each other, but how would her body respond to him now? Would he feel alien to her? Probably.

And that was good. Maybe it would make her feel like less herself—because she needed to be as distant from herself as possible, in order to rebuild herself anew.

Hyde had reached the Travel Inn without a hitch. The sun was going down, but its golden light couldn't disguise the motel's dingy atmosphere. The concierge building smelled musty like mold. Paint was chipping off the wall, and one pair of curtains was blotched brown. Someone had spat up on it, either a Pudding Pop or blood. Jackie shouldn't have been staying in a dump like this.

On the other hand, dumps like this often came with overworked, underpaid staff. Twenty dollars to the concierge got him Jackie's building and room number.

Outside, Hyde walked along the paved street to building "A". He knocked on the door to room 108, and it creaked opened by itself. Jackie really shouldn't have been staying in a dump like this. Not alone, at least, and he went inside her room.

A smile crept onto his face at the sight that met him. Jackie was on the bed in her nightgown, and her eyes were focused on a magazine. She didn't react at his entrance. She must've been absorbed in an article about lipstick or some crap like that. He didn't want to scare her, so he said a soft, "Hey."

She peered up at him, and her mouth fell open. Then she pushed herself off the bed as if it were made of nails. "Steven! What, um..." she pulled the nightgown over her cleavage, and he was tempted to slap her hand away, "what are you doing here?"

"Nothin'. Had some free time." His smile didn't vanish, despite her caginess. "Thought I'd check out Chicago. You check-in okay?

"Yeah... Hey, do you want to go take a walk?" Finally, she smiled back, and she pointed to the door. "Maybe get something to eat?"

He began to answer, but another voice spoke first: "Jackie, I checked." Kelso. Hyde angled his head toward the door. Kelso was halfway inside the room. A white towel covered his privates, but he was otherwise naked, and his hands held a bucket of ice. "No one can see us doing it from the parking lo—Hyde?" He tossed the bucket into the air, and ice cubes rained down on Hyde and Jackie's skulls.

Hyde couldn't process what he was seeing. Only one word came to mind: betrayal.

"You're dead!" he shouted. His arm shot out, and he grasped Kelso's towel, but Kelso took off. He was fully naked now and bolting across the parking lot. Hyde considered pursuing him but stayed put. "So," he whipped the towel to the floor and turned toward Jackie, "this is why you skipped out before I could give you an answer."

"No, Steven. Listen—"

"You and Kelso, man. You've been screwing each other this whole time, behind my back."

"Steven, no!" She reached for his hand. "How can you say that?"

He pulled away from her, "Have a nice life, Jackie," and went to the door. It was still open, and he stepped outside. The horizon was bathed in red, like his mind. The sun was almost gone, but Jackie barreled in front of him.

"You can't leave like this!" She grabbed onto his arm, and he became like stone. His muscles refused to move, and he barely breathed. "You can't leave thinking I—"

"Let. Go," he said through gritted teeth.

A strange sound eked from her throat, but she released him.

Control of his body returned to him. He crossed to the parking lot and didn't look back. With luck, he'd never see her damn face again.

Jackie was finally moving into an apartment.

Two weeks of staying at the Travel Inn had been too long. The bed sheets were clean but itchy. The staff was efficient but cranky. And the old-fashioned décor was drab, drab, drab. Her new apartment wasn't much bigger than the motel room, but it had plenty of windows. It was also a quick bus ride from her job.

Renting her own place made her feel accomplished, like she was progressing. Her career seemed to be on the right track, too. She was on the creative development team for Wake up, Chicago! a locally-produced but state-wide morning show. Her tasks mainly included behind the scenes stuff. But her boss said if she kept popping ideas out the way she had, she'd get her first on-air segment in a month or two—a promise for the future. How hard was that to offer?

Today's weather cooperated with her plans. She was standing outside her apartment building, waiting for Donna and Bob to arrive. The sun shone down through a clear Chicago sky, and the autumn temperature was on the milder side. A few breezes chilled her now and then, but her anticipation warmed her up.

Donna and Bob were ten minutes late. Her heart rose into her throat every time she thought a moving van was rounding the corner. But, at last, a white U-Haul parked in front of her awning. She clapped when Donna and Bob exited the van, and she ran up to them on the curb.

She intended to hug them, but Donna thrust a list into Jackie's hands. "Look at all the check marks," Donna said. "We managed to find everything."

The list consisted of five pieces of paper stapled together, and Jackie gave it a cursory glance. Written down were the things she'd told Donna to bring from the Burkhart Mansion. They were mostly clothing and some personal items, but she rolled the list up and stuffed it into the waistband of her jeans.

"Where's Shade?" She peered through the van's driver-side window. "Where's my kitty?"

Donna pressed her lips into a thin line and looked at Bob.

"Oh, God," Jackie said. "Did something happen to him?

"No, the little fella's fine," Bob said and smoothed a hand over his tacky floral shirt. "He's just... not here."

"Not here?" She shook her head, not quite understanding. "Where is he? He wouldn't go in the carrier? I told you, you have to hold the carrier vertically and dump him in before—"

"Jackie," Donna said, "Hyde took him."

"What?"

"Hyde moved out of the Formans' last week. He found an apartment in Kenosha."

"Kenosha?" Jackie's breath caught, same as her thoughts. They were skipping like a scratched-up record. "M—moved out? Kenosha?" She never expected Steven to leave the Formans'. In her foolish mind, he'd be living there forever. "Kenosha?" she said once again.

Donna nodded. "Yeah, and he brought Shade with him. He said, um... He said if you wanted Shade, you'd have to come and get him."

Jackie's fists clenched. Her whole body was shaking, and she said, "THAT BASTARD!" though it was more of an ear-splitting shriek. "Shade is my cat. My cat! Steven can't... He can't just take him!"

"Well, Shade's sorta your joint cat, isn't he?" Bob said and stepped back toward the van. He seemed afraid of Jackie's fury, but he wasn't the man she wanted to eviscerate. "I remember you and Hyde both fawnin' over him like doting parents."

"No," Jackie said. "Steven gave Shade to me. He can't have him. He—"

"You think Hyde's gonna hurt the little guy?" Bob said.

"Of course not. Steven loves him." Jackie went to the U-Haul's back doors. She tried to open them, but they were locked. "Would someone open this damn van?"

Bob used his key and unlocked the doors. Jackie's things had been packed in boxes, and she and Donna hefted them into her apartment building. The task would've gone faster had Bob helped, but he stayed by the van to guard it and her other boxes.

Jackie's building was a walk-up, and the first climb to her apartment left her breathless and Donna complaining. "Do you have to live on the fourth floor?" Donna said.

"Yes. Let's get more stuff."

"Why don't you show me your apartment first?"

"Later."

Jackie tugged Donna back toward the staircase. They could rest when all her things were where they were supposed to be. Another two trips to the van was all it took. Bob drove off afterward to find an appropriate parking spot.

Jackie and Donna were both spent. They sat in Jackie's apartment, on her daybed currently done up as a couch. Their breaths heaved out of them, and neither spoke while they recovered from their efforts.

Jackie glowered at the state of her new home. Boxes covered almost all of the floor's free space. She was renting a one-room studio, all she could afford at the moment. The choice had been between more space in a bad neighborhood or this. It was cramped, and it was going to be worse with all her clothing here. Her closet consisted of a gutted bookshelf with a metal bar stretched across it.

"Maybe it's best Hyde took Shade," Donna said after a minute. "Jackie, your apartment is tiny."

"And Steven's isn't?

Donna shrugged, "He's got two bedrooms." Jackie stared at her incredulously, prompting Donna to say, "W.B.'s helping him out with rent."

"Steven accepted money from his dad?" Jackie slid a hand beneath her thigh and squeezed the skin through her jeans. Climbing up and down the stairs had expended some of her anger, but every new piece of information about Steven refueled it. She refused to let it loose, though, so she pinched herself until the pain distracted her.

"He told me he 'did it for the cat,'" Donna said, laughing. "Shade's like you, apparently. Used to a big place to roam. How're you gonna stand living here?"

"I'll stand it. And I guess I'll stand living without Shade... for now.

Jackie maneuvered around some boxes to her bedroom area. She pulled a small notebook from her dresser. Then she wrote Steven a letter in a rush.

Donna pointed to what Jackie was doing. "What's that?"

"For Steven," Jackie said. She folded up the letter and passed it to Donna. "Give that to him when you get back—and make sure he reads it."

"All right." Donna took the letter and stuffed it into her pants pocket.

Jackie bent down to open a box, "You can help me unpack some of these things, too, like getting the scissors from the kitchen," but she bit her knuckle as an unwanted memory hit her.

"You ever hear of using the word 'please'? 'Thank you' is another good one."

Steven had said that to her years ago, about her former maid and cook. She was disgusted his voice rose in her mind, that it was acting as her conscience, but she met Donna in the kitchen area.

"Which drawer?" Donna said.

"The middle one," Jackie said and laid a hand on Donna's wrist. "Thank you. You've been a really good friend, and I'm..." she rolled her eyes at herself, "I'm sorry for being bitchier than usual. I'm still getting used to all of this, to all of these changes. And now Steven's holding my cat hostage, and..."

"It's okay. I get it." Donna squeezed Jackie's shoulder tenderly. Then she found the scissors and held them up. "Let's take some of that bitchiness out on those boxes though."

"Sure," Jackie said but let Donna slice the duct tape off the boxes. She couldn't risk accidentally injuring herself. It might affect her work, and Steven had already deprived her of one future. She wouldn't let her rage at him deprive her of another.

Hyde leaned back on his couch and stretched his legs out on the coffee table. His living room was far bigger than he deserved, but he had to admit having his own place felt good. Damn good. He could treat his furniture however the hell he wanted. Be as messy as he wanted... almost as he wanted. He still had to think of the cat. At over two-years-old, Shade still acted like a kitten. Anything not nailed down became a toy, so Hyde usually cleaned up after himself, except at night when he partied a little too much...

Though did a party of one count as a party?

Forman was gone, off in Africa to earn his college tuition. Kelso had become an enemy, someone Hyde avoided seeing to keep from killing. Fez didn't like getting as drunk as Hyde did, so he always wussed out early, and Donna was usually too busy studying to join Hyde at the bars.

Hyde knew what he was doing—self-medicating, narcotizing himself against pain he hadn't been able to process yet. But he'd made a promise today, to his sister of all people, that he wouldn't booze it up anymore or smoke himself into oblivion. In the two weeks since Chicago, he'd found himself relying on her more than usual. On W.B., too. They were family, just like the Formans were. But the Formans reminded him too much of everything he'd lost.

"Hey, Ange," he said, "quit hoggin' the popcorn."

She answered with a succession of sneezes: "Ah-choo! Ah-choo! Ahhh-CHOO!" She was sitting beside him on the couch, having come over to watch baseball. She'd ignored her cat allergy to hang out with him, and he more than appreciated it. Being alone was the worst part of living alone, especially when his thoughts were so freakin' knotted. But company also meant he had to share things, like popcorn.

"That's nine, ten, and eleven," he said about her sneezes.

"Whose fault is that?" She passed him the bowl, but he handed it back to her. She'd sneezed into it, and that was one special sauce he wouldn't eat. "I'm going to have to get shots because of that furball."

"Hey, I vacuumed before you got here. Place is as cat-hair free as I can make it."

She grabbed a few tissues and blew her nose. "Well, it is better than the last time. Thanks."

Hyde got up at the next commercial break, intending to make more popcorn. Shade was nearby, stretched out on the carpet and lounging. Hyde caught his eye on the way to the kitchen. Shade's tail swished, but his calm breathing erupted into purring.

"How did you do that?" Angie said.

"Do what?

"Make him purr just by looking at him?"

Hyde shrugged. "It's his nature, man. He's Zen."

"You keep him dosed on catnip, don't you?" Angie was laughing, but her laughter turned into another round of sneezing.

"Want me to put him into my room?" He'd reached the kitchen. It was open to the living room, and he liked that he could see the TV while cooking. "Shade settles easily in there," he said and placed another pan of Jiffy Pop on the stove.

"No, it's fine," she said. "But if you insist on letting him sit on your lap, do it over there." She pointed to the armchair beside the couch. "I can't have his fur flying in my face while you pet him."

Hyde smirked and concentrated on the Jiffy Pop; its foil was inflating like his discomfort. Angie had witnessed his affection toward Shade last week, during her first time at the apartment. The cat was freaked by his new surroundings, and Hyde's voice had softened to a cloying level. The memory of it still embarrassed him. He'd been trying to soothe Shade, but Angie imitated him until something in his eyes seemed to shut her up.

He took out a large bowl now from a cabinet but a shrill buzz vibrated through the apartment. The popcorn wasn't fully popped, and Shade jumped to his feet. He didn't like the apartment's buzzer system. Neither did Hyde. It was loud enough to wake drunks from their slumber.

"Angie," he said, "could ya get that?" and she stood up without complaint.

She went to the front door and pressed the buzzer's intercom button. Donna's voice came through the tinny speaker, "It's Donna," and Angie buzzed her in. She unlatched the front door at Hyde's request then sneezed.

"Thanks," Hyde said, "and bless you." His tone was gentle, but he hated saying that last part. The practice stemmed from an outdated superstition, but Jackie had made him betray his principles. She claimed sneezing was an involuntary, traumatizing bodily function, and...

"People need comfort afterward, Steven," she'd said. "Imagine what it would feel like to sneeze and have no one around who cared enough to say 'God bless you'? It's a simple thing, isn't it? A simple act to make someone feel less alone."

Her logic had reached him, or maybe it was her compassion. Either way, he'd adopted the habit of saying "Bless you" because of her. He didn't always say it, but when he did, that was Jackie on his tongue.

Angie sat down on the couch again and shouted something at Bill Travers, the Milwaukee Brewers' pitcher. Hyde's focus, though, was on the popcorn. It was ready. He cut open the Jiffy Pop's foil and dumped the popcorn into the bowl.

The front door opened shortly afterward, and Donna entered. She was carrying a six pack of Amber Ale. Hyde was tempted to rush over and guzzle two or three cans down, but his promise to Angie stopped him. He never made commitments he didn't plan to keep.

"Hey," he said and met Donna with the bowl of popcorn. The popcorn was hot, just how he liked it, and he stuffed a fistful into his mouth.

"Hey. Sorry, I'm late. Traffic." She passed the beer into Hyde's free hand. A cold one would've gone well with the popcorn, but he backtracked to the kitchen and dumped the six-pack onto the counter.

"Brewers are up by two," Angie said from the couch.

"Yeah, I know," Donna said." I listened to the game in the car." She took off her coat and slung it over Hyde's coat rack. "Travers's pitching has been hit or miss all season—no pun intended."

She headed for the couch but made a pit stop at Shade. He was lying on the carpet again. He sniffed her hand and seemed to recognize her. She scratched beneath his chin, causing his orange-ringed eyes shut, and his purr became loud enough that Hyde heard it in the kitchen.

"Jackie's not happy," Donna said, and Hyde wished he hadn't been able to hear that.

He brought the popcorn to the coffee table and half-slammed it down. "Too bad. Cat's better off over here."

"You won't hear an argument from me." Donna clapped the cat hair from her hands. "Jackie's living in a shoebox.

"Good for her. She likes shoes."

"You're still pissed at her, huh?"

"Nope." Hyde returned to his spot on the couch. He laced his fingers behind his head and gave all his attention to the game. The less he heard about Jackie, the better.

Donna sat in the armchair a few moments later. She had a Coke in her hand, not a beer. She'd driven to Kenosha, so skipping booze was a smart idea. The beer must've been a thank-you-for-hosting gift.

"Can you pass me the popcorn?" she said. Hyde handed her the bowl, and she slipped a folded piece of paper into his palm.

"What's this?" he said.

"Jackie wrote you a note—or something. I'm not really sure."

"Huh." Hyde tossed the note over his shoulder. It landed on the floor behind the couch, and Shade dashed after it.

"Hyde!" Donna said. "What if she wrote something important?"

"She's got nothin' I wanna hear."

"Technically," Angie said, "she has nothing you want to read."

Hyde shifted his weight on the couch. "Whatever."

Shade was batting the folded paper through the living room. It skittered on the hardwood floor, but he eventually pounced on it. He gnawed on the paper and kicked at it with his hind legs. Then he trotted off with his shredded prize in his mouth.

Donna jerked her thumb toward Hyde's bedroom. "Should Shade be eating paper like that?"

"He only eats flakes. The rest he'll just play with."

"Jeez." Donna groaned and put down the bowl of popcorn. She rushed into Hyde's room but reappeared a minute later. "The note's in your nightstand—for when you grow a pair and want to read it."

"Hey, give him a break," Angie said. "Think about how you'd—ah-choo!—you'd feel if you found Eric about to cheat on y—"

Hyde scowled. "Angie, shut it, okay?"

"But she has no idea how hard this has been on—"

"Nothing's been hard on me. Now shut your piehole and enjoy the damn game."

"Right." Angie copied his body language. She laced her fingers behind her head, and her face even took on his scowl. They might not have had the same skin tone, but they were definitely related. He saw more of himself in her each successive time they spent together. One thing they didn't have in common, though: he knew when to keep his trap zipped. She had no clue, and she said, "Just like you haven't been drinking every night to fall asleep."

Donna leaned forward in the armchair and slapped Hyde's knee. "You've what?"

He blew out an audible breath. Enjoying the game was going to be impossible now. "Screw this." He left the couch. "I'm gonna read Jackie's freakin' note—or whatever it is—and then you two are gonna forget she exists while you're around me. Got it? Otherwise, you can watch the rest of the game in a TV-store window."

"Got—ah-choo!—it," Angie said, but Donna only sighed.

Hyde stalked off to his room and shut the door. He pulled Jackie's note out of the nightstand drawer. Then he unfolded it—and discovered this was no note. It was a letter, and though Shade had disappeared to another room, his presence was still felt. He'd done a number on Jackie's writing. The letter was full of bite holes, but Hyde could make out most of it.

Steven,

I'm letting you have custody of Shade for now. Donna tells me you have a nice apartment, but the second I move into an appropriate place for him, Shade's living wi [hole] e. So don't you dare let anything happen to him before I can do that.

My new n [hole] is (312) 555-9414. Call me if Shade gets sick. I don't care if it's a claw cut too close to the quick. I want to know.

No matter what you believe, I did not sleep with Michael while you and I were together. I'm not [hole] ith him. I was in love with you, and only you. In the motel, what you walked in on was me trying to cope. What did you do last year when you thought I'd broken your heart? You're smart enough to put [hole] gether.

We'll never be friends again, Steven. I know that. But I would like for us to be civil to each other on Shade's behalf. He's giv [hole] th of us so much, and he deserves the same. He should have the best life possible for a cat to have.

—Jackie

Hyde took no time to think over her words. Thinking had become dangerous for him, and he retrieved his little gray address book. It was stashed in the nightstand, and he scribbled Jackie's number under "B" for "Burkhart," "Beulah," and "bitchy".

He'd been trying to forget her these last few weeks, to drink her out of his mind and heart. But as long as Shade lived, Hyde and Jackie would be connected. The price was tough to pay but worth it—because she was right. The cat gave him a lot. Shade comforted him on the loneliest nights when Hyde saw, with a painful clarity, the gored out piece of his future. It was where his family once belonged...

His family with Jackie.