Chapter 12

Emma opened her apartment door and tossed her duffel bag on the floor. She set her bass guitar down gently beside it. " Hi, honey, I'm home." Her voice echoed through the sparsely furnished one-bedroom apartment. She hung her keys on their hook and closed the door.

"Brroowww rrrown rrown rrrown rown." Lucy, a black tuxedo cat with white paws and a large, white inverted triangle under her chin, trotted in Emma's direction and wrapped her sleek body around the blonde's boot. Round and round her ankle she went, still meow-purring in her usual fashion.

Emma lifted her and snuggled her against her chest, Lucy's front paws resting on the blonde's shoulder. Her soft tail flicked against Emma's arm repeatedly.

"Did you miss me?"

Lucy rubbed her face against her jaw and batted at Emma's small hoop earring with one paw.

"I missed you too. Owen been feeding you properly?"

"Brrroowww rrrowwwn." Emma carried her toward the kitchen, and Lucy switched from her unusual meow to purr in earnest.

Emma opened a cabinet and found the cat food stash had dwindled significantly in her absence, so Owen had been feeding Lucy regularly. And from the lack of bad odor in the room, he'd also been cleaning her litter box like he was supposed to. A good, trustworthy kid. Emma would give him a big bonus for taking care of her girl in her extended absence.

Emma set Lucy on the kitchen counter and pulled out several cans of food, reading the contents to her furry companion as she set them one at a time in a row in front of the cat.

"So what will it be?"
Lucy put a definitive paw on the top of one can.

"Salmon?"

"Brrrooowww rrrowwwn."
"All right. Fish breath it is. But if you think I'm going to let you lick my chin later, you're in for a surprise."
While the blonde opened the can, Lucy jumped off the counter and rubbed round and round Emma's ankle again. She set Lucy's saucer of food on the floor, gave her a good scratch behind one ear, and went to unpack.

Most of the clothes in her bag were dirty. Emma sorted them into piles to take to the laundry room in the basement later. Laundry wasn't her favorite chore, but unlike the rest of her band mates, she wasn't a slob. She just pretended to be messy in order to fit in better. She also pretended that she couldn't cook and that she didn't clean. None of them knew that she had a cat or that she talked to said cat as if she were a person. Emma was very careful to disguise herself around the band. To be who they expected her to be, not who she really was.

Emma removed her most treasured possession from the deep recesses of her bag and set it on the two pedestals on the center shelf of her bookcase. She ran one finger over the drumstick with a slight smile on her thin, pink lips. This slender piece of wood had changed her entire life, and the woman who had given it to her, completely by chance nine years before, had no idea the impact she'd had on a abused and neglected kid headed down a path of self-destruction. Emma had no doubt that Lacey French had saved her life. In a different way than she'd saved Neal's life, but no less important in the outcome. Emma turned on the stereo and sank into the sofa that was covered with a sheet to hide the rips and stains in the upholstery. She wasn't sure why she didn't get new furniture. It wasn't as if she couldn't afford it, but this was enough for her. She didn't need much—didn't want much. An image of Regina's lovely face, her ruby red lips curled in a sexy smile, settled in the blonde's thoughts.

Lucy joined her on the sofa and helped herself to Emma's lap while she licked her paws and rubbed them over her face.

"I met a girl."
Lucy paused and stared at her with amber eyes.

Emma chuckled. "What's that look for?" Sometimes she thought that cat understood what she was saying. "Don't worry. I won't let myself get too attached to her." Though she was considering calling Regina right now. The dark-haired woman was probably asleep. Emma shouldn't bother her. Maybe she should text the other woman. Regina had sent her a picture of her left nipple earlier that day and typed that she wished the blonde's tongue was on it at that moment. Oh yes. She had Emma's full attention, even without the sexy little text messages. "I think I'll head to the gym," she told her cat. "Get in a good workout. Box a few rounds."

"Browww wwowwn." The cat looked at her morosely.

"All right, I'll work out here instead." She pulled of her shirt, so she only wore her gray sports bra, and made her way to her tiny bedroom. She'd installed a bar in the doorway and used it now to do pull-ups.

After the blonde had completed a few dozen reps, Lucy lay down on the floor and batted at Emma's toes every time they came in reach. Emma slid her feet between the bar and the upper door sill and switched to doing inverted sit-ups. Lucy wiggled her butt, leaped into the air, and attacked the blonde's head repeatedly. After one too many claws to the scalp, she caught the cat in midair and lifted her to look her in the eye upside down. "Will you knock it off?"

Lucy batted her nose with one paw, careful to keep her claws concealed. "You've been bored, haven't you? I need to get you a friend. I've been on the road too much lately."
"Browww wwowwn."
She grabbed Emma's earring with one claw and urged her forward so she could rub her mouth over the blonde's jaw.

"Ugh. Fish breath."
Emma set her down, grabbed the bar, and released her feet before lowering herself to the floor.

"Let's jam." She knew what Lucy was after. Her cat loved bass guitar music. For her one feline audience, Emma played Sinners' entire set list, not the way the original bassist, Millie Center, had written it, but the way Emma felt it should be played. She'd never let the band know she'd rewritten every bass line. They wouldn't appreciate that kind of creativity. While she played, Lucy watched her, tail flicking earnestly to the beat. Eventually, the neighbor in the apartment below started banging on the ceiling. Emma turned off the amp and put her guitar back in its case. Her cell phone beeped. Another text from Regina. Another picture. Of her pussy. I'm imagining your fingers inside this, she'd typed. Damn. Was the woman trying to kill her?