“No, she doesn’t have a roommate,” I told Trish. “Jill?,” I called into the apartment. “Jill, are you home?”
I didn’t know how I would feel if we discovered that Jill had come home. We’d be wildly glad to see her, of course. We’d also be confused at being deserted, and embarrassed over deserting her cat.
Nobody answered, but an orange cat suddenly appeared from the shadows.
“LEXINGTON?,” Moira shouted.
The cat spun and raced into another room.
“Holy shit, was that Lexington? What the hell is going on, here?,” Moira asked us.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” I said, as I barged into the apartment after the cat.
Five steps got me into Jill’s spare bedroom, which served as her home office. The cat stood on Jill’s desk, hissing at me. It wasn’t Lexington. It was smaller and oranger, and Lexington wouldn’t have hissed at me. Well, he wouldn’t have hissed at me before I had him fight my dog for the sound effect of it and then abandoned him to the care of a total stranger. Guilt washed over me, as I looked at the cat who hissed where Lexington should hiss.
My fascination with the cat was interrupted by shouts and sounds of a scuffle from the back bedroom. I spun and dashed to join the fray. In the back bedroom, I was treated to the sight of my friends in a squirming pile on Jill’s queen sized bed. The bed took up nearly the entire room, with a narrow space on one side so the closet door could be opened enough to allow clothes to be squeezed in and out. Just the fact that Jill could have such a big bed meant that her bedroom was bigger than most New York City bedrooms, but it would be a shockingly small room to someone from almost any other part of the country.
At first, my brain couldn’t understand why my friends had suddenly decided to have a violent orgy, but then I spotted some body parts at the bottom of the pile that I didn’t recognize. The strange cat must belong to the owners of the body parts. Jill’s apartment had squatters, which was bad news, because we’d intended the apartment to be our squat.
“Hey,” I said. The tangled squirm continued squirming. Curses squirted out. “HEY,” I yelled. A couple of heads turned my way.
“We’ve got ’em,” Mike panted. “Don’t worry. They aren’t going anywhere.”
“Actually, I wish they would go somewhere. I want them to leave. Let them up.”
My friends un-piled, I assume much more slowly than they’d piled. As Lynn and Moira untangled from each other, I hid a brief smile. Finally, there were only four people left on the bed. Two women I didn’t know panted, red faced and obviously furious, with Mike and Jonathan sitting on them.
“Let them up,” I said.
“They could be dangerous,” Jonathan gritted. “One of them bit my arm.”
“Oh, that might have been me,” Trish admitted from the doorway, and immediately flushed red, but not as red as the women on the bed.
“Dangerous or not,” I said, “you can’t sit on them forever, now can you?” Mike and Jonathan considered my wisdom.
“OK, we are going to get off of you,” Mike told his sit-ee. “Don’t pull anything funny.”
“Something funny like sneaking into someone’s home and attacking them in their bedroom?,” the sit-ee asked.
“This is our friend’s apartment,” I said, “not yours.”
“Manuel, the doorman, gave it to us,” said Jonathan’s sit-ee.
“It isn’t his to give,” I said, “but obviously things are different, these days, so let’s go in the living room and talk it out.”
Jonathan and Mike cautiously dismounted from their respective squatters. The two women huffed and pushed themselves into sitting positions, then wiggled off the bed until their feet were on the pathway to the door.
“Who are you?,” I asked, as we all headed for the living room.
“Merry meet,” said one of them, “I’m Kat and this is Kate. We are both 3rd Degree High Priestesses Of Traditional Continental Witchcraft.”
“You work downstairs at Show World, don’t you? In the peep show.”
“Well, yes, that too,” the other one said.