Bourbon

“I’m naming it Bourbon,” Leila said. Her voice shone with triumph, but her hands were still and careful around the bundle of fur nestled in her lap.

I glanced over before flicking my eyes back to the wet asphalt, amused. “We didn’t even make it to the bar tonight.” I missed my rare indulgence, too. It’d been too long since I’d had a good whiskey sour. This place was all dark woods and bartenders who didn’t let you tell them how to do their job. They made their drinks the real way, with foaming egg whites and garnished with a gleaming luxardo cherry so dark you couldn’t tell it was red.

Her pout was evident from her shift in posture. “If we name her Bourbon, we never drink alone.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled into the apartment parking lot, glad the spot under the light was still open. The benefits of coming home early. “You and I both know she’s going to end up my cat. Eddie will finally come to his senses and ask you out any day now. Then I get left alone with this gorgeous calico.”

Bourbon let out a sleepy yawn as I snagged her off Leila’s lap. “Hey!” the larger of the pair protested. “She was my tiny heating pad.”

“And you’re hogging her.” I buried my face into her soft fur. No sign of fleas, thank goodness. “I suppose her eyes are whiskey-colored.”

We climbed the stairs to our second floor apartment, kitten in hand, and set her to exploring while Leila and I pulled out makeshift everything. A disposable baking tray I didn’t know we even owned filled with paper towels stood in for a litter box. And don’t get me started on how fast that kitten tried to scarf down an entire can of tuna.

“We’ll get her proper things tomorrow,” Leila said, and I suppressed a sigh. It was already clear she’d be picking out toys while I’d be talking to the vet. The money would be coming from my wallet, not hers.

I could have said no, I suppose, but the kitten really was adorable. Sweet, not feral. And when Leila’s future intended got up the nerve to ask her out, I’d be on my own. She might think I was joking, but I’d read the tea leaves and watched his gaze often enough. I wouldn’t be wrong.

Just like I wasn’t wrong that this tiny puff of multicolored fur had been sent for me.

An hour later, poorly made drinks from inferior liquor in hand, Leila and I watched Bourbon bat around a crumpled up paper ball. She was complaining about her boss again, and I listened with half an ear. The cat was the only new factor in this scenario.

Both of them had fallen asleep on the couch once her drink was finished. Me, I dimmed the lights and spent quiet contemplation time in the windowsill, cradling my half-full drink and staring out the glass into the darkness, wishing I could see the stars. Now that my familiar had come, the next week or so would be critical to determining my future.

If only I knew what that future would be. I leaned on my free hand and studied the glittering lights in the apartment building across the street and beyond until a faint noise distracted me.

Leila still slept, but Bourbon stalked a dust bunny my roommate had missed with the vacuum. Again. I took a drink and smiled.

The kitten batted the dust bunny into oblivion, rolling on the carpet to ensure it was trapped between her paws and dead. She arched and hissed at the empty corner, fur electric and enlarging. The smile wiped from my face.

To go through life without the bond I already felt growing between us would be abhorrent. And yet – I was unsure. Guardians didn’t have long lifespans. I’d never been much of a fighter. The single flight of stairs up to the apartment was the closest I usually got to working out.

But familiars were never wrong.

It would have been nice to keep the calico disguise for more than a few hours, though. Leila hadn’t drunk nearly enough to explain how our tiny kitten had become a mountain lion cub overnight.

***

This week on odd prompts, my challenge went to nother Mike: “With this ring, I thee wed.” Grinning, she slid the ring on his finger, looked up, and…

I received “The kitten arched and hissed at the empty corner” from Cedar Sanderson.

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