Nice, she thought. Nicely played, Odelia. So now what?
Chapter 27
Brutus and I walked out of the police station and back to the alley, where presumably Dooley still sat watching—and having his youthful innocence thoroughly screwed up.
“Odelia should have backed us up,” Brutus said. “She should have had our backs.”
“Odelia has our backs,” I said. “All of our backs, Diego included.”
“But how is that even possible?! Diego isn’t even part of our family.”
“He is to her. The moment that cat set foot inside her home, he became family.”
“It’s just not fair.”
“You don’t get it, do you? Odelia doesn’t play favorites. She doesn’t love one of us more than the others. And she’s right about Harriet. She’s smarter than you give her credit for. Have you ever considered Harriet has Diego’s number?”
“She can’t have his number. She doesn’t even know he’s out here.”
“Let’s just wait and see,” I said. “First things first, though. We have to get Dooley out of there. Diego is a bad influence on him.”
We arrived at the alley. To my surprise there was no trace of Dooley.
“Where did he go?” I muttered, looking around.
“And where did Diego go?” asked Brutus. There were dumpsters parked along the alley, butting up to the bricked-up back walls of the stores that lined the parallel street. We headed deeper into the alley, half expecting to find Gran and Leo cavorting around somewhere. What we found were Dooley and Diego, however, seated behind a dumpster and deep in conversation.
“So that’s the secret, dude,” Diego was saying. “You just snag ‘em, bag ‘em and then throw ‘em back.”
“But won’t they resent you for it?” Dooley asked.
“What do you care? There’s plenty of cats in the sea. When you’re finished with one, you just start tagging another one.”
Dooley laughed. “Tag ‘em, snag ‘em and bag ‘em. That rhymes!”
“It sure does,” said Diego with a smirk. “I’m glad you’re catching on, dude.”
“Let me just stop you right there,” I said, stepping from behind the dumpster.
“Max!” Dooley cried. “Diego’s been teaching me all about his technique for bagging queens! Isn’t that great?!”
I winced. “Not so great. Queens aren’t a commodity to be tagged, snagged and bagged, Dooley. They’re our fellow creatures and they deserve our respect.”
“What a load of nonsense,” said Diego. “Don’t listen to him, Dooley. You just do what I taught you, and you’ll have the females eating out of the palm of your paw for the rest of your life. Just like they do with me. They’ll just swoon!”
“Well, I certainly would like females to swoon,” Dooley said.
“Just think about Harriet,” I said. “And how Diego has been treating her.”
“Hey, I treated Harriet just fine,” said Diego. He grinned. “Just ask her. She said she’s never been with a cat that made her feel the way I did.”
“That’s a lie!” Brutus yelled.
Diego held up his paw. “Straight from the cat’s mouth, brother.”
“Females are not chattel, Dooley,” I said sternly. “You need to treat them with respect, just like you do with everyone.”
“Don’t listen to that wuss,” said Diego. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Hey, who are you calling a wuss?” Brutus snarled, stepping to my defense.
“You! All of you! You’re just a bunch of pussies.”
Well, he was right about that, of course. We were pussies.
“You take that back!” Brutus yelled.
Diego displayed a wide grin and lifted his paw, displaying sharp claws. “And what if I don’t?”
“Don’t be like that, you guys,” said Dooley. “Diego is our friend. He can teach us stuff. Lots of interesting stuff.”
“Whatever Diego told you, you better forget, Dooley,” I said. “All of it.”
Diego apparently had had enough. He suddenly stepped up and hit me, hard, across the nose. “Ouch!” I cried as blood trickled down my snout.
“See?!” Diego cried. “Your friend is just a dumb scaredy-cat, Dooley. Can’t even defend himself!”
Dooley sat staring at me. “Max? Is he right? Are you a scaredy-cat?”
I would have told him I was a lover, not a fighter, but that just didn’t seem right under the circumstances. Instead, I glowered at Diego. Truth was, I’m not much of a brawler. I like to think I’m above physical violence. And then there was the fact that Diego looked a lot fitter and stronger than me, and I had the sneaking suspicion he was going to beat me in a fair fight.
“Don’t you go hitting my friend, you sneaky snake in the grass,” Brutus growled.
Diego had gone through quite the transformation. His tail was fluffed up and he was making low growling sounds at the back of his throat. His claws were out and his head was down, snarling and hissing at Brutus. Yep. He was ready to fight.
Brutus, seeing this, seemed taken aback. “Go on,” I said. “You can beat him!”
But Brutus didn’t seem entirely sure. “I don’t know, Max,” he said. “He looks really mean.”
And then suddenly, out of nowhere, Diego lashed out, slashing Brutus across the face with his claws. Brutus said, “Eek!” and jumped back just in time to avoid the razor-sharp claws of his opponent, then sat there, his tail between his legs.
Diego huffed out a booming laugh. “See, Dooley? Your friends are just a couple of pussies!” He draped a paw around Dooley’s shoulder. “You stick with me from now on, buddy. I’ll teach you everything I know.”
“Dooley!” I cried. “Don’t go with him!”
Dooley glanced back. He seemed confused and conflicted.
All of a sudden there was a loud CLUNK right next to us. I jerked my head up, and saw that a cat had landed on the dumpster. She was a feral cat, her fur all mangled and matted and missing in parts. She looked like she’d been in more fights than the members of Fight Club, and had a scar that ran through one of her eyes. She looked like a monster. I recognized her instantly.
“Clarice!” I cried.
“Oh, no, not Clarice,” Brutus said with a whimper, and Dooley, too, didn’t look happy to see her. He clasped a hand to his nose, which tended to get slashed every time we got involved with the wild cat.
“Who the hell are you?” Diego asked, giving her the evil eye.
“I am your worst nightmare,” she hissed, slowly moving along the top of the dumpster, her claws scratching the metal. “I am the one female that will never be seduced by your clever lines, your smooth tongue or your treacherous lies.”
“You’re not a female,” Diego said with a careless laugh. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re definitely not on my list. Just look at her, Dooley. Ha ha! Look at that mongrel, dude!”
But Dooley wasn’t laughing, and neither was the rest of us.
“Better hold your tongue, Diego,” she hissed, running a claw along the edge of the dumpster. “Or I just might cut it out!”
“What an idiot!” Diego laughed. “And ugly as the night, too!”
“Max, Brutus and Dooley are my friends,” Clarice declared, quite surprisingly. “You mess with my friends, you mess with me!”
“Well, come on then,” said Diego. “If you want to rumble, let’s rumble!”
Clarice displayed a sly smile. “Oh, you’re asking for it? Well, fine.”
And with these words, she jumped from the dumpster, right on top of Diego’s head. For the next few seconds, there was a blur of activity as the two cats fought. There was a lot of hissing, a lot of snarling, and even more vicious clawing going on. Fur was flying as claws were scratching and hitting their mark.
Then, as suddenly as it had all started, it was over. There was a loud squeak of pain, and a whirr of orange as Diego raced off, his tail between his legs, missing a good chunk of fur and leaving a trail of blood as he streaked off, caterwauling all the while.