The Cat's Meow

"Not exactly, but I'm fairly certain you're the only person who's actually listening here."

The whiskey was burning through her blood. "You had a woman here before. You left with her. Older than you, and definitely richer. She'll listen to you, or pretend to."

Henry's face crinkled with confusion for a moment before smoothing into a grin. "You mean my sister. She definitely won't listen to me."

"Oh," she said, feeling a little embarrassed.

His grin turned smug. "You thought she was my lover, didn't you. Were you pining?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Please."

"I bet you went back into your corner and cried until they asked you to leave." He laughed at her expression. "I knew you were flirting with me."

"How desperate you must be to think all women are enamored with you."

Henry only smiled at her. She decided she hated his smile and much preferred it when he kept it locked away.

"You never answered," he said after a moment, "about Christmas."

She looked away. "I'm sure Franny will drag me here."

He ran his hands through his hair as if to neaten it, only making it messier than ever. "Time for me to go." He bowed mockingly. "Goodbye, Cat."

*****

Edward ended up not attending Christmas dinner. He sent a letter to her, stating he would be spending it with Richard and Franny.

"I will wait for you to make up your mind a little longer," he wrote, underlining "little".

Catherine's father broke a decanter and her mother went to bed crying.

*****

Henry found her, as he seemed to always find her, the following day. If he was surprised to find Franny standing close beside her, emanating disapproval, he didn't show it.

Franny was more than a little angry with Catherine for not just giving into Edward. She couldn't wrap her head around it. He had money, was decent-looking, etcetera.

"I hope you're not holding out for love," Franny scoffed. "Every girl wants it but you're more likely to become a queen of England."

"I'm not. I just... I want..." But Catherine couldn't continue, because the truth was she didn't want anything. Peace, maybe. She didn't want to be Edward's wife, and she didn't want to be in her parents' home, and some days she didn't even want to be breathing. Catherine's list of things she didn't want was overwhelmingly comprehensive.

"Was Santa good to you girls?" Henry asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

"Afraid not," Franny laughed, unable to stop herself from flirting. "I was on the naughty list again."

"And you, Cat?"

Franny answered for her. "Cat is definitely on the naughty list."

Henry's eyes gleamed a little. "I'm not surprised."

A man approached who looked vaguely familiar. He greeted Franny enthusiastically and Catherine recognized him as one of the men Franny had been with weeks before. Thankful that her friend would be distracted for the rest of the evening, and even more thankful that Franny moved the man to their table and seemed to forget that she was going to guard Catherine and smother her with her disappointment for the rest of the night, Catherine turned to Henry.

"Did you have a nice Christmas?"

"We're not back to small talk, are we?" he asked, but he was smiling.

"It depends." She rested her elbows on the bar and folded her hands, resting her chin on top of them. "Do you have a woman, Henry?"

His smile faltered a little. Good. She couldn't think right when he looked at her like that. "I assume you've heard the rumors."

Catherine just nodded.

He sighed and took a drink from his glass. "No, I don't have a woman. And no, the rumors aren't true."

"I also heard you were owned by the mafia."

Henry looked surprised by that. "That's one I haven't heard before. It's not true, either. I moved to New York to be closer to my sister."

"I didn't ask," Catherine said, even though she essentially had. Henry just gave her a look.

So, he wasn't a big bad man, after all, she thought. She knew that already, but she had been fishing, hoping for something dark and ugly that she could grab onto stubbornly. She needed something to snuff out this spark, this unfamiliar and terrifying and surprising presence of feeling that had grown into a wildfire when Catherine wasn't paying attention.

"Any song requests tonight?" he asked.

"How about 'What'll I Do'?"

He watched her carefully for a moment. "Someone break your heart, Kitty Cat?"

"No," she said.

But they might, she thought. Or she might do it to them.

He only nodded before disappearing in the push and pull of shadowed drunkards.

Billy was at the table when she got there, distracted and seemingly looking for something, or someone.

"Arthur coming?" she asked, taking a guess.

He smiled at her but his eyes remained a little lost. "Doesn't seem likely."

"I'm sorry," she said to him quietly.

"He has a wife. Kids. Another life. I expected it."

"Was it—is it... worth it?"

He shrugged. "It depends on what you mean by 'it'."

"Trying, I guess."

Billy nodded with a grave expression. "Always."

She peeked up at Henry and saw he was already looking at her. He didn't move his eyes from hers as he sang, his voice softer and somehow more beautiful than usual. That mouth, the one that always knew how to snap back at her, twisted up into a semblance of a smile.

They only broke their eye contact as Henry sang, Catherine shut her eyes and let herself something do that she rarely did.

She wanted.

*****

Unlike the last few times, Henry found Catherine again after he sang. He had loosened his tie a little and appeared much more casual than she had ever seen him. He was also smiling, which added to the overall impression. She wondered when he had started smiling so much around her and how she could get him to stop.

"May I borrow you for a moment?" he asked, standing over her at the table.

She stood and allowed him to help her into her coat. Then she followed him through the complicated layout of the speakeasy. Once they were back out onto the busy sidewalk, they leaned against the brick building and watched people bustle by for a while.

He pulled out a cigarette and glanced at her with amusement after the silence stretched for at least ten minutes.

"I think this is the first time I've ever managed to shut you up."

She rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"

He blew out smoke and cocked his head. "You remind me of an actual cat. Have I told you that yet?"

"No."

"Well," he said, looking down at the cigarette, "you do."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment."

One side of his mouth quirked up. "Neither am I."

"Are you drunk?"

His gaze lifted. "No. Are you? You were the last time I saw you."

"Was not."

"You were guzzling whiskey and you looked like death."

Catherine glared at him. "Thank you. Is this how you flirt?"

He laughed. "Maybe." He flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. "Why are you acting stranger than usual tonight?"

A long sigh slipped from her. "Why do you care? I thought I was dull."

"You can be," he agreed. He tugged on the end of the sleeve of her coat and brought her closer so that their arms touched. "Not all the time."

"You hardly know me."

Henry shrugged a shoulder. "Doesn't mean I don't want to. I'm also terribly curious about what you do when you're not here. Do you just go to other places and request 'Stardust'?"

"I would never be unfaithful to you." She could feel the warmth of his arm through her coat.

He smiled at that. "No one can sing it like I can, anyway. And I'll sing you better songs. Happier songs. You haven't told me that you're interested in me. I'm waiting."

"You'll be waiting a long time."

He looked up at the sky and breathed out. "That's okay."

"I'm not an easy person to be around."

He snorted. "That, I know."

Catherine flicked his cold nose and suppressed a smile. It was the first time she felt like smiling since... Well, she couldn't remember. "I'm moody."

"All women are," he said sagely.

"I can be very cruel."

The lightness in his expression disappeared and that focus that he always gave her sharpened. "I'm very forgiving."

She swallowed down a swell of some strange emotion and continued. "I'm not a happy person."

"No." He nodded and shifted closer. "You're not. But you could be."

That dangerous, destructive, delicate feeling of want flowed through Catherine's body and warmed her so much that she no longer felt the chill of the evening. In fact, she didn't feel the brick at her back or the tightness of her shoes or the strange tears that had suddenly appeared on her cheeks.


The only thing she felt was Henry's lips against hers.

*****

"I can't believe this. You're in love with a man who sings in a speakeasy."

"I'm not in love with him," Catherine said, shaking her head at Franny who was currently pacing in her bedroom. "Should we go downstairs to lunch? Mother is waiting."

Franny pointed at her. "You are. I could see it last night. It was all over your face when he brought you back to the table, and I know you kissed."

"You must be in love with a great deal of people if kissing means you're in love with someone."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't get smart with me, Cat. I'm just looking out for you."

"I know." Catherine reached out to take Franny's hand and squeezed. "It'll be fine."

"God, leave it to you to bypass a meaningless dalliance and push straight into a full-blown love affair. I was happy when I thought you would have fun with the man, but I didn't expect you to go crazy over him. Just be careful, Cat, for God's sake."

"It's not a love affair."

Franny gave her a sad smile. "I've never seen you look like you did last night."

"Like what?" Catherine couldn't help but ask.

Franny sat on the bed next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "At peace."

*****

"I would like to take you to dinner this week," Henry said, his back to the bar.

Catherine looked away. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Because I'm a singer? You should know I work in a bank during the week. Perfectly respectable."

That startled a smile out of her. "You work in a bank?"

"I just said I did."

"I can't imagine it. Do you like it?"

"Of course not, but it pays the bills." He leaned closer to her. "You come from a very wealthy and influential family, don't you?"

"I don't know how influential we are, but my father has money, yes."

"So, your parents most definitely wouldn't approve of me." He tilted his head and considered her. "Does that bother you? I could provide very well for you."

"No, it doesn't bother me," she said, and meant it.

His eyes scanned her face, looking for something. Once he apparently found it, he nodded once. "Dance with me?"

She put her hand in his and they moved to the dance floor. A slow song was already playing by the band, and there were lots of couples already moving together in the faint light. She rested her head against his shoulder and marveled at the feeling of being held, tethered, safe.

"I bet you have had all kinds of rich sweethearts," Henry said.

Catherine lifted her head so she could look at him. "I don't care about being rich."

"Only rich young girls say that."

She stroked his cheek. "None of them could sing."

Henry smiled, but his eyes were still serious. "You know, you warned me a lot last weekend but I never warned you. I can be a lot to handle."

She snorted. "Can you? I didn't notice."

"I wanted to be a famous singer. I know now I'll never be one, but that doesn't mean I want to stop."

"Good. I can still visit and tell you what I want to hear."

He caressed the back of her head. "I might have an obsession with your hair."

"My hair?"

"Mm. I could write songs about it, if I had any talent. It was the first thing I noticed about you, I think. And your eyes."

"Well—"

"And mouth. So sweet and so smart at the same time. I like that I never know what you're going to say."

"That's not hard to figure out. It's usually something about how you're a moron. I'm just too polite to say it outright."

He stopped swaying them and stared down at her. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

She could have said a lot of things, but what she did say was, "I'm not an easy person to love."

He smiled. "Yes. Yes, you are."

"I've been to doctors," she blurted. "I haven't always been well. I'm still not well, honestly. I don't think you can fix me."

Henry started moving them again, rubbing her back as they stepped back and forth to the music. "Then let me be there for you. Will you?"

She closed her eyes. "Yes."

*****

"Who knew the way to your heart was being unpleasant to you all the time?" Catherine mused that week as they sat by the window in one of Henry's favorite restaurants.

Henry laughed and took her hand. "I told you. It's that combination of smart and sweet that drives me crazy."

She stared at their entwined hands. "This is real, isn't it?"

She wasn't even sure what she asking—was this really happening, can you love me, will we be satisfied together, does this mean something, will it work—but she figured she would find out once he answered. She lifted her eyes to his and waited.

"It's real," he said eventually, and she realized that was a "yes" to all of her questions. "It's real," he said again, and then he kissed her fingertips.

*****

"I would have made you happy," Edward said once she told him she made up her mind.

He wouldn't have, couldn't have, but she nodded, anyway. "I'm sorry. I truly am."

Her parents didn't take the news of her rejection well. Her mother cried again, and her father raged at her until he withdrew to his study with the expression of one who has been dealt a powerful blow.

Catherine slept well for the first night in a long time.

*****

A few months later, she followed Henry up the stairs to his apartment. Her parents thought she was spending the night with Franny, and they had been so disgusted at the sight of her since the whole situation with Edward that they were likely thrilled to have her gone. They still didn't know about Henry, but she was going to have to tell them soon.

Once he let her in, she inspected the place. It was much like she imagined: an adequate size with minimal decor. It had promise, though, and she couldn't help but picture herself living there, too.

She worried a little sometimes that it was all too soon, that they were moving too fast and that she was losing control, but the concern always vanished whenever she looked at Henry.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

Catherine smiled. "Mind your own business."

He tugged her close and put his nose against her neck. He inhaled deeply, then said, "You are my business."

"I was thinking about moving here after we're married."

Henry leaned back. "I figured we would get a new place."

"Why? This is fine."

"I want better than fine. My neighbor is strange, too."

She smiled again and rested her forehead on his chest. "Whatever you say."

"I should have asked you to marry me from the beginning. You've been much more agreeable."

"You wouldn't have liked me if I was agreeable at the start."

He pulled her hair from its pins. "I suppose I have an attraction to brats."

Catherine shook as he took off her clothes, then his own. He rubbed her arms reassuringly and whispered that he was going to take care of her. It would all be all right.

"Do you still want this?" he asked her, playing with the ends of her hair.

She ran her hands over his chest and admitted to herself that there was no use denying it anymore. "Yes. I want."

He laid her down on the bed and kissed her everywhere, drawing sounds from her lips that she never heard herself make before. He dragged his mouth down the peaks of her breasts, over the sensitive flesh of her stomach, and to the place that grew wet and needy between her legs. When his tongue flicked out, she gasped and instinctively grasped onto his hair. He continued the torment for what felt like ages before he lifted himself up and over her.

"I love you," he promised.

She kissed him. "I love you."

He lined himself up and then pushed in with slow determination. Catherine's legs widened further to accommodate him, and he was able to thrust in more deeply. Both of them made a noise as he reached as far as he could go. He trembled a little as he dragged himself out, then grunted as he slid in once again.

He kissed down her jaw and then whispered in her ear. "Let me hear that smart mouth."

A moan erupted from her mouth and Henry sighed. He moved faster and slightly rougher, letting his hips slap the soft silk of her thighs.

"Henry."

"Yes, baby?"

"I can't... I can't take how good this feels."

"You can."

He reached down and lifted her legs so that she wrapped them around his waist. It changed the angle of his thrusts, intensifying the indescribable pleasure sizzling through her body.

Relentlessly, he pounded into her. The pace made it too difficult for them to kiss, but he kept his mouth close to hers as he whispered all of the things he wanted to do to her, all of the things he wanted to make her feel.

Then he put a hand between her legs and rubbed against a spot that drove her insane. She rolled beneath him, unconsciously meeting his movements with enthusiasm. She was lost beneath him, but she didn't mind. It didn't seem so scary anymore, not with him.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth and everything inside boiled up and over. This was the ultimate surrendering, and that was fine with her. She moaned and pleaded and whimpered as he continued to ruthlessly fuck her, tightening around him as she burst into an orgasm.

Henry gave her so much, she thought once she was able to think again—safety, love, understanding and this. It wouldn't fix her, that was true. She was was still going to have bad days and times when she might not even be able to handle him close, let alone touching her, but he would be there and they would always return to this.

She kissed his ear. "I want to make you feel good. I want you to know how good you make me feel. I want to do this with you all the time. I want to feel you inside of me, and I want to think about it even when you're not. You're a part of me. I want you."

He groaned and nipped at her throat. Catherine held tightly to him as he came, and soothed him as he came back into himself.

"You're shaking like a virgin," she told him. "Was I the cat's meow?

"Smart mouth," he sighed. "Yes."

"Henry?"

He moved off of her but stayed close. "What?"

"Will you sing 'Stardust'?"

"Now? It's kind of a sad song, Kitty Cat."

"Not when you sing it."

Henry smiled at her and twined his hands through her hair. "Okay, I'll sing it. Then I'll sing you a new song."

"A good one?"

"Naturally. A happy one."

And yes, Catherine decided, it was.