Excerpt

The green eyes were attached to Bait, who snuck in from the roof. He had found a small area that was strong enough to support his lanky body and allowed him to climb down the shafts to the second floor. A tall, twisted nearby tree provided him the height he needed to make the leap. Only a skilled jumping cat could survive such a distance. Bait was just that cat. Waffles didn’t see him.

Feeling satisfied with his earful, Bait slithered back up the pipes and beams and slipped out of a fourth floor window making sure no one was watching. Then, he snuck out of sight.

In ten minutes he made it all the way to Smelly’s Bar at 56th and 11th. There he found Fidel who was waiting patiently for his arrival.

Fidel sat at the third stool, always the third stool, and chugged his stale beer. His pack of ‘followers’ sat slouched over their seats at a far-off table. Smelly rubbed his own thick stomach and burped loud enough to scatter a large family of roaches hiding under the bar. In the dingy, back corner Thumbs played circus tunes that nobody bothered to notice.

Bait had a stupid grin on his face like a snotty little girl who just stole the neighbor’s doll. He crawled up to Fidel and put his paw on the bar for Smelly to see.

“Hey, Smelly,” Bait said to his fat friend. “Gimme a beer!” Bait kept his eyes on Fidel who pounded a beer in one dangerous gulp.

Smelly poured Bait a heaping serving of foam and slapped it on the bar, causing it to splash in Bait’s face. Smelly didn’t care. Neither did Bait. He would enjoy licking it off later.

Fidel, who didn’t appear to be in a particularly good mood, turned to face him. As he did, the red leather of his bar stool made funny, farting noises. Bait laughed.

“Shut up!” snapped Fidel.

Bait shut his mouth faster than a mouse trap. His eyes grew wide, and he seemed to shrink in his seat.
Fidel slid his beer mug away with his grubby, right paw and fixed his eyes on Bait. He got close enough to be smelled, and asked with a low voice, “So, Bait, tell me, what’s going on out there today? Any interesting ... news to report?” He drummed his jagged nails on his stolen ID tags.

Bait took a small sip of his brew and answered. “Not really, just little things. I saw two sticks lose a life today ‘cause some kid ran over ‘em on purpose with his bike. It was really cool.” He started laughing in a very high pitch. Fidel slapped his paw against the bar and Bait continued. “Okay, uh...I found a new mouse hole for you to invade. And I got into ‘da Factory again.” He took another sip of his drink using both paws and stared at the bubbles.

Fidel choked. “What? You went to the Factory? Without telling me? Are you crazy?” He reached over the bar knocking off both mugs and grabbed Bait tightly by the skin of his neck. Smelly stepped back, and Thumbs started playing faster.

“D-d-d-don’t worry, boss,” Bait quivered. “N-n-nobody s-saw me. Honest, they didn’t.”
Fidel tightened his grip and then let go. He sat back and calmly flattened the hairs on his head. “Are you sure?” he added as his angry eyes began to follow a passing fly.

“Yes, yes, boss. I went in through the roof, like last time. Nobody saw a thing. Stupid sticks.”
“Fine, fine,” Fidel said annoyed. “Just tell me what you saw, and make it quick. I got stuff to do.”
Bait looked over at Smelly who was licking the spilled beer off the bar. As uncleanly as he himself was, he found the whole idea a tad disturbing to watch. “Anyway,” Bait continued, staring at the slobbering tongue. “There was nothing strange going on there, just a bunch of idiots sittin’ around readin’, you know. Oh, but, there was this one cat...” He paused.

Fidel nudged, “Well? What about this cat?”

“Oh, yeah. Anyway, he was sitting in that dumb school room, and they was all lookin’ at pictures of Skid. You remember Skid?” He looked over at Smelly, and they both started to laugh. Fidel sat waiting with an agitated look in his eye. “Okay, so there was this one cat and he seemed, you know, anxious.”

“Anxious for what?” Fidel said as he plucked broken wings off of the screaming fly.

“Anxious to...I don’t know, maybe he was just weird or somethin’,” Bait added. “Dat must be it.”
Fidel bit off the fly’s head. “Will he be a problem for us?”

“I don’t think so. Naw, he’s harmless. He’s just some stupid kid. His name is Romeo. I’ve seen him once before with Queen Elizabeth.”

An evil grin slapped across Fidel’s face. “Oh yes,” he nodded. “Of course, I remember her.” Fidel rubbed his greasy paws together.

Just then, another cat entered the bar. It was dark near the entrance. In fact, the entire place was very dark. As the door opened, a slight hint of neon light from a nearby shoe shop illuminated the curvaceous shape of a cat that Fidel had been expecting. He put down his beer mug and slinked up to the door.

“Raven,” Fidel said with deep penetrating eyes. “Right on time.”

Raven looked up at Fidel with the same probing look. She stood perfectly framed in the doorway. She was a black cat, head to toe, and walked with the kind of strut that turned heads. Her big, yellow eyes were hypnotizing, like the swirly things at the fun house. Her neck was draped in stolen pearls, and she had a piece of stark, white fur wrapped around her shoulders. Her claws were stained a deep red, and they were sharp like needles. “Hello, Fidel,” she sighed. When Raven spoke she sounded like an old silent movie star would, only deeper.

“Are you ready?” Fidel asked, catching a whiff of her intoxicating scent.

She nodded with a nasty wink. Fidel stood next to her like a magnet. He put his tail on her back and the two headed out the door. Raven never took either of her bewitching eyes off of her male. They were almost out of sight when Fidel turned around.

“Oh, Bait,” Fidel said. “Keep an eye out for that new kid, will ya?”

Bait raised his mug and shook his head yes. Fidel and Raven were out the door.

Back at Stick School, Mr. Sox had just finished a long lecture on the history of war. He focused primarily on the people’s war that had occurred during Carnival’s time. Most of the cats seemed mildly interested, except for a few snoozers like Uncle Fred and Calvin. Snickers was busy eating the pastries Darla brought from the bakery. And Darla spent the morning peeing in the litteroom.

As for Calvin, his mind was busy thinking about the coming afternoon. It promised to be a glorious one for him, one that he had dreamed of for weeks. His first audition. Yes, Calvin finally had an audition. All that grooming really did pay off. The audition was for a commercial for a new brand of whiskey. Calvin, of course, was auditioning for the part of the cat. He would race home after school and wait for Lloyd.

But now, Calvin sat at his desk in the Factory and dreamed of being a star. He would be worshipped. Roy and Yellowtail would give him the best fish scraps. Old Mr. Sox wouldn’t bother him with homework. Even the alleys would bow graciously as he walked by, shielding him from the rain with large golden umbrellas. Glitter would magically sprout from his head and everybody would shout, “Hey, wasn’t that Calvin, the famous star that just passed by?” Oh, how he dreamed himself silly. In fact, he didn’t even notice that school had ended because he was so busy gazing out into space. Snickers smacked him on his head and back to reality.

Calvin raced downstairs, flew passed Vittles’ and Waffles’ heavily chained doors and headed straight for Lloyd’s apartment. It was a long twenty blocks away down 54th Street. He knew he could make it quickly, but not by walking. He would have to hurry and catch the Number 477 bus. It’s 11:05 stop was at the corner, only three blocks from the Factory.

Calvin ran and ran tossing mud and street rubbish as he went. He dodged his way between baby strollers and rickety, old wheelchairs. He ran so fast he actually slid on a bruised banana peel and skidded down the 54th Street sidewalk. Up ahead an elderly woman was coming the other way. In her arms were two stuffed grocery bags blocking her view. Calvin turned and twisted his body, but it was no use. As he continued to slide on the rotten fruit, he braced himself for what would surely be a disaster. He threw his future-star paws up over his eyes as he plowed butt-first into the woman. She let out a howling scream as she went flying into the air. Even higher went her carton of milk and orthopedic shoes. Calvin dashed on never looking back, though he heard all sorts of angry sounds coming from underneath the mound of groceries. He huffed and puffed his way through the lunch crowd, finally nearing the corner of 54th and 10th.

“What’s with that cat?” he heard someone call from across the street.

Calvin was only feet away from the bus, and he could already see its enormous wheels beginning to turn away from the curb. The exhaust pipe spit out buckets of its noxious fumes as the driver slowly began to pull away. Calvin, desperate to get to that bus, sprung from his back paws toward it and grabbed onto whatever he came in contact with.

Calvin could feel that his body was on the bus, though he didn’t know where. The wind was rushing and slapping through every little hair on his body. It seemed as though the bus was flying faster than an airplane. Once he realized that his paws were secure, he slowly opened his eyes, afraid of what he might see. When he opened them, he found himself in a much different place than he imagined. He hoped to be near the bottom of the bus, at least that is what he aimed for. That’s where all the cats go when they take the bus. However, his paws were clutched tightly to the bottom edge of one of the windows. They were beginning to slip from the slick grease that clung to the sides of the bus. Yet, there he dangled only inches away from the cold glass. Behind it, face to face, was a very fat, confused woman with far too much make-up and crusty chocolate stains on her lips. Calvin couldn’t hear, but he could tell she was screaming. Her mouth was as wide as the window.

On they went down the street, Calvin hanging on for dear life. He could see his stop approaching by the time the bus driver noticed what was going on. With all his might, Calvin flung himself off the bus as it began to slow down. The people inside continued to scream and point. But Calvin was safe as he sped off toward his building. His front legs were awfully tired and cramped, yet he wasn’t going to stop now.
After a few more steps, he made it. He was facing Lloyd’s apartment. Lloyd lived high up on the sixth floor in apartment 6Z. It would take him some energy to get up there. He followed his usual route up the vines and shrubs and fire escape ladders until he finally reached the balcony of the sixth floor. The bathroom window was open. It was always open, allowing Calvin to come and go, though Lloyd had no idea where he went all day.

Calvin crawled inside with a few minutes to spare. He helped himself to a slurp of foggy water from the rusted tin can on the floor under the kitchen counter. Unfortunately, there was no food in his bowl or his stomach. He couldn’t go to an audition hungry. How would he concentrate? Luckily, as he was wandering about his apartment, wondering how to fix his fur attractively, he heard a scurrying sound from around the corner. He looked, and yes, he was right, a meaty roach was making its way over to a divine looking bread crumb on the floor. Calvin dashed out with the little ounce of energy he had left from the bus ride and got the roach in one whack. One by one he pealed its legs off before taking a big chunk out of his crunchy exoskeleton. When finished, he licked his own sticky paws and ate the bread crumb for dessert.

By the time Lloyd got home Calvin had given himself a clean bath and even found time to take a short nap.