Chương 119: Book 4 - Chapter 9 B

Mattie burst into my room after seeing Sam fleeing down the hallway crying. She found me in the closet still holding the painting.

"What did you do?" she accused.

"She asked who the woman in my painting is," I said in explanation. Mattie carefully picked up the painting, examining the woman on it as she dove off a boat into crystal blue waters wearing a bright blue bikini. Then she looked at the others, seeing they were all the same woman. Mattie carefully laid the painting on my bed. She nodded in understanding.

"I'll go talk to her, John."

"Thanks. Let her know that I can paint without her, I just thought she might enjoy watching."

"For a genius you sure don't understand women," she said, and pulled my bedroom door shut. I moved the painting I was holding, and dug back further to finally get the blank canvas. I opened up all the window shades to let the sunlight stream into the room and set up the easel. I had plenty of paints so I started painting there in my room. Mom came in just as I finished painting. She stared critically at it then turned to me as I was gathering my brushes to clean them.

"Jane will love that," she finally said. I smiled slightly, feeling the pain of the moment.

"I think Sam might be mad at me," I told her. She smiled kindly and shook her head.

"It'll be fine, you've been very good friends for a long time. I doubt one misunderstanding will change that."

"Can you give this to her?" I asked.

"I really do need to get back. The next six months are going to be critical." She sat on my bed, and patted the spot next to her.

"Come on, sit next to me. We need to have a chat," she said. I carefully set my paints and brushes to the side, and sat next to her on the bed. She put an arm around me, and pulled me close.

"Samantha, like most young people, got an idea in her head," Mom explained.

"When she met up with reality, it upset her. She's not mad at you, John, she just doesn't understand."

"I can try to explain it," I offered.

"It's not something you can explain. I don't understand this obsession either. But trying to explain will only make things worse. More importantly, you can't just run away. You have to give it to her yourself."

"Okay. If you're sure," I said with worry and regret. She gave a soft laugh, and hugged me tighter.

"I'm sure, John. I'm sure. Now tell me all about the President. What did he want to talk about?"

"I sent him a letter about the Soviet Union and what I see happening in the news. He wanted to talk to me about that, and I needed to tell him about the secret project I'm working on at GA."

"Oh? What's the secret project?" she asked.

"Sorry, Mom, you'll have to wait till January 1st like everybody else. Even the President promised not to tell anyone."

"Really? So what happens January 1st?" she asked.

"I'm going to go on TV and announce the secret project. Then everyone in the world will know. It is exciting and scary all at the same time. It's the biggest thing I've ever done."

"Well, I'm excited for you. I'll be sure to sit in front of the TV all day to wait for the big announcement."

"Thanks, Mom. That means a lot. Thank you for loving me so much," I told her wrapping an arm around her in return, snuggling up against her. She gave me a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"Always, Johnny. Always." I left Tulsa with a heavy heart, but a new goal. It was time to buy some birthday presents. The first was a cat. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. It was a three hour flight to Newark, NJ, where the security company's New York office met me at the airport. We loaded up into a trio of matte black Humvees and headed for Hightstown, NJ. I knocked on the door and a woman with a nice smile answered.

"Hi I'm John, I called about the male cat you have."

"Oh! You're John Cook, the Olympian, right?" she said, recognizing me.

"Yes, Ma'am. I saw a picture of your cat, and I knew I just had to have him." She smiled even wider, "Come in, come in. I have just two kittens. They are F2, do you know what that means?" she asked.

"I do. Their mother was the first serval domestic crossbreed."

"Yes, and Max is likely sterile, you won't get any kittens from him," she said.

"Heldane's Rule, I understand," I said, knowing that there were always biological exceptions.

"The first few generations of males in a hybrid cross are usually sterile."

"That's right! Very good, you must have really studied well to know that." I smiled at her compliment.

"Thank you. I just had a birthday, and this is the present I'm buying myself."

"Well, lets let you meet Max, and make sure you two are compatible first," she said, leading me deeper into the house. She opened the door to a bedroom for cats. Both cats stopped their play and turned to see who had come. I slipped my laser pointer out of my pocket, flashed it in front of Max and moved it to the ceiling, where he watched it intently as he padded across the wood floor towards me. I knelt down beside him.

"Hello Max. You're a beautiful cat. Can I pet you?" I asked him. The laser, invisible to human sight, wiggled on the ceiling and Max nodded his head following the light. The female, 'Kitty,' hadn't seen the light and paid no attention to me. I stroked his glorious golden fur, the black spotted pattern giving him the look of a wild creature.

"Do you want to stay here in New Jersey, Max?" I asked, and wiggled the light so he would shake his head no. I looked up at the lady who was wide eyed in amazement. I gave her a grin.

"I think he wants me to take him home to San Diego," I told her and Max nodded yes in response.

"I've never seen a cat respond like that," she said, then turned and walked out of the room.

"I'll get his carrying case. It'll fit under the seat on the airplane when you take him home." I petted him some more, and flicked the light off. He rumbled into a deep purr and when I sat on the floor, he climbed into my lap. We exchanged breath as he brought his narrow head and massive ears close. Then he curled up, happy to continue to be petted, long legs sticking out over my lap. She returned to find him half asleep purring loudly in my lap.

His childhood kitten fuzz was already starting to transition into a sleek, coarse coat. The massive ears, with a white spot on the back flickered at the noise of her entrance.

"That's lovely," she said.

"Can I get a picture for the newsletter?" she asked.

"Certainly," I told her, as I continued to stroke the beautiful cat. There was no pudginess of a three month old kitten on him, he was all muscle and bone, with lengthy legs. I paid the woman, and gently pushed him into the carrying cage. We climbed back into the vehicle, and drove the forty-five minutes back to Newark. I stuck my head in the kitchen right after take off.

"Hungry John?" Chef Peter asked.

"Of course, but I need you to start planning a raw meat diet." The shocked look on his face was quickly schooled.

"Like beef tartar?" he asked, "or Sushi?" I smiled widely in amusement and his immediate willingness to serve whatever I asked for.

"It's not for me, it's for Maximilian, my new cat. Max needs to transition from wet food to raw meat over the next month and I want to be sure that you have food ready for him."

"Oh, certainly, Boss. I've got that now, if you want to feed him a small bowl of fish or chicken."

"Yeah, go ahead and serve him when you bring me something. I'll be in the dining room. Be warned he's not an ordinary cat."

"Okay, it'll be about fifteen minutes. I'll whip up a nice burger and Belgian fries."

"Wonderful. That sounds great," I told him. The hum of the engines were minimal but Max was already making sneezing noises in irritation at being in his carrying cage still. I opened the door and seven pounds of golden fur exploded out of the crate. He hit the dining table with a thump then went into the air and over the side. The earlier sneeze like hisses became a guttural sound like a tire blowing out at eighty miles an hour. I could hear security scrambling from their preferred seats at the front of the plane.

"What the hell is that? Is everyone okay?" Jack asked with a strident voice.

"All good!" I said.

"I just let the cat out of the cage." He poked his head in the room scanning for threats and a cat. A blur moved over a chair and to the top, where Max halted at the window.

"See?" I asked.

"He's fine. He just doesn't like small spaces." Max gave a baleful glare at Jack, then returned to the fascinating view out the window. I let him be, and got comfortable in my dining chair. Jack just watched carefully.

"Do we need to pick up tranquilizer guns in case that thing turns on us?" he asked.

"He's just a new member of the family. Treat him with the same respect you would any other member."

"Alright, but I'm locking my door at night," he said and returned to the front of the plane. The arrival of my burger and fries brought Max's attention. As did the bowl filled with chunks of raw chicken, carefully deboned.

"Thank you, Chef Peter. This looks delicious," I told him, as Max, with a growling possessiveness, tore into his bowl on the table.

"Is he going to eat on the table every time?" Chef Peter asked.

"Just like any other member of the family would," I agreed.