Black Catz

Chapter Seven - "Tight Lips, Healthy Hips"

His father can't just buy him out of anything.

"Why don't you all have drinks. We're waiting for company," suggests Oso.

Noe has a new face to him that he puts on for everyone—when everyone turns to him—that he hasn't put on for me. I hadn't seen it on him, but I had seen it in—and within plenty of characters—in mystery, action, drama, or crime movies.

Not my favorite.

"We're not waiting for any company, sir."

"Shut up!"

Congo hasn't got violent—not friendly wise, at least—in front of me since I've been here, or since I've met him. Therefore, this was new to me: his newly shown friendly violence.

Moritz takes a good one from Oso. It looked like it stung too. It pushes Moritz a good few feet back, knocking him over tables and ashtrays and glass cups.

"Please, sir, we just want my granddaughter back."

"And I said she's not going anywhere," insists Oso.

While the shattered glass frills the floor to create a mixture of glossy, black, reflective, disco-like blades that travel throughout every square inch of the tiles chosen for the platform below us, Moritz shakes himself off, throwing more blades beside him and all around him. In confusion from the hit, he attempts to get up but slips, with his fingers and hands grappling and pressing onto more sharp edges, forcing him to then fall flat, back on the ground.

"Careful—here, here," my grandmother says, taking a hold of Moritz so that he can regain his consciousness, along with his sense of location.

I was right by his side, ignoring Pamela, Fernando, and Noe.

"Are you okay?" I ask first, looking after Moritz. Then I went for Oso:

"Why did you do that?"

"You know you can't go anywhere," Oso says.

"I know, I know. But you don't have to hurt them," I throw back, hugging my grandmother after saying the phrase I so deeply meant, covering her with my arms like a shield that could possibly keep all harm away from her; oh how fooled I've been.

"Ha!" Oso laughs.

I don't know why.

"But they know who we are, miss divine," replied Congo, finally breaking off the hunger for blood that clearly showed itself in the air around us.

"What does that mean?" I follow.

My grandmother gets Moritz up–fully.

And before Congo can give me a more detailed answer, the front door of the bar opens.

And it's not someone I've seen before. I suspect, it may be whoever Oso was expecting before, whoever he was talking about.

***********************

When people leave this place—the bar—I don't know where they go. Obviously, they probably go home. But I don't know if they live together, or if they have some sort of living arrangement.

Is this person that just walked in, that I don't recognize, part of the Black Catz, and I just haven't seen them before?

In the bar, there's about twenty or so people. They're scattered everywhere. Some are by Noe. Others are by Moritz, with their phones out filming him.