Catsby: A Novel

Chapter 6

Before I'd even cracked an eye open the next morning, I knew it was going to be a rude awakening: I could feel that I was naked in a tubful of ice.

There was also something on top of me, something warm and breathing...and not a woman, like I'd hoped. At least not a human woman. Lima's baby dragon was resting on my bare chest, snoring.

The previous night was a blur. A glorious, drug-fueled blur. I moved the dragon onto the floor. I was worried about it waking and searing my face off, but she didn't wake. Poor thing must have been as exhausted as I was.

As I sat up in the tub, I winced. My lower back was killing me. Of course it was—I'd slept the night away in a freaking tub. I stretched my arms and yawned. In the mirror, I caught sight of myself. It wasn't pretty. The right side of my flank was bruised something nasty. I touched my abdomen and nearly passed out from the pain. I turned around to examine my back in the mirror, and that's when I noticed the six-inch row of stitches.

Someone had stolen one of my kidneys.

I picked my clothes up off the floor and dressed. Thankfully, the kidney thief hadn't taken my most prized possession, as my phone was still in the pocket of my khakis. I checked it. No messages. More disturbing, however, was the time: 7:30 AM. Saturday. That meant I'd been asleep more than twenty-four hours. I'd missed work. Of course. What else had I expected to happen, hanging around with Tucker? He'd partied hard in college, and being a parent hadn't slowed him down any.

I tiptoed out of the bathroom. The hotel room was empty. There was a knock at the door. "Housekeeping," came a woman's muffled voice. It didn't seem possible that such a seedy hotel needed a housekeeper, but I opened the door anyway. I wasn't going to be sticking around much longer. I had to get to a home and see if there was any sign of my kidney. It was always possible that I'd just left it there before this whole drug-fueled adventure.

"I come back," the elderly woman said in broken English.

"It's okay, I'm checking out," I said, letting her in. She propped the door open, and I exited.

I was halfway down the hallway when she cried out behind me. "Wait!"

I stopped. Had she discovered my upper-decker already? "I'm sorry, I—"

"You forget your dog," she said, holding the door open as the baby dragon trotted past her, swinging its tail.

"It's not mine. It's—"

The dragon looked up at me forlornly. She had apparently formed some sort of attachment to me during the night. What had Lima planned to do with her, anyway? A fire-breathing dragon inside a warehouse of dead-tree books seemed like a bad idea. And Tucker couldn't take it in. How would he explain it to my cousin? Leaving the dragon at the hotel was out of the question, because it would probably end up in a shelter. I really had no choice. I returned to the room and found the dragon's carrier, and got on my knees to coax her into it. 

Judi Dench crawled into the cage willingly like a submissive little gimp.