I Unintentionally Became Her Kitten

Chapter 70: A Place to Stay

The day was still hot as we continued west, and then she got on a south bound highway.

“Where exactly are we going?” I asked

“The bigger city, I thought,” she told me. “It's coastal so if we wanted to do some beach things we'd be close by enough to do so.”

“Oh… I thought that was just South of your city,” I observed.

“We have to go around the bay,” she explained. “And it’s primarily south-west more than anything.”

“Oh, right, right.” I was tempted to roll down the window and let in the fresh air. But my hair wasn't braided like hers was and the wind would whip it into a snarled rats nest.

She stared ahead at the road for a long while, simply letting the radio play some oldies song.

“Has it really been a decade since you've taken a break?” I asked finally.

“Uh…. Not quite like that. I've had days off, for sure. The issue is that I was seventeen when I became my father's underboss. And from then on the business was my life. I haven't had a day where I didn't have to think about it since.”

Even now we were on ‘vacation’ but this vacation would end as soon as one of the burner phones rang. And we wouldn't necessarily know how bad the situation we were returning to would be.

“I'm guessing your father didn't let you take vacations either?” I wondered.

“Not really. He made a point to text me things whenever I tried to go hang out with friends or simply have some time to myself, so I couldn't just escape this life,” she explained.

“I'd say he sounds pretty toxic but I know he was flat out abusive.”

“Mm… I know I've said the old family tended to prefer him. Ironically that's because I'm more strict than he was.” She was calm as she discussed this, which was a nice contrast to the last time her blood relatives were brought up in conversation.

“Strict as in… sex trafficking and organ trading and those kinds of things,” I followed.

She nodded. “Generally speaking, I try to keep business tight. That means not dragging random people into it against their will, which includes sex trafficking and the organ trade, but also no drug sales on school properties, or gratuitous loan sharking, or contract killing with unassociated people, etc. I'm trying to keep things contained as much as I can.”

“And that's why the police chief doesn't try to lock you up,” I followed.

“Well… yes and also the feds would be the ones to jump on a RICO investigation.”

“Right,” I agreed, though I had no idea what that meant.

She hesitated. “That's what they use to investigate organized crime groups,” she explained anyway. “Racketeering and corrupt organizations. So my conglomerate would be the thing they'd bring under fire if they could get the evidence for it.”

I nodded.

“Which is why no one wants anyone caught because everyone gets paid through it. And if they start an investigation, everyone on payroll is subject to charges.”

“Oh. Okay. I was wondering why no one had tried taking a legal route to dethrone you.” Like Nico.

“Yes it would be like falling on their own sword. And that's the other reason why I'm adamant about not dragging unassociated people into our mess unwillingly. They have much less to lose if they decide to tattle.”

I nodded. “Still… it's wild to me your father was less strict than you but still did some really terrible things I could never see you doing.”

She nodded. “I think… because I've seen some of those terrible things… I won't propagate them. Like how Angela tried to tell you I've thrown people into barrels of acid. I’ve never done that willingly. My father did that and he even made me do that, but it was never my choice. He said it was a convenient means of disposal but the fact of the matter is those barrels smell so bad. It's hard to hide them so yes, one can just dump them into the river after everythings turned to human sludge, but it's neither cheap nor subtle. They test the river water for industrial pollution and I watched them dredge it more than once to try and find what was causing problems.”

“... Right.” My stomach felt a little unsure about that. I had an urge to ask what color human sludge was but squashed it back down into that box for later processing. I still asked. “So what do you do with….bodies?”

“It's graphic,” she warned.

“Uh… maybe another time,” I decided. My stomach was still doing things.

“How about we decide what to eat,” she asked and then looked at the GPS system. “It says we have another two hours to go. Do you want to stop at the next exit and find something?”

I nodded. I was not hungry but hopefully by the time we got to the exit and found somewhere to get food, my thoughts would have moved on.

She pulled onto an exit ramp several minutes later and cruised the main street of this smaller urban area.

“What are you in the mood for?” she asked.

I watched every variety of fast food restaurant slide along the street as she drove.

“Do you eat fast food?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Not in a very long time at least.”

“Hm…” I didn't want her to feel pressured to eat something she didn't like by trying to accommodate me. And then I saw the De Bon Pain sign and pointed there.

“They have good stuff,” I said. Like salads, I thought. I knew Alisha liked salads.

She pulled into the parking lot and we got out. When we walked in, I noticed immediately I still had a weak sense of smell. Usually these places had that warm oven bread smell. That meant I probably wouldn’t have much in the way of taste either.

Alisha examined their menu. “Do you suggest anything?” she asked.

“I’ve had a few of their sandwiches, which were pretty good. But their salads always look really good as well.” 

I considered what the heck to eat. If I couldn’t taste anything, something with a good texture would be ideal. I could still taste some things… I decided on a bread bowl and tomato soup. That would be satisfying.

Alisha ordered a coffee as well, something I decided to replicate and she paid with cash again. We sat at the furthest table in the back corner, where it was quiet. She used a fork to mix her salad greens around, putting the dressing cup off to the side. There were some eggs and chicken and avocado in there. As she mixed, I saw some strings of pink onion pulling around.

“You don’t eat salad dressing?” I asked curiously.

She shrugged. “I got used to going without it and now it's just a habit,” she explained. “It’s high in calories, so.”

“Are you in a healthy weight category?” I asked. She was quite skinny. Not bony, notably, but that could be from muscle definition.

“I maintain my weight when needed,” she explained. “If I start losing weight, things are adjusted. It’s one of the reasons why I employ a chef. I don’t know how to make much. And trying to gain weight on lettuce and salad toppings is a challenge.” She started to chew on some of those greens, now.  

“As long as you’re taking care of yourself,” I said. “I need to gain some weight…”

“I know, Kitten. So eat your food.” 

I nodded and looked down at the bread bowl in front of me. The red soup wasn’t steaming, but I knew it was still quite warm. I took the spoon to stir it briefly. It did have some flavor, I noted. But it was also very warm and soothing and the bread had a nice crust and chew even after having soup in it for several minutes. 

Alisha ate her salad with a fair amount of indifference. There was probably little flavor getting through to her, if her olfactory sense had been obliterated like mine had.

At least she was eating. We hadn’t eaten dinner last night. Or breakfast. It was important that she was restoring her body’s fluids and nutrients so she could heal. I looked down at my hand, still bandaged up. The burning was also itching now, which was annoying. I knew better than to try and itch it but the temptation was still there.

Alisha sighed after a while and sat back against the chair.

“Would you like me to drive a bit?” I asked.

She shook her head. “You still have a concussion, Kitten. I’m sure you’d be fine, but there’s no good reason to give your brain any extra strain.”

“You just look a little tired,” I pointed out. “And you’ve done a lot of driving today.”

“I’m fine. It's only two more hours.”

I wondered if her injury was still hurting her a lot. It must be painful to some degree. Driving might help her feel in control, which could help her be relaxed, even if it was a bit taxing on her energy.

“Well… let me try and find out if there’s a hotel that's easy to get to.”

“With what internet?” Alisha asked.

Right. We had a GPS but it was only a GPS.

“... I guess just let me know if you need anything,” I told her.

She gave me that soft smile. “When we get closer to the city you can help me find a place to stay. It'll be chaotic there. As bad as the traffic is at home, it gets so much worse there. But we'll arrive at the tail end of rush hour at least.”

I nodded. Our city was not known for having courteous drivers.

I started to recognize the scenery quite a while later. I had been to the bigger city a few times since it was a touristy place. It was also one of the most populated cities in the United States. Which meant the traffic was terrible. The stopping and going was making my stomach hurt again.

“What kind of hotel do we need?” I asked, hoping to find one quickly.

“Anything clean and reasonable. I do have an upper spending limit so…”

I nodded. There were famously expensive hotels weren't there? I wouldn't know them, of course. But I would be looking for something more middle-of-the-line. Not too fancy, not too cheap. Alisha simply drove along, calmly tolerating getting cut off here and there, and having to stop and then crawl forward and then stop again. 

We went pretty deep in the city before I pointed to a building. “There's one.” I had stayed in one of the same company and standard, so I knew it was a ‘nice’ hotel by my very middle class standards.

Alisha fought with the impatient traffic to pull to the side and into a valet spot. (Another one of those services I had never used.) She handed the keys over without question and reorganized her purse briefly to make sure she had everything she needed. We didn't have much to begin with so it was not a long task.

We entered the hotel lobby. It was clean, with a modern style to it. Some tall ferns were growing on a divider between the seating area and the reception desk to offer some privacy.

Alisha approached the reception area.

“Good evening,” the man behind the counter greeted her.

“Yes, I was hoping to rent a room for a few nights,” Alisha informed him.

The man looked up from the computer and looked her over and then me. “Unfortunately we only have single queens available.”

I could see the slight tense of Alisha's forearm before she forced it to relax. “A single queen would be perfectly fine,” she informed him.

There was a moment of processing in his gaze. “Oh, my apologies. Yes I just need a form of ID and a credit card then,” he explained, looking a little flustered.

I realized then that this was not ideal. Nico wouldn't have the resources to check every hotel but it was still a liability.

“I have a debit card. Is a form of ID really necessary?”

“Yes, and I would advise a credit card since the incidental deposit is quite high.”

Alisha’s dissatisfied smile returned in a thin line. She reached up to pull her sunglasses off to fix him properly with her gaze.

He looked at the computer screen. “Uh… I need to see ID for security and liability purposes, but I can make a privacy note on your reservation so no one will give out any information to anyone unless the police come with a warrant. And I'll run your debit card, I just need you to understand that there will be a substantial hold on it up to a few days after you check out.”

“That'll be fine,” she informed him and slid the card and her ID over.

I wished I had an ID to use… and a bank or credit account of my own so she didn't have to take this risk.

But this was how hotels worked. At the very least, she had the privacy note. Nico or anyone else couldn't simply call and ask. 

The desk clerk ran the information through. “And you said how many nights?”

“At least three.”

“Alright,” he agreed and did some more typing and then stood to slide some card keys over. “Here's your room keys, that's your room number, and don't be afraid to call the front desk if you have any questions.”

“Thank you,” Alisha finally relieved him of her glare. 

I was impressed that the poor man hadn’t caved more. Alisha was an understanding person, at least. I had noticed this, especially when she was dealing with unassociated people. She listened, which said a lot because many people simply didn't.

I was sure if we were in a higher risk situation, she could be pushy or outright threatening but it wasn't necessary. It was unideal to leave a trail, but probability was in our favor. 

We headed up to the room. He had given us one on an upper floor, away from the noise of the street. The walls were thick so we couldn't hear our neighbors at all either. Which was good because that meant they wouldn't hear us.

Alisha dropped her purse on the table provided with a sigh and then proceeded to wander around the room, checking crevices and in lampshades. She peeled every blanket and sheet off the bed individually to inspect them as well.

I understood she was checking, perhaps compulsively, for microphones or cameras.

When she was satisfied the room was clean, she finally sat down in the desk chair, and crossed her legs.

I swallowed, feeling a little blush as this made the sundress ride up a bit and show off her long legs.

She stared at her purse for a long moment and then finally stood up and retrieved her burner phone from it. She checked it, flipping the screen up and hitting a few keys, but there was no news.

“You should try to relax,” I told her.

“I know that logically,” she explained.

I nodded, understanding and then shifted myself around a little, adjusting my own dress and giving her a sideways look.

“Do you want some distraction?” I asked.

She glanced up and saw me sitting there with my weight supported on my hands behind me.

There was a pink tinge to her cheeks after.

“You are quite a temptress sometimes,” she told me.

“What? I'm just sitting here?” I teased and swung my legs a little off the edge of the bed.

She gave me a sly smirk.

“I suppose you won't mind if I go use the bathroom for a bit then,” she told me and slid into the small side room to do so.

I held back the impatience.

Alisha always delivered on her promises.