This particular Saturday is my monthly day to volunteer at the local animal shelter with Madison. Of course once the word gets out that a network TV celebrity who saved four orphaned kittens is spending time with the cats at the shelter, the place undergoes an adoption frenzy. Which is the whole point. Since the only people who know me are regular customers, I pretty much work in the “cat room” helping to clean up while providing love and attention to the kitties that need forever homes and will no doubt have them by the end of the day.

And as we arrive, I see a familiar face.

Nope, not a person. A Russian Blue.

I quickly move to the cat and begin to pet it. “Hey, they’ve got one who looks like Gypsy.”

Madison looks at the cat. “Yeah, it sure does.” She points at a kitten. “And they’ve got a pretty tortoiseshell. These cats won’t be homeless for long.”

I grab one of the many cat toys from a shelf, a wand with some fuzzy thing on the end, and hold it in front of the cat.

No reaction. It simply purrs.

“That cat doesn’t play.” I turn and see Terry, the middle-aged blonde woman who runs the shelter. “Very sweet cat but extremely laid back. Just wants to get attention and be lazy all the time.”

I look back at the cat. “Really? My Russian Blue loves to play.”

“Well, not this one. He’s a couch potato.”

“Is he old?”

“Nope. He’s only two and the vet says he’s perfectly healthy.”

“Huh. I figured he’d be just like my cat.”

“Many breeds do share similar traits. For instance, Siamese cats pretty much never shut up. But every cat has a distinct personality even though they may look exactly alike. Anyway, he’s a perfect cat for someone who wants a very quiet pet. Or someone older who doesn’t want a cat that likes to play.”

Madison walks over carrying the tortoiseshell. “This one looks a lot like my cat, but she’s completely different.”

Terry nods. “It’s funny that tortoiseshells often have a bit of an attitude. It’s actually called tortitude. But that one doesn’t. And of course you both have cats that were bottle fed. They’re often a bit different, since they didn’t have a mother cat to teach them and discipline them.” She looks at her watch. “Okay, time to open the doors. And since you’re here, Madison, I’m sure we’ll adopt them all today.”

Three hours later, all the cats have gone to their forever homes. I’m especially happy to know a couple with a spunky little girl adopted the Russian Blue.

***

I SLOWLY CRACK OPEN the door to my apartment, hoping Gypsy doesn’t see me so I can dash to the bathroom and take a shower. To wash off all evidence of other cats.

Basically, I’ve got the feline equivalent of lipstick on my collar.

Alas, the little furball is psychic and is waiting for me on the kitchen counter. And the minute I walk in, her nose goes in the air.

She knows where I’ve been and glares at me like I’m a husband sneaking home from a strip club.

I haven’t told you that she’s a jealous little thing. And she’ll give me some attitude if she knows I’ve spent time with other cats who aren’t her siblings.

If she could talk, the conversation would go like this:

“Well, I see you’ve been out again.”

“Yeah, Gypsy, I had to run some errands.”

“Uh-huh. And would those errands include another cat?”

“I... uhhhh...”

“I can smell a Russian Blue on your breath. You’ve been seeing another cat, haven’t you?”

“It’s not like that. I’m doing volunteer work to help homeless cats. And one of them was... a, uh... Russian Blue.”

“And what’s your relationship with this... other cat?”

“We’re just friends. It’s nothing.”

“Is she prettier than me?”

“It’s a male cat.”

“Oh my God! A male! One of those cats that goes around marking territory all day! And now he’s marked you! I want you to stop seeing this cat right now!”

“He was adopted. I won’t be spending time with him.”

“Fine. See that this doesn’t happen again. For your penance, you will play with me for one hour.”

Gypsy will, of course, “make me pay” for being around another cat. She gives me a dirty look and runs off.

I shake my head as I remove my clothes, throw them in the washing machine with a ton of Clorox, then head to the bathroom for a Silkwood shower.

It’s the cat owner walk of shame.

***

NORMALLY, IT’S NOT my job to plan dates. Usually the guy will say, “Yo, A.J., you wanna see a movie?” or suggest a particular restaurant. But tonight I need something very different for Beckett. And I know this is going to sound ridiculous (for me anyway) but something not romantic.

Luckily, the perfect solution is happening this weekend at my church.

No, I’m not taking him to confession.

Our church is having its annual fall festival, complete with food, rides, carnival games, fireworks, and a little gambling which requires the local cops to look the other way for a weekend. Considering I feed police officers for free and they know I’m a member of this parish, they leave things alone as they practice that wonderful Sicilian code of ethics.

I told Beckett to dress casual, and he arrives in a pair of khakis with a crease that could slice bread and a beautiful red cable-knit sweater. No flowers this time, though I don’t expect the guy to bring them every time we go out. His eyes are still tinged with sadness, though, and it’s clear his emotions are very raw.

He leads me to his car and opens the door for me. “So, where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Hope you’re open to trying some more new Italian foods tonight.”

“Always.”

“Good. You’re in for a treat.”

***

THE WEATHER IS ABSOLUTELY perfect, an autumn evening with a bit of chill in the air and a crystal clear sky with a fingernail moon. The church’s huge parking lot has been turned into a fairground, and Beckett lights up a bit as I lead him through the crowd. Since the parish is predominantly Italian, the smells of our cuisine fill the air along with the sounds of the calliope from the merry-go-round and the clicks from the spinning money wheel.

He smiles as he takes in the scene. “This is perfect, A.J.”

“I never miss the fall fair. I thought you’d enjoy something simple. You did point out that the simple things in life are the best, and we only need what a cat needs to be happy.”

“You’re very perceptive.”

“First, let’s eat.” I lead him over to one of the food booths where they are busy frying up pizza dough. “You ever have pizza fritti?”

“Is that a form of pizza?”

“Fried pizza dough, topped with either sauce or sugar. It’s very different and something restaurants don’t serve. It’s pretty much a staple of any Italian fair.”

“Sounds delightful.”

“It is.” I turn to the woman selling them. “One of each.”

The man frying the dough stretches out two pieces, tosses them in the oil and takes them out with tongs a short time later, then tops one with sauce and the other with sugar. I pull out some cash to pay for them but Beckett stops me. “I’ve got it.”

“My treat, Beckett. Your money’s no good here tonight.”

He chuckles a bit. “I surmise it is pointless to argue with you.”

“You surmise correctly.” I take the two plates over to a table covered with a red checkered tablecloth, then slide the one with the sauce in front of him. “Okay, you just pick it up and take a bite.”

He gives it a taste. “Oh, that’s wonderful. So simple yet so delicious.”

I slide my plate over to him. “Now try the one with the sugar.”

“That one’s yours.”

“We’re sharing everything tonight.”

He tastes the second one. “Oh, how different. But they’re both delicious. I’d have a hard time choosing one over the other.”

He eats half of the one with the sugar, I eat half of the one covered with sauce, then we swap plates. As soon as we’re done, I grab his hand. “Okay, that was just the appetizer. Now you get to try more Italian delicacies that I don’t sell in the deli.”

***

I LOOK AT MY WATCH and see it’s nearly nine. “It’s almost time for fireworks.”

“Fireworks in October?”

“Hey, they’re great anytime. But there’s a special place to watch them.” I lead him over to the Ferris wheel, where I see my friend Frankie, a local cop who is operating the ride. He spots me and brings the wheel to a stop. “All aboard!” He doesn’t say anything but gives me a wink as I get into the car and Beckett slides in next to me. “Enjoy the ride.”

I turn to Beckett as we start to head up. “You like carnival rides?”

“I don’t have the preference for anything fast. Roller coasters make me ill. This is actually the only one I enjoy.”

“Same here. Don’t need our stomachs getting flipped after all we’ve eaten.”

“Very true.”

The autumn breeze hits us as we go up and down a few times. Beckett seems to be thoroughly enjoying the ride, his eyes getting wide when we get to the top giving us a spectacular view of the water. We head up again, then slowly come to a stop with our car right at the top. I hear Frankie yell from the ground. Then I see him look up and smile at me.

“Sorry, everyone, the ride’s stuck. Nothing to worry about. I’ll have it going by the time the fireworks are over.”

As I mentioned before, giving free lunches to cops has its benefits.

I pat Beckett’s hand as the show begins, with the fireworks reflecting off the water. “Hey, we’ve got the best seat in the house.”

“This is truly unique, A.J.” The lights from the fireworks are giving his face an angelic glow. He turns to me. “And how fortunate we got stuck at the top. Interesting how that happened. I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that.”

I shrug, widen my eyes and bat my eyelashes. “Now Beckett, how in the world would I be able to make a Ferris wheel break down?”

He shoots me a smile. “Somehow, I think nothing is impossible with you. Thank you, A.J., it’s really spectacular up here.”

The fireworks are terrific, especially from our vantage point. I steal an occasional glance at Beckett and see he’s really enjoying things, truly smiling for the first time in a week. After ten minutes we get a grand finale, and a round of applause goes up as the show ends.

“That was a great show, A.J.”

“Yeah. But I hate it when the fireworks end.”

He reaches over and takes my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine as he gives me a soulful look. “They really haven’t. At least from my point of view.”

Damn.

I’m about to lean over and kiss him, which I really shouldn’t do, but thankfully the Ferris wheel starts moving and jolts me back to reality. “Hey, how about that, they fixed the ride.”

“Something tells me it was never broken.” We both laugh as the ride takes us down to the ground.

***

AFTER A LONG WALK ALONG the shore, Beckett drives me back to my apartment. He gently takes my arm as I get out of the car, and leads me to the door, then stops. I turn to face him. “I hope you enjoyed the fair. Little change of pace from the usual dinner and a movie.”

“It was perfect. Sometimes the simple things are the best when it comes to putting things in perspective.”

“Very true. I think we all need more simplicity in our lives. Nightcap?”

“I would but I’m exhausted after this week.”

“I understand.”

“A.J., I appreciate your... patience... with me. If I seem—”

I put one finger to his lips. “You don’t need to explain a thing. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

He slowly nods, then moves forward and gives me a strong hug which lasts a long time. He leans back, his hands still around my waist, and I note his eyes are a bit misty as he looks at me. “You’re an amazing woman, Miss Scaramucci.”

Annddd... cue the lump in my throat again. I don’t say a word, just hug him again, lay my head on his chest and breathe in his cologne. He runs one hand across my back.

We break the embrace, say goodnight and I head for the door. Of course he waits until I’m safely inside before he takes off. I slowly head up the stairs, thinking the best end of a date I’ve ever had came without a kiss.