Free The Son of Someone Famous by M.E. Kerr Page A

room, but I couldn’t figure out what was causing it.
    I said, “You two go right on talking. Don’t mind me.”
    â€œWe weren’t talking,” Billie Kay said. “Dr. Blessing doesn’t have a lot to say to me.”
    â€œThat’s not quite true,” Dr. Blessing said.
    From the kitchen I could hear Adam say, “I don’t care if your package is late. Stop apologizing, Dad.”
    Billie Kay Case told Dr. Blessing, “Well, if it’s not quite true that you don’t have anything to say to me, by all means say what you have to say. You seem to be building up to something.”
    â€œI’m not building up to anything,” Dr. Blessing said.
    â€œI’m getting bad vibes,” Billie Kay said. “I’ve only been here half an hour and I’m getting bad vibes already.” She was still trying to handle the Siamese, holding it down like her hand was a weight.
    â€œI’ve seen a few of your old movies,” I said. “My AuntFaith is a real fan of yours.”
    â€œYou look a lot like your Aunt Faith,” Dr. Blessing told me again.
    The cat jumped out of Billie Kay’s grasp, ran toward the curtains and climbed them. Billie Kay ran after her.
    Then Dr. Blessing snapped. “Leave her alone !”
    â€œWh-what?” Billie Kay turned around and stared at him, as though she’d never been spoken to that way in all her life.
    â€œI said leave her alone !”
    â€œI heard what you said but I don’t believe my own ears,” Billie Kay said. She was wearing this red velvet pants suit and her face was turning a matching shade of red.
    From the kitchen, Adam was saying, “Dad, I didn’t expect you to come here. I know you’re busy!”
    Dr. Blessing was facing Billie Kay, his own face red, too. His hands were balled to fists at his side, and his voice shook as he spoke. “All right!” he said. “I’ll say what I have to say! A cat owner who has scratches on her arms shouldn’t own a cat! A cat doesn’t scratch unless it’s being hurt or terrified! A cat—”
    Billie Kay didn’t let him finish. “Now you listen to me, Mr. Know-It-All! These little scratches are from the game that Janice and I play! I tickle her stomach and she scratches.”
    â€œThat’s your little game,” Dr. Blessing said. “It isn’t the cat’s idea of a game, or she wouldn’t scratch you. You tickle her too hard! How would you like some monster fifty times your size digging her fingers into your belly? That’s whatit feels like to that poor creature! You don’t know how to handle a cat; you shouldn’t own a cat!”
    â€œWhy, you old drunk,” Billie Kay said. “Who are you to tell anyone how to handle anything ?”
    â€œI am a doctor of veterinary medicine!” he said. “And I happen to be sober enough to see why that cat is a nervous wreck! Leave her the hell alone! Stop using her like a goddamn toy! Let the creature relax! Let her sleep without you mauling her! Let her sit for a while and clean herself without you picking her up and messing up her fur! If you want something you can hug and lavish attention on, get a big hound dog! That’s a little creature up there on the curtains!”
    Billie Kay sat down on the couch shaking her head from side to side. “You are something,” she said. “You are something to write home about, Mr. Doctor Blessing! That cat is my treasure. I would no more hurt that cat than I would put my own hand in fire!”
    â€œShe’s not a relaxed animal, anyone can see that,” Dr. Blessing said. “She won’t even come to you when you call her.”
    â€œCats don’t!” Billie Kay said.
    â€œCats do, if you treat them properly. That little thing is practically wild.”
    â€œShe’s high-strung,” said Billie Kay. “She’s