Mr. R.U. Fémos agreed to meet Annabelle, Thatch, and me for lunch at Sardi’s. As soon as I got off the phone, Annabelle excitedly raced around the apartment, chasing Thatch and jumping on and off the window sill.
Annabelle! Annabelle! Calm down, Missy.
My first press agent, she crowed. He’s going to make me a star!
Hold on, I cautioned her. We don’t know that.
I need new sunglasses and a sparkly collar. Will you order them from Amazon? I must look like a successful star. Thatch, we have to watch All about Eve! Oh! and I need a manicure. I would hate to accidentally scratch him when I take his hand.
I want new sunglasses, too! Thatch said.
That seemed only fair, since he’s been wearing an old pair of mine when he suns himself in the window, and they are way too large for such a cool cat. So, I opened the computer and logged on to Amazon.
You want a new collar, too, Thatch?
No, I like my bow tie that Val gave me.
I’m still amazed I’m not a drunk by now.
The week flew by. Annabelle was shampooed, manicured, and waxed into a stupor. A collar arrived from Amazon and she rejected it, then another, and another.
This looks so much prettier online, she moaned. These are tawdry. Return them. Please, Daddy?
She finally settled on the fourth one, with tastefully placed rhinestones.
It’s flashy, not trashy, she explained to me. You see how fine the needle work is? And the placement of the jewels? Mr. Fémos must see I am a kitty of taste and distinction.
Every day, she took the magnifying mirror and looked over her face for any flaws.
It’s my fortune, she told a fascinated Thatch.
Each night – every night for a week! – we had to watch “All About Eve.”
Margo Channing is the perfect star! she told Thatch and me. I’m making her my role model. Would you roll that back a bit? I don’t want to miss how she’s holding her glass at the party.
As soon as she was occupied with the Backstage casting notices, sleeping, or chatting with the pigeons on the fire escape, Thatch and I caught a breath and talked.
Are real stars this crazy? he asked me.
Well, some are. I don’t know any of the really crazy ones, and I don’t want to. I’ve worked with three insane ladies and I never will again. They drove me crazy. Do you remember that soprano Joyce on the first floor? The one who got married and moved out?
The singer?
Yep. She had horror stories about this opera star she covered at the Met. The star was rude and terrible to everyone. Every rehearsal turned into a tantrum. She finally got so crazy they sacked her. I have a friend who used to be her manager at Columbia Artists. He’s still in a padded cell.
Is Annabelle rude?
No, Thatch. Just demanding. I think she’s really too sweet to be rude.
She can be selfish.
Remember, she’s really excited and a bit scared about this meeting with a press agent, and she wants it to go well for her.
Thatch! Annabelle called.
And we let her get away with it because we love her? he asked me.
We do, don’t we? And don’t we want to see her accomplish her dreams?
We do, he agreed.
Let’s just see what we learn at this interview. R.U. Fémos has a good reputation, so we’ll see if he can promote Annabelle.
Thatch! Annabelle’s call had an edge this time.
I think Missy needs you, Thatcher.
She wants to look over my wardrobe choices. She says her personal assistant can’t look like an alley cat.
Just before we got to the door of Sardi’s, we ran into my dear friend Rebecca Luker, so I made introductions.
Oh! Miss Luker, you are a true artiste! Annabelle said before she dropped to the sidewalk in an elaborate, over-wrought curtsy. Her kowtow was so violent that her sunglasses fell onto the sidewalk with a clatter.
Damn! she exclaimed.
I reached down and picked up her sunglasses.
Annabelle! I said, Watch your language. You’re too young to cuss.
Sorry, Daddy, she said humbly. Miss Luker, I am humbled by your beauty and talent.
Rebecca rolled her eyes at me, laughed, and graciously thanked her.
I put the sunglasses back on her head.
Thatch simply said, Call me Ninja Cat! His sunglasses stayed in place.
Well, hello, Ninja Cat! Aren’t you a pretty kitty? she said to him. I like your bow tie.
While Thatch blushed and giggled, I told her about our date with Mr. Fémos.
Oh, he’s very good. I’ve used him a couple of times, but he’s got one client who keeps him on speed dial.
I mentioned her name.
He won her that Tony! Rebecca whispered to me.
We said goodbye. She was on a rehearsal break, and I was thinking, I don’t want us to be too fashionably late and I do hope Sardi’s has Fancy Feast on their menu.
We made quite an entrance into Sardi’s. As the maitre d’ led us to our table, Annabelle was doing her best Margo Channing impersonation, coolly casing the room, while Thatch and I followed sedately behind. The room was buzzing, who is she?
R.U. Fémos was already at the table. He was reading messages on his phone when we arrived.
She drives me crazy, he muttered as he closed his phone. He looked at me closely.
Miss Annabelle? he asked.
Yes, Annabelle said in her most gracious voice.
You? You’re a cat? He seemed a bit stunned.
I am a star, she replied. And, yes, I am a cat.
Oh, thank God. I thought Miss Annabelle was going to be a drag queen.
Annabelle graciously laughed. I don’t think she knows what a drag queen is.
Oh, no, she simpered, Miss Annabelle is a simple little tabby.
Thatch and I laughed at that. Simple? She gave us a look before she graciously turned back to Mr. Fémos.
This is Mr. Moore, my manager . . .
Yes! After we spoke, I thought I recognized your name! I have some of your recordings for Bruce Kimmel, he told me as I shook his hand.
. . . and my personal assistant, Thatch, she said, ending that conversation.
It’s a pleasure to meet you, Thatch said to him. He then went back to studying the menu.
So, Mr. Fémos, my manager and I want to know what you can do to promote my career.
There was a long pause as Mr. Fémos stared at her.
Honestly, Miss Annabelle-
Oh, just call me Annabelle, she purred.
All right, Annabelle it is! I have a client who keeps me very busy, but I’m very interested in representing you. This will be a good challenge. I’ve never represented a cat before.
I’m counting on you to make me a household name.
Hell, he said, if I can win that bitch a Tony Award, I can get you an Oscar!
Her eyes sparkling brighter than her bejeweled collar, Annabelle beamed.
I like you, she said. Tell us more!
©2018, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 