Cat's Dilemma

The Chicago Tribune where Chris' boots rested blurred as more snow melted. Flick. He lit another Newport cigarette. Smelled like rain. He inhaled the candle sitting on his mahogany dresser. Exhale.

Little circles of smoke blew from his lips. His chestnut hand twirled the cigarette. Dabbing out the fire, he put the cigarette into a maroon ashtray. His eyes had to adjust to the bright gold teeth from Trick Daddy yelling's voice on his Entertainment System.
"People out here new to the game. It's been around fu'eva. They just late on the game," Trick Daddy
blared.

Late? Late? Her period was late. For a very important date, Chris thought. He shook his head and laughed at the fairy tale line.
"I'm tweakin'," he mumbled aloud.

A brown cat with white patches on her head crept around the corner to see her owner. Alexis walked from the mahogany bookshelf she had been sitting on to the black leather couch. A Source magazine fell to the pewter carpet as the cat jumped on the coffee table. It crept across Blackbeat. Right On. and Word Up! magazines. One. Two. Three. The cat's green eyes blinked. Then she jumped into her owner's lap. The paws scratched playfully at his baggy blue jeans and finally rested on his long, slim legs.

A quick "meow" came from Alexis as her owner stood up, causing the cat to collapse to the floor. Five steps and he was touched the crème phone on his wooden shelf. He scratched his doo-rag covering his head's waves. Picked up the phone.
2-2-7-4-8-2-5. The phone rang.

"Hi this is Angie. I'm not available at the moment. Please leave a name and number and I'll contact you as soon as I get the chance. Peace." BEEP! Chris hung the receiver up.

"Why didn't you leave a message?" Chris looked at Alexis sitting on the carpet gazing at him. He shrugged and sat down again. "I don't know. I didn't know what to say. I ain't ready for no kids. Damn. Guess the rubber slippin' off shoulda got me ready for this news, huh?"

"How many months is she?" Alexis scratched at the creases poking out of
his jeans.

"About six," he answered his cat.

"Why didn't she tell you sooner?" She turned to walk towards the television. "Will you turn this off? It's too loud!"