What if stack had a cat? Like one day while he was out and about doing his rounds, he found a little white kitten meowing in an alley, and he befriended it and took it home
This is freaking adorable as hell 😭
Little Rock, Arkansas, Circa 1931
Elias ‘Stack’ Moore was making his way back to The Blackline as the heat hung over the city, beating down on him something fierce. He had spent most of the day handlin’ business. A shipment needed confirming. Two men owed him money. A supplier on the east side had spent twenty minutes explaining why he was late and another ten apologizing for it. And Smoke was tied up seeing a man about hiring two new runners to travel from Mound Bayou back to Little Rock.
By the time Stack turned down an alley behind a butcher shop, he was ready for a drink and a quiet chair.
That was, until he heard it.
A sharp cry.
Stack stopped.
The sound came again
“Mrrrow”
Stack glanced around the alley.
Wooden crates. Broken barrels. A rusted tub. Flyers for the Dreamland Ballroom. Billie Holiday’s faded picture on the front cover.
Then, he spotted a flash of white beneath a stack of boxes.
Stack crouched.
“Well now.”
Two blue eyes stared back at him.
The kitten looked half-starved. Its fur was dirty. One ear had a small nick. It couldn’t have been more than a few months old.
The kitten immediately hissed.
Stack blinked. “That’s a mighty strong opinion from somebody the size of a biscuit.”
The kitten hissed again.
Stack chuckled. “Yeah. You tough.”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the wrapped piece of smoked sausage from the butcher he’d bought earlier for a little taste until he’d gotten back to see what Aunt Pearl was cooking up.
The kitten watched every movement.
Slowly, Stack tore off a piece and set it on the ground.
The little thing hesitated.
Then, it darted forward and clamped it between its paws, pink beans dirty. It started munching, tiny sharp teeth nibbling away.
Gone in seconds.
Stack tore off another piece.
And another.
By the fourth piece, the kitten wasn’t hiding anymore.
By the sixth, it was standing beside his shoe.
By the eight, it was rubbing against his ankle.
Stack sighed. “Ah, hell.”
The kitten meowed.
“You done made up your mind already, ain’t you?”
The kitten looked up at him.
Stack pointed toward the alley entrance.
“You know I run a juke and brothel, right? Loud music. Drink fools. Women that’ll dress you in ribbons and bows.”
The kitten blinked.
“I ain’t got time for no cat.”
The kitten rubbed against his shoe again.
Five minutes later, Stack Moore was walking toward The Blackline with a white kitten tucked inside his jacket.
The first person to notice was Peaches.
Stack had barely stepped through the back entrance when she narrowed her eyes.
“What you got under there?”
“Nothin’.”
Something moved beneath his jacket.
Peaches gasped.
Cordelia appeared from nowhere.
“What is that?”
Stack groaned.
The kitten poked its head out.
“Mrrrow.”
The women erupted.
“Oh, Lord!”
“Look at that baby!”
“Where’d you find him?!”
“She hungry?”
“Can I hold it?!”
Stack immediately regretted every decision that had brought him to this moment. Within minutes, the kitten had been fed milk, wrapped in a towel, and given three different names.
Stack rejected all of them.
Smoke found them gathered in Stack’s office later that evening. He stepped through the doorway and stopped.
The kitten was asleep on Stack’s desk. Cordelia sat nearby sewing something. Peaches was scratching beneath its chin.
Stack was attempting to read paperwork.
Attempting.
Smoke stared. Then looked at his twin.
“You got a cat.”
Stack didn’t glance up.
“It got me.”
Smoke folded his arms.
The silence lasted several seconds. Smoke staring at the kitten with a peculiar expression. Then, he nodded his head once.
“That’s worse.”
Cordelia and Peaches giggled.
They would not stop hounding Stack about a damn name.
The kitten sat in the middle of Stack’s desk, licking one paw while half a dozen girls stood around staring at it. Even some of Stack’s muscle came peeking in to see.
“You gotta give it a name, daddy.” Peaches said.
“I don’t gotta do nothin’.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “You can’t keep callin’ it ‘cat.”
“I damn well can.”
The kitten stepped directly onto one of Stack’s money books. Stack lifted it and placed it back on the desk. The kitten immediately walked onto the book again.
Minnie pointed. “See? She got personality.”
“Or he.” Cordelia said, puffing on a cigarette.
Nobody actually knew. The kitten was too young to tell.
Peaches leaned forward. “What about Pearl!”
“No.”
“Daisy?” Another girl said.
“No.”
“Snowball?” Another girl said.
“Absolutely not.”
Cordelia laughed. “Angel?”
Stack looked at her like she’d lost her mind.
“Have you met this animal?”
As if on cue, the kitten swatted an ink pen off the desk.
It hit the floor.
Everyone watched it happen.
“See?” Stack said.
“Maybe Lily?” Peaches offered.
“No.”
“Magnolia?”
“No.”
“Sweet Pea?” Aunt Pearl called out as she walked past Stack’s office.
The look Stack gave her nearly sent Cordelia into laughter.
“What? She eaten my scraps I outta give my input, Elias.” Aunt Pearl argued.
“That cat ain’t sweet and neither are you.” Stack mumbled.
Aunt Pearl twisted her towel and swatted it at Stack. The girls giggled.
The kitten chose that moment to bite Stack’s finger.
It wasn’t hard but it was just enough.
Stack stared down at it.
The kitten stared right back.
Smoke stepped into the office. He took one look at the gathering.
“What ya’ll doin?”
“Namin’ Stack’s cat.”
Smoke looked at the kitten. The kitten looked at Smoke.
Then, for absolutely no reason, it hissed.
Smoke raised an eyebrow.
Stack pointed. “See? Mean.”
The kitten puffed itself up, all six ounces of attitude on display.
Smoke nodded once. “Mean little thing.”
Stack looked down at the kitten again.
The kitten looked up at him.
Then, it reached out and placed one tiny white paw on top of his hand.
Something about it made him grin. Not a big grin. Just enough.
“Trouble.”
Cordelia blinked. “What?”
Stack scratched beneath the kitten’s chin.
“That’s the name.”
The kitten immediately climbed onto his shoulder as if it approved.
Peaches laughed. “Trouble!”
Smoke nodded. “Fits.”
The kitten settled comfortably against Stack’s neck.
Stack shook his head. “Yeah.” Looking around the room, he added, “Besides, that what everybody call me when I walk through the door anyway.”
The kitten purred.
The name stuck.
Stack shook his head.
The kitten purred.
Trouble stayed. Nobody ever officially decided it. It simply happened.
A small cushion appeared beside Stack’s desk. Bowls for water and mashed up scraps the girls stole from the kitchen sat right outside of the office door. Smoke was talked into making a slot at the bottom of the back entrance door for the cat to come and go when it needed to relieve itself.
Trouble grew. Its fur became soft and bright. Its ribs disappeared. And despite an entire building full of people wanting its attention, it followed Stack everywhere.
It slept in his office. Sat on his desk during meetings. Occupied his bed when he was away. Curled beside him whenever he sat still longer than five minutes.
Every night after closing, Stack would lean back in his office chair while the cat occupied his lap like it owned the place.
Maybe it did.
One evening, long after the music downstairs had ended, Stack scratched beneath the cat’s chin while looking over the night’s books.
Trouble began purring.
Stack shook his head. “Everybody in this city wants somethin’ from me.”
Trouble blinked.
“You don’t even know who I am.”
Trouble stretched and settled deeper into his lap.
A smile tugged at the corner of Stack’s mouth.
For once, there was no business to handle.
No debts to collect.
No trouble waiting around the corner.
Just a small white cat asleep against him while the sounds of The Blackline drifted softly through the floorboards below.
It was the closest thing to peace Elias Moore had found in a very long time.
—
Just like every night, The Blackline was full to bursting. Folks were stacked three deep at the bar. Saturday night had filled The Blackline to the rafters. The poker tables stayed busy, the whiskey flowed without pause, and not a single chair sat empty in the house. Cigarette smoke curled toward the ceiling while laughter rolled through the crowded room.
On stage, Ruby Mae or “Big Beaver Mae” sat atop the piano in a sequined dress that caught every oil lamp in the room. Her voice slid through the Juke and Pussy Haven like warm sorghum syrup drizzled over cornbread. Speaking of, she had a hefty slice of Aunt Pearl’s sweet potato cornbread in her hand while she sung about a man with a hook for a pecker that ran off with her money. She earned whistles and applause from the crowd.
Meanwhile, Stack Moore was three hands into a poker game. He had a decent stack of chips in front of him and a man across the table sweating through his collar.
Then, Cordelia appeared.
Stack immediately knew that look.
He leaned back in his chair with a crease between his brows and a toothpick resting in the corner of his mouth.
“What?”
Cordelia folded her arms. “Don’t get mad.”
His eyes narrowed. “What happened?”
“It ain’t bad.”
“Cordelia.”
She pointed toward the stage.
Stack followed her finger.
Then froze.
There, perched on top of the piano beside the singer, sat Trouble.
The little white menace looked entirely pleased with himself.
Stack closed his eyes.
The poker players around him started laughing.
“How the hell…”
“He climbed up there.”
“Yeah but who let his little ass out my office?!”
Cordelia flicked her gaze away.
“Let me guess. Liza?”
“She said Trouble kept meowin’ wantin’ to get out—”
Stack shoved back from the table.
"That cat so little somebody could've stepped on him."
Cordelia followed as he headed across the room.
“He ain’t been stepped on.”
“Yet.”
By the time Stack reached the stage, Miss Ruby Mae had already spotted him.
A wicked smile spread across her face.
“Oh, look who’s comin’!”
The crowd turned.
Several people immediately started laughing.
Trouble stood, stretched, and sat right back down on top of the piano.
Miss Ruby Mae pointed dramatically. “Ya’ll know that cat?!”
The crowd answered at once.
“That’s Stack’s cat!”
“Hmm,” Ruby Mae laughed. “Just like Stack to surround himself with pussy, ain’t it?!”
“DAMN RIGHT!”
She laughed and slapped the piano. Then, she launched into an improvised verse.
🎶 I got a man named Stack, lord he dress so clean and fine… 🎶
The crowd cheered.
🎶 But his little white cat run that Blackline better than he run mine. 🎶
The room exploded with laughter.
Stack stopped at the edge of the stage.
Ruby Mae wasn’t finished.
🎶 That cat steal fish from the kitchen, knock whiskey on the floor… 🎶
Trouble meowed loudly.
A series of ‘aww’s’ filtered about.
Ruby Mae pointed at him.
🎶 And if Trouble don’t like your face, baby, don’t come back no mo’ 🎶
People were doubled over.
Even the piano player nearly missed a note.
Stack rubbed a hand over his face. “You encouragin’ him, woman!”
Ruby Mae laughed. “Honey, that cat don’t need encouragement.”
Trouble chose that exact moment to walk across the piano keys. A loud, awful cluster of notes rang through the room.
The crowd howled.
Stack finally stepped onto the stage and scooped the cat into his arms.
Trouble immediately started purring.
“You proud of yourself?”
The cat blinked.
Ruby Mae leaned toward the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, give a hand to Mr. Elias Moore!”
The applause started instantly.
She pointed at the cat. “And the real owner of The Blackline!”
The cheering got even louder.
Stack shook his head while Trouble sat comfortably in his arms, completely unbothered by the chaos he’d caused.
As he walked away from the stage, he could still hear people laughing.
Cordelia passed by and grinned. “Trouble suits that cat just fine.”
Stack looked down at the little fluffy menace.
Trouble looked back at him.
Then, the cat had the nerve to yawn.
Stack sighed. “Yeah.”
The cat had been at The Blackline less than a month.
I think I've asked you or another writer on here this question before but did you write that one Erik story about him having a bunch of subs and one in particular liked to do public scenes at her job in Walmart and an older lady caught them in the bathroom and she ate his ass while the sub sucked his dick
That is @hearteyes-for-killmonger series House Calls
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