Re: Cat + Jack: booze and books
Cat hadn't ever been to school. She didn't feel sorry for herself about it, and she'd built herself up on her own willpower. She'd raised herself above the place she'd come from, and she'd left those gutters far behind her. Sure, there'd been some close calls in the early days. Words mispronounced at charity galas she'd sneaked into, and words misspelled at dress-up dinners she'd finagled invitations to, her in her stolen Manolo Blahniks. Bruce had caught her that way, Ibiza, and she still mispronounced that word if she wasn't concentrating. But she'd managed, throughout the years, to build herself into a woman that was nothing like what she truly was. And, along the line, she'd learned to read, and she'd learned to like it.
"Both, since you think the cautionary tale aspect is the one worth mentioning in your offering," which was a response that hinged on him and not on her. It was verbal chess, but it always was with him, and she preferred the game to the interview. "I think carnal appetites were frowned upon. I suppose they still are, if they belong to married women. Mistresses? Lovers? They can be as carnal as they like, or do you disagree?" Her grin was warm. Baiting.
She chuckled at his low opinion of her consumption of romantic poetry. "Oh, Jack. I am nothing if not selfish and fickle. I see the world through my own lens, and things interest me if I find pleasure or connection in them. I have no interest in things that don't speak to me, and I won't apologize for that." And, truly, she looked entirely unapologetic. "And? I tend to like loss poetry over love poetry, but I suppose they're nearly in the same wheelhouse." She took a sip. "I cannot live with You – It would be Life – And Life is over there – Behind the Shelf."
She thought of warm baths and corners curling from steamy heat, and she chuckled. "Not one of those book purists? Don't write in it. Don't crack the spine. Don't curl the corners." But she was joking. Jack? She didn't think he was a purist about anything. In fact, she thought he probably deliberately eschewed anything reminiscent of purity. "So, how did you fare with the locked doors and windows? Did Jack hide under his bed?"