Bruno and Tabby say that if I am stranded for the evening, I should accompany them to King’s Cross. I suppose that would be better than staying alone in my room at the Cats’ Collective. I hadn’t intended to stay and had only managed to get a tiny attic-type room as the whole establishment was booked out for the start of the Sydney to Hobart.
I thought of myself as walking down Kings Cross in style.
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But I knew little of Bruno the Bruiser or Tabby Thunderbolt. Soon, we ended up in one of their gang’s gambling establishments. But I kept my wits about me. Bruno’s ladycat friend, the ginger with a leather jacket, sat with us and flirted with me. That didn’t go down too well with Bruno. He ordered a round of drinks, and we started to play poker. After one sip of the laced catnip drink, I was alert. I won the first round easily and had quite a pile of credits. That is a common tactic to lure novices into betting more freely.
In the second game, I noticed Bruiser was cheating. I had been taught to play poker as a kitten, so they had the wrong target. I won the game easily, and they tried to intimidate me.
Bruno reluctantly coughed up the credits. It looked like he was trying to get rid of a hairball by his expression. I hastily left after that, followed by Bruno’s glare, but fortunately, the big bouncer at the entrance didn’t stop me.
I was surprised to find the magic carpet lurking outside. It had come to find me as someone from the Cat Collective had been concerned. So I hopped on board at once, and we flew to Adelaide that night after all.
Lynette was pleased that I was home. She depends on me for company. I told her Otto had done well, but didn’t mention my gambling and tucked away my winnings. Cat currency is only helpful in the cat world.
