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Too Many Cats

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"No. Mi hermano es Leon. He has a friend everybody calls Jaguarundi, because he is like a little jaguar, he has freckles and he screams and bites people in fights. Una de mis hermanas, she had a Paris catwalk name of Pantera for awhile."
He reaches in on Jensen's laptop, types in a careful search phrase.
Jensen squawks. "OhEmGeeee, Cougs!  This sister looks like she could kill you with an eyelash!"
"She used her little fingernail once."
Jake peers up at him. "You're not even joking." He looks down at the runway picture of a severe woman in thigh-high boots, black toreador hat, tight leather pants, and a leather mystery that might be a bolero jacket, a corset, a tac vest, or some chimera of all of them. And yes, the garment looks like it deserves to be loaded down with really classy ammo and butterfly knives and obscure ninja toys. The image doesn't look like Cougar in drag at all. It looks like a universe in which Cougar decided to go transgender with martial arts, up close and personal, instead of distance shooting.
Jake makes a gesture out of wiping off his chin. "Okaaaay, let's just save that little jpg, we'll see what else is on the web under her name later, yes, later, My Preshusss, when we're all alone with the pirate hat... What? TMI, huh?"
Cougar makes a face. "She's my older sister. She collects katanas the way Roque collects knives. And mascara.  Oh, and cat purses."
"Cat purses."
"Purses shaped like cat heads, with cat prints, with fake cheetah and tiger markings," Cougar shrugs. "Also, she knows every pressure point on earth, and she's very fast to use them."
"Oh ho, so she can make life not worth living, huh?  I diagnose a kid who pissed off his oldest sister a few too many times."
"Do not ever touch the purse with a cat on it."
Jake points his forefinger at Cougar. "Got it. I mean, I might implode if I'm in the same room with both of you, but no touching the purse. Got it."
Cougar smiles. "She's also a bodyguard for one of the favorite wives of a Saudi sheik. She taught me some of her Krav Maga, she's a trainer. Oh, and she got me started on semi-pro technical shooting."
"Hey--wait a minute-- culture shock here. She's a Mexican-American girl who works for the Saudis and she teaches an Israeli system of self-defense?"
Cougar shrugs. "She teaches a couple of other systems too. Her wife is from Jordan, she's a translator and history professor."
Jake can feel his eyes glaze over.  "Your oldest sister is lesbian and likes brainy people?"
Cougar shrugs. "We all do. Well, most of us. Except Leon. Which is why his buddies end up in fights."
Jake adjusts his glasses on his nose, frowning. "And Leon's friend bites people?"
Another shrug. "He gets in a tight enough spot, he panics."
Jake is still looking at him doubtfully over the round blue lenses of his glasses.
"They started calling one of Leon's other friends Cheetah because he's sloppy in card games.  Then my second oldest sister decided she had to have a nickname too, something fancy, and she wouldn't respond unless you called her Ocelot."
Jake squints at him. "You're doing that straight-faced laughing thing again, aren't you?"
"It sounds pretty stupid when you yell it in a mall food court."
"At least Cougar is a name you can holler down the hospital corridor, huh?"
Cougar rolls his eyes. But he keeps talking, a shock by itself. He says, "Somebody told my youngest sister she looked cute in fake animal prints and now she won't wear it unless it's all tiger print everything, so they call her--"
"Tigger?"
"No, Pooh.  Because Tigger would be too obvious."
"Too many cats, man."