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Dr. Ambrose White is somewhat absentminded. He has his head in the clouds researching his latest formula. He forgets meetings with his boss, the names of his interns, and basically anything that isn’t really important to him. The one thing Ambrose never forgets is his beloved cat, Kitty.
Ambrose has no idea that the formula he is asked to look over by researchers from another lab will bring danger to the one thing that means the most to him. When a lab accident turns Kitty into a human, Ambrose has to decide if he can do the right thing and develop a formula to turn him back into a cat or if falling in love with the man Kitty has become is more important than his research.
STORY EXCERPT
Dr. Ambrose
White scratched his head as he stared at the large dry erase board hung on the
wall. That didn’t look right. If he increased the protein enzymes by a factor
of six, it would… Ambrose’s shoulders slumped.
It would
be mud.
In a fit
of frustration, Ambrose threw his dry erase marker at the board. This was
getting him nowhere. He had worked and reworked that formula so many times he
was seeing it in his dreams.
It just
wasn’t coming out right.
As a
lifetime of small mutations in the genetic code built up, cells began to die.
These deaths lead to such things as graying hair and weight changes, hearing
and vision impairment, loss of muscle and weakened bones.
Ambrose
knew that the key to what happened in the older stages of aging was that as
genetic mutations or DNA damage accumulated, critical cells began die. If he
could just isolate the cells that repaired mitochondrial DNA and figure a way
for them not to die out, then maybe he could find a cure for aging.
If his
formula panned out, he could begin to think about pharmaceutical interventions
to retard aging by preserving mitochondrial function. So many lives could be
saved or extended. So many people could be helped.
He just
had to get the formula to work.
“Dr.
White, did you hear me?”
“Huh?”
Ambrose swung around to stare at his assistant. He had forgotten that the
intern was even there. He wished he wasn’t. Ambrose always worked better alone.
He hated having people in the lab with him. “What did you say, Craig?”
The
man’s jaw clenched. “My name is Carl.”
“Carl.
Right. I knew that.” Ambrose started to turn back to his notes when the man
snapped his fingers. Ambrose frowned at the disruption as he swung back around,
glaring at the man that so rudely interrupted him. “What?”
“Your
brother is on line three.”
“Take a
message.”
The man’s dark face set in a viscous expression, his jaw
clenching. “I’ve already taken a message, Dr. White, three times. Your
brother threatened to fire me if I didn’t get you on the phone this time.”
“Oh.” Ambrose
twisted his lips together as he lifted books and papers out of the way, searching
around his desk for the phone. Maybe he needed to straighten up a little. His
lab was kind of a mess. “Carter, do you see—”
“Carl,”
the man snarled as he held the phone out. “My name is Carl.”
“Carl,
right. I knew that.” Ambrose blinked at the man as he took the phone, wondering
why the intern was so damn upset. It wasn’t like Charles had some formula that
wasn’t working out. Ambrose wasn’t exactly sure what the man did in the lab
other than bother him and apparently answer the phone. Finding the phone under
a pile of files, Ambrose turned his back on Chris and said, “Hello?”
“Ambrose,
did you forget our lunch meeting?”
“Lunch?”
He had a lunch meeting with his brother? Ambrose glanced over at the calendar
on the wall near the door. His step-brother had insisted that he put one up
with big bold letters so he could read it from anywhere in the lab.
Oops.
He did
have a lunch meeting with his brother—twenty minutes ago. Ambrose’s stomach
clenched with dread. Stefan was going to be upset with him. “I’m sorry, Stefan.
I got carried away on this formula and—”
“Ambrose,
just get here.”
Ambrose
winced at the resignation in his step-brother’s voice. “Here?”
Stefan
sighed. “Upstairs in the conference room, Ambrose. I’m having lunch catered.”
“Oh.
Okay.” Upstairs was good. He could go grab a bite with his brother then come
right back down to his lab. Maybe he could just grab something and come back.
That would be even better. He could get back to his formula. “I’ll be right
up.”
“Take
off the lab coat, Ambrose.”
“Lab
coat?” Ambrose glanced down at the white coat he wore. “Right. I knew that.”
“Just
hurry up. We’ve been waiting long enough, Ambrose.”
Ambrose
stared at the phone after his step-brother hung up. We who? He quickly glanced at the calendar board once more. Nope,
it just said that he had lunch date with Stefan. No one else was mentioned.
“Caleb,
have you seen my—”
“Carl!”
Ambrose reared back when the dark-haired man began ranting and raving, waving
his hands in the air like a madman. “My name is Carl, damn it. Carl!” he
shouted as he stomped his foot against the white tile floor.
“Right.”
Ambrose edged back from the crazy man as he nodded. “I knew that.”
“Then
why won’t you fucking say it?” the man shouted as he turned on Ambrose, moving
closer, one menacing step at a time. “You never use my name. Never. I’m always
Craig or Cecil or some other stupid name beginning with a C. I’m never just Carl.”
Ambrose
blinked. “Do you want to be Just Carl?”
Carl’s
brown eyes seemed to bulge out of their eye sockets for a moment then glazed
over as if the man had mentally left the building. Ambrose was pretty sure that
wasn’t a good thing. He glanced toward the door out of the corner of his eye,
wondering if he had enough time to get there before Chester reached him.
It
wasn’t looking good.
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