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“I’m looking forward to it,” I said.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and as much as I wanted to ignore it and just enjoy my beer, I reached for it. Real estate was not a nine-to-five job. I had to be ready to deal with clients pretty much around the clock.
“Oh Christ,” I said, looking at the caller ID. “It’s the fighting couple. I gotta go, man.”
I threw some money on the bar, and even though Carter tried to give it back to me, I wouldn’t let him. He was always looking out for me.
In more ways than one.
Chapter 9
JAYMA
Hey!” Shelle hollered, running toward me with five dogs in tow. One of the smaller ones somehow got under her feet, but she righted herself just before wiping out.
Who knew the life of a dog walker was so dangerous?
“Ohmygod, you won’t believe it but one of the dogs I was watching got away yesterday. He ran and I couldn’t catch up, not with all the other dogs I had. Turned out, he was rounded up by animal control, and I had to go fetch him before the owners found out he’d gotten away.”
“Good grief,” I said.
“I know, right. Disaster averted. Barely.”
We headed toward the Marina Green, one of the best dog walking places in the city. It was also one of the best places for guy-watching, and guy-meeting. Which was why Shelle liked it so much.
“Hey, what happened to the client who asked you out?” I asked.
“Oh. I haven’t told you about him? He chewed with his mouth open.” She shook her head.
God forbid.
“No second chances?”
“No. Absolutely not. I can’t teach a grown man table manners. His mother should have done that.”
She had a point.
“So, I spoke to someone at the bank,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “No! You did not! What did they say? What did you say? Tell me everything.”
“So I asked them if I could have some more time.”
“Yeah? What happened?”
“The guy I spoke to was a total dick. Said that since I was behind in my payments, he had no authority to change what was already underway.” I felt that damn lump in my throat return. I was getting tired of crying over this shit.
“No way. God, I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there anything else you can do? Can you talk to their supervisor?” she asked.
“I could try, I suppose. Sometimes, I think those fucking banks just want you to fail. Like they get their kicks out of it. I hate banks.”
“I hear ya. Can’t live with them. Can’t live without them,” she said, nodding. Her phone rang, and she handed me the dog leashes while she fished through her pockets.
“Oh shit. It’s the open-mouthed chewer. I’m not gonna answer it,” she said.
I rolled my eyes.
“Answer the damn phone. He’s nice enough to call you, you be nice enough to answer.”
