“Mr. Sims?”
He turned back to face her. “You really can call me Thad,” he said.
“Thad,” she amended. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
His hands immediately went to his pockets, but his wallet was there, along with his keys.
Ashanti pointed to the two dogs. “To tell Puddin’ goodbye?”
She had to be fucking with him.
“This is how you develop a relationship with your pet,” she said.
No, she wasn’t fucking with him. She was serious.
“Bye, dog,” Thad said.
Ashanti’s look of disappointment rivaled the one his grandfather gave Thad when he was fifteen and came home with one ear pierced.
He practically growled as he walked over to where Puddin’ and his girlfriend were still all up in each other’s faces. He reached down and patted the stupid puff on top of the dog’s head.
“See you later, you little asshole.”
“Really?” Ashanti said.
Thad shrugged. “Best I can do.”
Then he got out of there before she could hear him laugh.
11
Ashanti pushed her fingers through her microbraids, slightly tugging on them as she chewed her bottom lip. She immediately dropped her hand and reached for the dog bone–shaped stress ball she’d received from a vendor. She didn’t need an early trip to the hair braider on top of the rest of these bills.
Her office door opened, and Leslie walked in carrying a familiar white paper cup with a green logo. Ashanti wanted to tackle hug her.
“Bless you,” she said as she captured the salted caramel latte between her hands as if it were the Holy Grail.
“What had you so upset when I walked in?” Leslie asked. “That was the third time I’ve seen you frowning this week.”
Ashanti took the lid off the coffee cup and lapped at the sweet whipped cream before recapping it and taking a sip.
“It’s been that kind of week. The liability insurance is going up by fifteen percent—probably because of the mauling at that daycare in Philadelphia, even though it was determined that the guy had been harassing the dog. And they’ve discontinued the special shampoo the Martins like us to use on Baxter.”
“Want me to try to find some on the black market?” Leslie asked.
“Even if you could find it, it would probably cost us an arm and a leg.” Ashanti let out the sigh she had been trying to withhold all morning. Sighing made it seem as if she was giving up, but there was only so much she could take. “I’ll have to tell them that they either supply it themselves, or Baxter uses the same shampoo as every other dog.”
“Shelia Martin will just threaten to take Baxter to another daycare.”
“Let her do it,” Ashanti said. “I’ve had it up to my hairline with difficult pet owners.”
Her phone vibrated a second before theStars Wars“Imperial March” began to play. Ashanti dropped her head to her desk.
“Speaking of difficult people,” she mumbled. She sat up straight, lifted her coffee and mouthedthank youto Leslie, and took another sip. Then she answered the phone, putting Anita on speakerphone.
“Hello, Anita, can I help you?”
Leslie backed out of the office, giving her a thumbs-up on her way out.
