She scans the room as she enters. Her gaze snags on the doggy corner and her scowl deepens. I block her view and herd her toward the sofa.
“Have a seat. Shall I make some coffee?”
“Yes, please.” She sits down andsqueak!She jumps to her feet. “What in the world?”
I rush to her, but I don’t manage to distract her before she yanks Boozer’s stuffed rabbit from the cushions. I never should have bought a stuffed animal with a squeak inside of it.
“What is this?” She squeezes it and it squeaks again. Boozer barks in response.
“I knew it,” she mutters as she hurries toward the bathroom.
I block her. “What are you doing? You can’t inspect my apartment without my prior approval.”
“Unless you’ve violated your rental agreement, which you clearly have.”
“I have not!” Do I sound indignant? I’m trying my best here.
Boozer barks again and I bite my tongue to stop myself from cringing. I had to fall in love with a barking dog? I couldn’t fall in love with a dog that’s quiet?
Sheena points to the bathroom door. “And you don’t have a dog in here?”
“I’m dog-sitting.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me. “You’ve been dog-sitting for several months, according to the neighbors.”
Neighbors? Ha! It’s one neighbor in particular, and her name starts with M and ends with Melanie. I should have pushed her in the swimming pool in eighth grade when I had the chance.
“I occasionally dog-sit to earn extra income.”
“And you have an entire corner of your living room stuffed with dog toys for when you dog-sit?”
I ignore her sarcasm. “Yes.”
“Enough! I have had enough!”
I bat my eyelashes. “Enough of what?”
“Enough of your lies.”
“I’m not—”
She slashes her hand through the air. “Enough of you paying the rent late every month.”
“I’m not lateeverymonth.” Sometimes I forget to pay the rent. I don’t understand what the big deal is.
“Enough of you forgetting to bring your trash cans inside.”
Who remembers their trash cans?
“And enough of you claiming this dog is not yours.” She pushes past me to open the bathroom door. Boozer runs out and hurries toward me. He sits in front of me and growls at Sheena.
“I want you out of here by the end of the business day.”
My chest squeezes. I can’t breathe. End of the business day?
“I can’t move out in one day! How will I move my furniture and pack my things in one day?”
“Fine. You can have until the end of the week. But not one day more. Do you understand?”
