Dammit. That’s exactly the last thing I want to hear.
I almost groan. “She does?”
“Yes. I would never leave my princess in such a predicament,” James says, clearly offended now. “The back door has a doggy door for her. Why are you really calling, Sophia?”
I guess it’s time to cut all the bullshit and just say it. “Unlock the door, James.”
His answer is firm and immediate. “No.”
“Let me out! Unlock the damn door!” I yell at him.
Again, he says, “No.”
“What if there’s a fire, huh?” I challenge. “What if Fluffers has to pee or poop? We didn’t bring a litter box for her.”
I know, I just know, he’s wearing an annoying smirk because I can hear it in his voice as he says, “Our house is equipped with a state-of-the-art emergency system. If there’s a fire or another disaster, there are systems in place to protect you. Plus, I will immediately be alerted. You have nothing to worry about.”
Damn him. Just… damn him.
“What about Fluffers, huh? You going to leave her to suffer? Does my cat not matter as much as your dog?”
“She matters,” James says then sighs. “I’m sorry about the lack of litter box, it can’t be helped right now. If she has an accident or something, I’ll deal with it and clean it up. On my way home, I’ll stop and pick up a litter box and stuff for her.”
“Just unlock the door and I’ll deal with it right now,” I say, trying my best to keep my desperation out of my voice.
“No,” James says quickly and firmly again.
So quick and firm, I want to fucking scream.
I start to argue, “But—”
He cuts me off, quickly talking over me. “This meeting shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be home before you know it. Try not to miss me too much.”
Then he hangs up on me.
I stare at the touch screen in disbelief.
He really hung up on me, just like that.
And he’s not going to unlock the door.
He’s going to keep me trapped in his house like a cruel prison warden.
My anger rising and getting the best of me, I begin to contemplate paying him back some way.
He seemed so proud of this place when I was getting a feel for the layout. His chest puffing out with that cocky smile on his lips.
Perhaps I should destroy his shit…
Imagining the look on his face when he comes back and finds everything wrecked has me heading for the meat tenderizer again.
After all, he’s destroyed all my things…
My phone.
My freedom.
My sanity.
It’s only fair, isn’t it?
I bend down to grab the tenderizer and something cold and wet bumps against my arm.
I glance to the side in surprise to see Mitzy peering intently at me. When she sees she has my attention, she starts to whine.
“What is it?” I ask.
I don’t know why she’s taken to me. I’ve done very little to encourage it. I’ve been too busy stuck in my own head or dealing with James to give her any real attention. But ever since she jumped into my lap and snuggled up to Fluffers and me, she’s been glued to my side.
Choosing me over him.
She whines again and starts pawing at my arm.
I shouldn’t feel the need to explain myself to a dog, a dog that’s not even mine, but I do.
“He deserves it,” I tell her.
Mitzy doesn’t agree or disagree with me, she just peers at me with those big black eyes of hers, judging me again.
I feel a twinge of guilt, just a twinge, then I shake my head at the silliness of it.
I’m letting a dog get to me like she even understands what I plan on doing.
Gently I shake her off my arm and fully straighten.
Then I start to march toward the kitchen, purposely ignoring her.
I make it three steps before I hear a low growl and something tugs at my legging.
“What the—”
I stop and glance down to see Mitzy snarling with my legging clamped between her teeth.
“Mitzy, stop that!” I command and give my leg a little shake, trying to get her off without hurting her.
Mitzy growls louder and starts to shake her head back and forth, the little pink bow in her hair swaying.
“Mitzy, stop!” I yelp and resist the urge to kick her off, her sudden aggression freaking me out. “He totally deserves it and you know it!”
Mitzy gives one more loud growl then she jumps back and starts barking at me.
I swear she’s telling me off.
And dammit, it’s working.
That twinge of guilt returns, making me question what I’m doing.
Am I not being a little psycho? I think as Mitzy barks at me.
Will messing his house up do me any favors? Or will it give him even more reason to make me miserable?
“What am I supposed to do then, huh?” I ask, on the verge of tears. “Am I supposed to roll over and let him walk all over me? Am I supposed to just accept this?”