“Come on.” I tug a little bit, but she sits down again, all four paws trying her hardest to grip the cement sidewalk. “Please Lucy,” I beg.
Nothing.
“I don’t want to go in there either, but we’re doing it for the girls. It’s two days and then we’ll be back home.” The dog sitter sounded like a good idea, but I figure if I do bring Lucy and she chases the cat around it’s an easy out for me. Voila, favor number two complete.
Then again, what if I can’t fulfill this favor and he says it doesn’t count?
I shake my head. What are we, in high school? He can’t bully me.
“Lucy.” I kneel down, my overnight bag falling from my shoulder and smacking the sidewalk. I pet her head, staring into her eyes. “Once we’re through those revolving doors, it’s just like home.”
Her head tips down. Yeah, she’s not going for my pep talk.
“Miss?” A man to my side opens up the door beside the revolving ones.
I stand, and Lucy gets to all fours again.
“Please feel free to use this door.” The man is dressed in his uniform that suggests he’s either the doorman or security.
“Thank you very much.”
Lucy actually follows behind me this time. She does love people.
“Who are you here to see?” he asks, rounding his desk in front of the elevators.
“I’m housesitting for Roarke Baldwin.”
“Ah…yes…he mentioned that when he left this morning. He said you’d have a key.” He punches something on the keyboard. “Hannah Crowley?”
I hold up said key. “That’s me.”
“He also said you’d need a dog walker four times a day?”
“Um…” Lucy tugs on the leash and I pull her back so I can finish my conversation.
“The building supplies it.”
“Would it be billed to Mr. Baldwin?” I ask.
“Well, yes, but he’s already paid for it.”
Great, tack on another favor.
“I insist on paying the fee myself.” I approach the desk, Lucy finding a little girl coming off the elevator much more interesting than the desk.
I extend the leash as long as I can get it to reach the doorman, who I now see is Will, according to his name tag.
“I am sorry, but that’s not possible, Ms. Crowley.”
“Not possible? Surely you can send the invoice to me and not Mr. Baldwin?”
He points to the computer screen. “It clearly says here that if Ms. Crowley tries to pay for the service, then I am to politely refuse.”
All I see is a mask of red. I don’t know what kind of game he’s playing, but I’m about to lose my temper. I do my best to hold it in since it’s not Will’s fault.
“Fine, I’ll reimburse Mr. Baldwin directly then. Anything else in those notes of his?” I air-quote notes because him leaving instructions that pertain to me is utterly ridiculous.
“Seems to be about it. He’ll be home on Sunday.”
I nod. “Yes, I’ll be leaving first thing Sunday morning.”
Will smiles, teeth yellow from what I can smell is probably years of smoking.
“Then let’s get you upstairs.” He rounds the desk again, patting Lucy on her head.
Lucy stands and wags her tail confused when he doesn’t stop to let her lick his face.
“I’m sure I can manage to get upstairs on my own,” I say.
“I’ll just keep the doors open for you and press the floor.”
I smile, and Lucy and I step into the elevator, my shoulder killing me from carrying her bed, food, along with my overnight bag. I should’ve said bring the cat to me, but since he mentioned something about it just getting acquainted it’s probably better for it to stay in the environment it knows. Plus, I’ll admit to being curious to see Roarke’s condo.
“Thank you, Will.” I grab some cash from the front pocket of my purse and hand it over.
He shakes his head.
“I’ve already been tipped for the entire weekend. So have the other doormen. Please enjoy your stay, Ms. Crowley.”
The elevator doors shut, and I put the money back in my purse.
“He’s such a jackass,” I murmur. Lucy’s head turns in my direction with curiosity. “Two days, little one, and then we’re down to three favors left.”
The elevator doors open on the eighty-fifth floor.
“What? He didn’t have the extra mil for the top floor?” I mumble to myself, tightening the leash on Lucy as we walk down the hallway.
I keep walking and there are no doors anywhere, no signs to where I need to go, and I feel like I’m walking in a circle until I land in front of a door with the number he texted me. He could’ve given me more specific directions. There’s no way he owns this entire floor. Then again, the man screws rich people over for a living. I know from what I had to shell out to my own lawyer that they don’t need to clip coupons.
I insert the key, Lucy sniffing the door like she’s a drug dog and can’t wait to make her master proud. The door lock clicks and Lucy jumps, pushing it open the rest of the way, running into the condo.
Having her leash wrapped tight around my wrist, I lunge forward. My purse lands with a thud and the contents spill out across the expensive marble floors. My overnight bag drops but luckily my computer is cushioned between my clothes.
“LUCY!” I yell, but she’s running from room to room, sniffing out the cat, I assume.
I think I’ll be using that number soon. I smile to myself as I get up off the floor.
A tiny silver fur ball runs past me and hides under the couch and Lucy resorts to sniffing around the perimeter of the piece of furniture, allowing me to soak in his condo for a minute. It’s decorated in hues of grey, blue, and white with dark floors and huge windows that give a different view from each room.
Bastard might not have the entire floor, but he’s got half.
I set off to explore some more, finding that his place has three bedrooms, each with their own bath and an office that looks like it’s rarely used. A huge living room is in the center of the space and sits open to a kitchen and a long dining table that runs the length of one of the large windows.
Everything is clean and orderly like I assumed it would be. There’s no beer cans or giant televisions that overpower a room, no clothes hanging out of a hamper or dried toothpaste in the sink. A perfectionist lives here. Though I already suspected that about him.
Lucy continues to circle the couch, sniffing for her prey.
I notice a piece of paper on the kitchen counter and so I head over to find a list of instructions in his sloppy man’s handwriting. I half expected it to be typed up by his assistant.
Hannah,
Thank you. As you probably already know by now, I hired a dog walker. He’ll come four times a day and they have access to my apartment so you don’t need to be here to meet them. Also, as you probably know by now, all tips to doormen for the weekend are already paid. Please don’t try to overtip them—they will refuse you.
I make a childish whatever face and roll my eyes to myself.
“Kitty” gets fed twice a day. Soft food is in fridge. Hard food in cabinet. Water obviously.