“The number you texted was not your ex-boyfriend. Believe me, I’ve never had a dog named Lady Featherington, but I have had this exact number for over ten years.”
“Of course this is the right number. I dialed it myself.”
“Are you positive?” I can hear the condescending tone in his voice, albeit with a little teasing added.
I hold the phone away from my face again, staring at the numbers. They seem perfectly correct at first. And then I go one by one again and realize in my haste to text, I inverted the last two digits. I bring the phone back to my ear.
“Oh my God. This is so embarrassing.” I drop my hand to my side and tilt my head up to the sky in frustration.
That smooth laugh sounds again. “Happens to the best of us. I’m sorry to hear you’re having trouble. You said this is with an ex-boyfriend?”
I sigh. “Yes. I’m sorry to bother you. Have a nice day.”
“Wait, please. I’m dying to know how you came across the name Lady Featherington for a dog.”
I let out a breath and laugh about the entire situation. I mean, right now, that’s all I can do. “It’s from a book I read, and then Netflix made it into a series called Bridgerton. She’s this quick-witted and outspoken anonymous gossip columnist. I felt the name fit our tiny Pomeranian, who was quick to bark at anyone who walked by.”
“So, I take it, he kept the dog in the breakup?”
“Yes, that asshole,” I say without thinking twice. I mean, I am talking to a complete stranger. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually so foul-mouthed. And I surely don’t need to bore you with my drama-filled life.”
“Quite the contrary actually. Your text was the only exciting thing to happen all day. So, now that we’ve cleared the name issue, please, tell me about the hole in the wall you referred to.”
I glance around to see a bench and sit down, needing to take a break from life for the moment. Leaning forward, I put my head on my hand while I hold the phone up to my ear.
“I’ll give you the Reader’s Digest version. I was with a guy who said and did all of the perfect things. That was, until he slept with the dog walker.”
“No. Not the dog walker!” he says breathlessly but obviously kidding.
A slight chuckle escapes my lips, and I inhale a deep breath, thankful for the action to help calm me down.
“I moved out because the jerk was moving her in—with me still living there.”
“Wait. What?” Now, he’s not kidding around, and his tone is all serious.
“Yep. He said he wanted to move on and couldn’t afford to live anywhere else. So, as he stated, I was ‘just going to have to get used to it.’ Oh, because did I tell you that he had shit for credit and the entire apartment was in my name?”
“Damn. That’s one shady dude. What did you do?”
“I did the only thing any sane person would do. I moved out. There was no way I could stay there with the two of them. Plus, I couldn’t kick him out and swing the rent myself. I already pay an astronomical fee for the lease on my business space. So, I packed up and took off.”
“But you left without the dog?”
“Don’t even get me started on the dog. He took her when he knew I was moving out. I tried to get her back, but the sneaky bastard changed the locks, so I couldn’t even break in to take what was rightfully mine.”
“Now, you’re homeless, dog-less, and calling him because he’s leaving holes in walls?”
“Yes. Our landlord just called, saying he skipped on the last month’s rent and left an insane amount of damage in the place that I’m on the hook for.” I let out a frustrated groan. “And I’m not totally homeless. I’m staying at my—” I pause and sit up straight. “Wait, why am I even telling you this? I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear all of my woes. Plus, you’re a stranger.” I stand up, heading in the direction I was going in the first place before my day took a complete dump.
“Listen, I’m not trying to be some creeper and get all up in your business, but I am an attorney, and you seem like you have some legal issues you need to work through. I can help.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the offer—I truly do—but I have, like, zero money to hire an attorney.”
He laughs into the phone. “Please don’t think I’m some ambulance chaser who tries at any chance he gets to land cases. That’s not what I’m doing here.”
“Then, what are you doing?” I ask skeptically.
“Well, for one, I’m responding to a text that you sent me. And two, I’m intrigued now, and I feel like the universe is telling me I should help you with your dilemma.”
I tap my foot on the pavement and contemplate his offer. What are the odds that the total stranger I dialed is an attorney who happens to be able to help me with my current predicament? A bazillion to one, I’d guess.
No. There is no way I can work with this guy. He’s probably a serial killer or a rapist. Or has some weird Pomeranian fetish. Those guys do exist.
“Thanks, but I can handle it.” I try to be polite in my refusal.
“If the determination in your voice is like the rest of you, I have no doubt you will.”
I smile, though I know he can’t see me. “Thanks. It was … actually nice, talking to you. Thank you for brightening my day, if only for a little bit.”
“You’re welcome. Can I at least get your name?”
I open the door to the bank, where I was heading, to work on the loan that I’ll probably never get now. “I’m Amy.”
“Well, Amy, my name’s Sebastian Blake. If you do decide you want to take this guy to court, you have my number.”
I laugh out loud. “Yes, that I do. Thank you.”
We both hang up on what was possibly the strangest phone call I’d ever had. There’s still a slight grin on my face as I take a seat across from the banker who is helping me with my small-business loan.
Correction: the banker who was helping me.
An hour after my meeting, I’m sitting in my office, which has become my bedroom since I left Hardin, staring at the screen of my laptop and the funds in my account. I have a decent savings, but if I want to grow Amy Morgana Chocolatier, I’m gonna need money to invest in a multitude of things.
In order to get all that, I need more capital.
The banker said the loan process would take a few weeks. When I asked what would happen if a judgment was placed against me by a former landlord, she informed me that my application was already on the verge of being denied due to a lack of assets. Having anything against my credit would put the entire thing in jeopardy.
I extra-hate my ex-boyfriend right now.
When I left the bank, I called Hardin on his correct number and gave him a piece of my mind. It was no use. He’s moved on, and the fact that he’s held our dog hostage for three months gives me little faith that he’ll do the right thing and fork over the money to Gerry, like I demanded.
This is a matter I’ll have to fix on my own.
Needing some Zen, I put my Spotify on to a contemporary jazz playlist and make myself a cup of tea. I wrap myself in my favorite afghan, blow on the hot mug, and listen to Cécile McLorin Salvant. Sometimes, when I get stressed, smooth jazz, my grandma’s blanket, and Earl Grey help calm me.