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She points to another headset. I slip it on and press buttons until I get someone on hold.
For the next hour, all I do is answer the same ten or so questions about Adoption Day. O n this day, all fees are waived. If you want a cat or dog, you just have to pay for spaying or neutering.
Adoptio n Day is big around here.
“How’s Minnie?” Mar ny whispers between calls, handing me a b o ttled water.
I shake my head and try to drink at the same time. Water dribbles down the front of my shirt. I snort, then inhale some, which makes me cough.
The coughs set off a round of barking from some of the older dogs in the back cages.
It’s that kind of day.
Who am I kidding? It’s been that kind of day since I woke up in Mark’s bed.
And then in walks a new customer.
The last two people on earth I want to see.
Chapter Fifteen
“ Carrie, my dear! How are you?” Dean Landau says from behind the plexiglass. I’m on the other side, at the desk, my headset on, water covering the front of my shirt. Even behind the glass, I feel a massive jerk of terror. My blood rushes to my hands and feet like it’s trying to escape.
I force myself to smile at him.
Claudia gives me a look of such disdainful condescension I want to shatter the glass and punch her with a chew toy.
“I’m fine,” I gasp, still struggling to breath e through my coughing.
“I didn’t know you worked here. Side job?” he asks, gracing Mar ny with a dazzling, charming smile.
I feel her melt a little. No, really. T here’s a puddle of Mar ny next to me, all gooey and sweet e ned by the dean’s attentions. If I didn’t know the truth about him, I’d be gazing adoringly at him, too.
“No. I volunteer.”
His face morphs into something deeply solemn. “Oh, my goodness. What a wonderful example you are to young women everywhere.” The dean gives Claudia a sharp look. “Some people could learn from you.”
Claudia pretends not to hear him.
“How can I help you?” Mar ny asks, jumping up and smoothing her t-shirt.
“We’re here to see the pit bulls,” he answers with a disarming smile.
Even Mar ny freezes at that . Pit bulls are the hard dogs to have at a no-kill shelter. Everyone thinks they’re killing machines. Most of them are sweet dogs. The ones who end up here, though, are often dumped on us by owners who train them to attack and then are surprised when they do attack, and hurt someone.
Then the owners are told by their landlords they have to get rid of the dogs.
Marny’s smile widens. “Oh, how wonderful! What a sweet man you are.”
I hold back a choking cough. “Sweet man” and “sex slave trafficker” don’t exactly go together in my book.
The dean gives her an impatient smile. He turns to me. “Carrie, will you show me your pit bulls? I’d like to pick one out to take home and adopt.”
Now, if the dean really is a drug lord or a sex slave trafficker or just generally an evil, evil man, the last place I’d expect him is at Adoption Day at the no-kill shelter.
P lus, it’s not like he needs the discount on the adoption fees. I’ve grown up with Claudia in my classes most of my life. They’re well off.
My hinky meter was already on because of Mark’s warning, but now it’s blaring.
“I want a go l dendoodle,” Claudia sniffs, clearly disappointed.
“You chose the last dog,” the dean says with a low chuckle. “It’s my turn.”
“Why not adopt both?” Marny chirps.
Claudia gives her such a vicious look of rage that I think I can taste Marny’s sudden tears. “Why don’t you do your job and quit interfe r ing in our conversation,” Claudia says with a snarl.
M arny turns away and picks up her headset, pressing the mute button and pretending she’s answering phones. I know she’s r e ally struggling not to cry. People who volunteer in animal shelters are general l y super sensitive, sweet, warm people who have big hearts. We’re not a c customed to being treated like that .
I
M. J. Arlidge
J.W. McKenna
Unknown
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