Page 10 of The Attack Zone

But I know I’m not being too much. I’m doing my job, advocating for my client. So why can’t I just get out of my own head on this?

Because it’s for Mitch.

And when he said that thing about his mother, well, something inside me broke a little, I think. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Why don’t they talk?

Not that it’s any of my business.

But whatismy business is getting this damn hotel to let us bring rescue dogs for people to be able to adopt right at the gala.

“I understand your concerns, but you are a dog-friendly hotel according to your website, Harold. Why are these dogs any different?”

“You know why they’re different,” he says as if I’m not fully aware that most of the dogs at his fancy-ass place of work are purebreds placed in puppy training before they can walk.

His reasoning is, frankly, bullshit.

“Would you not allow a new rescue to stay with its family at your hotel?” I ask pointedly.

“Well ...” he starts.

“We both know you would. And we both know I’ve provided your lovely establishment with plenty of income over the years,” I say.

What I don’t say is that if I have to, I’ll register these dogs under my guest room at the hotel to make this happen. When I set my mind to something, I figure out how to make it happen.

“Fine, but if there’s damage ...” he says.

“I know, Harold. I read the contract,” I say with an eyeroll. Thank god this is a just a phone call so he can’t see my annoyance on my face.

“Okaaaaay,” he says, long and drawn out, as if he doesn’t trust that it will all be fine.

But I know it will be, and something deep within me is compelling me to get this done for Mitch. Which is a new, strange feeling, and I’m not sure if I like it or not.

“Thank you, Herald. It’s been a pleasure as always,” I say.

“Uh-huh,” he says in a way that tells me he does not, in fact, feel it’s been a pleasure, and hangs up the phone.

I take a deep breath as I place my phone down on my desk, pick up my favorite pen, and triumphantly crossDogs at galaoff of my to-do list for the day. I smile and try to remind myself that I am damn good at my job. Maybe that means being too much sometimes, but today I’m glad I was.

I pick up my phone and type out a text to Mitch to let him know the good news.

Stacey: Good news—dogs are a go.

Mitch: No way.

Mitch: Are you serious?

Mitch: How??

I small laugh bubbles up from inside my chest and escapes my body before I can stop it. No, not a laugh, a giggle. Mitch Greggs is making me giggle. Since when is that a thing?

Stacey: Need I remind you that I am very good at my job?

Mitch: No reminder needed, but remind me about this when we re-negotiate your retainer next year.

Wow. Okay then. I don’t usually increase my retainer for existing clients. One of the many ways I keep them around. But I guess if Mitch thinks I’m worth more (I am) than I’m not going to stop him from paying it. I just have to make sure the organization raises enough to cover the increase.

Stacey: Don’t have to tell me twice.

Stacey: Thanks, Mitch.