all day savannah had been fielding calls from her investors. it was supposed to be her day off. the one day a week she allowed herself to do whatever she wanted for her. it was supposed to be a self-care day, something relaxing. but she’d been interrupted at morning yoga. at her pedicure appointment. at the mall in the middle of trying on a new bra. at the new restaurant she’d been dying to try. and now, as she was entering the dog park with roscoe. she declined the call six times before she finally answered, her dog sitting sweetly and patiently by her ankles while she fumbled with the phone and held it to her ear.
“what?” she snapped, unable to control her rage any longer. “this is the hundredth call today, matthew. i told you that the kitchen would be done on schedule. i told you that we were moving ahead with your fifth change to the design. i have indulged you at every turn,” she seethed, her voice raising with every word. “i have broken my back and twisted myself out of shape to do everything to your liking. well bud, if you wanted to dictate how the house you invested in was going to be done you should have taken up a career as a designer and you should have damn well disclosed it when we signed the contract. you know why i always look for the kinds of investors that i do? the kind you were supposed to be? because the beauty of a silent investor is that they are SILENT.” breathy and seething, savannah hung up the phone and turned it off before angrily shoving it in her pocket.
“holy shit,” she murmured as she bent down next to roscoe, the reality of what she’d just done already setting in.
