“So what?” I collapse on the cot bed. “Are they keeping me here overnight?”

“The officer who took you in kindly agreed to let you off with a warning if… you apologize.”

I shoot off the bed and grab the bars again. “Apologize? Apologize? They mistreat me. Arrest me for no good reason without reading me my rights. Then they keep me locked in here for hours without letting me speak to a lawyer or make a phone call… and I should apologize?”

“The officer had probable cause; a Miranda warning wasn’t necessary. And since you haven’t really been charged with anything yet, you didn’t need a lawyer.”

“Since when did you become such a legal expert? You’re not even American.”

“I came to the rescue with a lawyer friend. She’s waiting for me outside.”

She? I get a mental picture of a sleek, attractive femme fatale in stiletto heels. Like Kim Basinger in LA Confidential. Another friend.

“So what are my options?”

Richard shrugs. “If I were you, I’d suck it up, apologize, and go home to shower.” He flares his nostrils for emphasis. “But if you want to spend the night in here with your furry inmate and face real charges, be my guest.”

“Easy for you to say. You weren’t mistreated.”

“Now, you’d better decide,” Richard says, turning his head toward the main entrance. “The officer in question is coming. Want me to wait and give you a lift home?”

Hell, no. The less time the boss spends with me while I’m this messed up the better. And I can’t stand to meet his lawyer “friend” in this state either. “No, thank you. I’ll call my roommate.”

“See you tomorrow at the office, then.”

Richard winks and walks away.

Mr. Mutt barks.

“I know,” I say, patting the dog. “I like him, too.”

***

By the time I get out of jail, it’s already dark outside and the animal shelter is closed. The rental company has retrieved the car from the location of my arrest, and there’s no cab or Uber in the world who’d take me for a ride while I’m this dirty. Not to mention the gasoline-soaked pup. Unfortunately, Nikki doesn’t have a car—I only used that excuse to get rid of Richard. So I—we—have to walk home. Luckily, this morning I picked shoes comfortable enough to drive in so they’re not too bad to walk in either, and my house is only a few blocks away.

On the way there, I stop at a Petsmart and buy all the dog-grooming products they carry. At home, I give Mr. Mutt a very long bath. Then I give the bath a thorough cleaning before finally showering myself, hoping to wash away not only the dirt, but today’s humiliation as well. I’m dry and wearing PJs before Nikki comes home.

“Is that a dog on our couch?” my roommate asks as she comes into the apartment.

She’s not wrong. I spent the last twenty minutes losing another battle of wills. It started with me saying Mr. Mutt wasn’t allowed on the couch and ended with the puppy nestled in my lap.