Shelly Macon showed up at my door unannounced. "You John Abba?" she asked.

"Depends on who you are."

"I'm Shelly Macon. Dad said you would be expecting me."

"Well as usual he was wrong. I was expecting you to call for an appointment."

"Well if I had your number, I would call now."

"And I would tell you to stop by tomorrow. I'm busy now."

"Well I'm already here," she said in what seemed to me to be a rather irritated voice.

"You know what, I think we are not going to be a good match. Sorry you wasted your time. You really should have called first."

"You are not going to rent to me because I didn't call first?"

"No, I'm not going to rent to you because I'm not your daddy and I don't have to take that kind of attitude bullshit. So next time you want to do business with a grownup, remember we aren't your family. Try to act like you have some maturity, even if it is an act."

"Hey you can't do this," she said angrily.

"oh I most definitely can do this. Now get off my stoop."

I turned, then walked into the house. I closed the door in her face. "Brat," I whispered.

That was just before I heard her say, "Prick."