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“You, Liz Davis, are fucking right!”
“Hell yeah I’m right!”
We both whooped it up and then I said goodbye. I had a life to rebuild.
“Motherfucker,” I muttered under my breath, trying to get my foot up and over the damn bicycle without falling on my ass for the second time today.
Why did my aunt have a men’s rusted-out old bike on the side of the house but no vehicles? She couldn’t have left me a G-wagon or something? I pulled the sweat-soaked blouse away from my chest. I’d made it to town and back, spending some of the last of my cash on coffee, creamer, a few frozen dinners, and a box of blonde hair dye. Priorities, right?
I gave the bicycle a half-hearted kick and left it leaning against the porch to make my way inside. At least Aunt Maeve had an air-conditioning system that made the insides of this place feel like a meat locker. Florida summers didn’t allow for anything less than arctic. My abused ballet slippers had mud on them and my dress pants had gotten caught in the chain on the way to the market. They were probably only good for the trash now.
I put the groceries away and eyed the other bag of goodies I’d collected on my little trip into town. A place called Sunshine and Seashells just off the causeway had drawn me in against my better judgement. The little Sunshine Key logo of a flamingo standing on one foot on top of the sun was so cheesy it was adorable. I’d bought three T-shirts and two pairs of cotton shorts with that logo, each more hideous than the first. I couldn’t keep wearing office attire here in Florida. I’d sweat right through before noon.
Stripping out of my work clothes and tossing them in the trash where they belonged, I put on the pair of shorts that had the words Sunshine Key stamped across the ass. The matching shirt was a little loose, but I had plans to reestablish my curves while in Florida. I’d gotten so thin and fragile married to Justin. Misery will do that to a person.
Next up, I ripped open the hair-dye box and skimmed the directions. It smelled terrible but the box promised results. Fifty minutes later I was head down in the kitchen sink, rinsing out the bleach and praying for a new Kenna. I squeezed out the moisture with a kitchen towel and headed upstairs for my blow-dryer. My hair looked a little brassy in the mirror, but that had to be because it was wet. Damn, it felt good to be taking control of my life. Even if it was currently in shambles.
Remembering the girl I’d been in college all those years ago, I grabbed my phone and began to play some country music. With the blow-dryer going, I had to turn the music way up to hear it. By the second song I was dancing, mostly using the blow-dryer as a microphone. I’d been a great dancer back in the day. That spark of energy I’d felt talking to Liz this morning was building. I could feel it. My life may have hit rock bottom, but I was on my way up. From here on out, things were going to get better.
I bent over to finish blow-drying my hair upside down. I wanted it to have nice volume, like I used to do when I didn’t have a corporate job and I could be a little wilder with my hair styles. When it felt completely dry, I flipped my head back up to look at my new self in the mirror.
A garbled scream erupted from my throat.
My hair was a tangled mess of orange and yellow stripes. Neon orange and yellow. I began to finger comb it, leaning closer to the mirror, shocked and horrified. It was a hideous color, especially combined with my pale skin. That hair dye had done me dirty. I grabbed my phone and took a selfie, shooting it off to Liz with shaking hands. Her reply was instant. And a total lie.
Lizzie: It’s not that bad. Nothing some purple shampoo can’t fix. At least you didn’t cut bangs.
A loud boom sounded below and then I heard a male voice shout my name. A herd of wild animals began coming up the stairs and I braced myself, hair dryer in hand like some kind of pistol. Then Dec Boggs was standing in my bathroom doorway, staring at me like he wasn’t the least bit fazed by my weapon of choice. His face twisted in disgust.
“What the hell did you do to yourself?”
That was when I burst into tears.
Chapter Six
Dec
I’d heard screams. The kind that curdled your blood and made you instantly envision the worst-case scenario. But none of the blood-on-the-ground, intruder-smashed-a-window, or giant-spider-alert scenarios held a candle to opening that bathroom door and seeing Kenna with a neon halo of hair around her head and a blow-dryer that threatened to dry the sweat on my brow. The T-shirt hung off one shoulder and the shorts showed off miles of milky-white shapely legs. Her toes, however, were painted fire-engine red, a detail that stuck in my brain.
“What the hell did you do to yourself?”
It was out of my mouth before I could pull it back in. The way her beautiful face crumbled made me feel like an asshole. She threw the hair dryer in the sink—a health hazard that actually had me worried—and put her hands on top of her head. As if two little hands could cover all that neon yellow that moved like a beacon as she charged out of the bathroom. Her ass said Sunshine Key, but her dark mood read Danger.
“Arghh!” The strangled cry had me opening my mouth to apologize, but she spun on her bare feet in the middle of the bedroom and cut me off.
Her eyes were wild, the irises dilated in a fit of rage. Her hands left her head to fling out to the sides. God help me for noticing when it was entirely inappropriate, but her breasts jiggled below the thin shirt. The woman was not wearing a bra and she clearly hadn’t learned yet how to dial down the arctic air-conditioning that Maeve had preferred.
“I’m supposed to be getting my life together!” she shrieked. I winced at both the decibel and the clear heartbreak in her tone. “My husband was cheating on me. Did you know that? College sweethearts and the bastard was sleeping with my coworker. He didn’t even have the balls to tell me. I found out from the jeweler where he bought her a diamond bracelet for Christmas.”
“What did he get you?”
Again with the dumbass comments. I really needed to keep my mouth shut. This woman was dealing with some shit.
Kenna inhaled, her breasts pressing against the constraints of that hideous shirt. “A Kindle.”
I grimaced.
“Yeah.” She shook her head. “And it gets worse. That coworker just gave a presentation, beating me out of the promotion to manager.” Her eyes went a little too wide to be sane. “While she was wearing the bracelet!”
