Chapter 5
It’s been two days since I kissed a stranger. And I’m still as annoyed as ever. And possibly still dreaming of that kiss. Every time I close my eyes he’s there again. Large hands encircling my waist, warm lips exploring mine.
But I have yet to find him again in real life. Turns out a woman can’t go down to her local precinct and request to see a lineup of all the attractive detectives with brown hair and muscles for days. Ask me how I know.
Maddie was right to not join me in this effort. It’s a fool’s errand, but I cling to it like Shawn Spencer clings to the claim that he’s a psychic. (The real Shawn, not the dog.)
I turn on some music to get ready for the day. Taylor Swift, of course, because it’s the only choice, but my thumb hovers over the dating app. I’ve purposely avoided it, certain the man I was supposed to meet saw me with another guy and got the hint.
Which is for the best. I’m not into this whole online dating thing. I need someone with more adventure, more mystery, specifically in the form of a handsome detective.
I click on the app, intent on deleting my account when a message from Chad catches my eye from the morning after our not date.
Chad: I must have missed you last night. Would you like to try again this weekend, beautiful?
I rub my blurry morning eyes. Am I reading that right?
I stood him up. No worse, I cheated on him before I even met him and he still wants to go on a date with me?
My thumb hovers over the keyboard, my brain at a loss. Do I want to try another date with Chad? I feel like I owe it to him after standing him up.
But that’s where my brain gets stuck because what I really want to do is find the man who wants nothing to do with me. What’s wrong with me? There’s a perfectly nice man on the internet who wants to get to know me and probably not kill me.
Amelia:I’d love to.
There, my conscience can rest now.
After getting ready I feed Shawn and Gus and leave them with strict instructions not to get into trouble while I’m gone.
My phone rings as I pull out of my apartment complex.
I don’t look before I answer.
“Millie? You answered.”
My skin crawls at the all-too-familiar and annoying voice greeting me.
“Justin, stop contacting me.”
“Millie, baby, please don’t hang up. I need to talk to you.” His voice is pathetic, desperate really. It’s been months since we broke up. But I’m not ready to “talk” like we are old friends. He hurt me, and I’m over it, end of story.
“I’m not getting back together with you. You can delete my number, I’m done.”
“But I haven’t seen you in ages. I tried going by your house last week, but you weren’t there.”
I slam on my brakes to avoid a collision with the Oldsmobile in front of me.
He went by my parents” place? We broke up before Connor and I decided to sell the house, so I guess he doesn’t know that I no longer live there.
“And you haven’t been into the salon,” he continues.
Something about his words lifts the hair on my neck. Why is he looking for me? My new apartment is more than forty-five minutes from my old salon so I switched to a different one. One he also doesn’t need to know about.
“They said you don’t work there anymore. Why did you quit? I thought you loved it.”
And that right there explains everything about why we failed. He never knew the real me, the me who is nearly thirty years old and still can’t figure out what fills my soul with contentment. I love my job and my clients. I really do. But one kiss with a hot detective was all it took to make me feel unsettled.
“Sorry, you keep missing me but it’s really for the best. I don’t want you in my life.”
“You don’t mean that.” His voice takes on a hard edge. The Justin I knew was always chill. Didn’t have a care in the world. But this one sounds frustrated on too many levels.
I can’t feel bad about that. I won’t allow him room in my head or heart to hurt me again. He’s not my problem anymore.
“I do,” I say.
“Okay.” He mutters unintelligible words for ten whole seconds in which I could have been listening to Taylor Swift’s poetic masterpieces. What a travesty.
Justin clears his throat, seeming to come back to himself. “You need some space. I get it.”
“No, Justin. I’m done. Plain and simple. I’m sorry. I hope you find the woman you’re looking for.”
“But I’m looking for you!” he nearly yells.
I don’t appreciate the tone of his voice so I punch the end button. He immediately calls back, but I let it go straight to voicemail as I park in front of my place of employment. The neon green words mocking me to “Curl Up and Dye”.
And so begins another day in Amelia Quinn’s unfulfilled life.
Thatshould be a movie title.
There are several people here, already undergoing different kinds of treatments. But my friend and coworker, Leah, is sitting alone at the bright pink upright desk that boasts a picture of a skull with open shears in an X beneath it.
“Hey girl,” Leah greets me when I fail to greet her first. “How was the date Friday?”
“I wish I could tell you.” I open the door to the color room and she follows me. “I’m not really sure, since I stole someone else’s.”
She runs a hand through her platinum-blonde hair. “That sounds like an interesting story.”
“It was… something.” I press my key into my locker and twist. Whatever this place was before it became a salon didn’t cut corners on security. I feel like I’m trying to break into a bank vault with how many different ways I have to shimmy and nudge the door. It finally pops open and I shove my purse inside. “It was mostly just a case of stupidity. Star of the show: me.”
“Ah, come on, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
I consider this. “Well, it did end with a kiss.”
Her brows furrow. “I thought you met the wrong man.”
“I did.” I pinch my lips together attempting to ward off the heat crawling up my neck.
She shakes her head, a huge smile growing on her face. “Okay, you’re so coming out with me tonight and you’re going to teach me how to do that.”
“How to kiss strangers?”
“Yes. If that’s what it takes. Karaoke and kissing strangers sounds like the perfect Monday night.” She pouts her perfectly plump bottom lip. “Please? I’ve been in a rut since my last boyfriend dumped me.”
I’ve only known Leah for about a month, which was about two months after she broke up with said boyfriend, but I’ve heard enough about Johnny to know he was a piece of trash and ruined the poor girl’s self-esteem.
“Let’s do it.” Karaoke could be exactly what I need.
Karaoke is not what I need. I need an Excedrin.
I take off my baseball hat—I’m not sure why I wore it in the first place—and down my water.
This karaoke bar has got to be the hottest place in Phoenix right now with all the bodies crammed in here like sardines. The lights are too bright and too flashy, and I’m sweating in places I didn’t know could sweat.
Apparently, I’ve turned into a grumpy old woman at the ripe age of twenty-eight.
I turn around, looking for Leah, but find one of her friends instead. Derek. He looks like he barely graduated high school and has the acne and glasses to prove it. He’s been glued to my side since I got here. I thought it was only going to be me and Leah until a group of ten welcomed us into their sweaty, under-deodorized underarms.
“Can I get you a drink?” Derek asks, pushing his glasses up his nose.
I study the shaving cuts on his jaw and the shoes that look two sizes too big for his body. “I don’t know, can you?” I didn’t mean to sound so rude. It was a legitimate question.
“Watch and learn.” He rolls back his shoulders, and swaggers toward the bar.
“I’m sorry about him.” Leah grabs my arm the second he’s gone. “He’s Brock’s little brother. He’s a good kid, but he doesn’t know how to take a hint.”
“I was beginning to wonder if you thought I was a cougar.”
Leah tosses her head back with a laugh. She’s three drinks in but not tipsy at all.
I’m zero drinks in and already struggling to stay upright. Balance is not my friend. Sober or not.
“Come on, let’s get on the singing queue,” Leah says. We head up to the stage and spend the next five minutes looking through the songbook. We finally decide on a Dua Lipa song and wait for our turn offstage.
“Are you a good singer?” Leah asks as the couple before us finishes out their song.
“Not at all. Isn’t that the point?”
Leah looks a little concerned by my response. And when she starts singing, I can see why. She’s flawless. Oh well. I come in on my cue, completely startling her into silence with my atrocious vocals. But she recovers and joins in with a grin.
That’s the spirit. Or the alcohol.
I take her hand and we belt out the chorus.
The crowd is no doubt clapping for her, but I eat it up anyway. This feels good. Justin never wanted to do this with me. He hated it when I tried to sing. But me being in front of people singing like a wild banshee? He would have had a stroke.
I sing even louder to spite him.
A guy in the front row holds out his hands and several people line up. I’ve seen this wild crowd surf no less than seven singers tonight.
“They want you to crowd surf,” I yell to Leah.
She shakes her head. “No way. You do it.”
“I thought you wanted to do something wild.”
“Wild, not stupid,” she chuckles.
“See you on the other side then.” I salute her.
I’m about to step off the stage when I spot him. Tall, dark, and as mysterious as the night he kissed me. His green eyes meet mine across the sea of faces and the world stops moving for a moment. Until he recognizes me. I read the curse on his lips right before he slips a pair of sunglasses over his eyes and disappears into the crowd.
Not this time.
I look down to ensure there are enough people to hold me and launch myself into the waiting hands.