Wicked Love - Michelle Dare Page 0,99

all out of crab. Darn.” My mom, in a nice motherly way, told me it was time I got my head out of my ass and started taking better care of myself. Angry and sad was not the best look on me, and she suggested I go for some upkeep. Meaning shower, brush my teeth, and groom myself. She sent me to her gal at the local salon, since I could no longer afford the big city prices.

“Oh…okay. This looks glorious. Ready to see?”

“Sure. Show me my new self.” One where my eyes aren’t sunken in from lack of sleep. I would normally never cheat on my hairdresser. I’m a devoted client like that, but she’s booked and I’m broke and how hard is it to cut a little off and touch up a few lowlights—“Holy shit!”

I jump back, catching my reflection in the mirror. “What the fu—?”

“Blonde looks lovely on you.” She smiles back at the horror that is her work.

“I said lowlights. LOWLIGHTS. My whole head is blonde.”

“Lowlights? Dear, you said highlights.” My once dark hair with a fruitful shade of chestnut is…blonde. I’m going to cry. I’m going to cry…

“And I said a trim. My hair…it’s…” Seven inches shorter!

“Well, the bleach took a toll on your hair. Needed to clean it up. You look lovely. Like your mother when she was younger. Now you’ll find a nice boy. Your momma told us all about that bad—”

“Thank you!” I shove out of her chair, throw tip money at her since my mom so kindly paid upfront for this disaster, and run out of the salon. I don’t normally act so crazy, but I’d probably kick a puppy right now if one passed. Why does the universe hate me? My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I check the screen: Woman’s Wellness Clinic.

“Oh great.” The way my life is going, this place is calling to tell me they mixed up my results and I really do have a rare form of crabs and I’m going to die. I shove my sunglasses over my eyes to block out the angry sun and answer the call. “Hello?”

“Good morning. Is Katie Swanson available?”

“Nope. Wrong number.”

“Well, this is the secondary number we have on file for billing. Mr. Kipatrick has a past due account.”

He’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life. I stop and pull my phone away to recheck the caller. “Who are you again?”

“Woman’s Wellness Clinic.”

Don’t ask. Hang up and don’t ask.

“And what exactly is the past due bill for?”

“Um…” Even the lady on the other line gives me the opportunity to hang up when she hesitates to respond right away. “A dilation and curettage.”

“Yeah, English please.”

She clears her throat. “Surgical abortion.”

It takes my brain a minute to catch up. Like the wick of a firework igniting and shooting down until—kaboom! “That piece of shit!” My eyes clench shut so tight, my eyeballs would suffocate if it were possible. He had the nerve to put me as a contact at an abortion clinic! “Listen, lady. I’m not sure why my cheating ex would put me down as a reference, but he’s my ex, so you’re going to have to find another way to get your payment, because it’s not going to be from me.”

Right as I’m about to hit “end,” she pipes up. “You may want to know…” probably not, “we had to send him—you—to collections for the last time he was in here and never paid. The credit card listed was you as the main holder.”

“He’s…he’s been there more than once?”

“Three times, actually.”

A shriek, which no doubt woke aliens on Mars, explodes from my lungs, tearing at my esophagus. Add getting sued for hearing loss onto my list of unknown debt as I blow the poor girl’s eardrums out. I scream until I feel like I’m going to collapse and don’t stop until my poor mother shows up out of nowhere, most likely called by her mortified stylist, drives me home, then makes me a peanut butter and Doritos sandwich—which I eat and decide I would look just fine in orange.

Hours pass before I feel the couch dip next to me. “Jesus Christ, you are having a breakdown.”

“Huh?” I slowly turn to see Trudy, my ride-or-die and best friend since high school.

“Your mom called me. Told me you were having some kind of straight jacket episode. I didn’t really believe her since you’re a badass, but the hair...shit. She should have called me sooner.” I’m so damn