Page 16 of Saving Savannah


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SAVANNAH

It took the next two days to set up. Long days. Sweaty days too, because somehow the storefront I’d rented seemed to be more of an oven than an actual workplace, despite the chilly fall temperatures lurking just outside.

I got it done, though. Everything set in its proper place. Well, almost everything. The monster armoire left behind by the previous tenant loomed like a giant in the center of the back wall, when I would’ve much rather had it caddy-cornered to one side.

The more I looked at it, the more it bothered me. The thing was intrusive where it was. I wanted it out of there. I wanted it moved.

Moved, huh?

My stomach went tight, then did a little somersault. I could call them, right? I mean… I had their numbers.

No.

The voice in my head was firm this time. Telling me in no uncertain terms that I’d already had my fun.

Clean slate, remember?

Maybe. I mean, that’s what I’d told myself a thousand times. Yet the colossal armoire was still there, staring back at me smugly. Probably laughing.

“I could call one of them,” I said aloud, to my empty shop. “Right?”

No one answered. Not even the voice in my head.

But which one?

The idea of dialing one of the numbers in my phone sent a shiver of excitement bolting through me. Whether or not it was right or wrong.

Fuck.

I pulled out my phone. Looked at it. Punched the little button at the bottom, to bring up the main screen.

Calling one of the guys sounded within the scope of reason, suddenly. But which one would I call? The last thing I wanted to do was play favorites.

They didn’t leave names. Remember?

Shit, that was even better. I could just call the first number, Hunk1. Whoever it was could help me move this monstrosity. The others couldn’t even be jealous, because it was totally anonymous.

I punched up my contact list, which was extremely anemic. It took all of one second to find the guys, especially since I only had a half dozen contacts.

Just do it already.

My thumb hovered over the button. It was a can of worms. A very hot, delicious can of worms, but a can of worms nonetheless…

BANG! BANG BANG!

A sudden pounding at the front door nearly caused me to jump out of my skin! I fumbled the phone into the air, bobbled it a few times, then caught it somehow in my other hand.

What the hell?

There was a woman at my door. Or rather, she’d moved to one of my windows now. She had one grubby hand up against the glass, and was shielding her eyes to peer inside. The same glass I’d just spent a half hour meticulously cleaning…

“WE’RE CLOSED!” I shouted, loud enough to penetrate the old window. Then, in a much lower voice, “You’d think you could read the fucking sign?”

The woman banged again of course, and now I was pissed. Not only couldn’t she read, but she’d just blown away any courage I’d been working up to dial one of the hunks.

I stormed over, undid the latch, and threw open the door. Before I could even open my mouth to tell her I wasn’t in business just yet, she was already pushing her way past me and glancing around.

I was incredulous. This woman had to be sixty, dressed all in purple and gold. She wore a tear-drop beaded headband, with big chandelier earrings dangling from her ears. There had to be at least one jeweled ring on every finger. She rounded out the look by caking on tons of makeup, especially around her eyes.

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