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“Hello?” I shoved the phone into my shoulder and kept grabbing supplies for my next set of appointments I have coming in. A color, a glossing, and a perm unless I could convince Mrs. Hershfield that looking like her poodle was so late nineties. I shuffled my supplies to my free hand and waited for the person on the phone to answer.
“Lou, baby.” My stomach tightened with that sick feeling hearing a voice that made me rethink relationships entirely. The low pitch was soft and melodic. Her voice was one of the things I fell in love with at first. History was a terrible distraction to the current reality.
Flashbacks to wicked fights, make up sex, and more fights with thrown hair color and torn sofa cushions reminded me why things ended. The last fight ended with the police being called and the kind of drama I didn’t need anyone knowing about. I still had her stash of ecstasy to get rid of under my bathroom counter. She owed me half my business loan and three years of my life I was never getting back.
There was a method to my madness. It was the reason why I hadn’t been taking her calls for the last four months. You didn’t forget the kind of staggering pain and simultaneous relief of coming home to an empty house and a Dear Jane letter on my kitchen counter. She kindly stuffed it under an empty wine bottle and ring of dried up merlot which stained the wood no matter how much sanding and re-staining I tried to eradicate it. I fucking hated merlot, dried up cherries that tasted like ash and disappointment. That ring could have been a tattoo with her name branded on a part of my soul. I wanted it back. I wasn’t getting it back, and the bitterness sullied my feelings on love.
I steeled my nerves and forced myself to speak to her.
“I’m shocked you remember the number, was there something you wanted Syd?” I kept my voice as bored sounding as possible and put down the supplies I gathered so I could hold the phone and hang up the first possible moment I could. My free hand fisted to avoid the shaking that
came with my simmering anger.
“Don’t be like that, sweetie. I missed you and wanted to see you. My band is coming to town for a music festival in a few weeks and I thought…”
And here we go. Sydney was asking for favors expecting me to cave in. It would be easier to cave in, give her what she wanted and wait her out, but I didn’t want that or need that chaos in my life right now.
“That’s the problem, Syd, when you think, it’s only about yourself. The last thing I want to do is see you, or hear from you, so unless you’re going to pay me back, continue to forget my number.” I ended the call and put the phone down on the counter. I rubbed the sore spot on my chest where my heart thumped and the ache grew with the reminders of why Sydney Blackstone was a toxic part of my past better left forgotten.
A warm hand touched the center of my back grounding me. “Hey, you okay? I didn’t know it would be her.” Gemma took my phone and slipped it into her pocket so I wouldn’t do something stupid like hurl it across the shop like last time. A new phone would set me back a couple hundred dollars I didn’t have right now with a looming mortgage payment on the shop. Business was good, but I had overextended trying to accommodate my staff and the expansion.
I forced myself to take in a deep breath.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I said forcing the smile on my face.
Gemma cocked her too perfect eyebrows not buying my bullshit.
“You sure, boss lady?” She placed her hand on my arm giving me a gentle squeeze. She wasn’t exactly known for her tact or sensitivity. Gemma McAdams was a bull in a china shop most days, but she was a true friend when you needed one. I put my hand over hers squeezing back. It seemed we both needed reassurance. Sydney had done a number on all of us.
“I will be. I was serious about not letting Sydney back in my life.”
“Good. Maybe we should go out, go dancing, get drunk, make Tommy drive us home.”
“I heard that!” Tommy called from the front of the shop. I swore this place was worse than a church quilting bee.
“Come on, Tommy! Help a sister out!” Gemma teased him mercilessly. If I didn’t know where my brother’s heart was already committed I would have suggested the two of them make a go of it.
Tommy playfully responded, “You’re not my sister, Gemma-Germ! I don’t have to do things for you and pretend to be nice.”
“Oh poo!” Gemma tossed her towel down and stormed out to the main shop area where Tommy was coloring a client. I followed her out there to make sure she didn’t maim my brother before lunch.
Tommy parted his client’s hair and applied the color in expert strokes dividing and brushing down the locks with practiced ease. He had a way of working that was methodical. I almost wanted to video him working and set it to music, an idea that made me wonder how we could get a little more publicity, maybe start a YouTube channel.
“Come on Tom, do us a solid.” Gemma stood side to side with me and gave her best pout. Heck, I’d drive at this point.
Tommy pointed his applicator at us waving it back and forth. “Last time someone got sick in my car, no thanks. Call a car service.” I remembered that vividly, another kind memory Sydney left us with after a wild night. Some people needed to come with warning labels.
“Oh you have to be careful, my dears. I heard those drivers are all criminals and rapists.” Mrs. Laurie whispered loud enough for the people on the street to hear her. The woman had to be eighty if a day and carried her opinion like bricks in her purse, heavy, and not exactly useful.
Tommy groaned. “Fine. I’ll drive. Where are we going?”
“Weee!” Gemma squealed and grabbed a hold of my arms forcing me to dance around in a circle amidst the herby scent of botanical essences and chemicals.
“I never said I wanted to go anywhere.”
“Too bad, so sad, we’re going out.” Gemma singsonged.
This time I groaned. Tommy grinned, and Mrs. Laurie patted my hand.
