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“Vargas, see if any of the surrounding shops have cameras of Main Street that they’re willing to share,” Bently said.
Vargas nodded. “Will do.” She turned back to Pippa. “I’ll be back with the cleaning supplies. You might want to call Marsha and let her know.”
Vargas disappeared down the street as Bently pulled out a camera and took photos of her storefront, his shrewd gaze inspecting the area for evidence, Pippa assumed.
Remy placed a hand on her back. “Do you need me to stay with you? You’re welcome to come hang out in the café if you need.”
Pippa shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I’ll just wait here.”
Remy nodded and turned back to cross the street. Pippa pulled out her phone and dialed Marsha Divine’s number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Marsha. It’s Pippa from the bookstore.”
“How are you, dear?”
“Well, that’s why I’m calling. The store was vandalized this morning,” Pippa explained.
Marsha gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yes. Whoever it was just spray-painted the front window. But it was some homophobic stuff. I wanted to let you know in case you didn’t feel safe coming today.”
After a beat of silence, Marsha cleared her throat. “Do you know why I chose the stage name Marsha Divine for when I perform in drag?”
“No.”
“Marsha P. Johnson was a prominent figure in the Stonewall Uprising in nineteen sixty-nine. Johnson was also a founding member of the Gay Liberation Front as well as many other resources for my community. Not to mention a proud Boricua. Johnson was a voice for gay rights during some of the hardest times for the LGBT community.”
“Wow. I had no idea,” Pippa admitted.
“Marsha faced police raids and fought for the rights of people like me. I didn’t choose this name lightly. Love always trumps hate. A little spray paint won’t scare me away.” Marsha Divine chuckled. “Besides, there’s a group of children waiting to ask me questions and learn that I’m just as human as they are. I have feelings and emotions, thoughts and ideas, just like them. And they need to know that it is okay not only for me, but for them to express themselves in any way that feels authentic to them. Except by spray-painting someone else’s property.”
“You are one amazing person.” Pippa smiled.
“So are you. Don’t discount the work you’re doing for our community. Have your moment, then brush your fabulous self off and get back to work. We can’t let the bigots win.”
“No, we can’t,” she agreed.
“I’ll see you this afternoon,” Marsha said before she ended the call.
Pippa tucked her phone back in her pocket and let out a big breath. Marsha was right. She wouldn’t let this asshole steal any more of her energy. She wouldn’t let this hiccup stop her; that was what the vandal wanted. No, she’d fight back. If someone wanted to spread hatred, she’d show them she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t cower to bullies anymore.
