And my phone rang again.
I turned to look at the screen to see if it was anyone worth answering.
It wasn’t.
It was from Shaun.
Again.
He’d only called three times over the weekend and sent a few texts, but I didn’t answer. After all, shouldn’t I be the one groveling for forgiveness?
And since I don’t grovel…
Yet here he was, calling at 7:45 in the morning.
What the hell was wrong with him?
I rejected the call and did my next Pilates exercise.
The phone rang again.
I gritted my teeth. This was my “me time” every day.
And I didn’t like it being interrupted.
“What?” I snapped.
“It’s Shaun.”
“I know,” I fired back. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
I was about to hang up when I heard “It’s the shop, it’s been vandalized.”
There’s not much that could get me moving more than something happening to the salon. I didn’t bother dressing, I just grabbed my shoes and purse and was out the door.
And granted, I lived probably twelve minutes from the salon, but I made it in three.
I hit the parking lot and saw one police car sitting near the shop. Shaun stood near the pillar that separated the salon from the exterminator’s shop in the strip mall, speaking to the officer.
Louie had arrived on the call. Two more police cars appeared from somewhere, all pulled up and parked in front of the salon.
I wound up parking in front of Shaun’s store and leaped out of my car.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Winter, honey, you need a coat.”
“I’m fine,” I said and charged toward the salon.
And froze.
My stomach roiled, and tears welled up in my eyes.
Every vile curse you could say about a woman was scrawled all over the concrete and the windows.
I took a step toward the shop.
Emotions on overload, everything felt like it was on fire.
