“The Dex I see isn’t this cold, heartless asshole you know, Jules. I see a guy who would always do anything for his friends. I see someone who always thinks of himself last. I heard him laugh. I saw him being sweet. I saw him vulnerable. He’s not what he seems to be. He’s overprotective of the people he loves, and I think he believes if he’s not there for us, we won’t love him. His dark sense of humor, his workaholism, his uptight tendencies, it all melts away when he’s with me. He’s it for me. I just wish I were it for him too.”
“And so you’re leaving early, not seeing Jim, because Dex is so special?”
I’m a little disappointed not to see my mentor during this trip, but it’s not like we’re never in Michigan. I’ve been here so many times in the last few years and seen Jim much more than I thought I would. We had planned a whole day together, but he’d never hold a grudge because I’m trying to make things right and protect my heart.
“No, I’m leaving to properly break up with my boyfriend and attend to my business,” I tell her, annoyed by her persistence.
Julie gets my message and stays silent for the rest of the trip. I do the same. Gia’s cooing is the only noise filling the car.
* * *
I turn my phone back on while the plane is still taxiing. Instead of a text from who I wanted, I find a trillion texts from my staff, asking me where I am, asking why I’m not answering my phone, and to call them back as soon as possible. My staff is a lot of things—annoying, noisy, rude, fun, assholish—but they aren’t into drama, and my heart squeezes with concern that something happened to one of them—or worse, to Jim. A lot can happen in a few hours.
I don’t waste any time getting off of the plane, grabbing a taxi, and going directly to the parlor. I call Morgan first, but her phone is off. Same with Elvis and Calv. Once at the shop, I understand why. They’re busy installing plywood on the now-broken windows. It seems we’ve been vandalized. Shit. Every fucking window of the shop front has been smashed.
“What the fuck happened?” I ask my staff while running toward them.
“Funny you should ask,” Elvis says. “We checked the videos, and the last person we saw on it—around three a.m. last night—was Bruce. Seems he left and came back with some buddies later on, though they were wearing masks.”
I hear what he’s saying, but I don’t understand. Bruce? Like, fucking Bruce got his revenge on my break-up text by smashing all my windows?
“What did you do?” I ask Morgan.
“Well, we tried to call you. Then we called Ryan who told us you broke up with Bruce. We put two and two together and called the cops.”
Shit! Shit! Shit! “You really believe Bruce would do that?”
She shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time an ex-lover gets revenge like that.”
I guess she’s right, but I can’t believe the American boy would turn American psycho on me. “Let me watch it!”
Glass crunches under my sneakers as I walk into the shop. I can’t believe this. I’m still reeling from the news when my phone buzzes with a text from Julie, asking if I’m okay. I ignore her and sit at my desk.
“Was anything missing?”
“Not that we know of!” Calv says.
I analyze the copy of the security video Calv made before sending the file to the cops. It’s a little blurry and the angle isn’t the best, but it’s indeed Bruce walking up to the shop and shaking the doors vigorously. But then he leaves. I skip ahead to see the windows got broken two hours later by three guys with masks and baseball bats. They come in for one minute and leave.
“Was there any cash in the shop?” I yell for them to hear me.
“No, all the clients used credit cards last night. I took the float home.”
“Did the alarm alert the security company?”
“Yes! But it took them a little time to arrive. They tried to call you, but with the time difference, you might have been in the plane already.”
“And nothing is missing?” I ask again.
Morgan appears in the doorframe. “No, nothing. Seriously, the police also believed it was Bruce. They picked him up for questioning.”
“And it can’t be one of your exes? Have you seen the guy? I can’t believe he would do that. So what? Breaking up with him triggered his rage? Like I fed him after midnight and he transforms into a Gremlin?”
Morgan shakes her head. “Elvis hasn’t had a girl for a while, Calv is still with the same one, and I’m single with no mingle. I’m sorry, Luke. It seems you dated Gizmo…”
They spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the shop while I battle with insurance. We might have to close for at least a week, and an idea forms in my head. It’s crazy, but what happened presents a great opportunity we shouldn’t pass up. Between the insurance money coming in and some of my reserves, if I can find a partner, we could expand and reopen as one of the biggest shops in the area, with better equipment, special guests, great lightning. I'm excited by the prospect of bringing the shop to a new level. If we have to close anyway, why not… and I know exactly who to call.
In the middle of the mess, I’m buzzing, filling up with adrenaline, like when you feel the needle on your skin. It’s the best high in the world. I’m so far gone that I momentarily forget all my boy problems. And then I hear someone calling my name from the front. I exit the office to see what’s going on.
Bruce is outside, Elvis and Calvin standing in front of him as a wall of anger and protection. I tell them to go inside. I can’t hold grudges. I feel partly responsible for what happened last night, and I believe all Bruce needs is an apology.
“There you are, Mr. Text Breakup.”
It’s a pathetic insult, but an insult nonetheless. How could a guy with such little wit do so much damage?
“Bruce.”
He raises his hands for me to stop. “No! You let me speak!”
I nod to tell him to go ahead.
“It wasn’t enough to break my heart by texting me in the middle of the night before you fuck somebody else, you also had to send the fucking cops?” He gestures to the boarded-up windows. “You really think I did that? That’s how little you think of me or how high you think of yourself?”
He’s mad and I can’t blame him. If anybody had done to me what I did to him, I would have been livid. I feel like such an asshole.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t here and I didn’t know anything happened until my plane touched down. Can I explain myself?” I say, coming closer to him.
“What? You were going at it, felt guilty, texted me to clear your conscience, and then couldn’t get it up anymore so you came home? I hope he’s worth it! I thought you were a nice guy, but you’re an asshole. Fuck you!”
He doesn’t give me time to answer before he leaves.
“So I guess it wasn’t Bruce, Bossman. Sorry about that,” Elvis says, sounding as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I shrug. My mind went there as well, but I won’t dwell on it. I can’t stop thinking about my idea to expand the shop, and I need the staff to be in.
“Guys, I want to talk to you about something. Obviously we’re going to need to close for a while to get this place fixed up. But what if instead of just fixing it up, we expand the shop so we can have more artists working with us? We could have special guests come in. With the success of the last two years, it could be a great addition. We could make some changes, modernize and revamp the whole thing. I’d need to bring on a partner. If none of you are interested, I’ll ask Ryan.” I’m excited by this idea, and I won’t hide it.