All the Wrong Choices by C.A. Harms
Chapter Six
Danielle
I runmy fingers through my hair, loving how soft it feels. Going to the salon has always been a favorite of mine. I love the smell of my hair after being washed and conditioned. I'll admit the cut I've gone with is much different than my original style. I've had long hair for so long, the same color and cut for years.
When I sat down in Marco's chair and told him I wanted to go shorter and a lighter color, he looked at me as if he was waiting for a punchline.
"I need a change," I stress, holding his stare. "I feel like I'm trapped in this hole, like no matter how hard I try to move on, I'm at a standstill. I need a change," I repeat, hoping he understands just how desperate I am to be set free.
Three hours later, I'm staring at the girl in the mirror, and I'm breathless. My long tendrils are now shoulder-length, no longer a deep chocolate brown, but instead a golden brown with even lighter highlights. The cut makes my hair appear fuller as it frames my face. I've never had a style so short, but I'm instantly in love with it.
I feel like a new me.
Stepping out of the salon, I walk down McArthur with a new purpose. My head held high, my confidence finally getting a much-needed boost. I smile when I get a lingering look from a good-looking guy, followed by a wink. It feels nice being noticed by an attractive stranger.
Stopping in at Starbucks, I order my favorite mocha, and when the guy behind me pays for my drink, I give him an appreciative smile. While waiting for our drinks, I flirt with the kind stranger, my cheeks heating when he tells me I'm beautiful. I'm beyond flattered, finding him attractive and charming.
When he reaches up and grabs my drink, passing it to me, allowing his fingers to touch mine, I feel my pulse quicken. That's when I notice him wearing a wedding band on his finger. Instantly the events of the last ten minutes take a plummeting pitfall.
He asks for my number, and I look from his ring to his soft blue eyes. Fighting the urge to give him an earful on behalf of his wife, who probably has no idea she is married to a cheating asshole, I take in a slow, calming breath.
"Are you going to call me when your wife leaves, or do you plan on really testing the limits and doing it with her in the next room?"
The smile falls from his lips, and he looks around the lobby to see if anyone else has been close enough to hear my words.
"Let me guess, you usually take the ring off before you try to pick up another woman?"
"This isn't what it looks like." He dares to try to reach for my hand, and I pull it away quickly. "Things aren't good at home."
"So then get a divorce," what in the hell is wrong with men? "Don't run around trying to get a piece on the side while your wife sits home, probably wishing you'd pay her half the attention you pay to other women. When was the last time you told her she was beautiful?"
I don't wait for him to respond, knowing if I stay in his presence any longer, I will most likely make an even bigger scene than I already have.
The man has given me a rush, a high, I'll admit it. But that joyful feeling is now gone when I realize men indeed are scum. Cheating pigs with one-track minds and don't seem to care who they humiliate in the process.
Men are whores, and guys get away with it.
Put a woman in those shoes, and instantly she’s a slut, or a tramp. What a crock of shit! Why can't a woman sow her wild oats, or whatever you want to call it, without being referred to as loose? It's sick and stereotypical. Just because I don't have a penis, I'm expected to be a good little lady and get all gooey-eyed when a big strong man shows me attention. Please, that shit is ridiculous.
I find my car, climbing inside, trying once again to locate the bliss I felt when I left the salon. Flipping through the stations, I land on a good song playing on the radio and turn it up. Drowning out the irritation, I decide to let go of the anger. Rolling down my windows, allowing the wind to blow through my hair, I sing along with the lyrics.
Pulling into the parking lot of my apartment, I reach across to the passenger seat and grab the few bags I'd placed there. I spoiled myself with some new hair products, and some bold makeup that I wouldn't have dared to try before now.
Climbing the stairs with my keys in hand, I come to an abrupt halt when I see my Aunt Rita sitting on the small bench outside my front door. Scrolling through her phone, one leg crossed over the other and her blue Jimmy Choo’s shaking back and forth.
She has yet to notice me, and part of me thought maybe I should turn around and run, but I know if anyone in my family is on my side, it's her. My mother's youngest sister has always been my favorite, sneaking me things as a child I was never allowed to have. She's the one I went to when I lost my virginity, the one I turned to after the same guy disappeared when he got what he wanted. She is also the same person who got me drunk for the first time at the age of nineteen.
She was the cool aunt.
"Damn," I refocus on Aunt Rita after getting lost in my thoughts and find she's now standing and walking in my direction. "Look at you." Strolling around me, she glides her hand over my layered bobbed haircut. "I love this color."
"Me too."
She came to a stop in front of me, her hands resting on my forearms, as she looked me directly in the eyes. "I was with your parents before coming here."
I say nothing, only wait to see where she is going with this.
"Cathryn was storming around demanding all the attention as usual, and the piece of shit I never thought deserved you looked a little ill, sitting on the couch speechless." Always a man of few words. "Quite a bit of irritation came my way fast when I told Cathryn if she'd done to me what she'd done to you, she would have been walking around with her jaw wired shut. That would have saved us all from listening to her spoiled ass demanding attention."
"You did not say that," I gasp, imagining what my mother's face looked like when Aunt Rita spouted off about her little princess.
"I did," she tosses her arm over my shoulder as we start to walk toward my front door.
"Something tells me I won't be getting an invite for Christmas this year."
At that moment, I fall a little more in love with her. She is beyond classy, a successful attorney, a partner at her law firm, and never once has she ever relied on a man. She's my idol, solid, and confident.
"I'm going to my house in Emerald Isle next week for spring break," a place I've visited often growing up. Summers with Aunt Rita were always my favorite. "Miffy and Jane are going to meet me there, and I thought I'd invite you and your friends to join us. We can make it a girls’ trip, drinking, relaxing, what do you say?"
I already know Addison will be all for it. She's a little in love with Aunt Rita too.
"I'm leaving on Wednesday, but you ladies can come any time. I'll have it fully stocked, and the hot tub will be filled and running."
School is out for Spring Break, and I don't have any other plans besides hanging around here and allowing myself to think more than I should.
"Maybe you can find a rebound guy."
"The last thing I need is another guy," that's what got me where I am now.
"I didn't say you had to keep him; just use him to get over the hump, so to speak." She wags her brows, making me laugh. "Listen, I'm gonna say something you might not like, but you know me, and that's never stopped me before," she says.
True, she has no filter.
"Matthew had somehow managed to wrap you up into a cute little package throughout your four-year relationship. He took the fun and spunky niece I adore and created what he thought you should be. He took away your adventure, took away the wild girl who had so many times been my partner in crime. I'm not pleased with what took place. I want to strangle him and your sister for putting you through what they did. But I'm happy the wedding didn't happen. That man quenched your fire, sweetheart, and that is something I hate more than anything."
I know she's right. I realized it myself over the last few weeks. I used to take chances; I used to be daring.
"I'll be there, with or without my girls," I assure her with a nod.
Her smile widens. I know Addison will be by my side without a doubt, but I'm not sure about the rest of my friends. They aren't teachers, so getting time off at this short notice may be difficult, but I'd still make the offer.
Maybe Aunt Rita is right; perhaps I need someone to help dig me out of this rut. Someone who doesn't want anything more than a few sweaty nights and a whole lot of orgasms.