CHAPTER 003: Wash That Man Out Of My Hair

Mike’s number is no longer reachable.

It’s been a week since he shattered my heart. A week since he left me for my cousin. I haven’t been sleeping or eating well, and my mind is consumed with thoughts of him. Each time I call his line, it goes straight to voicemail.

“Hi, this is Mike. Leave a message,” his recorded voice says, a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost.

I’ve tried reaching him at his office too. “Is Mike available?” I ask every time.

“Sorry, he’s in a meeting,” his secretary, Edwina, always replies, her voice annoyingly polite.

“When will he be out?” I persist.

“Not sure, he has a busy schedule.”

One day, I call again. “Edwina, please, it’s important. Can you let him know I’m trying to reach him?”

“I’m sorry, Desiree,” she says, sounding slightly more sympathetic this time. “He’s just not available right now.”

Frustrated, I push harder. “Edwina, we used to be friends. Can’t you just tell him I need to talk to him?”

There’s a brief pause on the other end. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. Maybe it’s best to give him some space.”

Space. The word stings, feeling like a further rejection. “Fine,” I say, my voice breaking. “Thanks anyway.”

As I hang up, the realization sinks deeper. Mike is gone, and he’s making sure I can’t reach him. It feels like I’m suffocating, the walls of my world closing in. How could everything fall apart so quickly? How could he just cut me off like this?

I stare at my phone, hoping for a miracle, but all I get is the cold, unyielding silence.

When I call Mike's gym instructor, the idiot has the nerve to tell me that I’m becoming a stalker. "Desiree, you need to back off. Mike has enough grounds to sue for a restraining order," he says bluntly.

My grip tightens on the phone, anger bubbling up inside me. "What? Are you serious?"

"Let it go," he continues, his tone patronizing. "Move on, Desiree. There are a lot of sharks in the sea. You’re pretty. Mike has moved on. You should too. If I’m being honest with you, this is becoming embarrassing."

Move on? Embarrassing? The words echo in my mind, each one like a slap to the face.

"You don’t understand," I snap, my voice shaking with fury. "You have no idea what I’m going through."

"Look, I’m just trying to help," he says, but his voice lacks any real sympathy. "This obsession isn’t healthy."

"Obsession? You call it obsession? He cheated on me with my cousin!" I can feel my blood boiling, my hands trembling with rage.

"Desiree, just... let it go," he says one last time before hanging up.

I stare at the phone in disbelief, the dial tone mocking me. I hate them all. The gym instructor, Edwina, Mike, and especially Mabel. They all act like I’m the one in the wrong, like my pain is some sort of inconvenient sideshow.

Tears of frustration and hurt fill my eyes as I throw the phone onto the couch. It feels like the world is conspiring against me, forcing me to let go of something I’m not ready to lose. How can they all be so heartless?

I sink onto the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, feeling the weight of their words pressing down on me. Moving on seems impossible when my heart is still tangled in the wreckage of what once was.

The only thing stopping me from storming into Mike’s house, his office, or his gym is Jessica. She threatened that if I chased Mike in any way, I’m leaving her house. “You’ve got to let it go, Desiree. If you do anything crazy, you’re out. I mean it.”

If she kicks me out, where will I go? Mom’s? I can’t go back there. She hates me. It’s been that way ever since I ran away in the middle of the night, refusing to remain the small-town girl she wanted me to be. That bridge is burned.

Dad’s? That’s not even an option. His new wife is a devout Christian, and she’s declared that all strippers are devil worshippers. I'm not welcome in their house.

My siblings' places aren’t an option either. Veronica is a single mom with two kids, barely making ends meet. Luke is a struggling musician, jumping from trailer to trailer, living the starving artist cliché. Fiona is nowhere to be found, always off on some adventure with no way to contact her.

Jessica is all I have left. If she says I have to get my shit together, then I have to get my shit together. She’s my last lifeline, and I can't afford to lose her too. I take a deep breath, trying to find some semblance of strength within myself. I need to figure out how to move forward, how to pick up the pieces of my shattered life and start over.

I initially took days off work to grieve, with Jessica covering most of my shifts, but now the club manager, Antonio, has finally put his foot down. “Desiree, if you don’t bring your sad ass to work, you’re fired,” he declared.

I can’t lose this job. I’ve already lost my house to Mabel and Mike. I should be working extra hours to save enough money to rent my own apartment, not lying heartbroken in Jessica’s living room. So tonight, I’m dragging myself to work.

I walk the entire thirty minutes from Jessica’s house to the club, Rose’s Bane, passing through quiet streets with the wind whipping through my hair. Each step feels like a march toward reclaiming some part of myself.

As I walk, I start to understand what people mean when they say they have to wash a man out of their hair. The metaphorical cleansing is real; it’s like shedding the weight of all the hurt and betrayal. After a thorough wash, I feel a bit freer, a bit lighter. No more worrying about Mike, no more wondering if he’s on Mabel or if Mabel is on top of him.

By the time I reach the club, the neon lights flickering in the dusk, I feel a strange sense of empowerment. I straighten my shoulders, take a deep breath, and push through the door. The familiar sights and sounds of Rose’s Bane envelop me, a comforting cacophony of music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

Antonio spots me immediately. “Well, look who decided to show up,” he says, his gruff voice tinged with relief.

“Yeah, yeah,” I reply, trying to muster a smile. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Get changed and get to work. We’re slammed tonight,” he orders, his tone softening slightly. “And, Desiree? It’s good to have you back.”

I nod, heading to the back room to change into my work attire. As I slip into my outfit and touch up my makeup, I catch my reflection in the mirror. For the first time in days, I see a glimmer of the old me. Not the broken, betrayed girl, but the strong, resilient woman who won’t let anyone keep her down.

Stepping back onto the main floor, I take a deep breath and plunge into the bustling energy of the club. It’s not just a job; it’s a lifeline, a chance to reclaim my independence and rebuild my life. And tonight, I’m ready to start that journey.

Halfway into the crowd, someone corners me, blocking my way. It's Jessica. Her face is pale and her breath comes in quick, short bursts. "No, Dee. You need to go home. You can’t see this. Please, just go back."

"What is it?" I ask.

But I can see it in her eyes. Mike is here.