Chapter 5

Kenna

"No! Release me!"

I woke up with a jerk, realizing I'd been stuck in a dream where the house plants were trying to suck me in and make me one of them. I blinked and the fuzzy edges of the dream fully dissipated. The room was already bright which meant sunrise had long passed. The hideous geometric pattern of the wallpaper made me wish I'd kept my eyes closed. Burnt red, gold, and pea green should never have gone together, no matter the year my aunt had originally put up the wallpaper.

"Freaking Jumanji," I mumbled, sitting up and pushing back the covers that had been twisted around me. I looked down, realizing I was only in my bra and underwear. I hadn't even taken the time to find my pajamas.

After I'd lost my shit in front of my new business partner and neighbor, I'd inhaled the mysterious pizza that arrived, too tired to question where it came from and if it was meant for me. The universe had delivered manna from heaven and I wasn't going to turn down the first good thing that had happened to me in weeks.

With a full belly, I'd stumbled upstairs to the first guest room I'd found, collapsing into the bed and immediately sinking into a deep sleep. I hadn't been doing much of that the last few days. Sleep had been evading me as my brain spun, trying to make sense of all the change I'd gone through all at once. Well, I'd made up for the lost sleep last night, falling so far into a deep slumber I was having a hard time waking up.

I grabbed my phone off the charger on the nightstand and pushed my hair back from my face. Notifications popped up all over the home screen. Ignoring the text messages for now, I opened up my email. Right there at the top was an email from the same law firm that had been stamped all over the paperwork I'd been served before leaving San Francisco. The email had come in last night but I'd already been asleep. My gut clenched with dread but I couldn't ignore it. Better to suck it up and face the music. Clicking on it, a simple but straightforward message opened.

Dear Mrs. Cugly,

Due to the pending divorce proceedings and our client's concern with your stability, all financial accounts will be frozen until mediations have begun or a judge deems you trustworthy.

Good day.

I dropped the phone and promptly punched the pillow. Good day? I'd taken out a measly two hundred dollars before I boarded the plane yesterday in case I needed food along the way. How dare he freeze our joint accounts? Unstable? Untrustworthy? How about I ask for a reimbursement for the diamond bracelet he'd bought his mistress with our money? Talk about untrustworthy…

"Ugh!" I hopped out of bed, fully awake and so pissed off I was trembling with it. It seemed that was my permanent state recently. Pissed off and helpless.

My phone rang from the depths of the comforter—also in red, gold, and green, if one were wondering—and I pounced, thinking it might be Justin. I had a thing or two to say to that bastard this morning. But it was Liz.

"Do you have a baseball bat?"

There was silence.

"Well, good morning to you too, Kenna." Liz didn't dare laugh at me. She probably knew I was dead serious about the bat situation. "I have a switchblade, but no bat. Whatcha need?"

I sighed, only slightly feeling better that I had a bestie who would hide a body for me if I needed her to. I walked out of the guest room and headed back downstairs. At least the stairs were gorgeous, being a delightful mix of deep walnut stain and oil-rubbed metal balusters. These stairs had been in fashion when installed, then horribly old fashioned, and now had swung back around to a Craftsman-leaning designer's dream stairs. When I reached the bottom, I took a look at all the plants in their various sizes and colored pots dotting every surface of the downstairs, and promptly had a seat on the last stair.

"I'm living in a real-life Jumanji with an annoyingly hot next-door neighbor, while Justin's lawyers have frozen all my accounts, my job is on the line, and I have no idea who I am anymore."

"Hmm, tell me about this neighbor?"

I tilted my head back and gawked at the hanging flamingo light above the stairwell. "Liz! Focus! The neighbor doesn't matter. Men are dead to me."

She huffed. "They shouldn't be. Just Justin. And his jackass lawyers. And maybe Chris. He didn't exactly support you during your breakdown."

I groaned, dropping my forehead to my knees. "Please tell me I dreamed that and I didn't really tell my boss's boss that I'd genital him? Like, what was that? Genital isn't even a verb."

Liz started to wheeze like she always did when she tried to hold in laughter and failed miserably. "Funniest thing I've ever witnessed. I mean, the artwork was terrible. Like, lawsuit-worthy bad. But then to see you put that dirty old man in his place? It was, well, it was triumphant, Kenna."

I groaned. "Tell that to my bank account. Oh, that's right. I don't have access to that anymore. Nor do I have a paying job." My head popped up and I felt dizzy. "What am I going to do, Lizzie?"

Liz was silent for a beat. When she talked, her voice was so low I could barely hear her. "Ashley was officially given the manager position yesterday. That makes her your new boss, Ken. Your new boss is sleeping with your husband. You have to find a different job, sweetie."

I groaned again. What a cluster. Could my life get any worse? I nearly jumped out of my bra when a cuckoo clock on the far wall tweeted out the nine o'clock hour. I glared at the little black crow that had popped out of the wooden clock. It was making more of a "huh-uh" noise than a tweet. I only vaguely remembered talking on the phone with my aunt Maeve when I was a kid, but she'd gotten weirder over the years, that was for sure. The sporadic phone calls had hidden a lot. Sadly, had they not had a falling out, I was pretty sure she and my mom would have been best friends.

"So that leaves us with the final dilemma on your list."

I frowned, pulling myself to my feet. "What list?"

"You won't let me talk about the neighbor, you're getting a divorce, and you need a new job. That leaves your crisis of identity to discuss."

I rolled my eyes and picked my way through the living room, careful not to step on any of the plant arms that had grown over the pots and reached across the floor, like they were making a run for the front door to escape. "How did I get here, Liz?"

"Well, you married a jackass, then took a shitty job, and then you got on a flight yesterday to Florida."

Her deadpan delivery made me chuckle. "Not literally, Davis."

"Oh, sorry. Well, I think you just need to get back to the girl I met in college."

I made it to the dining room, sinking down into a chair and looking around the place with new eyes. "I don't even remember her."

"I know. That's the point. The Kenna Ryan I met was vivacious, driven, and confident. When you walked into the room, every person, male or female, turned in your direction. We were all sunflowers and you were the sun. We could tell we were in the presence of someone special."

That might have been the nicest thing someone had ever said to me. And it made me want to burst into tears because I was so far from that person now I couldn't even see her in my rearview mirror.

"I think she might be gone, Liz," I whispered.

"Hell, no, she isn't gone!" Liz snapped so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear. "She's just covered in a thick layer of corporate bullshit, sleazy husband, and poor life decisions."

I wiped my nose. "Tell me what you really think."

"Kenna, listen to me. This trip to Florida might be just the thing you need to turn your life around. A fresh start. Cut ties with Justin. Start freelancing like I've been telling you for years. Be the badass Kenna Ryan that I know and love!"

I stood up from my chair and felt a trickle of energy crackling in my veins for the first time in days. My bones still felt brittle, but there was a tiny flame of hope fluttering in my gut. "You know what? You're right."

"Say that again."

"You, Liz Davis, are fucking right!"

"Hell yeah I'm right!"

We both whooped it up and then I said goodbye. I had a life to rebuild.

"Motherfucker," I muttered under my breath, trying to get my foot up and over the damn bicycle without falling on my ass for the second time today.

Why did my aunt have a men's rusted-out old bike on the side of the house but no vehicles? She couldn't have left me a G-wagon or something? I pulled the sweat-soaked blouse away from my chest. I'd made it to town and back, spending some of the last of my cash on coffee, creamer, a few frozen dinners, and a box of blonde hair dye. Priorities, right?

I gave the bicycle a half-hearted kick and left it leaning against the porch to make my way inside. At least Aunt Maeve had an air-conditioning system that made the insides of this place feel like a meat locker. Florida summers didn't allow for anything less than arctic. My abused ballet slippers had mud on them and my dress pants had gotten caught in the chain on the way to the market. They were probably only good for the trash now.

I put the groceries away and eyed the other bag of goodies I'd collected on my little trip into town. A place called Sunshine and Seashells just off the causeway had drawn me in against my better judgement. The little Sunshine Key logo of a flamingo standing on one foot on top of the sun was so cheesy it was adorable. I'd bought three T-shirts and two pairs of cotton shorts with that logo, each more hideous than the first. I couldn't keep wearing office attire here in Florida. I'd sweat right through before noon.

Stripping out of my work clothes and tossing them in the trash where they belonged, I put on the pair of shorts that had the words Sunshine Key stamped across the ass. The matching shirt was a little loose, but I had plans to reestablish my curves while in Florida. I'd gotten so thin and fragile married to Justin. Misery will do that to a person.

Next up, I ripped open the hair-dye box and skimmed the directions. It smelled terrible but the box promised results. Fifty minutes later I was head down in the kitchen sink, rinsing out the bleach and praying for a new Kenna. I squeezed out the moisture with a kitchen towel and headed upstairs for my blow-dryer. My hair looked a little brassy in the mirror, but that had to be because it was wet. Damn, it felt good to be taking control of my life. Even if it was currently in shambles.

Remembering the girl I'd been in college all those years ago, I grabbed my phone and began to play some country music. With the blow-dryer going, I had to turn the music way up to hear it. By the second song I was dancing, mostly using the blow-dryer as a microphone. I'd been a great dancer back in the day. That spark of energy I'd felt talking to Liz this morning was building. I could feel it. My life may have hit rock bottom, but I was on my way up. From here on out, things were going to get better.

I bent over to finish blow-drying my hair upside down. I wanted it to have nice volume, like I used to do when I didn't have a corporate job and I could be a little wilder with my hair styles. When it felt completely dry, I flipped my head back up to look at my new self in the mirror.

A garbled scream erupted from my throat.

My hair was a tangled mess of orange and yellow stripes. Neon orange and yellow. I began to finger comb it, leaning closer to the mirror, shocked and horrified. It was a hideous color, especially combined with my pale skin. That hair dye had done me dirty. I grabbed my phone and took a selfie, shooting it off to Liz with shaking hands. Her reply was instant. And a total lie.

Lizzie: It's not that bad. Nothing some purple shampoo can't fix. At least you didn't cut bangs.

A loud boom sounded below and then I heard a male voice shout my name. A herd of wild animals began coming up the stairs and I braced myself, hair dryer in hand like some kind of pistol. Then Dec Boggs was standing in my bathroom doorway, staring at me like he wasn't the least bit fazed by my weapon of choice. His face twisted in disgust.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?"

That was when I burst into tears.