“Got it,” Calvin said. I had to admit, his dedication to never asking questions was pretty damn refreshing. Especially when I was about to do something that was a little bit shady.

Borderline stalk not only my business partner, but the woman I was sleeping with.

Desperate times, and all that.

My gaze scanned the street, looking for any signs of blue hair before making my way toward the coffee shop.

It was the kind of place with cement floors and black accents. A little cold. Sterile. Nothing that invited you to stick around.

I guess I could see it being Saff’s favorite place to grab a cup on the go.

I made my way up to the line, ordered a coffee, then asked the barista if she knew a blue-haired woman named Saff.

Before she could even answer, though, some guy behind me in line spoke up. “My advice? Stay away. Stay far the fuck away, man.”

Turning, I saw a short guy who was a bit round in the middle, sporting a nasty black eye and busted lip.

“Why’s that?”

“Because this,” he said, gesturing toward his face, “is her handiwork.”

“What’d you do?” I asked.

“What? So I gotta be in the wrong? She’s a psycho, man. Straight-up crazy bitch—“

“Hey,” I snapped, surprised with the surge of anger within me. “Don’t.”

“What? She got you by the dick or something? Good fucking luck. She’ll probably get in one of those moods of hers and chop it off in your sleep. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn ya,” he said, throwing up his hands and getting out of line, heading toward the bathroom.

The barista, clearly not wanting to get in the middle, offered me a tight-lipped smile and handed me my coffee.

I moved back outside, figuring that I at least got something.

Saff, apparently, had a temper. And not just a normal temper. A violent one.

Granted, I didn’t know the specifics. Maybe he grabbed her ass or something. In which case, he had it coming.

My mind whirled back to those cuts on her wrists, the way she clumsily lied about them.

Had that been from messing up that guy’s face?

And if so, why not tell me that some guy got handsy?

Sighing, I made my way down the street, finding the first bookstore I came across and heading inside.

I was met with the scent of ink and paper and just a hint of some sort of lemon cleaner.

“Can I help you find anything?” a pretty middle-aged woman in a flowing rainbow skirt and knotted white tee asked, giving me a smile that made the apples of her cheeks push up her red glasses.

“Hey,” I greeted her, giving her a warm smile. “I’m not sure. My friend told me to check this place out.”

“Really? Anyone I might know?”

“Maybe? Saff? Blue hair, tiny, full of attitude?”