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her last relationship. She didn’t want to mess this one up, so they’d agreed to take things slow.
    Maybe Sara was here. Perhaps this day wouldn’t go down as the worst day of her entire adult life.
    She jogged up the stairs and tried the door, but it was locked. Sara had always been a bit paranoid. Perhaps she’d locked it.
    Gretchen used her key and entered her apartment. The place was a mess. There were clothes strewn across the floor—a short, pink skirt, strappy, white sandals, Hal’s favorite jeans, and a lacy, yellow bra…
    She stopped herself before she started yelling. Hal’s keys sat on the coffee table. How did he get into her apartment? Did he steal a key?
    Laughter came from the bedroom. That cheating, lying, thieving… Gretchen’s whole body began to shake. She wasn’t sure if it she was about to go into a crying fit or a homicidal rampage. She sure didn’t want to cry, but then killing her cheating boyfriend would not make things any better—as an intern, she’d seen up close and personal what prison life was like. But she’d better find a way to diffuse her temper, and she’d better do it fast. Hal’s hairstyling bag—the greatest treasure of Honolulu’s up-and-coming hair designer—sat unguarded on the floor next to the sofa. And it was filled with the highest-quality equipment money could buy—worth thousands. Should she? She looked toward the window. It was three stories down to the pavement. She could easily toss it out and have her revenge. He wouldn’t be able to work until he replaced his tools.
    She relished the thought, but sighed, knowing she couldn’t do it. Darn her for having a consc ience. Why should she? No one else seemed to.
    It only took one trip down three flights to carry the bag and all his and the slut’s clothes down to the street. She placed them on the sidewalk next to Gus, the neighborhood transient. He gave her a toothless grin as he sat on the curb. She smiled back, her spirits immediately lighter.
    When she got back to her apartment, she knocked on the bedroom door. She heard a thump and scrambling. “Hal,” she called out. “I took the liberty of helping you remove your items and carried them downstairs for you. You don’t need to thank me. It’s the least I can do for all you’ve done for me. They’ll be waiting for you on the sidewalk beside Gus.”
    “What?” he shrieked.
    The door flew open and he stood there, wrapped in a towel. “Not my bag too.”
    She nodded, smiling.
    “You left it next to a homeless guy?” he shrieked at her.
    She raised an eyebrow.
    He wasted no time, streaking through the door.
    He was soon followed behind by a red-faced, strawberry- blonde female in another towel. She slinked around Gretchen as if she expected her to strike her. The thought had crossed her mind, but she was already in enough trouble today. “Hello,” Gretchen greeted. “I left your clothes by the curb too. Good luck getting them back from Gus. He’s partial to women’s clothing.”
    “You’re insane ,” the woman cried as she flew down the stairs.
    Gretchen shut the door , sagging against the frame.
    Okay, this was definitely the worst day of her adult life.
    Stepping into her bedroom, her anger boiled. Why couldn’t she find a decent man? Why did every relationship she had go up in flames?
    She stripped the rumpled sheets off the bed. They were her favorite , satin, and worth a week’s pay. Balling them up, she stuffed them into the garbage. She got out her spare cotton ones and made up her bed.
    Hitting the bathroom hard with cleanser, she disinfected it from ceiling to floor. She knew she was probably overdoing it, but she couldn’t help but think that everything Hal and his slut touched was contaminated. She used an entire can of Lysol just to be sure.
    She left the bathroom door open while she showered—she didn’t want to succumb to the fumes. The water soothed her, the st ream caressing her body. She spent a long time under the