The Funky Monkey was her favorite bar. Or her new favorite bar. Everything lately was brand new. New supermarket, new manicurist, new apartment, new friends. New life.
She was certain her boss had just replaced her on the sales floor when she hadn’t come in a few days in a row. Her so-called friends had probably shrugged and ordered another round of drinks. And Jared, the boyfriend she neglected to dump before she left town, had likely deleted her number and called one of his many admirers. Good riddance.
She nearly fell off her barstool when she saw Jared speaking at a press conference on the TV above the bar, flanked by police officers. The screen changed, and she saw her own face, a photo taken by Jared during a perfect day at the lake. She looked nothing like that now. Her hair was shorter and dyed jet black, her skin deeply tanned, colored contacts in her eyes. She blinked away tears.
“You know that guy?” The bartender asked.
She nodded as she downed another shot.