She told me she'd cheated on me. She told me she wasn't the girl I deserved.She told me she was breaking up with me, that she couldn't be in a relationship with me anymore. She told me she'd fallen from grace, that she wasn't the perfect angel that everyone thought she was.I didn't believe her. She was Dawn. She was MY Dawn. She was perfect in every way. And somehow, I knew this wasn't her fault.It was Jaron's fault. He was the seducer. He was the destroyer. He deserved to DIE."WHERE IS HE?" I howled again. Look up "apoplectic" in the dictionary. You'll find a picture of my face there.Carli's mouth was open as she tried to process my request. While still in a state of shock, she mumbled a bit before finally grunting, "Haste Street just past Shattuck." It took her a few more blinks before she was able to spit out the specific address.Nodding my head and committing the address to memory, I simply spun out of the room, raced down the stairs, and back to my waiting car. The Mustang was. It was cream chiffon over an under-dress of creamsatin. The skirt was full and fell just above my knee. I had teamed itwith nude hose and matching strappy sandals with a 4-inch heel - high butnot too much so. I wore my red wig with blonde highlights down and wavy,so that soft curls just brushed my shoulders. Bright red lipstick matchedthe varnish on my finger and toenails.I smoothed my skirt under me as I sat down on the piano stool. My fingerswent into 'automatic mode' as I played the first few chords of my openingnumber. Suddenly I was lost in the music; an idea for a new variationsprang from nowhere into my mind and, without thinking, I was off down abrand new track. Now this is something I would never have risked had Ithought about it; normally even the most experienced musician will tryout new ideas in rehearsal before going 'live' in front of an audience.Maybe it was the adrenalin flowing through my body as a result of myappearing for the first time as a woman; I don't know..
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