Juliet helped herself to a cigarette from the pack that P.J. had left on the sill, then cranked the window slightly open. With a trembling hand, she lit up and drew deep. Juliet exhaled and watched the trail of smoke flow through the screen and set off to merge with the misty air before it disappeared.
With her back towards P.J., Juliet thought through her options. Her first go to, of course, was to run. To go home, pack a bag and flee for her life. But now, with the roads closed and her car bent, broken, and covered up to its chrome wheels in quick-sand like mud, that was no longer an option. And even if she could, what then? If P.J. could figure her out just by watching her, then there would be others, maybe not as nice as P.J., who would be able to figure it out too. And then, it would all just begin again. And although Juliet had stuck to her promise to Dr. Finkle to practice self-care and work towards a healthy emotional balance, it was not as easy as that.
Dr. Finkle and Juliet still had monthly check ins and he had called just the other day to warn Juliet that Kenny’s second trial date had been scheduled, and to offer her his support through that process. Because Kenny Brewster had killed these girls long before he had met Juliet, she would not be called to testify. However, Dr. Finkle was aware that the trial may garner renewed interest in the serial killer as a whole. Although, the doctor had assured Juliet that her identity was well protected, he wanted to make sure that she would be okay. Which meant that she should keep herself away from the television, and newspaper articles featuring stories about the trial. She had told Dr. Finkle that he had no worries on that account, Juliet had no desire to learn anything more about the murders that Kenny Brewster had committed. But there was still a real possibility that reporters would be interested in finding her, hearing all about what the wife of the serial killer had been doing since the last trial. Juliet wondered if she was safe here. Now, that things between her and P.J. had begun to get complicated, she knew she couldn’t hold him off forever. Juliet wondered if it was time to move on.
Now, Juliet felt P.J. come up behind her. The warm weight of his hands on her shoulders felt like a too heavy blanket. He brushed her hair with his lips and whispered low into her ear “Did you figure it out yet, Juliet?”
“Figure out what?” She sighed deeply.
“Where you’re going this time? How far you can run?”
She turned in his arms, then stepped away from him. Juliet looked at P.J. with surprise.
“Babe, what else would you be thinking?” P.J. arched a brow. Then he added “Listen, before you bolt this time? Before you run away, can you do me a favor? What do you say we have some breakfast first? Because if you’re gonna have to find a way to leave me? Then I’m sure as hell gonna have to find a way to bring you back. And I don’t mind telling you, I’m not my best on an empty stomach.”
Juliet looked at P.J. stupefied. And although she wouldn’t have believed it possible given the last few minutes, she found herself giving in to a small smile.
“I could eat.”
Sitting across the table eating oatmeal and watching P.J. sop up the yolk from the half dozen sunny- side up eggs that he had prepared for himself, Juliet pondered the situation she was in.
“I want to know how you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“About my situation.”
“You mean how did I figure out that you’re in trouble?”
“Yes. But for the record, it’s more complicated than that.”
“And it only gets complicated when someone goes snooping around into your past? Is that right, Juliet?” P.J. took a sip of the thickly pulped orange juice, leaned back in his chair, and gave her his full attention.
“That’s right P.J. I’m safe as long as nobody goes snooping.” Juliet looked pointedly at him. “So, what was it? What was the tip off? I mean people move into new cities and towns every day. What was it about me?”
“It wasn’t any one thing.” He shrugged as he gave it some thought. “Honestly, most people probably wouldn’t have put it all together.”
“But you did.”
“Yeah, babe, I did. That hypervigilance thing you got going on? I have it too, it’s been kind of ingrained in me.”
“Because of your family? Because of who they are? What they do?”
P.J. arched a brow in question.
“I asked Layla about you, too.” Juliet felt a sudden sense of pride at obviously catching him off guard. “Then I did some research.”
“Should I be flattered?”
“Not at all.” She gave him a small smile. “Well, maybe a little.”
P.J. shook his head and wondered if he would ever stop being surprised by this woman.
“Well, you’re right. I come from a place, a family, where it’s important to see through the bullshit, straight through to the character of a person.” P.J. explained the best way he knew how.
“Your motorcycle club. The Hells Saints. You took over as president when your grandfather died. You were named after him, and that tattoo you have inked over your heart? That’s in honor of him. He left you a legacy. Hard men. Hard lives.” She said softly.
“Yeah.” P.J. nodded. “My legacy. My family. I loved the club. I still love the club. That sense of brotherhood, the power, the hunt, the tension, the race against the law. It was like a total adrenalin rush all the time. Being a part of that was like jumping off the highest cliff and knowing that whatever you did, where every you landed, someone would be there to break that fall.”
“And yet here you are, living life large in small town America?” Juliet puzzled.
“Yep, here I am.”
“That’s a pretty big change…” She pressed on for more details. Partly because she was sincerely interested in his story, and partly in an effort to deflect P.J.’s interest from her own story.
“Tale for another time, babe. We’re talking about you now, right? So, your question is how did I know that you were in trouble?”
“Let’s call it a situation.” Juliet interrupted. Because in trouble was not a phrase that Juliet liked to use to describe her set of circumstances. It seemed to her to be self-indulgent, and there were just too many layers, too many levels of the word. The girls and women that Kenny had killed had been in trouble. Being kidnapped and slaughtered by a madman meant that your life was in trouble. Juliet had been so much more fortunate than that. She had only been left to deal with the fall out and the guilt of those heinous crimes.
“Situation. Sure, we can call it that.” P.J. shrugged. “Anyway, I learned to read people, to look for things that would give me a feeling, an instinct about a person. And I know women who have been in your position before.”
“I seriously, seriously, doubt that. This is not what you think it is. Not at all.” And once again, the horror of her past reared its ugly head. Because Juliet knew what P.J. was thinking. She knew that he probably thought she was running from an abusive relationship, from a husband who beat her. How sad that Juliet wished that that had been the case.
“Well, then enlighten me.” P.J.’s tone had begun to shift. He seemed impatient, frustrated. “Because from the minute I met you, Juliet, that’s all I have wanted was answers.”
“But you never asked the questions.”
“No. I never asked because you never gave me the chance.” P.J. crossed his arms over his chest. “And besides, I knew you’d lie.”
Juliet remained silent because there was nothing to say. What P.J. had said was true. She would have lied to him then. And to Juliet’s shame, she knew that if P.J. pressed and probed her now, she would still lie.
P.J. knew it too…he saw it in her eyes, in the way she turned from him. P.J. felt a surge of anger rise within him. Because here they were, back there again. Back to that black, hooded, haunted place.
“Talk to me, Juliet.” He said in a voice that was strong…commanding.
Juliet’s eyes lit with conflicted emotion when she answered him. “I don’t know what you want, P.J. But whatever it is, I
can pretty much guarantee that I can’t give it to you. I don’t want to lie to you, but I won’t tell you the truth either. I won’t share my sad story.” Juliet exhaled as if releasing an age old burden. “The thing I need most is to put the past behind me. I don’t need to talk about it or make peace with it. Or even be rescued from it. There is nothing you can do or say that will help. The only chance I have is to forget and to start over.” Now Juliet pulled the sleeves of her sweater over the scars on her wrists. “The only way I will survive the past is to bury it.”
“Are you saying this stops here? That this thing between us stops now, Juliet?” The violence of his disappointment made P.J.’s jaw clench while the biceps that were crossed against his chest tightened and flexed.
“I’m saying I’m not available in the way you might need me to be.” Juliet tried and failed to stop the tears that welled up in her eyes.
“Because of him?” P.J. snarled.
“Because of me.” Juliet said brokenly.
“Who’s the picture on the license? What does that woman have to do with you, Juliet?” Then P.J. threw his hands up in the air in angry accusation. “Juliet! Hah!” Is that even your goddamn name?!”
In answer, Juliet stood firm and drew her mouth into a hard, thin line.
And that’s when P.J. began to stab a pointed finger in the air and fire questions at Juliet in loud, rapid, succession. Juliet watched on in disheartened incredulity as P.J. huffed and puffed and tried to blow her house down.
Then in one final attempt, he bellowed out. “If you don’t talk to me, Juliet. Then it ends here. It ends now.”
Juliet looked at P.J. and saw his strength, his pride, his determination. She saw the way his body tensed with controlled violence. She thought of the night she had spent in his arms, of the way she had felt warm, protected, and loved. Juliet wanted to trust him, she did. But when she began to reach for him, when she stretched her hand towards him, the light glinted off the thick keloid scar on her wrist. A sad souvenir of how bad things could get, and how far she had come. She just didn’t trust what it would mean to open herself up to him.
“I mean it. You don’t tell me what you’re running from then it ends here.” He repeated with a glare.
“Then it ends here.” Juliet glared right back at him.
“You are one fucking stubborn woman!” P.J. roared at Juliet. When she remained unmoved by his thundering anger, P.J. made a mighty fist, and punched a hole straight through the wall. Then he stuffed his feet back into his still wet and muddy boots, grabbed his jacket and stomped back out into the dying storm.
Juliet looked at the door as it slammed shut behind P.J. in a thud that was strong enough to shake the house. Then she sighed deeply, and began to clear off the table because really, Juliet did not have the luxury of stomping off the way P.J. had. Her shoes had not made it out of the mud, and the last time Juliet had seen her jacket, it had been a tattered, muddy, thing lying on top of the trash. Her phone! Juliet’s phone had been in her pocket. The thought had barely formed when she heard a ringtone sound out from the muddied mess.
“Hi Layla.” Juliet caught it on the last ring. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the waterproof pouch that she kept her phone in.
“Oh, thank god!” Layla squealed. “I feel so horrible that I didn’t call to check up on you. It was a hell of a night. We lost power at my mother-in-law’s house and my phone died. I am so glad you are okay! Reggie’s been out all morning working. He just texted me, he’s on his way to pick up P.J. They are going to try and help the town clear up some of the roads. P.J. told him that you were there. Reggie just forwarded a pic that P.J. had sent him earlier. I barely recognized your car. When I realized what it was, I almost had a goddamn heart attack!”
Juliet held the phone away from her ear, while Layla went on and on in that high pitched squeal. Juliet knew from experience that the rant would last a while before Layla came up for air. But really, Juliet didn’t mind. It was good to know that she had a friend who had worried about her. Of course, when Layla was done with her rambling on and on about her own adventures in the storm, she wanted to know all the specifics about what had happened to Juliet. Juliet told her about the horrendous drive home, and about taking the wrong turn. She told her friend about the car being stuck, but glossed over what had happened after that, because really, how could she explain the abject horror and terror of her body being stuck in several feet of freezing cold mud for what seemed like hours.”
“So, you spent the night?” Layla asked and Juliet could just see the wheels turning in her friend’s nosy little mind.
“Yes. I spent the night.”
“And?” Layla quizzed.
“And I will be forever grateful that P.J. was here to help me.”
“Oh, that’s how we are going to play this?” Layla sighed in apparent disappointment. “Well, I’ll let you get away with that for now!” And then true to Layla’s nature, the conversation took another rapid swing. “Lines are down all over the area, your place won’t have electricity, and like I said, the roads are a mess. Half of them washed out, the other half are blocked. Joys of living in a small, seaside town in upstate. I know that P.J. has a generator so that’s good considering that you are going to have to stay there for a couple of days. Lucky girl!”
“Yeah, well, while you are giggling and waxing romantic about P.J. and I getting stuck in the storm together, think about the fact that I now have no car, and a freezer full of pints of Rainforest Crunch and Chunky Monkey that might be melting away as we speak.” Juliet lamented to her friend.
“Well. That’s bad. But I suppose there are worse things.” Layla responded with uncharacteristic practicality.
And Juliet could not have agreed more.
It was hours later that P.J. made his way back to the house. If he never saw another damn drop of rain, he’d die a happy man. He was so tired of being cold, wet, and pissed off. Reggie and he had worked non-stop to help the town out with storm debris. Not to mention that Juliet’s car had been a bitch to move out. In the end, they had had to call in a wrecking crew company. The owner was Rudy Daltry. He was Reggie’s second cousin by marriage, and part of the Thirsty Thursday card playing crew. When he got the call, he did P.J. a solid by putting Juliet’s car at the top of his list. Even with a sizeable discount, P.J. had paid Rudy a hefty sum to get Juliet’s car out of the mud and into the junkyard. Juliet and the insurance adjuster could take it from there.
Juliet.
If shame were an emotion that P.J. was capable of feeling, he would be feeling it now. No matter how much the damn woman riled him up, he should never had lost his temper like that. The knuckles on his right hand were all bruised, swollen, and stiff, but that was nothing compared to the damage he had just done to their relationship. P.J. was pretty much convinced that Juliet had been abused by her man. Now P.J. had done everything he could to make sure that she would think of him in the same way…as a man capable of totally scaring the crap right out of her. He had never felt like a bigger asshole in his life.
P.J. knew that Reggie had called Layla to let her know that Juliet was okay and at P.J.’s house. He figured that once the roads had been pretty well cleared, Layla would have arranged to pick Juliet up and bring her home. As such, P.J. really had no desire to go back to an empty house. Although Juliet had only been there one night, P.J. felt as if she had made her mark on the place. The sheets would still carry her scent when he went to bed alone that night, and the logs in the fire would remind him of her lying safe and cozy in his arms. It was a small thing, but he had especially liked having coffee with her in the morning. The thought that she wouldn’t be there when he woke up tomorrow, or maybe ever again, set P.J.’s teeth on edge.
“Hey,” She smiled nervously at him. “I hope you don’t mind. I rummaged through your refrigerator and found some vegetables and stuff. I made stew.”
P.J. stood in the middle of his living room looking at the table set for dinner. He looked
from the lit candles to Juliet and then back again. A million questions ran through his mind, the biggest one being… what the hell was Juliet still doing here in his house when P.J. had given her every reason to run for her life?
Juliet had tidied up the living room, and P.J. could see through the open door in the bathroom that the bathroom had been scrubbed clean of the grit and mud from the night before. Dinner smelled amazing. But mostly, that hole in the wall glared at him in reproach. P.J. scrubbed a hard hand over his jaw and thought What the hell? Every encounter he had ever had with this woman bordered on the bizarre, and the last twenty-four hours had been no exception. First, he had found Juliet stuck deep in the mud looking like something right out of a monster movie. Then, in his bed? Juliet unleashed was seriously the best sex that P.J. had ever had in his life and considering how much sex he had had up to this point, that was saying a lot. And now after an argument that had ended with him throwing a punch through a wall, Juliet was not only still there, but she was also serving up homemade in his kitchen.
“It smells good,” he muttered. Then P.J. shook his head in question. “But…”
“But what, P.J.?” She interrupted gently.
“What in the hell are we doing here, Juliet?”
“First off, you owe me an apology.” She frowned at him. “You yelling at me like that was totally undeserved.”
P.J. looked at Juliet with a mixture of surprise and chagrin. The surprise was that she had the balls to call him out on his bad behavior, and the chagrin was for the behavior itself. “Yeah, well, I ‘m sorry for that.”
“And for the wall.” She looked with meaning towards the hole.
“Especially for the wall.” P.J. said it and he meant it. “I’m not a violent man, Juliet. I’ve done violent things, but I am not a violent man. I shouldn’t have yelled at you; I shouldn’t have thrown that punch. And I want you to know I would never hurt you.”
Becoming Juliet Page 13
