Pretty Little Dreams

by Jennifer Miller

  “Oh,” I pout, “But that isn’t what I’m making for dinner.”

  “Oh, well that’s okay. You don’t have to eat those items with it, they just give you suggestions if you’d like.”

  “Oh okay,” the best grocery store lady ever is now filling up my cup and I may have accidentally bumped her arm a bit, so she pours a little bit more than she meant to. “Oops, I am so sorry. I’m clumsy.”

  “That’s okay,” she smiles tightly and hands me the glass. I gulp it down in four big gulps and then smack my lips in enjoyment. Wow, that tastes better each time. When I look back at the wine giving goddess to tell her I will take two bottles, she’s looking at me with a disgusted look on her face. “What’s your damn problem?” I think to myself.

  “Umm, nothing. I just see that you enjoyed that sample.”

  Oh shit, I must have said that out loud! I dab at the corner of my mouth with my finger trying to look like I’m daintily wiping wetness from the corner. Of course this would work better if I had a napkin. Whatever. “I would like two bottles of Angel Kiss, please.”

  “Okay, sure.” She smiles tightly and turns to grab two bottles off the shelf behind her. While she does that, I swipe another glass full.

  She stops and stares at me sipping when she turns around, but I just give her a big grin and place the bottles in my cart. “Thank you so much kind, wine tasting woman. May you have a wonderful afternoon and sell many more bottles of your kisses from angels.” I think I even bow a little too. Then turn my cart around and head down an aisle to get away from her.

  I find a few items on my list and throw them into my basket, but all I can think about is how good that wine tastes. I’m contemplating opening the bottle when I turn down the next aisle in search of bread crumbs and I almost smash my cart into another.

  I look up with a startled, “Oh! I’m so sorr-”

  The man I ran into is the man I saw in the parking lot at the boutique, who is the same man from the parking lot outside. Fear paralyzes me, and I can’t speak or move my cart out of the way. I just stare at him. He’s wearing a trench coat and has a suit on underneath, his tie loosened at the neck. His hair is dark, he’s wearing glasses and he has freckles on his face. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you.”

  My mouth feels dry and my body feels like it is shaking on the inside. I manage to give him a brief nod, then I disengage my cart from his and turn down a different aisle, walking as quickly as my walking cast will enable me to go. I keep looking over my shoulder, but I don’t see him. I am in an aisle that has other people and it makes me feel a little bit better.

  I take deep breaths and as I get to the end of the aisle, I see the man walk by again, but this time he’s smiling at something and I turn my head to see where he’s looking. There is a woman, blonde, dressed in a teal business suit headed his way. She’s smiling back at him and her arms are full of items she’s plucked off the shelf. She dumps them into his cart and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

  I blindly reach for one of the bottles of wine in my cart and twist the damn cap off – thank goodness it’s the twistable kind – and take some chugs as tears fill my eyes.

  I’m so angry at myself. I can’t even go to the damn grocery store without projecting my fears from kidnapping onto everything. I take a gulp and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I’m fine. I’m safe. Yes, Deacon’s out there. No, I have no idea where he is. Fact is, he could walk up to me right now and take me. No doubt I would pee my pants right here, but I still adamantly refuse to live my life like a hermit because of something that might happen. If anything, I learned that I should live each day because you never know when it could seriously take a turn you aren’t expecting.

  Does that mean I’m over what happened? I laugh, literally laugh right out loud in the middle of the damn store just thinking that. No, I’m seriously fucked up. I can’t sleep without having nightmares, I can’t even function when something startles me, but whatever. I bury it and keep moving because this will not define me. I refuse to let it.

  I take another chug of wine and limp my way to the checkout line after making sure all the items that were on my list are now within my cart. With any luck, they won’t notice that there is some wine missing. But hey, I’m legal. I giggle to myself as I twist the cap back on.

  Sure enough, I’m not so lucky. When the cashier gets to my bottle of Angel Kiss, he looks at the bottle, then at me, then back again. I just give him a huge grin and subtly push my boobs together, hoping my cleavage distracts him from calling the police or something.

  Once outside, I’m beginning to wonder if driving home is a good idea. If it weren’t for the cart I’m pushing, helping me keep my balance, I’m not sure I would be standing upright. I stand at my trunk for a minute and laugh when I almost fall over because I’m leaning against my cart and it starts rolling. I put the groceries in my trunk and then grab my phone out of my pocket. I hesitate before starting to dial Pyper because she’s going to be furious with me. I look to the side, contemplating how I’m going to tell her I took off, when another store in the same strip mall catches my eye.

  An Army Surplus store. The wheels start turning. Sure, that guy ended up not being a threat, but what if he had been? What if Deacon had been here and had approached me in the store? Before I can give it another thought, I’m making my way across the parking lot and into the surplus store. I look at the signs hanging from the ceiling and walk toward the area I’m looking for.

  On my way to the desired department, I stop and look at a wall of hats and masks. They are the kind of masks that completely cover your face except for your eyes. I try on a few just for good measure and check myself out in the mirror. My eyes look huge and my head looks skinny. I never noticed its odd shape before. My mom must have always laid me on my back or something, because my head looks flat back there. I need to ask her about that someday.

  I snort in amusement and accidentally knock down a hook holding a whole bunch of hats. They fall to the floor and I try to bend over the pick them up, but I start to lose my balance and almost, nearly fall to the floor. Awesome.

  I upright myself, square my shoulders, look around, see that no one even noticed and decide to casually walk away. I head to the back of the store and get in line. There are several other people waiting, so it’s a few minutes before my turn. A man behind the counter dressed completely in camouflage gear who has a pot belly so large the buttons of his shirt are ready to pop stares at me as I approach, “Hi little darlin’. What can I help you with?”

  “Hi,” I glance at the name patch on his shirt, “Pete. I am interested in seeing your canisters of pepper spray and I’d also like to look at and find out more about your taser guns.”

  “Sure thing, sugar. You expectin’ some trouble or somethin’?”

  “Not exactly. I just want to protect myself in case the need should ever arise.”

  He stares at me a moment and then pulls out a pink canister of pepper spray. “Pink?”

  “Yeah well, yer a girl, ain’t ya?”

  I decide to let that slide, and retaliate instead with a sarcastic comment, “Good observation Obi Wan Kenobi.”

  He smirks and hands me the canister. “You been drinkin’ at all?”

  I snort, “Nope,” I tell him, popping the ‘p’.

  He looks like he’s not sure if he believes me. “Mmkay… it’s just somethin’ we’re supposed to ask. Now, this here is really easy to use. You see where the top of this twists to the side, aligning the pump up along the arrows? If you need to use it or are walking in a parking lot that’s dark you can twist it to have it ready. A lot of ladies like this here wrist strap because you can wrap it around your wrist like this,” he demonstrates on me, “and if you let go of it, you don’t have to search fer it on the ground.”

  I turn the nozzle like he showed me and press down on the pump to see if it’s hard or easy to push. Just as Pete reaches his hand out and says, “No don’t-” he spray is flying.
I never would have thought Pete could move so fast. He ducks like I’m holding an AK47 and was ready to use it. The spray flies inches from his head and slams into some poor dude standing behind him. The man turns toward me, and that’s when it hits his eyes because somehow miraculously the spray is STILL coming out of the can. I guess my finger has become glued to it, and even though I want to let go of it, I can’t.

  “AAAHHHH! Put it down, woman!” Pete screams at me.

  I’m too transfixed on the horror playing out before my eyes. Dude is screaming from the spray hitting his eyes which sure, that’s expected. What isn’t expected is that everyone else in the vicinity starts coughing. I had no idea that pepper spray was so intense, it can take out people in the surrounding area too. This shit is awesome.

  Pete finally pops his head up and peeks over the counter at me. I’m sure later when he looks back he will realize how hilarious this has been. He finally manages to pry the canister from my zombie like fingers and is breathing heavy while scowling at me.

  “Oopsie. Sooo sorry about that.” I think he wants to kill me. I’m completely unfazed, however. “Can I see a taser now?” Pete actually laughs at me. He laughs! I can’t believe this shit. So of course, now I’m pissed off. “I want to see a taser now, please.” Pete just stares at me and I ask, “Do you want to make a sale or not? I won’t touch it this time. No worries.”

  “Lady, we already had to escort a customer out of here. I don’t know about that.”

  “It was an accident! I’m really sorry! He’ll be fine after he washes out his eyeballs.” I try not to laugh at myself. I really do.

  Sensing my seriousness – and perhaps aware that failure to fulfill my request could have significant bad results; he actually gets out the taser and shows me how it works. I notice that people are still wiping their eyes and I think there’s a line at the bathroom. I’ve even gathered a bit of an audience as people gather to try and figure out the source of all the excitement. Perhaps they would like my autograph. But, I instead decide to ignore them. Someone comes up and asks Pete a question and he places the taser on the counter to grab something for them. I know I said I wouldn’t touch it, but really, it’s laying right there, begging me to see how it fits in my hand. And surely lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place, right?

  So, I pick up the irresistible taser from the counter, and without any warning, the thing immediately releases. I guess I was gripping it too hard and my finger pressed the button, I don’t know. I must have very good target capability, because some poor soul gets it in the ass and goes crashing to the floor, knocking over a display of some kind of canned bottle on his way. Oops. I can’t help but laugh my ass off, because that fall was fucking hilarious.

  The staff obviously doesn’t think it’s very funny though and before I know it, I’m on the phone with Pyper after all, “Umm, hi… so… you’re going to be mad at me, but remember how I said I would wait for you? Yeah well, I didn’t…. and there has been a little umm incident….”

  20.

  NOT MY MOTHER’S MEATLOAF

  Luke

  I’m anxious to get out of here and get home. I’m supposed to meet Olivia at the condo tonight. She said she has a surprise for me. The thought puts a smile on my face. I can’t imagine what she has in store, but I have no doubt I will enjoy whatever it is.

  I’m working on my own surprise for her. It’s been hard to be secretive about it with all the time we’ve been spending together, so I’ve taken advantage of our time apart today.

  I’ve decided not to tell Olivia about my phone call from Deacon. What would be the benefit? She has enough on her plate as it is. She’s still dealing with a variety of emotions. She thinks I don’t know it, but I can tell and I see the effect they have on her at times. I don’t want to add this to her concerns as well. Additionally, she has no idea I’ve hired a private investigator and I want to keep it that way, if possible. Fact is, if Max finds Deacon before the police do, there’s no telling how I will handle it. I’ve asked myself that question many times and my rage always gets in the way. I want him found soon, because as I continue to watch Olivia struggle, my worry over my reaction when the inevitable happens, concerns me. I sigh as I count off the third and final reason. She’s spent the day planning whatever this surprise is. I don’t want to ruin her good mood. I may have selfish motives for that, but I’m not about to feel guilty for them. Wanting a fun night with my girl is not something I’m going to apologize for.

  After making a few more phone calls and finishing a staff meeting with my employees, I’m ready to head out. Just as I grab my keys, the phone on my desk rings. I contemplate not answering for a moment, but then give in with a sigh and glance at my watch, seeing I still have a little time. “This is Luke.”

  “Luke, it’s Pyper again.”

  As luck would have it, Pyper just happened to call earlier while Max was in my office, letting me know of her need to leave Olivia and that she was afraid Olivia may go out, despite the fact she asked her to wait. I asked him to keep an eye on the condo, and if Olivia decided to leave as we predicted she would, to please follow her and keep an eye on her to make sure she stayed safe.

  “Hey, Pyper, what’s up?”

  I smile as Pyper quickly gets to the reason for her call. Apparently, Olivia, despite having promised not to, left the house by herself when Pyper had to tend to an emergency at the spa and got herself in a little bit of trouble today. Pyper says she should have known this could happen. Olivia’s been acting like a caged, wild bird at times, so it doesn’t fully surprise us that she would try something like this. Thank goodness for Pyper. I’m thankful she’s so willing to keep me abreast of Olivia’s actions. Pyper gets that while I understand Olivia’s need for normalcy, it doesn’t change the fact that it isn’t safe – not until that asshole is dead or caught and behind bars.

  No sooner do I hang up the phone with Pyper, it rings again and Max is on the other end to give me an earful as well. I understand that Max was spotted by Olivia and he could tell she got nervous with him. Fortunately, Max placed a call to his colleague, whom happened to be close by and she was able to show up and help him cover up his error, putting Olivia at ease. Of course, she somehow still managed to find trouble.

  It makes me laugh. Only my girl would chug wine at a grocery store and wander into an Army surplus store and pepper spray and tase people. I bet her buzz from the wine wore off in no time after that. Envisioning the potential scene, I laugh out loud again. I can’t wait to see her, and the thought makes me drive just a little bit faster to her place once I get in my car.

  I don’t know what I expect when I arrive at the condo, but it sure as hell isn’t the sight I see before me. Upon arrival, I notice that Olivia has the table set for a candlelight dinner. It makes me glad I brought the pink roses I have in my hand. I start to walk in and make my presence known, but getting a look at what is transpiring in the kitchen, I find myself frozen in place. Fortunately, Olivia hasn’t heard me yet, so I’m able to stand there and stare. And drool. I know my mouth has dropped open and for the life of me, I can’t figure out how to close it.

  She’s wearing some kind of black, see-through, lace thing with the sexiest, and smallest, black thong I’ve ever seen underneath. Over the top of it, it appears she has an apron tied around her waist. I can see the white bow from where she’s tied it at her back. She’s bent over the oven and I can’t seem to take my eyes off her gorgeous ass that is on full display. Wow. She looks like every man’s wet dream.

  I pull my eyes away from that glorious sight, which believe me isn’t easy, and wipe my mouth, just in case. I collect myself, and take in the rest of the kitchen, hoping it will stop the rising that is occurring below my belt. I shake my head to help me concentrate and focus once again on the kitchen; it is in pure disarray. I have no idea what she’s making, but she has ingredients all over the counter tops. The refrigerator is wide open and the drawers are open inside of it. It looks like she must have
spilled something on the floor because she has a broom leaning against the counter, and the sink is overflowing with dishes needing to be placed in the dishwasher.

  I smile. Huge. I can’t believe she’s doing this. I know her and usually a ready-made microwave meal or an easy pasta dish comprises her idea of cooking. My girl doesn’t cook. But she’s trying. For me. I feel that familiar ache in my chest and I absently rub at it. My throat closes up and my eyes burn. I love her. God, I love her so much. Without another thought, I walk into the kitchen. I need to take her in my arms right now. I’m so overcome with emotion that I clear my throat trying to push back some of my feelings. It makes her whirl around and face me at first in surprise, but then an automatic smile graces her lips. God, she’s gorgeous. It takes my breath away. Her hair is pulled out of her face, but a few tendrils have escaped and are brushing her cheeks, making me jealous that they’re touching her and I’m not.

  Her cheeks are flushed from the heat of the oven and she has some flour on her nose and cheek. I decide right then not to tell her because it’s too adorable. She’s dolled herself up with makeup, even though she doesn’t need it, and she looks absolutely mouthwatering.

  “Babe! You’re a little early,” she says breathlessly.

  I don’t even reply, I just put my arms around her and kiss her. I needed my lips on her the moment I walked through that door. I hold her close to my body and kiss her hard and passionately. I place my hands on either side of her cheeks and tilt her head for me and claim her lips. She emits a small groan and returns my kiss just as greedily.

  When I pull away, placing a small kiss on her nose, careful not to disturb the flour there, she smiles, “Well, hello to you too.”

  “Angel, what are you doing? Cooking? For me? You hate cooking.”

  I don’t know how it’s possible, but her cheeks redden a bit more and she shrugs, “I wanted to try.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to eat whatever you’ve made. I’m starving!”