Becoming Juliet

by Paula Marinaro

  Juliet was further pleased to find that Layla had been true to her word. The utility closet was filled with several types of cleaning supplies, rubber gloves, lemon oil, and a yellow polka dotted broom and dustpan set. Juliet spent the first full week cleaning, polishing, and dusting cobwebs off the ceiling. The kitchen and bathroom floors were set upon with gusto. The couch and chair cushions were beat within an inch of their dusty lives. Then Juliet set them on the front porch to air out.

  Once she had been done with the inside, Juliet began to work outside. She used the bright, yellow broom to sweep off the porch. With the help of the lawnmower that she found in the tool shed, she mowed the grass into uneven circles that made her laugh when she saw them. Then Juliet went to work on the windows, cleaning them with a mixture of vinegar and water until they shone in the sunlight.

  It had been about two weeks since that first meeting before P.J. saw Juliet again. He was in the back room of the market doing inventory when he caught a glance of her on the security camera. It was her posture that first caught his eye. Juliet kept her head down, and her shoulders slumped as if she were trying to make herself as small as possible. She had on that same black hoodie and gray sweatpants. A New England Patriots cap had been pulled low over her brow. Juliet moved through the store in quick efficiency. It was as though she had decided before hand exactly how many steps it would take her to finish her task and was determined to take no more or no less.

  “I got this, Timmy.” P.J. came out from the stock room and called to the kid heading for the register. “Take fifteen.”

  Timmy Carr, who had just punched into work, looked at P.J. with surprise. In Timmy’s experience P.J. was a fair and generous boss, but he was also a hard ass when it came to break time. Timmy didn’t have to be asked twice. So, he grabbed his phone, put money on the counter for a candy bar, then went out into the back alley to text his girlfriend. By the time Juliet had reached the register, P.J. was there waiting. She placed basic staples onto the counter. A bag of apples, a jar of freshly ground peanut butter, a pound of coffee, sugar, milk, and a fresh loaf of artisan bread completed her purchase.

  “So, how’s it going? You settling in okay?” P.J. asked her.

  “Excuse me?” Juliet looked up from unzipping her purse.

  “P.J. McCabe. I met you at the cabin. Layla was late and I met you. We’re neighbors.”

  Her eyes lit with sudden recognition. She had to stop being so narrowly focused and pay more attention to the world around her. She knew exactly who P.J. was. Of course, she did. Truth be known, Juliet had spent the better part of the last couple of weeks spying on him when he worked out in his yard. Seeing him here behind the counter had taken her totally off guard. In way of awkward apology, Juliet blurted out, “I guess I didn’t recognize you with your shirt on.”

  P.J. grinned at her.

  “When you’re working…down by the stream… sometimes you take your shirt off…” She blushed and stammered.

  “Ah. So, you have been watching me.” He said smugly. “I thought I had seen you out on your balcony looking over in my direction. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “I’m not embarrassed.” Juliet said even as she felt the heat rush to her face. “Just surprised to see you here that’s all.”

  And that was the truth, because although Juliet definitely knew who P.J. McCabe was, she had just never expected to find him standing behind the counter at a market. Shouldn’t he be out in the woods felling trees, or lifting five hundred pound bales of hay over his head…his muscles flexing, the sheen of his hard, sweaty body glistening in the sun? Yeah, Juliet had spent more than a few minutes creeper stalking P.J. from behind the curtains of her bedroom. And he was right, more recently she had gotten bolder and had stood on the balcony watching him while he worked. Stupidly, it had never occurred to Juliet that if she could see P.J., then he could see her too.

  Watching him had been entertaining, she would definitely give P.J. that. But Juliet had decided that he was the kind of guy who just screamed trouble…found it, brought it, caused it, and could definitely handle it. He was about six and a million feet tall. His biceps looked like he arm-wrestled for a living, his knuckles were scarred, and his nose had definitely been broken…more than once. Not to mention that P.J. was covered from head to toe in scary black ink…skulls, grenades, tombstones. Around his large wrist, there was a tattoo of a rosary whose Celtic cross ended in the center of his index finger. A large, broken winged angel covered his entire back. He needed a shave.

  Beautiful bad man the thought came unbidden to Juliet’s mind and for a minute her baser instincts took over. She wanted to jump over the counter and…well…just the idea of finishing the rest of that thought made her girly parts tingle. She realized that she had been staring at him.

  “So, you work at the market?” She asked just to give herself something to say.

  “I own it.”

  “Do you own the gun shop, too?” Juliet had begun to tug on the spikey ends of her hair.

  “Yep, sure do.” P.J. finished ringing up the items that Juliet had placed on the counter. Then he leaned in and gave her his full attention. “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “Yes, I’d like to purchase a gun and a few hundred rounds of ammunition, please.”

  Now P.J. leaned back, crossed his big arms, and stared at Juliet as if she were a curiosity in one of those Believe it or Not museums.

  Juliet stared back at P.J. When it had been a full thirty seconds and he still hadn’t spoken, Juliet began to shift on her feet. Since he didn’t seem like the type of guy who would be unfamiliar with the term ammunition, Juliet wasn’t sure what the problem was.

  “The sign says George’s Variety and Gun shop.” She pointed out the obvious.

  “Yes, yes it does.” P.J. continued to stare at her.

  “I’m assuming that you do sell guns?”

  “Town ordinance. Gun shop opens weekdays 11-4 or by appointment.” He kept his voice even, and his tone matter of fact. “That’ll be thirty for the groceries.”

  Juliet reached into her purse. Then she took out some crumpled bills from her wallet and put them on the counter.

  “I would like to purchase a Glock 26 Gen 4 threaded barrel.” She recited the words carefully.

  Even though Juliet had placed the exact amount owed, two tens and two fives, on the counter as payment, it seemed to take forever for P.J. to count out those bills. He cleared his throat, then looked back up at her.

  “You’re looking for a Gen 4 threaded barrel?” He cocked his head and studied her. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

  “I heard that it’s a reliable weapon.” Juliet responded defensively.

  “Yeah? And where did you hear that?”

  “You Tube.”

  “You have got to be shitting me.” P.J. raised an eyebrow and grinned widely.

  She opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again, because honestly, she could very well imagine what P.J. might be thinking. Her research on the internet notwithstanding, Juliet really had no idea what kind of gun she needed, could afford, or even could handle. The whole idea of purchasing one today had been spur of the moment, just because of that dumb sign in front of the store. It had taken the whole first year of Juliet’s stay at the sanitorium, under pretty heavy medication, constant surveillance and round the clock therapy to try and convince her that she was safe. But the truth was that Juliet still didn’t feel safe, and probably never would. Maybe having a weapon would help with that sense of security that she so desperately craved. But she had certainly handled this ask all wrong.

  “What do you need a gun for, Juliet?” P.J.’s tone had gentled, but his eyes were trained hard on her.

  “I just do.” She replied firmly. “Women need guns.”

  “And why do you think women need guns?’

  “For... protection.” She bit down on her lip and began to tug on her hair again.

  “Women have men for that.” His vo
ice was a soft persuasion.

  P.J. knew that was a bullshit answer, his own mother carried a small gun in her purse. But he had started the conversation with Juliet because he had been curious; he had hoped to get some information out of her. And the fact that she felt she needed protection told him all he needed to know. But now, he realized that he meant exactly what he said. He wanted to protect her. From whatever it was that was hunting her, haunting her. Ever since that first crazy meeting when that junk food wrapper fell out of the pocket of her sweatshirt, P.J. had wanted to help Juliet.

  Juliet let out a long breath. “I wish the world was that simple, P.J.” Then Juliet continued on in a somber, reasonable tone. Her eyes were sad when she said. “You sell guns, I need a gun. Can we just make it as easy as that?”

  P.J. leaned forward on the counter until he was just inches from her. Then, his keen, brown eyes gave Juliet a long, searching look. To her credit, Juliet held that gaze for longer than he thought she would. When she made the move to grab the bag off the counter and walk out the door, he spoke.

  “Okay then.” P.J.’s tone was all business. “You have your license on you? I’ll take some information, run a background check, then we’ll go from there.”

  “A background check?”

  “Standard practice, sweetheart.”

  Juliet chewed on her lip. She was afraid that her new personal information would not hold up under scrutiny. But then again, Special Agent Maddox had assured her that the pieces of identification that the bureau had provided would pass any test. And really what better place was there to check the validity of his statement than in a small town in the Northeast? Especially with a guy who’d definitely seen or maybe even had created his share of false identification cards.

  So, with steady hands Juliet reached into her purse, pulled out her license, and laid it on the counter.

  “Cool…let me just…” P.J. paused mid-sentence. He looked at the license then back at Juliet.

  “Wanna try again?” He placed a long, scarred finger on the edge of the laminated card and pushed it towards her.

  “Something wrong?”

  “That ain’t you.”

  Juliet looked at P.J. in honest confusion. There was no way possible that he could have determined the falsehood of the license that fast. And besides, Juliet reminded herself, it really wasn’t a fake identification at all. It was a real license, and it was her. Just not the new her. Juliet stood firm. “Of course, it’s me.”

  “That ain’t you.” P.J. repeated, took a step back from the counter, crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her steadfastly.

  “Well, I’ve lost a few pounds…” Juliet mumbled.

  “Pounds of what? Gray matter? ‘Cause if you think the picture on this license is ever gonna pass for you, then you have lost your mind. Name’s not even right.”

  Name’s not even right.

  At P.J.’s words, Juliet felt a cold dread start up from her toes and course through her body. She snatched up the license from the counter as if it were a serpent about to strike. Quickly, she shoved the card back in her purse and grabbed the grocery bag from the counter. Then without another word, Juliet Jones ran out of the market.

  By the time she had reached her car, Juliet’s mouth had turned dust dry, and her heart was hammering inside her chest. With shaking hands, she rummaged through her purse until she found the keys to the car. Then Juliet searched frantically through the glove compartment until her hand landed on the vial of pills. She stuck two of the small white tablets under her tongue and took a long gulp of the warm, bottled water that sat on the seat next to her.

  Juliet took a deep breath, started the engine, and drove home as quickly as the speed limits allowed. Then she ran into the house, threw open the drawers, and stuffed her clothes into a suitcase. Without stopping to lock the door behind her, she ran back to her car and drove straight out of town. It was only after Juliet had cleared the town line did the panic begin to subside. Then she pulled over to the side of the road, shut off the engine and managed her rapid breathing.

  One, two, three, breathe. Four, five, six, breathe. Seven, eight, nine, breathe. Ten, breathe.

  First Juliet calmed herself, then she berated herself. Even after all that time in therapy, she still wasn’t sure that she could do it; Juliet wasn’t sure that she was capable of living a normal life. But she sure knew one thing, requesting a deadly weapon then handing over the wrong license was not the way to go.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid

  She never should have kept it. Dr. Finkle had made this huge deal out of ritualizing Juliet’s new beginnings. He had arranged for a special dinner out on the back lawn for himself, Juliet, and Juliet’s favorite attendant, Asueli. After a nice meal, Asueli had lit a small blaze in the fire pit. Then, Asueli and the doctor had cheered Juliet on as she ceremoniously dropped pieces of her old life into the fire. Diplomas, driver’s license, vehicle registration, tax forms…anything with Lucy Brewster’s name on it was put into the flames. Identical documents with the name Juliet Jones were piled fireside waiting to replace them.

  Out with the old, in with the new! Dr. Finkle had raised his glass of sparkling grape juice as he proposed a toast.

  It had all been meant to be some grand gesture, a goodbye to the horrors of the recent past and a celebration of the new life waiting for her. It had not felt that way to Lucy though. She had felt as though she was being asked to throw away what little was left of her. So, when it became time to throw her license in the small, deadly inferno, Lucy had palmed this last semblance of herself. She just hadn’t been ready to part with that smiling, happy girl. She hadn’t wanted to forget the young woman who had the shining eyes full of hope, long flowing hair, and tiny diamond earrings that had sparkled when she turned her head for the picture. However, Juliet also knew that that girl, Lucy Brewster, had made a mess of things.

  Love and Fear. The two most destructible forces on earth. Fear had paralyzed her, and love had made her blind.

  So now Lucy Brewster, that pretty, optimistic, hopeful young woman had had to become someone else. She had had to become Juliet Jones and forge ahead. Lucy had had to leave all those fairytales that she believed in far behind.

  Juliet berated herself as she sat in the driver’s seat and pulled another patch of hair out of her head. She’d come too far to screw it up now, and if she ever expected to have a chance at this new normal then she had better get a hold of herself.

  Juliet leaned over and into the glove compartment. She pulled out her emergency pack of cigarettes.

  Without the least bit of guilt or remorse, Juliet lit one up because now was not the time to quit.

  On anything.

  Juliet fell back on what she saw as the least deadly of all her bad habits. She inhaled deeply and willed herself to relax. But when her mind began to wander, to tread into dangerous grounds, she knew that she had seriously better grab a hold of herself. Because going back to that place in her mind, even for a moment, was not a good thing. It was a place she had been to before, and her future depended on not going there again.

  The Crazy Place.

  Juliet drew deep on her cigarette and explored the options that were left to her. Although there was still some money left, she was not working, and not sure when she would be again. Juliet had planned her finances carefully to last through the next year at the cabin. But it would take a giant chunk out of her bank account to leave town and start over again.

  Besides, where in the hell would she go?

  So, when Juliet thought over her options, they really boiled down to only one.

  Go back.

  She had to go back.

  She would just have to reevaluate and make this thing work.

  For starters, no more standing out on the balcony admiring that fool of a man, P.J. McCabe. However, even as she made her pledge, Juliet felt a surge of regret. Because, after all, and despite everything, Juliet was still a red blooded woman. A red blooded woman who hadn�
�t had sex in…well, forever. Honestly, watching P.J. McCabe work that hard body for hours, as the sheen of his sweat glistened off those tight muscles was way high up on the wow factor. Even now, Juliet wanted to fan herself just thinking about it. And she was going to give herself a pass on this one, because for god sakes the man cut through thick branches of fallen trees as if he were slicing through butter.

  Of course, Juliet knew that it was not a good thing that she had found herself drawn to P.J. And even though she barely knew him, that attraction that she felt for him went past the physical. Juliet felt a secret kinship with P.J. McCabe. It was as if they were both playing a role in a game called Find the thing that does not belong.

  Juliet wasn’t sure that she would ever find a place where she belonged.

  And P.J. was definitely not the kind of man that one would expect to find in a hearth and home, sleepy small town in upstate Maine. Especially with arms covered in violent and creepy tattoos. And that broken winged angel symbol emblazoned on his back? Juliet was especially curious about that. And now, because everything else had gone to hell, she figured she might as well do an image search and satisfy her curiosity once and for all. She grabbed her tablet out of her purse and went to work.

  It hadn’t taken long to find it.

  Trouble…just what she had expected. The symbol was indeed distinctive and led her to a whole bunch of interesting articles about the Hells Saints Motorcycle Club.

  Next, she did a specific search on P.J. McCabe…oh boy.

  Yeah, no choir boy there.

  The information went a long way in helping Juliet to decide on her next plan of action concerning bad boy McCabe.

  The market was too convenient of a shop for Juliet to give up. Running into P.J. there did not have to be a big deal if she didn’t make it one. If he ever asked her about the license again, she would make something up, or simply not answer. She wasn’t going to let him stop her from going about her day to day. That settled that, Juliet thought as she took a long last draw on the cigarette.