Becoming Juliet

by Paula Marinaro

  “And what about P.J.?”

  “What about him?”

  “Did he move on too?”

  “Now, that right there is the million dollar question. I’ll say this, he doesn’t dip in the town pond. But a big, strong, gorgeous hunk of a man like that has to have his needs, right?” Layla chewed her lip in concentration, then her eyes went wide as if she had just experienced an epiphany. “Hey, P.J. will be at our annual Harvest Party. It would be a good chance for you to talk to him. He really is a great guy if you can get past all that Raging Bull kind of stuff.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment but I’m not looking to be set up, Layla.” Juliet told her gently.

  “Honey, even if you were looking for that, I’m no matchmaker.” Layla clicked the button on her key ring and unlocked the car. “And if a little hell cat like my sister, Kendra, hadn’t felt that she could handle P.J.? Well, in my book, that says a whole lot. Besides, no matter how tight you think you are with a guy like P.J. McCabe, there are lines that you just don’t cross and setting him up with a woman is one of them.” Layla put the key in the ignition and started up the jeep. Then she turned to look at Juliet. “Anyway, all I am saying is that he’ll be there, and you’ll be there.” Then Layla smiled wickedly when she added, “it wouldn’t hurt to wear something pretty.”

  Every year P.J. helped Reggie set up for the Dumont harvest party. Once everything had been all sorted, organized, and moved a zillion times according to Layla’s direction, P.J. and Reggie would light up expensive cigars and down a couple of shots of Hennessey. P.J. would stay long enough to make Layla happy, then as soon as she was otherwise engaged, he would slip out the back. And sometimes for P.J. even that was too long. But he knew that Layla in party mode was a lot to handle, so P.J. didn’t mind helping out.

  It wasn’t as if he didn’t know anyone at the party. In truth, he knew just about everyone. He just wasn’t interested in small talk. And besides, everyone looked so damn happy. P.J. just didn’t get it. Especially since he knew damn well that some of them had lives that were straight up falling apart. Some of their stories were downright tragic.

  Dave and Belinda Applebee were having a good ole time playing horseshoes with the Goodlaws. Jeremy Applebee who had just shot a ringer with the help of his dad, was seven years old and had leukemia. And their horseshoe partners, Paul and Sally Goodlaw had had to file bankruptcy last week.

  Bob Oglethorpe was manning the grill. His only son, Jack, was a serious heroin addict. Mrs. Jennings was sitting with Layla. She had lost her husband, Charlie, to a heart attack three months ago. They had been happily married for sixty years, and she cried every time his name was mentioned. Suzy Oumi was having a good laugh with her nephew, Andy. Suzanne had caught her husband cheating on her last Christmas Eve. Young Andy Roberts was twenty years old and had spent all of those years tied to a wheelchair.

  Each and every one of them had every reason to be miserable. Yet here they all were together, basking in the glow of friendship and yucking it up with one another like no one had a care in the world. It was like the people of Port Harbor knew some magic secret to happiness that they were keeping from P.J.

  “This is a goddamn party, not a funeral.” Andy said as he wheeled over to him. “What’s the matter, tough guys don’t like deviled eggs, is that it?”

  “Hey Roberts, why are you busting my balls?” P.J. grinned out the expected response. “Hear you’re going to Pee U in a couple of weeks.”

  “Pee U!” Andy let out a laugh. “That’s a good one. You gonna come see me? A day at college might do you some good.”

  “Boston University? Doubt they’d let me in…even for a day. But for you, man? I’d swallow my pride and give it a try.” Then P.J. added. “You gonna be okay there, buddy? I mean do they have like… uh...what you and Bullet need?”

  “Yeah, me and my old buddy here will be just fine.” He thumped the spokes of his wheelchair. “They got all kinds of stuff there for students with disabilities.”

  “Hey, I’m gonna be stopping by your place this week.” P.J. said as if he had just thought of it. “I got you a going away gift.”

  “I hope it’s one of those custom made blow up dolls that they’re making now in Japan.” Andy joked and put up his hand for a high five.

  P.J. high fived him back. “Sorry, brother. Sold out. But I think that you just might like this gift better.”

  “Okay, give it a shot.” Andy grinned at him.

  “Bullet might feel a little slighted, but I think it’s time him and you start seeing other people.” P.J. shook his head in mock sorrow.

  “Don’t play with a guy in a wheelchair, P.J.” Andy looked at him, but couldn’t keep the cautious hope that had begun to light up his eyes.

  “Tilite ZR Titanium.” P.J. told him. “That’s the one you wanted right?”

  “Only my whole damn life!!” Andy exclaimed. Joy lit up his face and he swiveled his chair around in happy circles. “I can’t believe this!”

  “Figured you’d need something light and fast to race after all those sweet college girls.” P.J. lifted his chin to Andy’s parents who were watching from across the lawn, their faces lit up in gratitude and happiness for their boy. P.J. had consulted Mr. and Mrs. Roberts and together they had come up with the perfect chair to fit a college bound boy’s needs.

  “You are the best friend a guy could have.” Andy said it with so much sincerity that his eyes were bright with it. Embarrassed, he took a swipe at his cheek, but P.J. would never forget the look on Andy Roberts face or the way doing the right thing made P.J. feel.

  It took about five more minutes of talking about the many attributes of the three thousand dollar wheelchair, before Andy couldn’t stand it anymore. With a jubilant smile he wheeled off to go home, call his friends, and look up the tracking number on the internet.

  Andy worked for P.J. part time with ordering and some accounting in the market. He had a keen mind and was good with numbers. So, when Andy told P.J. he was going off to college in the fall to pursue a degree in economics, the gift was a no brainer. Andy had spent most of his lunch time talking about, researching, and basically longing for the TZ. He wanted that chair like other kids want their first car, or a girlfriend. The kid had caught a bad break, and P.J. had the means to make it better. So, he did. It was that simple. As he watched Andy wheel away with that shit-eating grin on his face, P.J. thought that he would never love anything as much as Andy loved that TZ.

  Then P.J. saw Juliet.

  She had just stepped out from the edge of the forest. The sun had broken through the trees at just that moment and dappled her with a kaleidoscope of moving light. She stood very still as if on a precipice. It was as if Juliet knew that she couldn’t go back but moving forward was unthinkable. P.J. made a move towards Juliet, but when her eyes hit his he felt something powerful hit him square in the chest. It had the power to stop him cold. P.J.’s reaction to Juliet was a primal, visceral thing, a response as old as the ages.

  “Juliet!” Layla’s voice threatened to break the spell.

  But when Juliet tried to turn away from him, P.J.’s eyes held her gaze. He stayed very still and refused to let go of Juliet’s eyes.

  Layla was almost upon Juliet before Juliet was able to break herself away from P. J’s spellbinding stare. And when P.J. lost the fight to hold her, he felt an inexplicable surge of anger course through his body. His fist clenched by his side, and his abdomen tightened as if waiting for a punch. P.J wanted to run after Juliet, caveman her up over his shoulder, cage her, and keep her all for himself.

  Frowning now, P.J kicked the lid off the cooler, and reached into the icy water. He left his hand in there just long enough to freeze the stupid right out of him. Because really who the hell did he think he was? He had spoken to the chick probably no more than a half a dozen times and he had absolutely no claim to her.

  Yet. P.J. had no claim to Juliet yet.

  P.J. grabbed himself a beer, leaned against the house,
and watched as Layla took Juliet Jones under her wing and welcomed her in. Juliet looked good. Real good. Gone was the black hooded waif with the tired eyes and hard angles. She was still too thin, and her shoulders still slumped. Juliet still looked haunted. But she was doing better.

  And lately when she stopped in at the market, P.J. had pretended to hardly notice her. And it seemed that P.J.’s restraint had gone a long way in making Juliet feel more comfortable. Her stride had become more relaxed, her eyes were lifted, and when she had smiled at him last week, two dimples popped out in her cheeks. Her voice was stronger, too. She could hold his gaze a little longer now without turning away. And even though they would never set the world on fire with their dazzling conversations, P.J had stopped baiting Juliet and she had stopped running away from him. In fact, sometimes she would take a moment to sip her coffee or look at a magazine before leaving the store. The other day she had a full five minute conversation with Vivien about the merits of something called gel nail polish. It was the first time he had seen Juliet totally relaxed. Her easy demeanor and smiling countenance had given P.J. his first glimpse into the woman she once had been.

  After that first time, Juliet had never mentioned the gun again, and P.J. wondered if the situation that set the need was gone, or if the security check would expose something that she would prefer not to have revealed. P.J. still wondered about the woman in the license and wished he had taken a better look at the name.

  Now, he watched on as Layla moved Juliet into a circle of the neighborhood women. It came as no surprised to him that she seemed uneasy. From his perch against the tree, P.J. couldn’t tell what the women were saying, but he could see their mouths moving rapidly and their hands gesturing in the exuberant way that women tended to do. Juliet’s hands remained tightly closed at her sides and she hadn’t added more than a couple of words to the conversation.

  Damn, will you give the woman a break? P.J.’s inner voice chided him. Not everyone is comfortable in a crowd. Maybe she’s just shy. Or maybe she can feel your eyes boring into her skull. That’d make anybody a nervous wreck. Give it a rest, man.

  But when P.J. moved to turn his eyes away, Juliet made a movement that brought his attention reeling back. The fingers of her right hand began to nervously twist around the ring finger of her left hand. It was as if she was playing with a ring that wasn’t there.

  That gesture hit P.J. hard and triggered a long forgotten memory.

  Larry Tyler.

  Larry and his family had moved to town when P.J. was in middle school. Larry’s stepdad, Titus, had been a steel worker and had moved his family up from Detroit to work on a union job. Larry had been skinny with bright red hair, big ears, and a lazy right eye. He had been a quiet kind of kid who kept to himself a lot. But sometimes on his way home from school, Larry would stop at the Hells Saints garage. He’d sit there in the grass and eat a snack he had saved from school that day. He didn’t say a word or otherwise bother anyone. Larry just liked to watch the club members work on their bikes.

  P.J. used to hang out at the garage with his dad while he waited for his mom to get home from work. One day, on his way to see his dad, P.J. saw some kids picking on Larry. To his surprise, Larry threw a few real hard punches, and would have held his own, but there were three of them and one of Larry. P.J. jumped in to even up the score. They kicked some serious ass that day, and from that point on a solid friendship began. They would hang out together every day at the garage after school. And on Sunday mornings, Prosper would pay P.J. and Larry to clean up the guys’ work benches, then he’d take the two boys fishing.

  Daisy was Larry’s mom.

  She was young and pretty. She had kind green eyes, long red hair, and a shy smile. She liked to read fashion magazines and sew her own clothes.

  Titus was Larry’s stepfather.

  He was big, strong, mean, and dumb. He liked to drink cheap tequila and beat his wife.

  Because Daisy had no friends, and was a master at hiding her bruises, there was no way for people to know that Titus beat his wife silly.

  But P.J. knew.

  He knew because he had seen those bruises…from far away and only once, but P.J. had seen them.

  And he knew because Larry had told him. Larry told P.J. that one day when he was big enough and strong enough that he was going to kill Titus.

  Larry had told his mother that she should leave that bastard, drunken, beast of a husband.

  But Daisy had been afraid.

  Daisy with her kind eyes, flaming red hair and warm smile used to twist that gold ring on her left hand as though it was a shackle that bound and chained her. She used to make that same nervous motion that Juliet was making now.

  Daisy was always twisting that ring.

  And taking those beatings.

  Then one day as Daisy was making dinner, Titus went after Larry.

  And Daisy went after Titus.

  When Titus raised his meaty fist to punch Larry’s teeth out, Daisy grabbed the large pot of boiling pasta water, got between her son and her husband, and threw the scalding pot directly into Titus’s face. Then Daisy had raised that heavy pot high up in the air and brought it down on that sonofabitch’s head. Afraid of what Titus would do when he regained consciousness, Daisy and Larry left everything behind and ran out the door. Because they had nothing but the clothes on their back, and nowhere else to go, Larry had convinced his mother to go to the HSMC for help. Mother and son had waited in the woods all night until the garage opened, then Larry took his mother by the hand and introduced her to Prosper Worthington.

  After hearing their story, Prosper sent a couple of his boys to retrieve Larry and Daisy’s things. He also sent a couple of different club members, men who had been groomed to the job, to deliver a very strong message to Titus about what happens to assholes who beat their women. Titus received a solid beating and then was given one hour to get his bloodied, broken body out of town. He was warned heavily never to contact or look for Daisy and Larry again. Then, courtesy of the Hells Saints Brotherhood, Larry and his mother were given a first class, one way ticket to wherever they wanted to go.

  Now, as P.J watched Juliet twist at a ring that wasn’t there, a piece of the puzzle fell into place. There had been a husband, and whether Juliet was still married to the guy or not? She was still afraid of him.

  It was just about an hour later that Juliet began to make her way slowly to the edge of the party. The plan was to sit down out of the way for another few minutes and make sure everyone was happily occupied. Then she would steal away through the woods, go home, curl up, and watch a classic movie on TMC.

  The afternoon was cool, grey clouds hung heavy in the sky and there was a pleasant crispness in the air. The leaves had begun to turn and drop in earnest now and cover the carpet of dying grass. Juliet sat down on the wooden bench. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that instead of winter, spring was on its way. She imagined that the sunshine that warmed her face had come to melt the ice and snow away. That underneath the dull brown landscape, sleeping flowers were getting ready to sprout up from the ground reborn. Their long green stems giving way to fragrant petals that would dance lively in the warm winds, grateful for another chance to bloom. She could feel the wind play with her hair and the tension leave her shoulders.

  Juliet pulled the wool shawl tightly around her and felt herself begin to relax. The murmuring of conversation, the soft music, and the warm sun on her face all worked together to lullaby Juliet into a deeply restful sense of peace. She had begun to enjoy this brief respite when she lost the sun, and the loud crackle of leaves sounded out like a firecracker in the night.

  Juliet’s eyes flew open, and there he was, big and hulking.

  P.J. McCabe was standing in front of her and blocking out the light.

  “Hey.” Juliet greeted him with hesitation.

  “Hey yourself.” He sat down next to her without invitation. His thigh pressed against hers as he pushed himself into the small space.
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br />   Juliet couldn’t help but let out a yelp as his body crowded her in.

  P.J. ignored the small noise and relaxed his back against the bench. His arms folded like a pretzel to cradle his head; his long legs stretched out. “So, nice party, huh? Figure we should use the time to get to know each other better. I mean we’re neighbors, right? And that’s what parties are for.”

  “You’ve been talking to Layla.” Juliet tried and failed to shift her body away from his.

  “Nope. Haven’t seen her in about a week.” P.J. shook his head. “Why? Should I have been?”

  “She said almost the exact thing to me. Said you and I should get to know each other, and the party would be the perfect opportunity.”

  “So, make you’re move, darlin’. What are you waiting for?” He smiled that better to eat you with grin.

  “I have no moves.” Juliet said.

  “Nothing? You telling me you got no game?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  When P.J. shifted his big body, it gave her a chance to get away.

  Juliet stood up and moved away from him.

  “Do I scare you, Juliet?” P.J. stood up, put his hands on the bench and leaned over until his face was just inches from hers. Before she had a chance to respond, P.J. moved around to where Juliet was now standing. “You know, I didn’t think a woman as badass as you would frighten so easily.”

  “Badass?” Juliet asked.

  “Not every day a woman comes into the store sporting a shopping list that includes a deadly weapon.”

  “So? I’m interested in owning a gun. That shouldn’t be such a big deal to you, for god sakes you own a gun shop.”

  “True and I get plenty of women coming in to purchase a weapon. But your ask was different.”