Pretty Little Dreams (19 page)

“Well that’s just the thing. Everyone we talked to said the same thing about the guy. He was egotistical and bullied fellow classmates. He was unemotional, to the point of being callous at times. His temper is legendary. Several accounts of him flying off the handle, whether it had been at his parents with neighbors hearing arguing and him storming out of the house, to stories his buddies told about bar fights and how he would antagonize people to the point of purposefully making them angry just to start something.”

“But I just don’t see how Olivia would fall for someone like that.
It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well it does if we are dealing with what I think we are.”

“And what’s that?”

“A psychopath.”

I stare at Max trying to digest what he’s just said. “Well we all know he’s psycho. I mean, why else would he kidnap a woman?”

“No, I mean more than just the term you use to call someone crazy.
I’m no psychiatrist, but I would bet money he’s been diagnosed as someone to have psychopathic tendencies.”

“Well, what exactly is a psychopath?”

“A psychopath is callous, impersonal, shows a lack of guilt, and is promiscuous, yes. But they’re also impulsive, extremely charming, irresponsible, possessive, deny responsibility and have the special ability to manipulate others. He has all the classic symptoms.”

“What does that mean for Olivia?”

“Honestly… it doesn’t mean anything good.”

I stare into Max’s eyes for a minute, seeing his sincerity and with a nod of my head, pick up the phone to call the police.

19.

WINE SAMPLES ARE THE DEVIL

Olivia

Leaving the boutique
with a special purchase wrapped in tissue, one that I know Luke will love makes me excited for the dinner I’m preparing this evening. I found the perfect black, sheer babydoll nightie that should make his jaw drop. I can’t believe I’m going to attempt to cook dinner while wearing it. I stopped at another store and got a really cute apron to put over the top of it, in case I happen to splash or spill anything while cooking. He definitely won’t be expecting me in that getup, that’s for sure. Just thinking about it makes me smile.

Poor Pyper.
I hope things are okay at the spa. She looked really concerned when she received the call that there had been an accident with a client. She made me promise to stay home and wait for her before running errands. And I did… for all of a half hour… but when she called and said it was still going to be a while yet, I got irritated, thought ‘screw this’ and left. With Luke working too, it gives me the perfect opportunity to escape – if only briefly - and be freed from their endless watching and waiting over me. I know Pyper and Luke are just trying to take care of me, but sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe. Besides, I don’t plan to be gone long. Just need to pick up a few things.

Finishing my self-talk, and reassuring myself that I deserve to be out on my own, I finally limp my way over to my car and get in.
It feels good to drive again, even if it is a little awkward with my leg. Fortunately, the walking cast is not on my driving leg, so I can get around okay, and I even brought my crutches and threw them in the trunk in case I need a bit of extra support, but so far I am managing just fine without them. I adapted quickly to this new cast - I may not be a pro, but I am quite good. Pulling forward out of my parking space, a man in a dark SUV comes flying up the aisle, making me slam on my brakes. Fortunately, he slams his at the same time and I’m looking into his window, ready to scream at him through my windshield when his wave of apology makes me bite my tongue. He smiles and continues on his way and then so do I. Near disaster avoided.

I take a deep breath.
I am not going to let anything ruin my good mood. This is going to be a great night! I may not have a clue about cooking, but I pored over recipes with Pyper that I printed off of the internet today, and I think I have it down. It can’t be that hard and besides, what’s the worst that can happen? If it sucks, we will order pizza, no big deal.

Next on my short list of errands is the specialty grocery store.
I’m whistling a happy tune when I pull in and find a parking spot right in the front, like it was waiting for me. As I walk to the store entrance, I see the same SUV that almost ran into me drive down the front of the store. I stand there, waiting for him to drive by so I can cross the road and head into the store, but he stops and waves me across. My stomach drops and I can’t help but feel uneasy, but I’m sure I am overreacting.

I brush it off and head into the gourmet grocery store in order to get a few items we don’t have at home.
Since we rarely cook, I find it fascinating that we manage to maintain a fairly well-stocked pantry and spice rack, though I sure as hell don’t know how. I should ask Pyper about that. I can’t help but stand by the carts for a minute and take in the rows upon rows of shelves. The food volume and selection could be overwhelming for a novice like me. Okay, I got this. Since I’ve moved here, this hasn’t been a place I’ve exactly frequented, but I have been to plenty of grocery stores. Just because I don’t have this memorized front to back like I did the old one in Boston, doesn’t mean I should be intimidated. I am a grown ass woman, I can put a meal on the table. I’m going to all out roar at my womanly awesomeness when this is over. It’s true, Pyper and I always order take out, or we heat up food from her mom, who has a tendency to keep us well-fed, now that I think about it. Anyway, there is always something around. Nevertheless, I can do this.

My list is simple, and hopefully cooking all of this will be too.
I’m choosing to keep a positive attitude about it. This is going to work out and it will taste amazing. I nod my head, emphasizing my silent declaration and, having completed my pep talk, begin pushing my cart up and down the aisle.

I’m comparing two tomatoes for a salad when I notice a woman is managing a display consisting of samples of mini cheeses, crackers, and various types of wine for tasting at the end of the aisle.
Hmm, what great timing! I don’t mind if I do. The wine may be a nice complement to the dinner I’m preparing. Her back is turned and she’s talking to a woman asking questions, so I grab a little plate and look around before taking three cups of wine. I should be ashamed, but I’m not – I mean how can I know which I may prefer? And besides, I didn’t eat lunch, so I’m starving.

I also sample some of the cheese and crackers without even really tasting them.
I’m like a whale with a fish, just swallow, no lingering over it. I down all three glasses of wine. It leaves a pleasant aftertaste on my tongue, but, I’m not really sure which was which. Did I like one better? It’s as though I really didn’t taste it, those damn glasses are so small. I look back toward the wine table and see that while I was swallowing my bounty, the sweet lady has replaced the glasses I took. I look left and right and make sure no one is looking, and I do another smooth walk by with my cart, acting like I’m very serious about getting to the lettuce across the way. I swipe a couple more glasses from her table while she is bent over throwing something away. My timing rocks.

I taste the wine, slower this time and realize I really do like it, both of them - and what a coincidence, I really do need some lettuce too!
I grab a head of lettuce after looking it over, pretending that I can tell the difference and can choose the best one, place it in a plastic bag and drop it into my cart.

This time, I walk straight towards the woman with the tasty wine.

“Hello. Would you like to try a sample of Angel Kiss, a new white wine that just came on the market?”

“Sure, that would be great.
I’ve never EVER tried this wine before. Especially not in a grocery store like this one.” I snort. Oops! Shut up Olivia! What am I doing? I’m such a damn light weight. I already feel the effects of the few samples I’ve had. How pathetic.

The woman gives me a strange look, but it quickly disappears and she’s back in selling mode, “Great!
This is a great wine. It really complements chicken, turkey or fish very well.”

“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.”