Chapter Six

Lying Liars Who Lie

Is it time to question my sanity? Seriously, have I gone nuts? Sweeping yet another pile of grain during yet another mind numbing shift at the Seed and Grain Emporium, I wonder if I have. Because all I can think about are ways to die. Ways to cause someone to die. And how to get away with it.

Not that I’m going to act on any of said ways…but as I’ve researched and written from the perspective of my psychotic antagonist, I’ve definitely bumped into the edge of my sanity. 

Is this what all authors go through? I’ve heard the jokes about the incriminating Google searches and I’m clearly headed toward an FBI watchlist at the rate I’ve searched for poisons that don’t leave behind a trace.

I pause sweeping, wipe sweat from my brow and chuckle. I should probably be concerned about the direction of my thoughts. But honestly? I’m not. I’ve been dreaming of writing a book forever, imagining different stories in my head. Since I was a little girl digging in the mud behind the barn and wondering if I’d find bones of some dead body buried and long forgotten. While Ross and I grew up playing on the ranch, he’d hear me pretend to be a detective looking for the murder weapon. I’d find footprints and pretend to take a mold for my evidence file. Ross laughed at me, told me I was a goof when he was being nice and a nut when he got sick and tired of my imagination.

Returning to my broom and task, I acknowledge to myself it doesn’t take a therapist to realize he’s why I never tried. I stuffed away my desire to write for so long I started to believe I could never make it happen. More proof that it took me way too long to figure out Ross has been bad news my entire life. I wish my parents could see it now. But I think their Ross blindness is the equivalent of being too close to a painting to see the big picture. They’ve known the guy too long to see his self-centered personality for what it really is: toxic.

But that’s only half the reason I’m concerned about my mental stability.

My obsession and motivation to write this book has never been so strong. I’m invigorated with inspiration. Although I’m not sure if it’s the asshole of my past who’s providing it or the brooding hunk of my dreams. My literal, actual dreams.

Because, the other half of my worries are these dreams I’ve been having. With the direction of my writing and the amount of blood involved, I should be having nightmares involving a massacre. I’m not. Nope, my dreams are the opposite of dark and disturbing. Mine are hot and heavy. It’s like my brain is determined to torture me with unrealized pleasure rather than the horror show I’m trying to write.

How does the human mind conjure such a dream? The one I had last night hit a new level of heat and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

Okay, I can’t lie to myself. I do know how I feel about it: Needy. Which is why I’m now having an existential crisis about my mental health.

Who dreams about a man she hardly knows doing things she’s never done?

Me. That’s who.

I move to the other side of the warehouse sized store with my broom. My arms are sweeping, but my mind is replaying the way dream-Clinton’s hands roamed over my body.

Wearing my pink bikini, I relaxed on a lounger basking in the mid-afternoon sun. But I wasn’t in Hollywood relaxing by Brianna’s pool. I was on the Ranch by the creek in the back forty. Alone. Or so I thought. I turned from lying on my stomach to my back, surprised to find Clinton standing over me.

The sun was behind him, making it impossible to see his eyes but I could imagine the brooding look in them. Dream me felt caught doing something I shouldn’t have, a side-effect of his protective demands no doubt. I started to sit up, an apology I didn’t owe him already on my lips. But before I could say a word he leaned over me, pressing a finger against my lips.

“Shhhh,” he said in a low growl. “Don’t say a word. Don’t move.”

I laid back down, eyes wide and heart pounding, and waited for his next command. Craved it.

But he never gave one. His orders were given with his touch. He dragged that single finger over my chin, down my chest, directly between my breasts. His eyes remained locked on mine, a silent command not to avert my gaze. To feel his touch rather than watch it.

“Eyes on me,” he seemed to say without speaking a word.

I obeyed without question.

Tingles burst across my skin as his finger traveled lower, lightly grazing the thin fabric of my bottoms. It took all my effort to keep my eyes from fluttering closed, to hold the moan inside my mouth.

Clinton’s mouth dropped open. I waited for his deep voice, knowing it would throw me over the edge.

“Daydreaming about me?”

I startle out of my thoughts because the voice coming from behind me is nothing like I heard in my dream. I spin around to find Ross smirking at me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my stomach in knots as my heart continues to race.

He steps closer, smirk still firmly in place. He has no idea what he interrupted even though he’s acting like he does.

“Picking up ranch supplies, obviously.”

“As if. You and I both know your dad has supplies delivered weekly.”

“Well, he needed something not on the order so here I am. Plus, I thought it would be an opportunity to check up on you.”

“Obviously.” I turn away from him and back to my sweeping. This time with more energy. I hope he gets the message that I prefer the mindless task over talking to him.  I’m pissed that he interrupted my thoughts. I wanted to memorize that dream and use it for a scene in my book at some point. Instead I’m forced to interact with the one man I’m desperate to escape. Fun fact; he’s turned up almost everywhere I’ve gone over the last week.

I’d forgotten about his stalker tendencies. He did the same thing after I dumped him in high school. He thought following me around town, harassing Zack–who was my innocent prom date–and telling me how dumb I was to break up with him of all people would win me back.

Five years later and he still hasn’t gotten the memo. 

“Are you tired of working here yet?” His smug voice hits me like a rusty hinge.

“Who isn’t?” I don’t bother turning around to answer him. He’ll follow me anyway. That fact has been established.

“Come on, Colleen. You know this is beneath you. I’m offering an easier life.” 

This is my true nightmare. A man who denies reality. A lying liar who lies and believes his own bullshit.

“Life with you wouldn’t be easier.” I would say more but holding back is a better plan. I don’t have the energy to waste on him. Ross has already ignored logic and reason. He’s not suddenly going to accept it.

Without warning, his hand wraps around my arm, squeezing slightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to stop me in my tracks and glare at him.

“Hands. Off.”

He pulls back, holding said hands up in surrender. “Touchy today.”

Sucking in a deep breath through my nostrils, I contain every expletive in my head and the punch I’m desperate to throw. Thankfully it’s fuel for my writing later. I’ll be murdering a character tonight for sure. But here, in person, I keep my cool.

“I’m at work, Ross. Make your purchase and go home. I don’t have time to talk.”

“I’ve been patient, Colleen. But my patience is running out.”

“Noted.” It’s the best he’s going to get from me. For now.

But it’s time I put my foot down. His harassment has to stop. And I mean to see it does.

I watch him walk away, keeping my eyes on him until he’s out of sight. Only then can I take a deep breath to release the stress he induced.

Pushing my broom down the next aisle, I stop short when I see Zack’s sister, Mandy, watching me.

“Oh, hi,” I say after blowing a strand of hair off my face.

“Hi.” She thumbs over in the direction Ross went. “He’s a real peach.”

I deflate knowing she heard everything. She and I have only had a few conversations over the years. Zack and I were friends for a long time, but Mandy is ten years older than us. She’d already gotten married and had her kids when we were in high school. She and her husband help run her parents ranch.

“Yeah.” I shrug, not wanting to dig myself into a hole. The Marin family is rich like the Johnsons. I don’t want to stir up more trouble in town than the rumors have already started.

“You know,” Mandy starts, stepping closer to me and dropping her voice, “Ross isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. He wouldn’t know what to do with an intelligent woman like you.”

I splutter. “Oh, haha. Thanks.” I feel every inch of dust sticking to my overalls as she talks. Although she’s no stranger to dirty duds, the ranch owners live a very different life than the rest of us. I’m surprised by her support, especially given the fact I sort of used her little brother. I knew he had a crush on me, and I didn’t feel the same. But I wanted to stick it to Ross at prom and Zack was willing to take me…

Ugh. I hate myself right now.

“Are you happy here?”

I stand up straight, unable to wipe the shock from my face. “What?”

“Working here. Living in a ranch town. Zack wasn’t. But we all knew that long ago. This life isn’t for everyone. And that’s okay. Most of my sisters are gone, too.”

I huff in agreement. There are five girls and then Zack in the Marin family. Only Mandy and the youngest sister, Elle, stayed to work on the ranch. My mom told me his twin sisters, Caty and Deanna, went on a backpacking trip in Europe, fell in love with Scotland, and never came back. His second oldest sister, Brandi, lives on the east coast now, but I don’t know more than that. For all the rumors flying around town with my name attached, you’d think there’d be more talk about those three.

“True.” I lean the broom handle against my chest. “I’m still figuring things out at this point. Someday.”

“Can I offer you some advice? From a girl who never left home because she actually wanted the ranch life.”

“Sure. I’m listening.”

Mandy presses a hand on my shoulder before offering a tender smile. “If you have dreams of something else, don’t let expectations from people to whom you owe nothing take precedence. Time doesn’t wait. You shouldn’t either.”

“But you never left.”

“Exactly. I was getting the opposite admonition from my friends, even my sisters. To explore. To see the world and sow my oats. But I love living here. I love Mike and our kids. I love raising them on the ranch with my parents and Mike’s parents close by. This is the life I dreamed of. I didn’t compromise to make anyone happy. And neither should you.”

“Wow. Ok I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ve never seen Zack so happy as he is with Brianna. But he had to follow his dreams before he found her.”

This time when I draw in a deep breath, it’s one of purpose rather than an attempt to calm down. Ross brought out my exasperation but Mandy added a layer of motivation.

Without thinking, I throw my arms around Mandy for a hug.

“Thanks. I needed someone to say it.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

Both of us pull back, smiling like loons in the fencing aisle.

“Well, I need to get this wire back so Mike can fix the coop.”

“Good to see you, Mandy.”

“Good to see you, Colleen. But if I ever see Ross being a butthead like that again, don’t be surprised if I call him a weasel. I might even make up a rumor to tell Marjorie at the Grab n’ Go. And it won’t be very nice.”

We both laugh. “Feel free. I’m ready to do the same.”

Mandy takes off as I finish up my shift. I clock out and head straight home to shower. Then I spend the rest of the evening writing like my fingers are on fire. I picture Ross’s face as the latest victim of the crazed killer who laces his energy drinks with poison and waits for it to take effect.

In fact, I draft the next three murders picturing each one as another version of Ross croaking. One with a power outage where he gets electrocuted trying to fix the fuse. Another where the killer releases a deadly venomous snake in his car. I write as many scenes as my brain can create before I run out of gas.

I stop worrying about losing my mind when I’m done. I now consider this therapy. I’m purging myself of pent up anger and resentment in a manner that won’t injure anyone and could possibly open up an entirely new career.

Then I start dreaming of actually moving away from this town. Figure out how to make it a reality. Maybe to Hollywood. Maybe not. 

Anywhere but here.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjvfIJstWeg