Six boxes from my past my attorney had generously stored for me. I said that politely since he’d either trashed or had soldfor profit a good portion of my life including those very ugly memories that one day I’d wish I had. What had been tossed into the truck’s small backseat was all I had to my name. A twenty-nine-year-old has-been in a town I didn’t know.
At least the area was peaceful.
Of course that had to be the moment a truck full of rednecks flew by, honking their horns, slowing down just enough to flick me the bird. Seeing their big tires and gunrack in the back, the next set of memories were from an entirely different past.
Just as the sound of the huge Hemi engine began to disappear, I jumped into the cab, immediately grabbing a bottle of water and turning the air conditioning on high. “Just you and me, buddy. We’re on this adventure together. So, what am I going to call you? Buck?”
He didn’t move a muscle.
“Okay. How about Brutus?” The look he gave me could burn a man at the stake. “Oh, not Brutus.” I rubbed my jaw, thinking about a book I’d read while serving my time. “How about Sailor?”
I’d be damned if he didn’t lift his head.
“Sailor it is, buddy. Alright. Let’s get you some water then homeward bound.”
Home.
As if I’d ever feel like Missoula, Montana was home.
* * *
Didn’t they have a normal goddamn pet store somewhere? What the hell was I talking about? Driving down Main Street reminded me of something you’d see in a sappy girlie movie. I could only imagine what the place would be like blanketed by snow.
Even with my grumpiness, I reminded myself where I’d grown up in Colorado, people had compared the small town to a Hallmark movie. Matter of fact, I think one had been filmed there. But still. Ziggy’s Bar. Maggie’s Restaurant. Harper Hardware. Gideon’s Bar and Grill. Holden’s Pet Store. Did all the big box stores skip over Montana?
“Be right back, Sailor.” With limited funds, I had to be careful what and how I spent my damn money, but I needed a collar, a leash, dog food. And damn it, Sailor deserved a few toys and treats. I had to fatten him up somehow. What he needed was medical attention. Thank God, I’d found a good deal on the used truck, but at the end, the asshole had upped the price on me.
He was lucky I hadn’t broken his neck.
While Sailor had a burger in his tummy, that wasn’t what he needed. Nutritious food was required. Even I knew that. I wiped my hands on my jeans, surprised I was hesitant about entering the store. Likely because my people skills needed work. When I was a kid, I’d been the talkative one, driving my teachers crazy. Maybe it was true what they said about prison life.
Somewhere in my mind, I realized without a doubt the changes had started a few months earlier.
As soon as I walked in, a bell overhead tinkled and I almost ripped it off the door.
“Welcome to Holden’s. I’ll be right with you, honey.” The woman’s voice was melodic, the slight twang exactly like I remembered from where I’d grown up.
“That’s fine,” I managed. See? I could be polite when I put my mind to it. I grabbed a basket, staring at the festive art high on the walls. With tall ceilings and almost iridescent lighting, my eyes had immediately been drawn to several photographs of dogs and cats covering the walls near the ceiling.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that a lady with garish pink hair popped her head from behind a counter, noticing what I was looking at. “Don’t they look real? Like photographs, I mean? I’m proud to say a local artist does them. As soon as I saw the very first one, I snapped up every one she had. I keep telling her she doesn’t charge enough, but she’s not doing them for the money. That’s for sure.”
I offered the store clerk my attention, which she finally noticed. Instantly, her face turned beet red. My body reacted as it had fifty times since my arrest, since my photo had been all over the news for a full two weeks, tension and even anger spiraling through me. Maybe she was about to toss me out of her store. Fuck that shit.
When she fanned her face, licking her lips with an exaggerated gesture, I relaxed enough to manage a deep breath. I’d been burned with people pretending to be my friend. I couldn’t care less about bothering to garner a friendship at this point in my life. I didn’t need anyone. But at least she didn’t seem to have a clue I’d been labeled a monster.
“Wow,” she breathed. “I mean… How can I help you?” Even the tone of her voice had dropped close to an octave. She laughed even as her face reddened. “I’m Roxie, owner of this fine and intensely fun place. Holden was my dad. He started the company over forty years ago.”
With my eyes narrowed, I continued staring at her.
“I’m sorry. A very bad habit of mine. My friends are always telling me not to undress a man before at least carrying on a decent conversation first. Now, what do you need?”
Her flirtatious behavior brought a smirk but nothing else, which didn’t seem to snuff out her fire.
“I found a dog in the middle of the road. Starving to death. I need some nutritious food, good quality but doesn’t break the bank. And a collar. Leash. Toys.”
“Oh, a dog. That’s mighty nice of you to take care of the poor little thing.” She moved closer. The woman had to be in her late fifties, yet she didn’t hesitate to bat her long eyelashes at me.
When she was only a few inches away, she pressed her hand against her mouth, her gaze falling to my scuffed boots.
