The Crazy One Read online

  An older model SUV approached and parked in front of the porch. A woman in a postal uniform got out with a package under her arm. Lucy lost sight of her when she neared the front door. When the doorbell rang, she considered answering. Would this mail carrier know she didn’t belong there? She obviously didn’t know no one was home. Why was she delivering a package, anyway? Joel got all his mail at the post office.

  She decided to play it safe and stay hidden. The screen door on the porch creaked open and slammed shut. Then there was a rap on the main door. Then a pause. Then another.

  "Just go away," Lucy whispered.

  Another minute passed in silence. Finally, the screen door creaked and slammed again. Lucy watched the woman get into her car without the package and drive away.

  When the SUV turned onto the main road, she leaped down the stairs to the front door and flung it open. The package had been placed on the old chair with a sticky note on top.

  Thought this might be important. Amy

  The package was addressed only to Joel Ruskin, Spring Fork, Colorado. It was marked FRAGILE in red ink and was heavy. Lucy carried it inside and locked the door. She set the box on the kitchen table and checked the return address. No name, just an address in Iowa.

  She retrieved a box cutter from the utility drawer, sliced the box open, and tucked the cutter into her pocket. A top layer of packing peanuts spilled out and stuck to her shirt. She waved them off onto the floor. The next layer was bubble wrap. She peeled it back to reveal three cylindrical objects packed in brown paper.

  "You’ve got to be kidding me," she groaned after unwrapping the first one. It was a glass bottle of orange Goody soda. Then another. And another. There was a second layer of wrapped bottles, equaling six in all. A note card had been tucked between the two layers.

  Just a little housewarming gift. Enjoy lovely Colorado. Hope to see you soon. Belinda and the Joel on the Brain crew.

  "This woman is insane," she said across the table to where she imagined Joel shaking his head at the ridiculous gift. "You need to tell her to stop."

  "I can’t. She’s a fan."

  "You don’t need fans who don’t know boundaries." She lifted her phone over the table and took a picture of the bottles and their packaging.

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I’m going to tell her to stop."

  "Lucy, don’t." He took the phone gently from her hand. "She’s just being nice."

  "Fine." Lucy placed the bottles haphazardly into the box. She picked it up and headed for the back door.

  "What are you going to do?"

  Without answering, she hopped down the rickety back steps and strode across the lawn to the broad side of the barn. She dropped the box onto the grass and pulled out one of the bottles.

  "Thanks for the pop, Belinda." She hurled the bottle at the garage. It shattered against wood. Then she did another and another, fueling her adrenaline.

  "Leave my Joel alone." She screamed as she threw the last bottle. The weathered siding now dripped with orange syrup. Glass glittered in the dirt. She smiled at her accomplishment and returned to the house, the box still on the grass where she’d left it.

  When she dropped back onto the couch, she was panting from the workout. She pulled up Belinda on her phone and composed a message.

  Joel says thanks for housewarming gift. Goody? Really? Maybe you could be more original next time.

  She laughed to herself and selected the photo she had taken of the bottles on the table. Then she thought better of it. If she sent that picture to Belinda, it could get to Joel. Her cover would be blown and she’d be kicked out of his house. Instead, she sent the message without the picture. Belinda would still understand that Lucy hadn’t been lying about being there with him.

  An icon appeared instantly, indicating Belinda had read the message. Three dots appeared and then were gone. Lucy chuckled again. Belinda must be deciding how to reply.

  "Maybe an apology?"

  The dots appeared again and then, finally, a message.

  I don’t know how you know that, but don’t think I believe you for a minute, you stalker.

  Anger welled up in her. What did she need to do to prove to this woman that she and Joel were living together? Take pictures of the house? Fine. She snapped photos of the living room. She ran up the stairs and took pictures of his bed.

  "You want to see where he sleeps?" She flung herself backward onto the mattress and took a selfie. Then she went to his bathroom and took a shot of her reflection in his bathroom mirror.

  She sunk into the chair in the corner of the room and scrolled through her photos. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breathe. The fury coursed through her and burned her neck and ears.

  "Lucy."

  She ignored him.

  "Lucy," Joel said again.

  She looked up from her phone and saw him standing there in the light of the window. He stared down at her with concern on his face.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I’m going to prove it to her. She thinks she knows everything. She thinks she knows you. She doesn’t know you. I know you. I have you. She can’t."

  "Of course she can’t." He kneeled in front of her, putting his hands over hers. "Only you can. You don’t have to prove anything."

  He was right. She softened her hands and let the phone drop to the floor. Then she followed him to the bed and curled up beside the shirt she’d been nuzzling earlier. Let Belinda believe what she wanted. Lucy was on the brink of having everything she ever wanted.

  She spread one out on the bed and removed her own shirt. When she put on his it was almost like being wrapped in his arms. She unclasped her bra and pulled it off through the sleeve. Her nipples hardened when the cotton touched them. Her hands went to her breasts. She closed her eyes and imagined they were his hands. Then she removed the rest of her clothes and slipped underneath the covers of Joel's king bed. She turned her head to press her cheek against his pillow as she spread her legs, imagining his fingers exploring her. Her loud moans of pleasure echoed against the high ceiling of the room. The next time Joel laid in this bed his body would mingle with what she had done there.

  CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

  The morning sunlight slowly woke Lucy from a satisfying slumber. She stretched and reveled in the plush gratification of the down pillows and comforter on Joel's bed. This was definitely the luxury she'd expected from him. She turned toward the empty side of the bed and curled into a fetal position. The king-sized pillow took the place of Joel in her fantasy. She spooned it with dazed affection. A satisfied moan escaped with her breath. This place was heaven.

  Her phone chimed from the nightstand. When she retrieved it, she saw it was already after nine o'clock. She had to be at work by noon. Her stomach groaned with hunger.

  "I'll make breakfast," she announced to Joel the Pillow. Then she kissed it softly before pulling her naked body out of his bed.

  The tiny, white bird on her screen alerted her that Joel had posted. After pulling on her clothes, she opened it to read the post. He mentioned he was attending a televised charity concert that evening. Gotta get the tux ready. #penguinsuit

  She skipped down the slick, wooden staircase. Their first formal event as husband and wife. She could barely contain her excitement. She had to find a dress and go to the salon. Joel would be encouraging her to go all out. He spared no expense when it came to keeping his brand new bride happy.

  After a light breakfast of one egg and one piece of toast, and after cleaning up any trace of her presence in the kitchen, she settled onto the couch in the newly decorated living room. It took her about half an hour to narrow her online dress search down to two that she loved. One was a basic strapless but in a gorgeous royal blue. The other was a flapper-style, short, gold dress covered in black lace and silver beads. After she had finally decided on the blue dress and had saved the photo to her phone, she packed up the few things she had brought and hiked back to her parked car.


  On her way to the car she heard the ping of her phone letting her know she had a Facebook message. When she was behind the wheel she checked the alert. It was Belinda. She found it interesting that the woman would send her private messages but seemed to have no interest in officially adding her as a friend on the site. Still, she opened the message to see what she wanted.

  Any sign of Joel in town?

  He’s in L.A. Lucy was perturbed. Hadn't she already told her she and Joel were now friends? I’m watching the house while he’s gone.

  Really? That’s interesting.

  What the hell was Belinda getting at? Was she insinuating Lucy was a liar?

  Actually, I probably shouldn't tell you this because it's not public yet, but Joel and I are dating. I moved in last week.

  You expect me to believe you're dating Joel Ruskin?

  She huffed audibly. She hated this woman. She had half a mind to block her messages altogether.

  I don't care what you believe and what you don't.

  He has big plans tonight. Why would he leave you in Colorado? Why wouldn’t he take his girlfriend with him?

  Damn it. She hadn't considered Belinda would know as much about Joel's plans as she did. But why wouldn't she? He practically tweeted his whole life these days.

  He wants to keep our relationship quiet. And it’s none of your business.

  Whatever you say.

  She told herself again she didn't care if Belinda didn't believe her. Soon her lies would become truth and she could prove that jealous bitch wrong. She'd prove all her doubters wrong.

  She went to work still high on the rush of spending the night in Joel's house. Even Belinda couldn't bring her down. She was uncharacteristically friendly and helpful with every customer that walked in the door. She was anticipating the party that would happen that night in her head. She imagined the press being there and the twinkling of the camera flashes.

  Later that evening, in the privacy of her room, Lucy wrapped herself in her bed sheet and paraded the imaginary red carpet. Unfortunately, her room only allowed for a short stroll, but she had enough space to pose with Joel for the paparazzi.

  "Mrs. Ruskin, who are you wearing?" Cameras flashed. "Joel, over here." Flash. "Lucy! Lucy!" Flash. Flash.

  The concert was televised on network TV. She watched on her laptop while reclining in her bed. She scoured every shot of the audience for Joel. Then she finally spotted him. It was a quick shot of a famous musician, but behind him was Joel, and next to Joel was a woman. That woman put her hand on Joel's shoulder. It was a split second, but she saw it happen. She saw that woman put her hand on him. Then her awful mind imagined that woman's hands everywhere.

  She was blind with fury. How could Joel do this to her? Again? She had given him everything. She had moved her whole life for him. Now she was stuck in this stupid mountain town, and he was off in Hollywood having a great time with some other woman. She slammed the laptop shut and tucked it under her bed. The ancient bed frame creaked as she threw her body around the mattress with rage, flopping and punching and moaning wildly.

  Then came another Facebook message. It was Belinda again. She had seen him, too.

  Seems your boyfriend is off with another woman.

  Lucy didn't respond. Forget Belinda. Forget Joel. She screamed so loud it was inevitable she would get a visit from her landlord.

  CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

  The next day, Joel's new romance was one of the lead stories on the Yahoo! homepage. The gossips of the Internet were excited for the new celebrity couple. There was a picture circulating of the two of them and speculation of their body language. She was disgusted by it. She'd worked hard to be the one for Joel. She'd come all the way to Colorado for him. She'd spent hours and days taking care of his house. How could he throw that all away to be with someone else?

  Sydney Panting was a brunette TV actress whom he'd apparently met at a charity fashion show in L.A. She was pretty, but not drop-dead gorgeous. She had the typical fake smile. She most likely had the typical fake breasts. And she probably spent more time in the gym and the salon than she actually spent with her boyfriend. With that kind of life, how could she give Joel the attention he needed? How could she be better for him than Lucy?

  She didn't even want to go back to the yellow house now. Just the thought of setting foot in his home made her heart sick. She'd made it her home too. She'd put her mark on it because she thought they'd be happy there forever. Obviously he wasn't who she'd thought he was. He was shallow enough to be trotting around with a Hollywood girl. She had seriously misjudged his character. How could she move on?

  The following months were empty. Lucy merely existed in each day like a robot, with no goal and no plan. Every day she contemplated her purpose. Joel had taken that away from her.

  And then it was spring. The sun was shining, drawing everyone out to enjoy the weather. Moon propped the shop's door open to encourage the tourists to wander in. She professed her love for spring whenever a new face crossed the threshold.

  Lucy didn't care much about the changing season. She'd had more of Spring Fork than she could take. Ever since Joel had officially announced his new romance on morning television, she grew more suspicious every day that he was never returning to his newly remodeled farmhouse.

  Her initial anger had subsided a bit. She had to admit Joel and Sydney seemed genuinely happy together. So, instead of seething over every picture of the couple together, she imagined herself in Sydney's place instead. She chose to live vicariously through the despicable woman that had stolen her man.

  Joel and Sydney often publicly exchanged tweets that suggested they weren't able to spend much time together. He seemed to be working all the time. She was in middle of filming her sitcom's third season and had to spend most of her time in L.A. When they were together Joel would post sugary-sweet selfies of the two of them or announce something adorable that Sydney had said. Their happiness and insanely busy schedules indicated the farmhouse in Colorado was the last thing on Joel's mind.

  Now it was spring, and Lucy sat on the stool behind the counter while Moon was gone, "basking in the freshness of the day." She, on the other hand, could only think of moving back to Omaha. Her dad, she knew, would point out how backward it was to spend the winter in the mountains only to return to the unforgiving humidity of the Nebraska summer. She didn't care. Her spirit was broken, and she wanted to go home.

  She was disinterested in the couple that wandered into the store. She didn't even look up, but was aware of their presence. He had on a newsboy cap and she was wearing a bohemian skirt, like the kind hanging on the rack outside the door. Moon had run down to the diner to grab some lunch. Lucy kept her eyes on her smartphone.

  "Joel, look at this." The woman skipped toward the shelf of moccasins.

  Joel. Lucy looked up. The man in the newsboy cap was him. The woman was her. They were Joel and Sydney. In her store. Breathing the same air she was breathing.

  The phone toppled from her hand and hit the wood floor with a bang. She bent down quickly to pick it up. She didn't want to see if Joel had noticed. It wouldn't do her any good to be noticed by him with Sydney there, even for something as stupid as dropping her phone.

  A funny rattling noise caught her attention. When she looked up, Joel was picking up a four-foot rain stick that had been leaning against the wall. The beans inside tumbled melodically when he rotated it. He grinned.

  "I haven't seen one of these in forever." He seemed to be talking more to the stick than to his girlfriend who was now on the opposite end of the small store. He turned toward Lucy and pointed the stick at her as though it were an extension of his arm.

  "How much is this?" he asked.

  She stared at him for what seemed like a full minute. Joel Ruskin had spoken to her voluntarily. True, he was only asking her a question as a store clerk, a nearly inanimate object, but he was speaking to her nonetheless. And for a long moment she had no idea how to respond. Her brain had shut down, mayb
e misfired. She got herself together and stepped forward. When she put her hand on the extended rain stick, she was acutely aware their two bodies were now connected by this polished cylinder of wood. Was it possible for her to send all of her energy and love through the wood and into him?

  There was a small, white sticker at the end of the stick closest to her. She cocked her head and read it out loud. "Thirty-five dollars." She should say something interesting about the rain stick. She should tell him the Aztecs believed the stick could summon the rain. She should tell him she loved the sound of rain on a roof on a warm summer night. Her mouth couldn't form any more than the facts.

  Joel smiled awkwardly at her and gently pulled on the stick so he could lean it back against the wall. Then he turned and walked to Sydney. He put his hand on the small of her back and stood with her as she perused a rack of clearance t-shirts. It was as if in two seconds he had forgotten Lucy existed. Her eyes burned from the jealousy that welled up behind them. Here she stood, a fat and drab part of this chintzy shop. And there he was with his hand intimately resting on another woman's unjustly perfect body. There was no competition between them. Sydney Panting won hands down, as she probably always did and most likely always would.

  The two of them faced the front window of the shop. They were having a quiet conversation. Sydney laughed and touched his arm. He turned around and headed toward Lucy again. Then he picked up the rain stick and brought it to the counter while his girlfriend wandered out the door to browse the rack of bohemian skirts on the sidewalk. With both hands he laid the long stick across the counter. She smiled at him and started his order on the computer.

  "Is this all for you today?" The words were automatic. She said them several times a day. She was struggling to treat him like any other customer. Now was not the time to act star-struck.