Ruined

chapter 12

Roseanne.

Every head in the bar turns in my direction, their eyes judging me up and down and inside out. I know what they see.
The front page of the Sandbank newspaper.
The ruined girl from Manoban Ranch.
The lost cause with the dead dad and the brother in prison.

After poor little Roseanne Park fell between the cracks, it makes sense that she would ride a dangerous motorcycle, desecrate her skin with tattoos, and sell her soul to devil. She still wears those scratched-up square toe boots, so that must mean she's clinging to an irretrievable life. Such a shame. The Lord Jesus can't even save her from the tragedy she's become. I see the pity in their eyes. And the distrust. How dare I bring my atrocities into their town?

Holding my head high, I weave around the tables at the Big Sugar. Tossed peanut shells scatter the floor and crunch beneath my boots. Country music plays from an old jukebox in the corner. As the only bar in Sandbank, it's stacked deep with folks winding down after a hard day with drinks and friends and maybe a line dance or two on the dance floor. No dancing or drinking for me. I'm probably the only twenty-two- year-old in Montana who has never tasted alcohol. I'm here to get a read on the current state of affairs, eavesdrop on gossip, and maybe give them something scandalous to whisper about. And I admit, a big part of me is dying for an update on Lisa Manoban. She's not here. I've already scanned every face in the place. But as I make my way through the bar, I hear her name.

"You know what I need? Another dose of vitamin Lisa."

I don't recognize the voice, but as I turn, I know who she is, as well as the three women she shares a high-top table with. We all went to school together. A few feet away, they swirl their colorful cocktails and avoid my stare. They're aware I'm standing here, and they whisper loud enough to make damn sure I don't miss a word.

"The first time Lisa fucked me, I couldn't sit for three days."

"She ever take you doggy? Swear to God, I came seven times when she bent me over the tailgate of her truck."
Giggling laughter. "She fucks like she's fighting a war. All angry and savage. It's so damn hot."

Gross and Ewww and I seriously think I'm going to vomit.
But in a twisted way, their conversation brings me relief. I never let myself imagine Lisa married. Knowing she's a playgirl is easier to swallow than the idea of a wife and kids. It still hurts to digest. Every cutting word scrapes through my innards like broken glass. They continue to giggle and whisper about all the kinky, godlike ways Lisa performs in the sac. They're baiting me, and by the time I close the distance, I'm ready to bite. I step between two of their stools and prop a boot on a foot rail.

"Roseanne Park!" Fake smiles all around. "It's been ages. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you." I lean against the table, resting my tattooed arms on the surface. "Listen, I know I've been gone awhile and a lot of shit has gone down. I've encountered my share of cruelty at the hands of men, but what I'm realizing is... Women are as mean as cat meat. Instead of standing together against the cheaters and the players and the scumbag abusers, they turn on one another. They're heartless. Downright vicious to each other. Maybe because we're competitive? Is that what this is? A competition?"

Jaws drop, and eyes widen. One of them takes a sip of her drink, squirming in the awkwardness. It's no wonder I have no friends.

"Let me just say this." I lower my voice. "Y'all know Lisa and I grew up together and were fixing to get married. You also know I was attacked while she was forced to watch. Then I was carted across the country like a dirty secret." I blow out a breath. "Maybe you don't know I returned two years later. Lisa had already moved on. Completely washed her hands of me. She didn't want me then, and she doesn't want me now. It's over. So y'all can retract your claws. I'm not here to steal your cowgirl. Truth is I don't even want to see her."