The Minotauress

Dean nodded as if in dread. "This one was really bad. In my mind... I actually saw myself—"he gulped in shame—"doing violence to her. Then I... kind of like... raped her."

"Kind of like?" Now Ajax laughed out loud. "That's like saying you ‘kind of like' took a shit. You either dropped a steamer or you didn't."

Well then... I guess I did. "It was horrible because it seemed so real," Dean drew on. "Then I snapped out of it, and there she is for real, bawling me out for not cleaning the house and for having a can of Skoal."

"I thought she made you give that stuff up."

"She didn't make me," Dean clarified through a frown. "It's a bad habit, it's bad for my health, so I cut it loose."

"She made you give it up 'cos she knows she's got you wrapped around her finger—" Suddenly Ajax craned his gaze as an attractive, busty blond traipsed by on mile-long legs and high heels, smirking in self-confidence. "Man, I'd like to fry that smug bimbo's clam, and I've got some super special tartar sauce to put in that pouty face. I'd ass-fuck her so hard her colon would bust—then she'd really have something to smirk about."

"Come on, Ajax," Dean complained. "I'm trying to talk to you about something."

"Yeah, sorry." Ajax dragged his gaze off the sauntering blonde. "Where were we—oh, yeah, Skoal. If you gave it up, why'd you buy it?"

"That's the craziest part. I didn't—er, at least I don't remember buying it."

"Not good." For once, Ajax appeared serious. "First, you're having spells of Non-REM Imagery Syndrome, and now you're having blackouts."

"Blackouts?"

"The fuckin' can of tobacco probably didn't walk into the house, and unless the Good Fairy put it there, you must've bought it in an unsentient state. That's what shrinks call it. It's like sleepwalking during the day."

Dean chewed his lip, considering this.

"You might want to think about seeing a shrink," Ajax added.

Oh, man, Dean thought. I'm not crazy, am I?

"So what did you do with the Skoal? Stuff it all into your yap for a taste of the old days?"

"Hell, no. I threw it out."

"Really? Not one little pinch?"

"Nope."

"But I'll bet you wanted to, huh?"

Dean's fortitude crashed. "Well, yeah, I did want to. And I almost did... but I threw it out instead."

"Good boy. So back to the Jig-Jag. You saw yourself beating her up and raping her. You never did stuff like that in the past, did you? Back in South Dakota?"

"No, I never raped anyone," Dean hastened. "Christ, what do you take me as?"

"You didn't answer the entire question." Now Ajax was flicking clam crumbs off his plate. "You ever beat up any girlfriends?"

Dean calculated an answer. "Well, I didn't exactly beat them... but I guess you could say I slapped some of 'em around a little."

Ajax grinned in shock. "You guess I could say, huh? How many?"

"How many what?"

"How many past girlfriends did you ‘slap around?'"

Dean cast a sheepish look. "All of them," he admitted. "But I swear, half of 'em like it anyway—"

"Don't change the subject." Now Ajax looked studied as a pro chess player. "Why? You catch them cheating on you?"

"Naw. They couldn't have cheated on me if they wanted to," Dean said, fully uncomfortable now. "I was the horn-cranking champ and, well, I was kind of a bad-ass back then. I beat the shit out of dozens of guys, never lost a fight. Shit, I'd send guys to the hospital for just looking at one of my girls."

"Hardcore," Ajax said in awe.

"I'm not proud of it. I admit it, I was an asshole back in DeSmet. I was a redneck rancher, getting drunk in bars every night, slapping my girlfriends around for no reason, cheating on them whenever I felt like it. I was a prick, I was a bastard."

Ajax stared, amazed. "Young, dumb, and full'a cum."

"That was me."

"But... you look like a frat boy," Ajax couldn't get over it.

Short hair, conservative clothes, good manners. Dean had to agree that that was the appearance he gave people, and that's the appearance he wanted. "This is what I used to look like, before I moved to Seattle." He slipped an old photo out of his wallet. It was a snapshot of himself with his arm around one of his droves of girlfriends.

Ajax spat out a mouthful of Diet Coke when he looked at the picture. "You gotta be shitting me! This is you?"

"I was about twenty-five when that was taken. Couple months later, I blew town, moved here, started my life over."

Ajax was aghast; the picture showed a sun-bronzed stud in a muscle shirt, hair down to his shoulders and a goatee. His arms bulged like a power-lifter's. Ajax repeatedly switched glances between Dean and the photograph. "Unbelievable. Talk about Jekyll and Hyde. This is incredible. And—" Ajax reglanced at the photo and gulped. "And who's the brick shit-house piece of box standing next to you?"

"Arianne," Dean revealed with remorse in his throat. "She was my last girlfriend in DeSmet. I dated her for three years... and cheated on her for three years. I treated that poor girl like total dog shit."

"Why?"