Page 57 of Trailer Trash

I stepped through the minefield of crap on the floor toward the sofa, and Jed sat next to me.

“I see you traded up from Branson,” she said, flopping into the chair. She opened her arms and spread them on the chair arms as she ogled Jed. “Still opposed to sharing, Neely Kate?”

My mouth dropped open, but Jed remained quiet and still.

“Relax,” Stella said, “I was joking.”

The set of Jed’s jaw suggested he didn’t appreciate the joke.

“You have a baby?” I asked, looking for an icebreaker, which was hard given how awful her life seemed to be. She hardly looked like herself. She’d always been thin, but now she looked like a bundle of bones. Her once-beautiful hair was thin, stringy, and lifeless. Her flawless complexion was blotchy, and then there were the missing teeth . . . A before and after shot of Stella would probably scare a bunch of bored teenagers off drugs.

“Joke’s on me, huh?” she asked. “I was always the one warning you not to get pregnant. And then you went and got knocked up. But at least you were smart about it.”

My stomach clenched at the reminder.

“Now you know why I was so eager to drive you to Oklahoma City for your abortion,” she said in a brittle voice. “I didn’t want anything to tie you to Branson.”

“I was leavin’ him anyway.”

“Sure you were . . .” She reached over to an end table and picked up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Well, neither one of us has ’im now.”

“Do you know where he went?” I asked.

She lit her cigarette, took a long drag, and blew out a bit puff of smoke. She lifted her eyebrows. “Doyou? Rumor had it you ran off together after Beasley was arrested.”

“I never saw him again after our argument.” That was a flat-out lie, but unless she’d heard differently from Branson, Beasley, or Carla, she might believe it.

She released a derisive laugh. “Argument. Ha.” She took another long drag of her cigarette. “Is that what you want to call it?”

I didn’t feel like draggingthatconfrontation out for examination. “Stan says you’re not working at the club anymore.”

Her eyebrow quirked up. “You went to the club, huh? Stan fired me after I got pregnant. Nobody wants to stick dollar bills into a G-string under a baby bump.Not.Sexy.” She took another drag. “But he was itchin’ to get rid of me even before that. He said my ‘recreational drug use’”—she used air quotes to get her point across—“was interfering with my work.”

“So what are you doin’ now?” I asked.

“Livin’ the sweet life on the government dole,” she said with a caustic grin. “The kid’s good forsomething.”

I felt a tiny stab in my heart, one that buried in deeper every moment I spent in this hellhole.

“Why did you keep her?” I asked. “You were the one who pushed me hard to abort mine.”

“For the exact opposite reason,” she said, flicking her long trail of ashes into a nearly full ashtray. “I was trying tokeepmy man. That’s the whole reason I got knocked up, only the joke’s on me.” She let loose a laugh that sounded like a bark. “He hooked up with someone younger and prettier, and my new man’s meaner than him.”

I didn’t respond.

“How about you,Kitty?” she asked. “What are you up to with your hunky man?”

“You know I hate that name,” I said.

She took another drag of her cigarette and let out the smoke with a humorless laugh. “I know.”

“I’m living in Arkansas,” I said, trying to feel sorry for her to replace my disgust. Trying to remember that she’d once seemed like a friend. “After I left Branson, I went back home to my granny.”

“And you didn’t tell Zelda.” She tsked. “The woman was heartbroken. Never mind thatIwas still here.”

“I wasn’t her favorite, Stella,” I said, sounding exhausted even to my own ears. We’d had this argument more times than I could count. “You’reher niece.”

She took another drag, then stood. “Whatever. Want a drink?”

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