Page 12 of Secondhand Smoke
She walked into the store, and the bell rang above the door like the time before. Neither of the two customers paid her any mind, too busy flicking through records or listening to some newly released cassette on their headphones. A quiet Princesong played on the radio, and her attention pulled to the red wood guitar. She reminded herself she wasn’t here to browse or stuff anything in her pocket again.
She spun toward the counter instead.
The same employee as before sat at the counter. His thick black curls hung over his tan face as he turned to the next page of his comic book. Barrett wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Nell steeled herself and marched forward, but the employee didn’t bother looking up from his story.
She waited for him to acknowledge her, but he just flipped to the next page. She flicked the bell that saidRing here for servicethree times.
He sighed and looked up. His nonchalant annoyance melted as his eyes widened and he froze.
Wait, she knew this guy.
He was one of the kids who’d followed Barrett around in school. She wasn’t that familiar with Barrett and his friends, but they were hard to forget. Most of the time, you couldn’t help noticing them when you were in the same room. They spent their time being loud: playing loud music, making loud jokes, voicing loud opinions. They evendressedlouder than the ordinary person around here.
Nell had spent half the time scared of them and the other half envious.
Yet here she was.
“Hi . . .” She peeked at his nametag. “Antonio,” she read aloud, and his mouth opened but nothing came out. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Is Barrett here?”
Antonio did nothing but stare at her.
She looked around, hoping Barrett would appear and spare her from this, but he still wasn’t anywhere to be found. Begrudgingly, she turned back to Antonio.
He finally shifted a bit, looking her up and down, and a disbelieving smile lifted his face. “Ho-ly shit.”
6 - Barrett
Thank god for the day off. Between his shifts, Seventh Circle practices, gigs, and his lawless profession, he was swamped.
He’d had to beg his manager to give him a Thursday off so he could practice for the gig on Saturday. And he’d practiced for a while in the morning, but the afternoon was break time, so he was sprawled on the cheap striped sofa Ron had gotten off a coworker who was moving out of state. Barrett tossed a kernel of his lunch—popcorn—up in the air and caught it in his mouth as Tuesday’s re-run ofAs the World Turnsmoved into a commercial break forTV Guide.
He chomped and twisted the rings on his fingers until the Metamucil ad was interrupted by the telephone on the kitchen counter. He hopped up, eager to stretch out his cramped legs, walked to where it shook slightly, and lifted it to his ear. “Yup,” he chirped, leaned against the counter, and stuck another kernel into his mouth.
“Yo, Barrett. Where the fuck are you, man?” Toni hissed into the receiver.
Barrett wrinkled his nose. “What’s your damage?”
“Not my damage.Yours.” Toni’s voice lowered until it was a barely audible hiss over the line. “Janelle Duncan is here looking for you.”
The crunching in his mouth stopped, and Barrett stared straight ahead at the pale wood cabinets across from him.
“What?” Surely, he’d heard wrong.
“Get your ass here.Now.”
Barrett stared at the receiver in his hand as the dial tone filled his ear.
In his list of things he thought would happen this week, or his lifetime, speeding to work on his day off to find Janelle Duncan waiting for him wasnotone of them.
To make sure Toni hadn’t been playing some strange trick on him, Barrett checked in the window first to make sure it was true.
Sure enough, she was there. Her back was to the door, and he wouldn’t have recognized her if he hadn’t just seen that muddy black hair on Sunday.
She wasn’t wearing a dress like before, just a pair of cut-off shorts and the same torn denim jacket.
Janelle Duncan, looking forhim. This was the clearest proof so far that she’d gone as mad as everyone claimed she was.
