Page 10 of Secondhand Smoke
Ron fumbled to reach the wad but managed to catch it before it hit the ground.
“There’s about fifty in there. Is that enough for you to take a break? I just got it today.”
Ron looked down at the bundle.
Barrett knew what thoughts were going on in Ron’s head. Everyone knew where Barrett got money like that. People didn’t keep cash stuffed in their sock drawer unless the source was unsavory.
He had three jobs—one for passion, two for money.
The little cash he got from the music store sat in his wallet, but the bulk of his income came from junkies looking for their next hit or high schoolers looking to amp up a kegger.
That was the cash Ron now turned over in his hand and probably contemplated whether to scold Barrett or pretend he didn’t know where it came from.
“Might not be enough for bills but could save you on sleep next time someone calls out.” Barrett stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. If his uncle wasn’t drowning in bills, Barrett would have never picked up dealing in high school. He knew Ron hated that he had it, but neither could deny that they needed every cent they could get. It had saved their asses too many times to count and kept them in this shitty place instead of on the streets.
Besides, Barrett owed him. Ron would have never been in this situation if it weren’t for Barrett’s shitty parents and their shitty habits.
Ron huffed and shook his head, smiling. “What am I going to do with you?”
Barrett stepped forward and threw his arm around Ron’s shoulder, pulling him in comfortably and laughing. “Don’t kick me out yet is a good choice.”
“You’re pushing your luck.” Ron wagged a finger at him, but the defiant smile told Barrett he didn’t mean it.
Unlike the majority of his graduating class, Barrett had stayed behind in Gemsburg. School had never been for him, sopayingto struggle to pay attention in college sounded like a nightmare. He’d rather stay with his band, Seventh Circle, and do their weekly gigs at The Pour House as they tried to get a start on their rock careers. Theymighteven have another gig lined up at the bar over in Bellevue, where the crowds were bigger and more open to the music they liked to play.
He was lucky Ron hadn’t sent him out on his ass when he announced that. As rugged as the man was, Barrett knew he was too soft to kick him to the curb. Ron was the only family who cared enough to keep him around.
“I’ve got to get going. Boss’ll chew my ass if I’m late.” He shifted, and Barrett’s arm fell from around him, but Ron reached up and patted him, silently appreciative. Ron turned to leave the room, but paused before he made it all the way out. He looked to the side, at the top of Barrett’s dresser, and picked up the wrinkled book Barrett had left there when he got home from work.
Despite rain soaking through and warping the pages, the music notes and beginner guitar instructions were still clear.
“Guitar for Beginners?” Ron read aloud, then gave Barrett a confused look. “What the hell do you need this for?”
Barrett paused. He’d forgotten he brought that home. “It, uh, got ruined at work.”
His answer didn’t satiate Ron’s curiosity. “And you’re keeping it?”
Barrett shrugged, both for himself and Ron. “Yeah, guess so. Figured it’d go to waste otherwise.”
That was partially the truth. He’d been about to toss the sopping manual at the store but had stopped himself before letting it go into the trash can.
It didn’t make sense for him to keep it. The last time he’d worked with one of these, he’d been about eight years old. But, he could admit, he was still a little curious. Maybe he thought that the answer as to why Janelle Duncan had been stuffing this into her jacket would be hidden in the basic scales and chords inside.
He also had her bike. That was less out of curiosity and more out of the few bucks he could make selling it. But even thatsat untouched in the back of his van because he couldn’t bring himself to sell it off yet.
Ron hummed, like he understood, and set the book back down on the wooden dresser, before waving Barrett off, grabbing his brown paper lunch bag from the kitchen counter, and leaving out the front door.
Barrett picked the book up again and flicked through the pages, fanning his wavy hair with them in the process.
Janelle didn’t seem to have any interest in music, that he knew of, the last time he saw her two years ago. She wasn’t involved in band or anything artsy for that matter. She just walked through hallways in her frilly dresses and trendy jeans, and grinned and waved at everyone she knew, looking all bubbly and cute and stuff.
Untouchable but cute.
But who was he to judge? A lot had changed in two years. Who’s to say she hadn’t developed new hobbies and interests?
He better keep it.
Just in case.
