Page 7

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 of As the World Turns moved into a commercial break for TV 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 was not one 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 for him . This was the clearest proof so far that she’d gone as mad as everyone claimed she was.

The bell dinged as he entered, and Barrett toyed with the rings on his fingers as he approached her. She didn’t seem to notice his entrance, too focused on a deep-red wood guitar hanging on the wall.

He had to swallow once or twice as he approached, but he leaned forward a little closer than he meant until he was right next to her head. “So, you are interested in guitars.”

She yelped and jumped away from him, putting distance between them.

Barrett grinned, admittedly pleased with her reaction. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He lifted his hands and took a step back. His apology was genuine, but his amused grin probably wasn’t selling her on it.

“You didn’t,” she lied. Her voice was soft, timid, which was contrary to the persona he’d observed over the years. She was the outgoing sophomore homecoming queen who chattered happily along with everyone.

Staring in front of him now, at the girl with hunched shoulders and hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, he couldn’t imagine her surrounded by an adoring crowd.

It was a bit of a shock, really.

“You’re looking for me?” Barrett felt it was wrong to focus on the details he’d remembered from back then. So much had changed.

“I, was, umm …” She looked away, avoiding his eyes. Maybe she felt as awkward about this as he did. It was the first time they’d actually spoken to each other, aside from the brief encounter the other day. This time, she wasn’t running away. Yet. “I wanted to thank you.”

Barrett huffed a perplexed chuckle. Not because it was funny, but because how the hell else was he supposed to react to that ? “Thank me? What for?”

She lowered her voice. “For not calling the police the other day.”

He raised a brow. “Why would I—” Oh. The corners of his lips quirked up, and a wry eyebrow rose. “Right, ’cause you were stealing.”

Her body jolted, similar to a hiccup, and she made a startled sound as her hand shot out and covered his mouth a second too late.

Her blue eyes went wide as she registered their position, and Barrett’s chest inflated. A lot of firsts today: first conversation, first touch.

“You could take me to dinner first,” he murmured into her palm.

She jumped backward. “Sorry. Sorry.” Her face scrunched up. She wiped her hand against her shorts, and Barrett couldn’t be more thrilled by the entire scenario. “Yes, because of that .”

“Well, if you’re here because you’re worried, don’t be. I don’t want the cops anywhere near me,” he said, no further explanation needed, but he felt like it anyway. “It’d be bad news if they found your bike in my van.”

If she were a puppy, her ears would shoot upwards. “You have my bike?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it. I avoid thieves at all costs.” He grinned.

Her face flushed again.

“I’m just messing with you, Duncan.”

Her lips pursed together, and she glanced down at her hands. “I know.”

His smile faltered. “Okay, now you’re making me feel bad. Don’t look so sad.”

“Sorry.”

She still didn’t look up, so Barrett did what he could.

He bent, so his face was level with hers, and forced her to make eye contact with him.

Her gaze flicked up to his, and she looked uncertain, nervous even.

She had sprinted away from him the other day.

The fact that she wasn’t even flinching away from him now was a considerable contrast to that. He’d take it.

“Instead of apologizing, why don’t you ask me for your bike now?”

Her chest rose in a deep breath. “May I have my bike back please?”

“Why didn’t you say so?” He winked. “It’s right outside.”

He turned on his heel and crossed the store so the annoying door chime would cover his panted breaths.

The eighteen-year-old version of Barrett from two years ago would be so damn impressed he was talking to the Janelle Duncan and keeping it together. The twenty-year-old version of him couldn’t quite believe it either.

He had to focus very, very hard on talking straight and walking straight and looking straight when he heard her walk out behind him.

He’d bet Toni was staring at them with that goofy, knowing smile he got sometimes. Pretty soon, Dennis and Paulie would know too, and they were never going to let him forget it.

Not that he could.

Barrett’s van was nearby, parked on the road across the street.

He rounded to the back and unlatched the back door to swing it open.

Right now, the spacious area was empty, save for some empty beer cans and Janelle’s bike.

On Tuesday, that space would be taken up by Seventh Circle’s instruments when they went to their gig at The Pour House.

He reached in to grab the bike and pulled it out. It bounced as the tires hit the ground, but it was there—intact and exactly as he’d found it. Good thing he hadn’t sold it.

He pushed it to her, and she looked it over for any signs of something wrong. When she found none, she accepted it.

The sides of her lips lifted slightly, barely noticeable. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged and swung his arms to release the excess energy and nerves. “You’re lucky you dropped it in front of me. Who knows what kind of creeps could have gotten their hands on something that nice.” He chuckled.

He thought the joke would go over her head—his humor wasn’t for everyone—but after a few seconds, her lips tilted into a small but noticeable smile and she softly laughed.

Barrett bit his lip to hide the grin that was begging to rip through his face.

“Well …” He clapped his hands together. “If you need anything else, feel free to stop by at any time. We have great music here if you’re looking in the right place.”

Janelle said nothing for a second, and he waited for her to turn around and leave, but she just stared at him. He could tell she was thinking about something very hard, struggling to make a decision.

Finally, she spoke. “Actually, there is one more thing I need.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded slowly. “I need drugs.”

Barrett’s anxious fidgeting froze, and his mouth dropped open. “What?”

“I’ll take whatever you have.” She met his eyes with more confidence than before, but her voice was shaky. “I just need something . You do that, right?”

Barrett never questioned people when they wanted drugs from him. He relied on it, actually. But Janelle was a little different to him, personally. She’d always been a little different to him.

“I don’t—”

“I’ll pay you double what you normally charge.”

Barrett paused.

Double. He could use double.

“Have you done anything before?”

She hesitated, then shook her head.

Barrett was getting in over his head. “I can’t give it right now.” She opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off. “But if you come by my place later tonight, I’ll get you something. But you have to agree to some conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“You have to stay with me while you do it.”

She narrowed her eyes, untrusting. Who could blame her? He was asking her to come to his place, alone, and do drugs with him.

“Why would I do that?”

“Is there anyone else who can be with you?” he asked.

Her mouth shut, and he noticed her jaw clench.

He twisted his rings. “You can’t be alone for this, especially not the first time. Just come to my place so I can keep an eye on you. I won’t be responsible for letting my customers do something stupid. I’m not gonna do anything, I promise.”

She stared at him, long and hard, looking for honesty. Barrett couldn’t help what people interpreted of him by the way he looked, but his words were always one-hundred-percent honest. Sometimes too honest.

Whatever she saw or heard, she must have believed it. Or she was desperate.

“Fine,” she said, and reached into her pocket to pull out some cash. “How much?”

“Hold on now.” Barrett held out his hands and got her to pause. “I never ask for payment until the product has switched hands.”

Her lip twitched. “You sound like a businessman.”

“I am a businessman.” He smiled and ran to the driver’s side door to find something to write on and with. Quickly, he scrawled down his house address and ran back, placing it into her hand. “Come by my place around nine.”

She looked at the address and nodded. “I’ll see you at nine.” She swung her leg over her bike and pushed off without a proper farewell.

Barrett cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted after her, “Hey! You want a ride?”

With her back to him, she shook her head and waved her hand.

Barrett watched her until she was gone, then shut the back doors of his van and got into the front. As he was about to drive off, he glanced over at the passenger seat.

The warped beginner’s manual sat there. He’d completely forgotten he’d grabbed it on his way out of the house with the intent of giving it to her. As far as he was concerned, it belonged to her now.

Damn. Guess he’d have to return it to her later.