“Hit me,” she demands.
“I quit The Dollhouse.”
It takes her a moment to respond. “Really? What are you going to do?” Her voice is just above a whisper.
I see people milling in and out of the store, but I’m not really paying attention to anything. “Mom hired a lawyer a while back and she got a settlement.”
“Holy shit, that’s great.” Her about-face is abrupt.
“It is,” I agree, but I just feel weird about it. I don’t know if I think it’s too good to be true, or if I just feel useless now, but I need to talk to someone about this. The thing is, I don’t think Gwen would understand. She’s my best friend, but we’re so different. She still has both of her parents, and she’s never had to worry about her electricity being shut off or having enough feed for her animals. “I don’t know what to do with myself.” I halfheartedly chuckle.
“Are you joking? You can come to school with me!”
“I don’t want to go to college, Gwen,” I admit.
“Come on, you used to. We talked about it all the time.”
“You did. I never wanted to go to college, not even before the accident,” I murmur.
“What do you want to do then?” She sounds a tiny bit snippy, but I’m not going to blame her. I never came right out and told her, and after the accident, I didn’t have to. It wasn’t even an option anymore.
“I want to get the ranch up and running again. We’ve been leasing out the fields for a while. I don’t want to change that, but I would like to get the stables running again. Do some boarding and training.”
“You could be a vet,” Gwen suggests, trying to be helpful. I don’t want to be a vet. I just want to take care of my horses. Maybe I lack ambition.
“I guess,” I say without any conviction because I don’t want to shoot her down again. The conversation falls flat. “Have you seen Jay?”
“I’m supposed to meet up with him this weekend,” she replies. “We haven’t talked much since The After Party.”
I feel guilty, and I’m not even sure why. Surely he didn’t stop talking to her because of me getting kicked out of the club. “That sounds cool.”
“Did you want to come along?” she offers hesitantly, probably misunderstanding my comment, thinking I want an invite.
“Oh no, not this time. I have a bunch of stuff to take care of, but maybe next time.” I keep my tone light.
“Sure, okay,” she agrees easily.
“You’ll have to tell me all about your date though,” I urge, hoping I sound happy for her when I really want to say I think he’s a creep.
“I’m really happy for you, Lucy. You’ve done so much to keep everything going.” Her statement is sincere.
“Thank you, Gwen. I better get going. I’ve got to run into the store. I just wanted to share the good news.”
“Okay, talk to you soon. Bye.”
“Bye.” I toss my phone into the passenger seat and bang the back of my head against the headrest. Why do I feel like I’m less in control now than I did two weeks ago?
The smell of bud hits me as soon as I step out of my truck. It’s strong. I wrinkle my nose and look around. There’s a black, boxy Jeep parked a few spots down that I didn’t notice when I pulled in. The windows are tinted so dark, there would be no way to see inside, but something tells me the odor is coming from it and not the adjacent minivan. You’d think I would be used to it, since most of the guys at the club smoked and it’s legal now in Michigan, but it still seems weird to smell it so strongly in the middle of the afternoon in front of Tractor Supply.
Clutching my paper flyers, I head into the store, going all the way to the back where the old bulletin board is. There’s not much posted, and my original flyer is missing. “What the heck?” I grab a few pushpins and tack the corners of my new sheets down.
When I turn around, there’s a man standing right behind me. “Pardon.” I take a quick step backwards and hit the wall. I feel some of the thumbtacks scrape the back of my head. The scent of weed and a familiar cologne hits me next, so I look up.
My brows furrow. He’s familiar too, but I can’t place him right away. My face heats. Is he one of the guys from the club? No, it couldn’t be. I made it a point to never look too closely at any of them.
I’m still trying to place him when it dawns on me that he hasn’t given me any room. I’m pinned between him and the wall. I step to the side and wince as my hair gets caught on the tacks, pulling out several strands. He reaches up as if he may touch me, so I pull away quickly, hair be damned.
After taking a step away, I dig my fingers into my hair and rub my scalp. I don’t know if he’s too high to realize he’s invading my personal space or what. His face doesn’t give anything away, but he’s staring at me, his eyes slightly lidded.
