Following the path through the trees, Tully almost turned around a dozen times. Honestly, she had no idea why she was here. She hadn't seen or spoken to her mother since Gran's funeral, and although Tully had become the executor of Gran's estate at eighteen, and responsible for the monthly disbursement to Cloud, she'd never once received a thank-you for the money. Just a series of I've-moved-please-send-money-to-this-address postcards. This campground in Yelm was the most recent.
She saw her mother standing by a row of Sani-cans, smoking a cigarette. Wearing a coarse gray Cowichan sweater and pajamalike pants, she looked like an escapee from a women's prison. The years had sanded down some of her beauty and left a network of fine lines across her hollowed cheeks.
"Hey, Cloud," she said when she got close.
Her mother took a drag of her cigarette and exhaled slowly, watching her through heavily lidded eyes.
She could see how bad her mother looked, how the drugs were aging her. Not even forty yet, Cloud looked fifty, easy. As usual her eyes had the glassy, unfocused gaze of an addict.
"I'm here on assignment for KCPO news." Tully tried to keep the pride out of her voice, knowing it was stupid to expect anything from her mother, but it was there anyway, in her eyes and her voice, the shadowy remnant of that pathetic little girl who'd filled twelve memory books so that someday her mother would know her and be proud. "It was my first on-air report. I told you I'd be on TV someday."
Cloud's body swayed ever so slightly, as if there were music in the air that only she could hear. "TV is the opiate of the masses."
"Well, if there's anyone who'd know about drugs, it's you."
"Speaking of that, I'm kinda short this month. You got any cash?"
Tully dug in her purse, found the fifty-dollar bill she kept in her wallet for emergencies, and handed it to her mother. "Don't give it all to one dealer."
Cloud took a clumsy step forward and palmed the money.
Tully wished she'd never come here. She knew what to expect from her mother: nothing. Why couldn't she seem to remember that? "I'll send money for your next rehab, Cloud. Every family has its traditions, right?" On that, she turned and walked back to the van.
Mutt was waiting for her. Dropping his cigarette, he ground it out with his heel and grinned at her. "Mommy proud of her college girl?"
"Are you kidding?" Tully said, grinning brightly and wiping her eyes. "She cried like a baby."
When Tully and Mutt came back, the team clicked into high gear. The four of them crammed into the editing room and turned twenty-six minutes of tape into a sharp, impartial thirty-second story. Kate tried to keep her thoughts focused on the story, just the story, but lunch with Johnny had dulled her senses; or heightened them. She wasn't entirely sure which. All she really knew was that whatever schoolgirl crush she'd had on him before he asked her out to lunch had deepened into something else.
When they finished working, Johnny picked up the phone and called the Tacoma station manager. He talked for a few moments, then hung up and looked at Tully. "They'll air it tonight at ten unless something comes up."
Tully jumped up and clapped her hands. "We did it!"
Kate couldn't help feeling a stab of envy. Just once, she wanted Johnny to look at her the way he looked at Tully.
If only she were like her friend—confident and sexy and willing to make a grab at whatever—and whomever—she wanted. Then she might have a chance, but the thought of Johnny's rejection, of a blank-eyed,Huh?kept her standing in the shadows.
Tully's shadow, to be precise. As always, Kate was the backup singer who never stepped into the spotlight.
"Let's go celebrate," Tully said. "Dinner's on me."
"Count me out," Mutt said. "Darla's waiting for me."
"I can't do dinner, but how about drinks at nine?" Johnny said.
"We can do that," Tully said.
Kate knew she should say no. The last thing she wanted to do was sit at the table and watch Johnny watch Tully—but what choice did she have? She was the sidekick. Rhoda Morgenstern. And wherever Mary went, Rhoda had to follow, even if it hurt like hell.
Kate chose her clothes with care: a cap-sleeved white T-shirt, black vintage jacquard vest, and tight jeans tucked into scrunchy ankle boots. After curling her hair, she combed it carefully to one side and anchored it into a ponytail. She thought she looked pretty good until she went out into the living room and saw Tully standing there, dressed in a green jersey dress with a plunging neckline, padded shoulders, and a wide metallic belt, swaying to the music.
"Tully? You ready?"
Tully stopped dancing, flicked off the stereo, and linked arms with Kate. "Come on. We're so outta here."
Down on the street in front of their apartment, they found Johnny leaning against his black El Camino. In faded jeans and an old Aero-smith T-shirt, he looked totally sexy in a casual, rumpled kind of way.
"Where are we going?" Tully asked. She immediately linked her other arm with his.
