Page 68 of Secondhand Smoke
“I’m so glad I caught you. I’ve been running into all sorts of people today.”
Nell recalled the way the woman glared at her each Sunday, and the sweet smile on her face was the scariest thing about her. Nell knew there had to be some hidden venom there waiting to strike.
She shifted on the seat, unsure what to expect. “That’s nice.”
“Oh yes,” she said. “I just ran into Emilia Francisco, right inside while buying burgers for this weekend’s barbecue.”
Nell stilled as ice froze her veins.
She knew Mrs. Dubois noticed her reaction because her sweet smile grew sweeter, while Nell’s stomach turned.
“Poor thing,” the woman continued. “I haven’t seen her out in months. She hasn’t been able to leave since Minnie’s death, and how could she? Even I’ve a hard time moving on.”
She put her hand on her heart and tsked as if she were gossiping with other nosy neighborhood women and not Minnie Francisco’s best friend. But Mrs. Dubois knew that. That’s why she’d brought it up.
Shewantedto see Nell’s reaction because how else would she have material to gossip about with her nasty neighbors?
People couldn’t stand seeing Nell anymore.
But theyreallycouldn’t stand that she was out and about, getting better—she thought—and smiling every once in a while. They must be able to sense her changes, even if they didn’t know why.
Her mother must have told them Nell had friends, and no, they couldn’t let her forget what had happened to her last friends.
They refused to let her forget she was the reason they were dead.
Mrs. Dubois’s stare was intense, boring into Nell.
Bile rose in Nell’s throat. She might be sick—right here on this sidewalk, all over the nasty woman’s shoes. Words and defenses tried to arrange into something coherent, but it was hard to come up with excuses and responses when you couldn’t find any.
She used to be so good with her words, always knowing the right way to respond to a compliment or turn insults into sugar. She hated herself for losing those guts.
She turned away from Mrs. Dubois and pedaled off and away. The wind hitting her face was the only thing keeping the bile down.
“Well, I never . . .” Mrs. Dubois’ voice faded into the background the further Nell got and the louder the ringing in her ears became. “Incredibly rude.”
Mrs. Dubois had a new story to tell.
Let them talk. They would do it anyway.
Nell kept on her original path because, right now, she could think of nowhere else to go.
As much as she loved those gigs, her mind might have become too foggy to hear the music.
But it was that or be alone, and she found being alone a much worse fate when there was someone there who would hear her even when she couldn’t hear him. As much as she would love to dissolve into a wisp of smoke, the thought of Barrett was just as addicting.
Plus, the drinks that came with the trip would help with the tightening in her chest.
She pulled to a stop in front of The Pour House a little too fast, almost falling to the ground. Whatever coordination she had left was still intact, and she managed to just drop her bike and hobble into the smoky bar.
The bartender, whose name she thought was Erik, immediately pulled out the beer she normally ordered and informed her—through the cloud in her head—that it would be added to the band tab, as per usual. She took it and nodded a thank you before moving to her table in the back corner.
The regulars she had begun to associate with the setting barely acknowledged her, but the growing number of girls who had been showing up for the past few shows were watching her too, she realized. She never did talk to them.
They must have worked out her association with the band and taken it upon themselves to despise her for it, but at least they did it quietly.
The last thing she wanted was more attention.
She downed half of the bottle on the first go, and within minutes, it seemed to start working to combat the aching in her chest and panicked thoughts in her head. The walls, which had been slowly growing closer, eased up.
