Nothing Sacred

She wasn’t crying over the jerk.

She wasn’t.

The unknown woman was getting her food. She reached for ketchup. And Shelley saw the bracelet on her arm. It was made out of glass beads, just like the one Whitney had been raving about the other day. A designer bracelet that her friend was planning to steal from the mall the next time she was in Phoenix. Shelley wondered if the woman would be willing to sell it to her.

Maybe used, she could afford it.

A new one, she couldn’t for sure.

And if Whit got caught and sent to jail, who would Shelley hang with when the guys all got so stoned they forgot whose girl was whose? Or forgot there were girls at all?

Leaving money for her lunch, Shelley got up, walked slowly by the woman’s table and into the bathroom, waited long enough to have used it, and then walked back out.

“Oh, hi,” she said, stopping by the table. “You new in town?”

The blond woman shook her head. Shelley was pretty sure her hair color was fake.

“Just here looking for an old…friend.”

“I noticed your bracelet,” Shelley said. “It’s beautiful.” How did you ask to buy something off someone else’s body?

“Thanks. It was a gift.”

Well, that shot that. No one sold a gift. At least not a gift that you liked enough to actually wear.

“Oh. Well, it’s nice.” Lame, but who cared? It wasn’t as if she was going to see the woman again. Shelley glanced at her watch. She had to leave for the hill now if she wanted to be there in time to talk to Drake before he got too stoned.

Saying goodbye, she turned to walk away.

“Wait,” the woman said, touching Shelley’s arm. “Do you have a minute? You might be able to help me.”

She didn’t. But the lady was a stranger to town and… “What?”

“Like I said, I’m looking for someone and I hoped you might know where I could find him.”

“Sure.” That would be quick. “Who?”

“David Marks.”

“The preacher?” This sleazy woman wanted the preach?

“That’s the one.”

“Yeah, I know him,” Shelley said, something telling her it would be worth her while to have a seat, to talk to this woman.

And when she did, the things she found out proved her so correct that she hardly even minded missing Drake at the hill. No telling what a woman scorned might say.

She had to get home, to be there waiting when her mother returned. Finally life wasn’t shitting on her. If all went well, by tonight she’d be able to keep her room at home and still see Drake whenever she wanted.

The preacher seemed to be the only one nosy enough to check up on her—to catch her in places she wasn’t supposed to be.

And he was a liar.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MARTHA WASN’T AS surprised as she might have been had she had a little more time to dwell in the land of trust and faith and hope. As it was, she’d had barely a week. A great week. A week of long conversations with David, of two family dinners with him. A week of Ellen’s laughter and Tim’s victories on the ball field. Of Rebecca’s chatter and Shelley’s uninterrupted attendance at school.

A great week.