Glass (Crank 2)

sense of fear, despite the large quantity

of fine Mexican methamphetamine

beneath the front seat. It’s a forty-

minute drive home, at the speed limit,

and I have to admit getting away

from Red Rock, Brad, and the girls feels

like freedom. Guess I’m finding space I like.

On a lark, I hit Trey’s number on my speed

dial. I about drop the phone when he actually

answers, and on the second ring. Hey, you.

Must be ESP. I was just thinking about you.

My first thought is, He’s thinking about

me! [My first thought is, Yeah, right.]

We talk for ten minutes and every doubt

about what he feels for me dissolves.

There are a few uncomfortable moments,

like when he asks, So, what’s up with Brad?

The Bree in me has a ready smart-ass answer,

which I quickly squelch in favor of telling him

Brad fixed my car. [Oh, he fixed more than

that, didn’t he?] But Trey’s next query, about

“availability,” elicits an “Oh, duh” moment.

When I tell him, “No problem,” he says,

Cool. I’m thinking about a quick trip over

the mountain. You’ll be around, won’t you?

Well, where else would I be, especially with

him coming? My heart hammers, blood

pumping wildly until I pull into Mom’s driveway

and realize he’s coming more for glass than for me.

That’s What’s on My Mind