Now she retrieved that card from the decorative box. The dealer’s name was Tyler.
For the first time in a while, Nessa wasn’t wearing long sleeves. Today, the faint scars from her left--arm tattoo sleeve were exposed by the tank top she wore. Temporary brown dye covered her blond hair, and she hadn’t straightened it but let it fall into natural waves. But her skull and crossbones nose stud took a few tries to get in since the hole had almost closed up.
After dressing, Nessa used smudgy black kohl liner around her eyes, then found Daltrey’s Halloween face--paint crayons and sponged on some of the white base, mixing some green into it to make her look dope--sick. She also blacked out some of her back teeth and made fake sores on her arms and cheeks. The last part was the hardest—-picking and biting at her fingernails until they were broken and gnarly and then digging her hands into the soil around her potted fern and getting the dirt deep under her fingernails.
The reflection in the mirror this time didn’t look anything like her mom, but it wasn’t an improvement. Nessa had transformed from country housewife into punk in under an hour.
The clock in the kitchen said it was eleven P.M., so Nessa left the house and drove to a Conoco station to use the pay phone there.
Her heart pounded as she walked toward the phone. She picked it up, inserted a quarter, and punched in the numbers on those old metal buttons.
“Yup,” said a male voice.
“I need a quay,” she said in a low voice, even though no one was around.
There was a pause. “Who is this?”
“Nessa Donati. John’s wife.”
Another pause.
“Meet me at the McDonald’s on Sixth Street in JC,” he said. “I’m in the blue Toyota.”
The line went dead.
She thought about not going, but she had to find John and put a stop to all of this. If the cops weren’t going to look for him, Nessa would have to do it.
She drove over to the McDonald’s in Junction City and got there at eleven--thirty. The place was pretty lively, plenty of cars to get lost in. She drove past it, parked a block away, and walked the rest of the way. She saw lightning on the horizon and watched it illuminate the darkened street. What would she find when she got to Tyler?
These were familiar feelings. She remembered walking the LA streets in one of the seedier parts of town with Candy, looking to score. The sensation that someone would jump out of an alley and cut her followed her down those nasty, reeking streets. That was where she learned to look tough, look like you belonged in this world and the -people who inhabited it would believe you.
She hoped that rule still held seven years later in this little town.
When she got to the McDonald’s, she went and sat on the curb of the parking lot, pulled out her vapor pen, and smoked. She heard music coming out of some of the cars parked there and knew just to wait.
She waited for twenty--five minutes, watching cars go by, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, although she kept an eye out for the Toyota. She was about to give up hope when a blue Toyota pulled into the parking lot and slowed in front of her. The passenger’s side window rolled down and she heard a voice but was unable to see the face it came from.
“You looking for someone?”
Nessa stood and walked purposefully toward the car, not bothering to bend over and peer in. She didn’t want to look like a hooker to anyone who might be watching.
The dealer was not what she expected, although it made sense that Kansas drug dealers wouldn’t resemble South Central dealers. This guy was a kid, maybe twenty--one. She’d be surprised if could grow a beard. If his balls had dropped yet.
“Hi, Tyler,” she said.
“You want a cigarette?” he said to her.
She scratched at her arms and made herself shiver. She coughed. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He held the pack out to Nessa, and she hesitated only a minute before taking it and accepting a light. She drew the smoke into her lungs, sirens going off in her head at the unfiltered tar and nicotine blasting into her system. She coughed for real this time and for a moment she thought she was going to throw up. Just as she was able to get it under control, Nessa realized that it would have been a good thing to ralph right now—-it would’ve sealed the deal and made her look even more like a junkie.
Tyler was driving them out of the lot now, and Nessa despaired of getting back to her car.
“You a cop?” he said. “You have to tell me if you are.”
Nessa almost laughed and she would have if she hadn’t been so scared. She couldn’t believe that -people believed this urban myth. Cops didn’t have to identify themselves.
“I told you,” she said, “I’m John’s wife.”
He looked at her sideways.
“I didn’t know he was married.”
She looked out the window and said, “I’m not surprised.”
“Well, I was surprised when you called,” he said. “I haven’t seen John in a -couple of weeks.”
“Really?” she said. “How many weeks exactly?”