Aldi’s sat in an oversized, sun-bleached, mostly empty parking lot beside Bert’s Dollar Store. No trees, only cement. Bert had signs and ads taped to his front window and blue plastic kiddie pools nested and trapped under a brick in front of the door.

I was walking up to Aldi’s when Desiree walked out. A young guy with a skater haircut, short in the back, long in the front, and sweeping over one eye, followed her.

She walked toes pointed out, ballerina-plié-style, which was the walk of only the coolest girls in my middle school, circa 1998. I hadn’t seen an adult woman walk like that in years. Desiree leaned against the brick side of Aldi’s and tilted her head back to sip from her soda can. The guy stood beside her, back to the wall, smoking.

She didn’t notice me until I was in front of her. “Hey, you,” she said, surprised, but sleepy and warm. Her eyes, pale-blue liquid crystal, squinted slightly from the sun’s glare. There was a small scab high on her forehead. “You OK, hon?”

I wasn’t expecting the love. It disarmed me. OK, charmed me. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“I land on my feet, sister.” Smiling, she took her time with her words. This was the kinder side of Desiree. Or maybe she was a little high. “Hey, I met your son last night at a party. Holy hell, he is a hottie.” She said it like she wanted to slide her nails up his thigh. “The girls in this town will eat him alive. You’d better tell that boy to be careful.” She smiled seductively, one of her canines slipping out. Like she knew that if I went and told my teenager to be careful, he’d do the opposite.

So that’s where he went last night.

“He’s too young for you,” I said jokingly, and added a harsh touch, “even in Hunther.”

“Good point.” She didn’t take my sarcasm to heart. She sipped her soda can slowly, smoothly, like a smoker inhaling. I was glad she didn’t turn nasty. I wanted her to stay away from Sawyer, I wanted her to hear my threat, but I also wanted her sweet acceptance.

Christ, Heather.

Her fingernails were short, painted midnight blue. She wore three rings, and a dozen bracelets covered her bird tattoo. One of her rings caught my attention. Three silver clawed fingers grasping a purple crystal ball around her middle finger.

“Oh, hey,” she said. “My fuck-buddy hasn’t mentioned you again so I think you’re good.”

Her young friend didn’t flinch at a single word. Maybe he was on something. Maybe he had a Desiree-crush too.

“Well, he stopped by my house. Brandon.”

“No way.” She laughed, then narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh. What did he want?”