A Divided Mind by M. Billiter

Author:M. Billiter
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-925853-25-4
Publisher: Tangled Tree Publishing

19

Branson

Dakota pulled into the three-car parking lot. Full as usual. She veered her silver Jetta back onto the street and parallel parked along the curb, almost hitting both cars.

“Jesus Christ, slow it down. You’re driving like a bat outta hell,” I said.

“Shut the hell up. I’m a great driver. I’ve only had three tickets.”

“Yeah, and one hit car.” I shook my head disapprovingly, but when she looked at me, I had a smirk on my face.

A big, warm bag of tasty treats sat on my lap. I inhaled the smell of chicken tenders mixed with double-bacon cheeseburgers and large fries as I balanced a tray with two cups of sugary, ice-cold goodness in my hand. Blizzards. Yum.

“You ready?” I looked at Dakota, who was checking her makeup in the rearview mirror. “We’re just going inside your house, aren’t we?”

“Oh shut up. I’m just checking my makeup to make sure I look great.” She tilted the rearview back into position and unlocked the doors. The walk from the car to Dakota’s apartment complex was about sixty feet, but it was sixty feet of poverty. It was like a scene from a movie: dogs barking, babies crying, people shouting. The block of apartment complexes in Casper was referred to as “Felony Flats,” and it was easy to see why. There wasn’t one car in the lot or on the street that wasn’t dinged, dented, or broken. Screen doors were ripped, and flies didn’t even loiter here. It was depressing, to say the least.

“Half of them keep a hide-a-key under their front wheel well,” Dakota said as if reading my mind. “I guess they figure if they’re evicted, they can always sleep in their car, especially during the winter.”

“Oddly, that makes perfect sense.”

She giggled again.

I balanced the bag of greasy, cheesy goodness in one hand and the tray of Blizzards in the other. “I’m not opposed to hide-a-keys, because God knows Aaron locks us out of our car often enough, but to put it on a car that’s already broken into or has missing windows, that’s what I don’t get.”

“It’s a sense of ownership. You know I have one.”

I nodded.

“And my friend Scotty has a new car. Well, it’s used,” she amended, “but it’s new to him. He keeps a hide-a-key in case his mom kicks him out of the house or something. Then he always has a way to get to his dad’s.”

“That makes more sense. Except Scotty? Yeah, you don’t have any male friends except me.”

That time her laughter was throaty and sexy as hell. I embraced the sound.

Dakota and her mom, Helen, lived upstairs in a two-bedroom apartment. As far as safety went, it had average security: a bolt lock and a metal chain across the door, which Helen peered through before opening her door.

“Is your mom at work?” I asked, taking the stairs two at a time.

“She’s always working. Twenty-four hours, five nights a week. Shift work.” Dakota tried to shake it off, but I could tell it bothered her.

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