Burn: A Novel Read Free

and eating her food.
    Having a steady guy had seemed like a good deal at first, but Jenner didn’t suffer any fool gladly, even when the fool was herself. Unless Dylan pulled off a miraculous recovery, she’d shortly be placing him in the “mistake” column. She’d give him this one last chance—not because she thought he’d come through, but because somehow she needed this one additional bit of evidence to push her past the point of no return. Hanging on to people when she should let go was a character flaw, but she knew herself well enough to accept that she
had
to give him this one last chance, or uncertainty would eat her alive.
    Reaching her battered blue Dodge, she unlocked it and pulled hard on the door handle—the driver’s door tended to stick. After initially resisting her effort, the door suddenly gave way with a creak of rusty hinges, and Jenner staggered back. Controlling her irritation, she got in, slammed the door, and stuck the key in the ignition. The engine fired right up. The Blue Goose didn’t look like much, but it was reliable, and that was all she asked. At least she had
something she
could depend on, even if it was just a beat up, rusty car.
    The 7-Eleven nearest her duplex was a few blocks out of her way, but certainly close enough that Dylan could have gone there with very little effort. The shop was brightly lit, and the parking lot packed despite the late hour. Jenner wedged the Dodge into a space that was as tight as too-small panty hose, but what the heck; what did another ding matter in a car that was practically one big ding?
    She shoved her shoulder against the door and, sure enough, it swung open with too much force and banged the car beside her.Wincing, she contorted herself so she could slide through the small opening, and rubbed her finger over the ding in the other car in an effort to smooth it out—not that the owner was likely to notice one more, considering this car was almost as bad as the Goose.
    The combined smells of exhaust, gasoline, and hot asphalt hit her in the face. Typical summer smell, and all in all she kind of liked the smell of gasoline. Kerosene, too. Weird, but not something she wasted time worrying about.
    The bottoms of her sneakers stuck to the softened tar of the parking lot as she trudged across it. The air-conditioned coolness of the convenience store washed around her as soon as she made it through the door. She wanted to stand for a moment, just absorbing the cold air. The heat wave that was cooking the Chicago area seemed to suck every bit of endurance out of her. Damn, she was tired. She wanted to be at home where she could kick the shoes off her aching feet, peel out of her sweaty jeans and shirt, and flop across the bed so the breeze from the ceiling fan could blow across her mostly naked body. Instead, she was buying Dylan’s beer. So who was the loser? Dylan, or herself?
    She glanced at the curiously long line at the counter, and had an
aha!
moment as suddenly it clicked: lottery. She had to be tired, not to have realized immediately what was going on. A huge jackpot had been building, and the drawing was tomorrow night. That was why the parking lot was full and there was such a long line at the counter. Every now and then she played the numbers, and a couple of times she’d won a few bucks, but for the most part she didn’t bother. Tonight, though … hell, why not? Let Dylan wait for his beer.
    She grabbed a six-pack, then joined the queue, which wound between two aisles to the back of the store, then snaked halfway up another aisle. She passed the time by examining prices, looking at candy, and trying to decide which numbers to pick. She was sandwiched between two guys, both of whom smelled like stale beer and equally stale sweat, and who both kept making occasionalcomments to her, which she mostly ignored. Did she have some invisible sign on her head that said, “All losers apply here”?
    Then again, maybe they just wanted her beer. On