Second Hand: A Tucker Springs Novel 2

Employees Only, then up a dark, steep flight of stairs and through a doorway.
We emerged onto the roof of the bar. The beat of the music was still discernible, more as a vibration against the soles of my feet than a sound in my ears. The Light District spread out below us, and the bright white lights of downtown seemed perfect under the orange glow of the sunset.
There were two small round tables, each with a couple of metal patio chairs.
“The smoking ordinances in this town are almost enough to make me quit.” El pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and grinned at me as he sat down. “Almost.”
I sat down opposite him and watched as he lit a cigarette and slipped his lighter back into his pocket.
“So,” he said as he propped one booted foot up on the table, “tell me about your girl.”
I felt myself blush. Why was he asking about that? I’d only just learned his name. It seemed a bit soon to be talking about Stacey, but he was staring right at me, his expression guarded though not unfriendly. He seemed interested, and yet not in a nosey kind of way. I suspected he was older than me by a few years, though most of that came from the impression he gave of having seen everything at least once, like nothing in the world could surprise him.
“Stacey and I met in college,” I said at last. “At CSU. We were only nineteen.” She was the only woman I’d ever been with. In fact, other than a few nervous, fumbling, high school encounters with one of the neighbor boys, she was the only sexual partner I’d ever had at all, but I didn’t feel compelled to share that with Emanuel.
“She’s an artist. A welder. She makes these big metal sculptures, and she wanted to move here—”
“Of course she did. What artist doesn’t want to move to Hacktown?”
I blinked at the derogatory nickname for the Light District, having only heard it a few times, usually from locals making fun of it. That El would be one of them surprised me, but then I realize he was disliking Stacey more than anything. I couldn’t decide if that made me feel defensive for her or pleased that he was dissing my ex.
He waved his hand to send his cigarette smoke floating the other way instead of into my face. “So what happened?”
“We broke up. Two months ago.”
“I take it that wasn’t your idea.”
“No. She left me for somebody else. He’s an art professor at Tucker U.”
I stopped and took a giant drink. El continued to watch me. The fading orange light from the west glowed against one side of his face and left the other side in shadow.
“I gave her everything,” I said. It seemed stupid to reveal so much to him, and yet suddenly, I had to say it. I longed to tell somebody my side of the story—not to justify anything, but to get it out. To purge it. I’d been too embarrassed to bring it up with Nick in any kind of detail. I hadn’t yet told my parents that Stacey had left me. Every other person I knew in Tucker Springs was more Stacey’s friend than mine. There’d been absolutely nobody for me to talk to about it. Until now.
“Nothing was ever good enough. I planned to be a veterinarian, and she liked that. Somehow, that was respectable, I guess. I did fine in undergrad, but I failed out of vet school, and everything went downhill from that point on.” Looking back, I wondered if she’d decided right then that I’d never be good enough. Maybe she hadn’t even quite been aware of it herself, but I was pretty sure she’d never felt the same about me after that.
“She’s one of those people who grew up playing tennis, you know? And golf at the country club. And she wants that life, but she wants to be an artist too, which means she has to marry well. And I no longer qualify. So now I’m stuck here, with eighteen months left on a lease in a house where I can’t have pets. Every credit card I have is maxed out because she had to have every damn thing she ever saw. I still have student loans to pay back, which I can’t help but think would be less or already taken care of if we hadn’t been so busy paying for everything she wanted. And for some goddamn stupid reason I can’t even explain to myself, I still want her back.”
I tipped my drink back and gulped it all down. I didn’t look at him. I set the glass on the table and stared at it rather than face whatever might be in his eyes. “That’s why I bought the necklace.”
He was quiet, but after a few seconds of contemplative silence, he took his foot off the