Kelly
It took three knocks to bring Crash's mother out of her room, cursing, her hair stringy and twisted into a knot. She didn't come to the door but stopped at the counter across from it to pick up her cigarettes.
"Morning?" she said in a gravel voice that reminded me of Crash. "Whattaya need?" Her lighter flicked, sparked, as she pulled her hand around the flame to light a cigarette.
"I was just looking for Crash. I got an afternoon off."
She blew a plume of smoke toward the ceiling, squinting into the sunlight from the door. She rubbed her forehead. "I think he's recording, or something? I don't know."
They'd gotten the studio time? He was supposed to tell me. The knot in my stomach became a brick. "Oh. Okay. I guess I'll text him. Thanks."
She waved a hand vaguely in my direction and shuffled deeper into the house.
