Free The Wonder Bread Summer by Jessica Anya Blau

with the Wonder Bread?” Kathy kicked the bag with the point of her black leather pump. She was wearing a short cotton skirt and a blouse. Allie thought she looked more like a secretary than a college student.
    “Well, that’s sort of the reason I’m here now—”
    “Left there! Quick!” Kathy pointed across Allie’s chest. “Turn into the parking lot there. Park next to the BMW. That’s Bud’s car.”
    “Okay,” Allie said, turning the wheel.
    “Not so close!” Kathy said. “Pull out and in again so you won’t nick his door when you get out.”
    “Don’t worry.” Allie cut the engine. “I won’t nick your boyfriend’s BMW .”
    “Sorry,” Kathy said. “I’m just not used to you driving. I was always the one with a license and a car.” Kathy unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car.
    Allie got out, held the automatic lock up at eye level, and gave it a click. It was true, Kathy had been the one in charge when they were in high school. Kathy decided what movie they’d go to, which girls they’d hang out with, what they’d eat, whose house they’d sleep at. Allie always felt like a tourist and Kathy was the confident and able insider who helped her navigate it all. But now, after going away to college and feeding herself and falling in love and losing all her money and getting her heart broken, Allie didn’t quite feel like Kathy’s tagalong. She felt almost as grown-up as Kathy had always seemed. And after having stolen a bag of pure cocaine (as well as having watched a man masturbate!), Allie felt like there were ways in which she’d even passed Kathy in the life-experience lane.
    “Come on.” Kathy turned toward the door of Manuel’s Taqueria. She waited for Allie to catch up.
    “Do I look okay?” Allie asked.
    “Of course,” Kathy said, and Allie knew it must be true. Kathy had never been one for false flattery. “By the way,” Kathy said, her hand poised on the giant bar-like door pull, “don’t tell Bud that you’ve smoked pot.”
    “I did it twice,” Allie protested. If only Kathy knew that that was the least of Allie’s transgressions!
    “I know,” Kathy said, “but he’s totally against drugs. It’s one of his things.”
    “Well it’s not like I’m FOR drugs. I’ve just tried them. And believe me, my experience with them hasn’t really turned out well.”
    Kathy paused, her hand still on the door pull. “Did you try anything other than pot?”
    “I tried coke,” Allie confessed. “It was awful. That’s sort of why I’m here.”
    “Cocaine?” Kathy shook her head in a way that made Allie regret telling her. “That’s hard-core.” And then she finally pulled open the door and stepped into the restaurant ahead of Allie.
    It was dark inside. There were strings of glowing chili peppers draped across the ceiling like clotheslines, and the walls were covered with straw hats, Mexican flags, and what Allie guessed where burro blankets. Tinny-sounding Mexican music came out of randomly placed speakers. Kathy seemed to know where she was going; she picked up speed as she approached a far corner table. A slender man in a suit stood and kissed her on the cheek. As Allie got closer she saw that yes, indeed, this was a full-grown, forty-year-old man with creases radiating around his eyes and tufts of gray popping up behind each ear. But he also appeared fit and didn’t have a lecherous look to him. Maybe, like everything else in life, Kathy knew how to pick guys, too.
    Across the table from Bud was an overweight, middle-aged, glossy-faced man in a wheelchair. He had a thick, almost-wet, blondish mustache, which gave him a walrus-like look. His hair was long and straight, with a yarmulke of baldness on the crown of his head. There was a pointer with a rubber tip attached to his forehead and a board somewhat like an Ouija board across the arms of his chair. He was grinning, his head rocking back with what appeared to be excitement. Allie tried to catch