Page 20

SYMPHONY

I fell asleep.

I’m not sure what wakes me up. I glance over at Diesel. He’s out cold.

Is he a heavy sleeper? I guess I’ll find out.

I slide from under his arm and scoot across the bed, the covers tight and smooth. He could start a housekeeping channel with those skills.

I pick up my clothes as I cross the room. The lamp is on.

A gleam on his dresser catches my eye, so I pause to look at it. Dog tags, hanging on a frame. It’s a military unit, all in desert camo. I squint, but I can’t figure out which one is Diesel in the low light. They’re all wearing hats with brims that cast shadows on their faces.

Nothing else is on the dresser. He keeps his space stark and clear. No decoration on the walls. Very little out. Just a bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a chair in the corner, all immaculate. No clutter. No loose clothes.

Army to the core.

I get dressed. I’m not sure of my next move. He drove me here. My phone is dead in my jeans pocket, so I don’t even know what time it is.

I unlock the door carefully and head into the living room, letting out a short “Eep!” when I see a figure on the sofa.

It’s Marietta. But she’s asleep.

Then there’s another sound.

It comes from a figure in the side chair.

“Eep!”

“You guys done?” I recognize the rumble. It’s Merrick, Diesel’s brother. “About time.”

“Sorry. We fell asleep.” I wrap my arms around my waist. This is mortifying. I wonder how long he’s been here.

Merrick gestures toward Marietta. “I found her in the truck and got her in here. How much did she drink? All I saw her take were two shots.”

“That’s all she had. That’s Marietta for you.” I sit at the end of the sofa next to her bare feet.

“I can take you back to your car when you’re ready, unless you want Diesel to do it.” His eyes glint when the hall light catches them, but otherwise, he’s a shadowy form, a slightly different version of his brother.

I pick at my jeans. “He’s out cold. Does he always sleep like the dead?”

“No. He’s gone soft since we retired from the Army.” He stands. “I’ll get her.”

He lifts Marietta without so much as a grunt.

“Do you know where her shoes are?” I ask.

“Still in the truck.”

“Did you carry her in here?”

“No, she followed me inside.” He leans down to open the door, a real feat while holding a half-out-of-it woman.

“I’ll get that.” I swing the door aside.

We step out into the silence of the night. The darkness is complete, the sky inky black, stars obscured by a mass of gray clouds that block even the moon.

A breeze kicks up, sending the long grass across the road to rustling. Merrick’s boots crunch as he walks to the truck.

I hurry to open the passenger door.

When he sets Marietta in the seat, her eyes pop open. “Symphony?”

I duck around him so she can see me. “I’m right here.”

“Are we going home?”

“Yes.”

“You were fucking that man really loud.”

I carefully avert my eyes from Merrick. “Let’s get your seat belt on.” I pull the strap down and buckle it.

Merrick and I walk around the other side. I scoot beneath the wheel to the middle. “Sorry for all the trouble.”

“Yeah, it’s been a night.”

“Did everyone settle down at the bar?”

“Not exactly. Two-Shit’s woman got pissed that Two-Shit was going on about your friend here and decided to walk around topless. Two-Shit broke a bottle over his own brother’s head for looking at her and went after half the bar for having seen her.”

“Oh, God.”

“We had to do a full sweep out. Been a while since we shut down early.” He starts the truck with a rumble of the engine.

“Did you call the cops?”

“And alert them that there’s trouble at the Leaky Skull? Hell no.” He says it like it’s the dumbest thing I could have suggested.

“Whole different world,” I mutter.

He extends his arm to rest his wrist over the steering wheel. “Yeah, maybe it’s not the best place for a couple of proper girls like you two.”

My body goes still. What the hell is he saying? “I met your family, Merrick. You’re the one who is trying to act like you’re from some seedy no-good stock. The net worth of those wedding guests is more than the GNP of many small countries.”

“Now, see, that’s what I’m talking about. Going around talking about things like gross national product. The average joe at the bar would assume you’re talking about a model of a truck.”

“GNC?”

“Exactly.”

I blow out a long breath. “This is ridiculous. You guys were raised with straight white male upper class privilege. And now you’re playing like you didn’t, like you raised yourself on a bayou with nothing but radishes and river water.”

Merrick busts out laughing so loud that Marietta stirs. “Are we home yet?” she asks.

“We’re going to the car.”

“Oh, right.” She snuggles up to the wall by the window.

I decide I might as well ask my questions. I’m unlikely to see Diesel again. I’ll grill his brother. “So, why did you and Diesel ditch the Pickle family, anyway?”

He shrugs. “It’s a cult. Nobody gets out.”

“It is not. People do get out. Rhett’s brother Court left the family business. And he had it all. New York apartment. Head of the corporation.”

Merrick frowns. “When did that happen?”

“Recently.” I shake my head. “Why do I know more about your family than you do?”

“My choice.”

“Your loss. Court got Lucy pregnant. She’s crunchy granola. Not the city type at all. So, he abandoned his post and bought her a farm in Colorado so they could raise the baby with her goats.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And your cousin Nadia? She was supposed to move here to Miami to work with Rhett. But she bailed and started up an animal rescue. She wasn’t stuck, either.”

“Little Nadia?”

“She’s got an MBA. She’s raising money right and left to subsidize other no-kill shelters. Do you not even Google your family?”

“Why would I?”

This is infuriating. “Because they’re your family! I think you and Diesel got some weird ideas in your heads before your brains were fully developed and scorched the earth.”

Merrick stares out the windshield, silent for once. The truck rumbles along the black highway.

“Tell me this,” he says. “How did you all end up at the bar two weeks ago? Diesel thinks Rhett put Bailey up to it.”

“I don’t know. I want to ask Bailey, but they’re on their honeymoon. We’ll have to wait until they’re back to find out.”

The truck slows down. The Leaky Skull is ahead, the lot empty, only the big lights over the parking lot still on. The red neon sign has gone dark.

Marietta’s Volkswagen sits alone on the cracked asphalt. She’s lucky nobody did anything to it. I once saw six football players carry a teacher’s Beetle right onto a football field.

“Can you let us know what you find out?” Merrick asks.

“Diesel says the Pickles aim to find our bar, and we’d like to know if they already have the intel.

We hid who owns this place, so it’s not an easy search, but you were actually here.

So was Bailey. If we’re going to get a visit, we’d like a heads up. ”

He shoves the gear into park.

His request is fair. “Sure. If they know, I’d guess it will happen sooner rather than later.

But I will say it’s not like Bailey to out somebody who doesn’t want to be found.

Not big time, anyway. She might have come out here to see things for herself, but I wouldn’t count on her spilling your location once it’s clear you had a reason to hide it. ”

“Good to know.” Merrick opens his door and walks around to fetch Marietta.

I fish around in her belt purse for the car keys.

I pull them out and scoot beneath the steering wheel. Merrick carries my lump of brazen best friend to the passenger side of her Beetle.

I open the door and watch him carefully strap her in, tucking her shoes beside her bare feet.

When he stands, we look at each other for a minute. I’m sure he’s thinking I might be the clingy sort, especially since it’s clear what happened between Diesel and me.

I get ahead of anything he might say. “I’ll report back to you with anything I learn,” I tell him. “I know what Diesel is. I’m not looking to keep chasing him.”

Merrick rubs his hand through his hair, making the curling black locks stand up on top. “He’s not one for relationships, that’s for sure.”

“I figured. It’s been a fun diversion. I’m back to classes tomorrow, anyway.”

“You know where to call.”

“So, I should call the bar once I hear from Bailey?”

“Nah. Here.” He grabs a receipt from his truck and scrawls a number on the back. “It’s Diesel’s.” He laughs. “He’ll kill me for giving it out to a woman, and I enjoy pissing him off.”

Shit. I have his number.

And apparently, that’s rare.

I hold it tightly. “Thanks.” I head to the driver’s side, pushing the seat back so I can fit behind the wheel. Marietta is a stick of a thing, and I’m tired enough to have collapsed into a dumpling at this point.

When the engine purrs to life, the clock reads 3:07.

That’s a lot of prime numbers. And it marks the end of my time with the lost Pickle cousins, other than maybe an update once Bailey’s back. The illegal number means I’m meant to deliver it electronically and not in person.

Merrick confirmed that Diesel is not the relationship kind. My triple-deluxe orgasm days are probably over.

Unless I get some information that he wants and refuse to give it up over text.

Or maybe I make him an offer he can’t possibly refuse.