Page 32

SYMPHONY

D amn it, damn it, damn it.

I pace my room when I get home from class.

Something has happened. Diesel hasn’t returned my texts since yesterday.

I strongly suspect a Pickle confrontation has gone down. I’m picturing all sorts of crazy scenarios. The Pickles kidnapped Diesel and Merrick, forcing them back to Jersey to work the delis. Or the brothers took off and tossed their phones into the ocean to avoid being found again.

I need information. I don’t talk to Rhett without Bailey, and I don’t want to talk to Bailey. Not yet. I’m still fighting mad.

Marietta’s with me, lying on the bed. “I’m not interested in talking to Bailey either,” she says. “She’s cockblocking me by taking Merrick away.”

Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. I don’t know if Merrick is the least bit interested in Marietta.

But it’s nice to have someone on my side.

“I don’t know how else to find out what happened,” I say.

“Maybe Jenna will ask her,” Marietta says. “Are we still talking to Jenna?”

“Of course.” I tap out a quick message asking Jenna to check in with Bailey about the Pickles and the bar.

I lie down next to Marietta, and we stare at the yellowing lamp on the ceiling.

“Should we go out to the bar and see if they’re there?” Marietta asks.

“We could,” I say.

“I think we should.”

My phone dings.

Jenna: Bailey says the Pickles went to the bar yesterday.

I knew it! I show the text to Marietta. She pumps her fists in the air with anger.

Me: Does she feel guilty about this at least?

Jenna: Doesn’t seem to, but IDK.

I’m so mad. So mad.

Marietta sits up. “We definitely should go out there. Maybe Diesel has his phone off to avoid family.”

She’s right. He might have.

“Okay, we’ll go.” I decide not to tell Jenna, who might tell Bailey, who might tip off the Pickles.

We’re all splintered over this.

We have some time before the bar opens, so we primp a little, curling Marietta’s hair and sorting through outfits.

I go with a knee-length skirt and cropped T-shirt. Marietta sticks with jeans and a black tube top.

We’re still too early to go out there. Without knowing Diesel is getting my messages, there’s no way inside that locked fortress until regular business hours.

“Do you think Diesel told him about my cherry status?” Marietta asks.

“I don’t know. They don’t seem like the chummy, talkative type.”

She pulls out a bright red gloss. “If he did, these lips will remind him.” The wand turns her mouth a vivid ruby. “It even smells like cherry.”

There’s no way to rein this girl in, and I’m done trying. “You have condoms? And if you actually achieve your aim, you’re gonna bleed.”

“Right. It’ll be fine. I can stuff paper towels in my underwear on the way home.” She rubs her lips together. “I’m a woman on a mission.”

I feel dubious about her success with this, given the arrival of their family out there. They might be long gone for all we know.

But I don’t discourage her. I want to see Diesel with my own eyes, be assured he’s still around.

Because I really don’t know.

When it’s less than an hour until opening, we load into my car. Marietta nervously checks the mirror every three minutes. I’m worried we’re both in for a terrible disappointment.

When we arrive, motorcycles are lined up out front, but not much else.

“It looks open at least,” Marietta says. “I was worried they might have taken off completely.”

“Me, too.” But I should have more faith. Diesel is tough, and he definitely was willing to tell the men of his family to bug off at the wedding while still being kind to his grandmother.

Marietta and I stand by the front of the car, straightening our outfits and preparing ourselves for whatever may be inside.

She takes my hand. “They’ll be there. Diesel will apologize for ignoring you while trying to get a break from his family.” She squeezes my fingers.

“And Merrick will jump your bones,” I tell her.

This gets a smile. “We’ll both get what we want.

The heat rises off the asphalt as we trudge toward the metal door.

Here goes nothing.

The first thing I notice when we step inside is how quiet it is. The music is muted. The few customers are scattered, almost no one sitting with anyone else.

Jake’s behind the bar in his black Leaky Skull shirt. Marietta and I exchange a glance as we approach the bar.

Jake turns and sees us, his eyebrows lifting. I note he’s careful not to look at Marietta’s chest.

He raises a hand in greeting. “Hey, you two.”

We don’t sit at the stools, instead leaning on the bar.

“Where’s Diesel?” I ask.

“Not here,” Jake says.

My stomach sinks. “Is he coming?”

Jake wipes down the counter with a rag. “All I know is I got a message to get here early to prep.”

“Is Merrick here?” Marietta asks.

Jake shakes his head. “Just me and Jose so far. Vicki will be here soon, along with Mike, the other bartender.”

I don’t know him. “Who is Mike?”

“We bring him in a couple times a week when Merrick and Diesel do supply runs or have to take off for something.”

Maybe we’re getting somewhere. “Did they do that? Take off?”

His cheeks pink up. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Who texted you?” Marietta asks. “Merrick or Diesel?”

“Vicki.”

The cocktail waitress. “When?”

“About two hours ago.”

“Who wrote her?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Can you ask her?”

Jake grimaces.

“Well?” I lean hard over the bar.

“She’ll be here eventually. You’ll have to ask her.”

Marietta shakes her head. “He’s scared of her.”

I sit on a stool, and Marietta slides onto the one next to me to wrap an arm around my shoulders. “We’ll figure it out. We can wait on Vicki.”

Jake shoves the towel under the bar. “Can I get you two anything?”

“No, but here’s my number in case you hear from Diesel.” I grab a bar napkin and scribble my number on it.

Jake sticks it in his pocket. “All right.”

A hulking biker in a hot pink skull cap approaches with an order, and Jake moves farther down the bar.

We sit there as more customers come in. An old man, shirtless beneath a fraying denim vest, whoops at the sight of Marietta. “I remember you, sparkle tits!”

Marietta leans in close to me. “I don’t think I want to stay here without Diesel and Merrick. I’ve caused too much trouble.”

She’s right. I slide off the stool. “I don’t want to wait on Vicki, anyway. Jake has my number. Let’s go.”

When we’re out in the sun and dust, I toss the keys to Marietta. “Drive me to Diesel’s house. I’m going to try texting him again.”

She opens the driver’s side door. “It won’t help if he can’t use his phone for some reason.”

“Or he’s blocked me.” It’s hard to think that could be true.

“He wouldn’t.”

“He might if he thinks I’m in on this.”

Marietta gets inside. “He doesn’t.”

I sit in the passenger seat. “Maybe he didn’t before, and now he does?”

She cranks the engine. “I refuse to believe that.”

As we roll along the highway, I review everything we’ve said to each other since I told him Bailey had given up the location of the Leaky Skull.

He was responsive. Mad but talking to me. We both blamed Bailey for the betrayal.

The last thing we said to each other was yesterday, hours before the Pickles came.

Diesel: Good morning. I trust you slept naked?

Me: With legs wide open in case you snuck in.

Diesel: That’s my good girl.

I glance out the window at the passing landscape. Those aren’t the last words of a man who is about to ghost you.

Marietta cranks the A/C, the cold air blowing her hair back. “Any luck?”

“I’m reading over what we’ve said to each other, trying to figure out why he’d be mad enough to ignore me.”

I type and delete and type and delete until I come up with a message.

Me: Got worried, so I stopped by the bar. Marietta and I aren’t speaking to Bailey. What she did was wrong. I’m upset. Where are you?

I consider my words one more time, then delete the Where are you?

I don’t want him to not reply to avoid telling me where he is. I just want a response.

I send it.

The phone is heavy in my hand as we head the same way we drove that crazy night when Marietta went wild. I haven’t been there since. Diesel has always come to me.

“You going to let me know where to turn?” Marietta asks. “I was a little incapacitated last time.”

I open my maps app and locate the pin I dropped. “About two miles ahead, you’ll turn left. There’s nothing until then.”

She nods.

I clear the map in case I missed Diesel’s response. There’s nothing.

We reach the side road. Marietta signals and turns. The car bumps along, kicking up dust. I switch the air flow to circulate inside the car.

The cluster of houses appears. At first, it’s hard to see the situation in the haze, but then we’re in front of them.

“Should I turn in their drive?” Marietta asks.

“Sure.”

She pulls in front of Diesel’s house. There are no vehicles out front, not the truck nor their motorcycles. That’s three vehicles for two people.

My stomach clenches. That makes it seem like they left for good. But wouldn’t they have told Jake? How can the bar go on without them?

I stare out the window as Marietta shoves the gearshift into park.

“You going to knock?” she asks.

I glance at the phone again. No response. I type again.

Me: We’re at your house. Not trying to be a stalker, but I’m worried.

I look up at Marietta’s concerned face. She reaches out to squeeze my hand again. “I think he’s turned it off, honestly.”

“But he wrote Jake. He had to have seen my messages.”

“He could be in meetings. Not able to handle a complex conversation. Just firing off the primary message.”

She’s being so nice about it.

After another minute, I unbuckle and open the door. “I’m going to knock.”

“You want me to come?”

“No. I don’t think anyone’s here. I just want to check.”

She nods.

I get out and take a moment to straighten my skirt. I don’t believe the brothers are here, but I also don’t want to look bad. They might have a camera on the door. He might be watching me approach.

I reach out to push the doorbell with shaky fingers. It reverberates inside.

I listen, but there’s no sound. No door opening. No footsteps.

Nothing.

I glance back at the car, but I can only see the back side of it closest to the door. Marietta can’t see me.

Does he have a camera? The doorbell is normal. There’s nothing in the corners of the porch.

How will he even know I was here? It feels vital that he does, that I validate the text I sent.

The other houses are quiet and still. There’s no traffic on the road we came in on.

I don’t have any hope of finding him.