Page 36

SYMPHONY

M y elation over the interview is dashed hours later when the texts from Diesel come through.

They went to jail?

They’re abandoning the bar?

They’re re-enlisting?

After the goddess text, I spend hours trying to come up with a line to message back, but in the end, I never do.

Both of our lives are going forward. We lasted longer than anyone expected. This is what had to happen.

Two weeks later, on my first day of the new job, Mina leans through the doorway of the office I share with three other interns. “I’m off for lunch. Do you have plans?”

“I don’t think so.”

Bryce, one of the experienced interns, turns to us. “Yeah, there’s no budget for first day treats here. But the Cuban truck two blocks down is killer and cheap.”

“Noted,” I tell him. “You want to come?”

“Nah. I work through so I can leave early.”

I haven’t spoken to the other two people in my office yet. They have on headphones and are typing away. I’m glad Mina got hired, too, so I have a friend here.

I open the drawer to extract my purse. “See you in a little bit.”

Bryce nods.

Mina and I head to the lobby. “How is your first day going?”

She groans. “I wish there was a real training. I’ve done nothing but read policy manuals.”

“Same! Ugh. It’s been hard not to fall asleep.”

“I’m bringing coffee back for the afternoon.” Her glasses fog up the moment we exit the building. “Oh, this humidity!” She pulls them off and wipes them on the ends of her headscarf.

“It’s brutal.”

We approach a sandwich shop and opt for air conditioning rather than the Cuban food truck and an outdoor bench.

When we’re settled with our food, Mina says, “So, how are you really? No word from biker boy?”

Everyone seems to know about Diesel and me, even though I didn’t broadcast it.

I peer at my bread, afraid she’ll see an emotion on my face that I’d rather not share. “No. He’s gone, gone.”

“Hmmm.” She turns her sandwich around in her hands. “And the bar?”

“It closed yesterday.” I called a week ago, dying to know if Diesel had told me the truth. But he had.

At first, Jake and Vicki and Jose kept the bar going cash-only. But as kegs got tapped and supplies ran out, they weren’t authorized to order more. They shut down the Leaky Skull before the permit office could get to them.

“Sucks. But at least we’ve got this!” She gestures toward the window with the towering federal building in the distance. “We’re going to be in a great position when we get our degrees. The sky is the limit!”

I try to eat my sandwich, but like it has been for the two weeks since Diesel left, my stomach isn’t interested. I take a few forced bites.

This summer has changed everything. My friendship with Bailey is pretty much over. Marietta works opposite hours as me at the bookstore, so we see other much less.

Jenna and I have class together, but she feels torn between Bailey and me, and I don’t want to inadvertently give her information she’ll pass on. So, we don’t talk like we used to.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, Billy got an interview finally. Maybe he’ll join us, too!”

“That’s great.”

“You know, I think he likes you. You don’t give him a second look, but he has his eye on you all the time.”

I set my sandwich down. “Really?”

“Totally. But if he works here, maybe it’s not the best timing. I hear workplace romances are dangerous if they go belly up. Still. Give him a look. I think he’s a good guy.”

A good guy. I sip my soda. Do I want a good guy? I imagine Billy kissing me, and nope. No. Not working.

My mind slides back to Diesel. On his desk. By the stairs in my apartment. In his bed.

My chest stutters a breath. I haven’t cried over this, and I don’t plan to. It was fun. Wild. Wicked.

He was never going to be around for long. I got him way more than most of his dalliances did.

Mina notices my silence. “I’ve never had a love like that. I don’t know what to say.”

“It wasn’t love,” I tell her. “Just …” What was it? Sex. Craziness.

But maybe there was something more. Not love, exactly. But compatibility. Edginess. A way of pushing each other.

“He used to sketch me,” I say. I haven’t told anyone, not even Marietta. But if he’s gone, it doesn’t matter.

“He was an artist, too?” Mina opens her chip bag. “Usually those are so sensitive. I don’t associate biker bad boys with art.”

“Well, he was.” I don’t know what I’m arguing it. Why I spilled that at all.

But Mina’s right. It didn’t match his outward attitude.

I’d barely scratched the surface of who he really was.

And it was over.

“I only get half an hour,” Mina says, folding up her leftover sandwich. “You?”

“An hour, actually.”

“Nice. I’ll check in with you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Mina collects her things and hurries out the door.

Half an hour. I think I won the boss lottery.

But now I’m alone with my thoughts. I haven’t looked at my phone all morning, afraid of being thought of as a stereotypical, social media-addicted Gen Z. I pull it out.

Jenna has texted asking if I want to study with her for our racism class. I respond with a yes.

Friends are hard to come by. I shouldn’t let one go easily. Jenna is good. But Bailey is always going to be involved with the Pickles.

I don’t bear any illusion that her marrying into the family means I might ever run into Diesel again. He was clearly determined to avoid them all.

No. He’s gone, gone, gone.

An Insta notification pops up, so I click through.

It’s a message request.

When I see who it’s from, I grip my phone. Greta Packwood-Jones.

That’s Diesel’s sister. Her son was the ring bearer at the wedding.

My finger trembles as I click on it.

Greta: Symphony, I tracked you down from the wedding photos. I’m hoping you can help me find Dean. Diesel. I need him.

My chest tightens. Is something wrong?

Me: I haven’t talked to him since everything blew up.

I almost say more. Tell her they were going to re-enlist. But I hesitate. What if this is a ploy by the Pickles to find them again?

Within seconds, a message buzzes through.

Greta: I haven’t heard from him since the wedding! I’m in a tough spot. I came to their bar, but it’s boarded up! When did that happen?

She’s in Florida?

Me: I thought you lived in Jersey.

Greta: I flew down. I thought they’d be here. Everyone said they were here. But they don’t respond to calls or texts.

I tap the top of the table anxiously. I don’t know what to tell her. That her dad and uncle showed up and pissed off her brothers?

That Merrick and Diesel are probably already back in the Army?

Me: The bar got shut down.

Greta: Shit. Shit. Shit!

I shouldn’t get involved. I have nothing to do with the Pickles anymore.

Me: Bailey and Rhett are back from their honeymoon. They can help.

Greta: I don’t want them! Only my brothers will understand what I’m going through.

Oh. Now, I get it.

Me: I don’t think Merrick and Diesel are coming back. Where are you?

Greta: The Leaky Skull. Sitting by the door.

Oh, shit. I imagine the woman I saw briefly at the wedding standing outside the deserted Leaky Skull, the sun bearing down on her.

Greta: I have Caden with me.

What? She has her kid? I guess it is summer. No school.

Me: Can you call for a ride into Miami?

I imagine her being penniless and lost.

Greta: Yes. But I don’t know where to go.

I glance at the clock. I have hours to go on my shift. This really should be Rhett’s problem. Or any of the Pickles.

But somehow, now, it’s mine.

Me: I’m not off work until four. But you can go to a coffee shop near my apartment. I can meet you when I’m back. I’d take off, but it’s literally my first day.

Greta: I can get a hotel, I guess. For a little while.

So, money is an issue. She’s in some real trouble.

Me: Are you in danger?

Greta: No, but I left Jude. And he’s frozen our accounts. I have one credit card in my name, but it’s not going to last forever.

Me: Don’t get a hotel. Go to the coffee shop. I’ll meet you there.

Greta: Send me the address.

I do, then package up my sandwich. It’s time for me to head back to work.

And then who knows what will happen.

Greta is on my mind as I suffer through a very slow first day of work.

I’ve never had a job outside of sacking groceries and working at a coffee shop, so I don’t have much to compare this to.

But it is definitely boring.

The most exciting part about reading the manual and filling out forms was the orientation video that was surely filmed in the nineties. While the building was more or less the same, the section on computer security reminded us to remove both floppy disks before the end of the day.

I didn’t know computers ever had two floppy drives. Seems wasteful.

I check in with my supervisor at the end of the day to let her know how far I’d gotten in my manual and to turn in the forms.

“We’ll have some proper work for you to do tomorrow,” she says.

“Excellent. See you then.”

I fly out of the door and race down the street to the employee lot. I was given a free pass for the first week, then I have to decide whether I want to pay for it or take a bus in.

I’m glad I have my car as I drive across Miami to my apartment near campus. I trade messages with Greta during every red light, letting her know I’m getting close.

It’s strange, meeting more of Diesel’s family under such dire circumstances. When I arrive at the coffee shop, I’m glad to already be dressed professionally, with hair and makeup. I straighten my skirt and head inside.

Greta looks very different from the wedding, her polished appearance giving way to a hasty ponytail, jeans, and a faded T-shirt.

Caden, too, seems at the end of his seven-year-old rope, lying down on a cushion in the booth and staring at the ceiling.

“Symphony,” Greta says. “Thank you for meeting me.”

There’s no way this is a trap. She wouldn’t have dragged her son into it.

I pull up a chair to the end of the booth to avoid crowding her or moving Caden. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re all right. Caden’s on a sugar crash after three hot chocolates.”

I glance over at him. There’s a ring of chocolate around his mouth. “That must have been delicious.”

He brushes the back of his hand over his forehead. “My iPad died, and we forgot the charger.”

“Oh! I can help with that.” I open my bag and pull my iPad charger out. “I even have a power brick.”

I pass the items to him, and he eagerly plugs in his device.

“Just keep them,” I tell Greta. “I have others at home.”

“You’ve been very nice to us.” Greta wraps her arms tightly around her middle like she’s cold. “It’s been a long few days.”

“What happened?”

Greta glances over at Caden. “I can’t say a lot right now, but I need to find Dean. Or Merrick. They’re probably together, wherever they are.”

I pull out my phone. “I don’t have a lot to go on. Diesel said the bar was getting shut down, and he and Merrick were going to re-enlist.”

“Oh, no! Do you think they already shipped out?”

I pass her the messages. “He said they were going to do a little R&R first.”

Greta stares at the phone. “That’s what Dad used to call our trips to Florida. Getting R&R.” She passes it back.

“Did you have somewhere specific you would go?”

Her eyes light up. “Yes, always. There was a condo complex on the beach about an hour from here. We rented a place every summer. The name of it started with two Rs. It became a family joke.”

My heart hammers. We might find him! “Diesel told me the reason he and Merrick chose Miami was because of those trips.”

Greta pulls out her phone. “It’s a real long shot, but it’s possible they went there one more time before enlisting again.” She pulls up a condo rental on her phone. “Yes, the Rockin’ Rentals. I can get a ride out there.”

I peer at her screen. “It’s sixty miles. That will be wildly expensive on the chance they’ll be there. Should you call first?”

“There’s no place to call,” she says. “Not these days. The condos are all individually owned Airbnbs now. No telling which one they might be at, and I doubt anyone would tell me who is on the rental.”

“If you ride out there and they’re not there, you have to pay to come all the way back. I doubt there’s anything vacant this time of year.”

Greta sets down her phone. “It’s a chance I have to take. Dean and Merrick are my last my hope before I have to surrender myself back to the Pickles.”

I know what Diesel would want me to do. “I’ll take you. It’s only an hour. I can get stuck in Miami traffic that long any day.”

Greta glances up. “You mean it?”

“Sure.” Although … if it works, I would see Diesel.

Do I want that?

My whole body revs up at the thought.

Obviously, I do.

At least to say goodbye. Properly.

“We should probably go right away if we can.” I tilt my head at Caden. “He’ll be okay for an even longer day?”

“As long as he has his iPad, he’s golden.

” She reaches out to touch my arm. “You’re really helping us, Symphony,” she says.

“I know my brothers were against the Pickle family’s interference.

They always were, especially Dean. But I hope that the negativity they might have told you about didn’t include me. ”

“I think it was mostly your uncle. And maybe your dad?”

She nods. “The elder Packwood brothers can be a lot. Merrick and Dean had fierce examples to learn from.” She gathers the toys and coloring pages scattered over the table. “Caden, we’re going on a car ride to the beach!”

He sits up. “Really? Can I get in the water?”

“Of course,” she says. “Let’s get packed up.”

I help clear their table, my belly already buzzing with nerves. I don’t know what will happen if the brothers aren’t there. They disappeared for ten years before.

But something tells me that they’ll be there.

I can feel it.