Page 53 of Salty Pickle

Court takes it on the thighs, then turns white in the face and lets go.

His knees fold together in a pose I’m not sure I’ve ever seen on a man.

I think she got him in the groin.

“Court? You okay?”

He leans against the car. “You’re right. We’ll all have to go.” His voice is high and tight.

“You think we can make it to the elevator? Or is there someone always inside like in the movies?”

He shakes his head. “There’s nobody in the elevator, but there is a camera.”

“Oh, that won’t do. They’ll see her on security. What if we throw a blanket over her?”

He lifts his head at that. “That could work.”

“I have the pickle one you got for me at your office.” I open the driver’s side and lean in to lift the flap of my knapsack. There’s a lot of room since Matilda ate all the grain. I didn’t restock at the farm because there was so much to eat there.

I’ll have to get more again.

It might be a good thing Court doesn’t have plants. Matilda would have them for snacks.

I tug out the Pickle blanket. “At least then they won’t know she’s a goat. If you get fined for a dog, I can save up and pay you back.”

He lifts his hand. “It’s okay.”

I kneel in front of Matilda. “Okay, Matty, I’m going to cover you. You be a good girl, okay?”

I murmur at her as I unfold the blanket and lay it over her back. It’s not bad. She looks more like a miniature pony now than anything.

“Let’s give this a try,” Court says, passing the leash to me. “God help us.”

If we’re looking for divine intervention, I’d rather divert it to the poor goats at the farm. I understand that people eat goats, just like they eat pigs and cows and chickens. But I don’t want anything to do with it.

Court takes the plastic card from me and runs it across the lock on the door to the building. It pops open. “Let me scout,” he says.

Matilda and I wait. The garage is warm with no breeze. “Be a good girl,” I tell her.

She answers with a meh eh eh.

When Court returns, he tries to smooth his wild hair and tugs on his suit jacket to make it more presentable. I don’t point out that it’s covered in goat hair.

He holds the door open. “It’s a long hall to the elevators, but this time of day should be quiet. Let’s go.”

He opens the door wide for me and Matilda to pass.

The halls are carpeted, like a hotel. Everything smells like fresh linen. “How do they get it to smell so good?” I ask.

“Fragrance in the air vents,” he says. “Now come on.”

He leads us past a door marked “Staff Only,” and we turn right down a long hall. Each door is elegant, with a gold knocker and matching lever. Lamps on the wall give off a soft glow.

We creep along the hall with no trouble until we get to the elevator bank. Court presses the button, but when the doors slide open, there’s a lady in a tall straw hat.

She stares at me, Court, and Matilda in the blanket, her mouth open, until the doors close again.

“Oh no,” I say. “Are you busted?”

---