Page 25 of Salty Pickle

“But I know,” I insist. “You can require a piece of paper, and I get that, but I know. For a fact. Without a doubt.”

He stomps around the desk and drops into his chair, angrily shaking his computer mouse to wake up the screen.

I glance at Devin, who shrugs. He sits near me, spreading out a sheaf of printouts. “I have some options for where you can stay while we wait on Court’s baby to be born.”

I beam at him. “Perfect. Let’s take a look. And how many hours off does he owe you so far?”

“Three.”

We both ignore the feral growl that comes from the other side of the room.

I have an ally.

Plus, two in I.T.

Lucy 3, Court 0.

8

COURT

Despite quite a number of threats, Devin insists that he has an unmovable appointment after work. I’ll need to be the one to take Lucy out to the goat farm he booked.

I don’t believe him for a minute, but my tyranny over him only legally extends to his work hours.

He’s already gone above and beyond today, even if he appears to have sided with Lucy and the goat.

I don’t drive my Ferrari to the office, and I don’t want that damn goat in it, anyway. So I call an Uber to take us out. I completely forget to mention the goat, so as I lead a barefoot Lucy and her livestock out to the silver Altima who took the ride, the driver honks at me.

He rolls down the passenger seat window, and in a heavy Brooklyn accent, says, “You think I’m letting that goat in my car?”

I bend down. “Yes.”

“Hell, no. I’m not having that creature make a mess in here.”

Lucy leans in. “Matilda is lovely. And she wears a diaper. There’s no risk.”

But the man takes off in a squeal of tires.

We jump back on the curb, Lucy pulling the goat close to her. “What a horrible man!” she cries.

I pull up the app and give him a one-star before canceling the ride. He could have said no without nearly running us over. “I’ll try again.”

She peers over my phone. “You probably want to use Uber Pet to get someone animal friendly.”

I look up at her. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve used Uber.”

“From your yurt with no cell phone?”

“No, when I went out drinking with friends. You’re making assumptions about me.”

“You showed up with a bag of hay and a goat.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m ignorant.” She lifts her chin in defiance, and for one strange flash of a second, I think about kissing her.

Hell no to that. That’s what got me into this mess.

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