Page 69 of Fiona and the Fixer

Awhat?

“I’mveryflexible.”

“She brought potato salad,” Mrs. Highcliff added, not the least bit fazed that her daughter was practically feral and trying to poach Dax right in front of me.

Briana didn’t stand down, only bit her lip as if she was trying not to take a bite out of Dax.

“Yup, I brought potato salad. And my gun,” I added, just repeating the part where I could shoot her. I wondered for a second if she’d be mounted on the wall if I did. Dax wanted me to be his fake girlfriend to protect him from the Briana’s in town. And the actual Briana Highcliff. At first, Iwas content with that. Now, I felt jealousy and a ridiculous wave of possessiveness toward him.

I was the one he climbed in bed with. I was the one whose hand he held. I was the one–he asked to fake date. Justfake.

Except it didn’t feel all that fake any longer.

Briana sized me up, probably wondering if she could take me, even with Dax’s not-so-subtle gun warning. “Hey,” she replied, stepping back and retracting her claws.

“Hey,” I replied.

“I do like this addition,” Mrs. Highcliff said, taking another bite. “I’ll have to go to the pickle store and get some.”

Thankfully, she fell right into our trap. Dax was a genius, or a seasoned veteran fresh from the trenches of the Highcliff family.

“Should we go together?” I asked her, pasting on a smile that Dottie would be proud of. “I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t bring you more.” The batch Dax had made was fairly small intentionally. No need to bring enough for a community picnic–not that I’d ever been to one, but I was sure they had a bunch in this town–but just a tease for the potato salad aficionado. “Then I can make you more.”

Did that sound like Dottie? I hoped so.

31

FIONA

Oh boy.

The Highcliffs. There literally were no words to describe them. Okay, maybe one: crazy.

Was Hannah crazy like them? I hoped not because I really, really wanted to like her.

Thankfully, Mrs. Highcliff–she still wouldn’t let me call her Marcia–had her purse over her shoulder and keys in hand within two minutes of finishing off the store-bought, doctored potato salad. It took a little bit to corral and cajole Bob away from his beaver stuffing, but ultimately Mrs. Highcliff did some kind of mind meld, death glare on him and we were headed toward Main in less than fifteen minutes.

She sure did like her potato salad.

The plan that I was supposed to be sticking to was that I’d go with them, at least to Main Street. Dax would be at the bookstore and watch from the front window. He’d call me and I’d pretend I had to take an important call and let them go into the store without me, this all done out of view of the pickle shop front window.

This was to ensure the couple would follow through on their promise to get more relish… immediately. If we waited for them to go pickle shopping, there was no knowing how long that would take. Days, weeks? Maybe they’d forget entirely. Maybe someone else would drop off potato salad with…bacon and she’d never want relish again. While I didn’t eat it, I knew bacon was a strong motivator.

Dax’s plan was good and all, but all it did was find out if they were out of stock again today.

I had a plan of my own. One that involved me snooping into the pickle barrels in the back of the store while the pickle people were busy up front with the Highcliffs.

I had to see what was in those containers. If the store really was a front for drugs, I’d know as soon as I got my hands on–or in–one.

Once in town, I pointed out a parking spot on a side street instead of in front of the pickle store.

“Oh, you two go ahead,” I said, stopping on the sidewalk. I thumbed over my shoulder. “I’m going to run to the outdoor store while you’re in the pickle shop. I, um, want to, um… get bullets for my gun.”

Bob waved and walked off. Mrs. Highcliff eyed me foran extra moment, then nodded. “Always be prepared is my motto.”

I didn’t know Mrs. Highcliff and the Boy Scouts shared a motto, but if she wasn’t questioning me about… anything, then I didn’t care.

She caught up to Bob quickly–her pace was that of a speed walker–and they went around the corner onto Main and the pickle shop storefront. I did my own speed walking and cut down the alley to the back. The pickle van was parked facing out for easy loading access. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, knowing it had to be Dax seeing the Highcliffs enter the store.

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