Page 103 of Wicked Pickle

My shoulder sinks into his gut, knocking him to the ground. Gravel crunches into my knee as I fall with him.

We don’t talk anymore, fists flying, legs tangled. It’s our best way of communication, a conversation in grunts and tackles. He’s annoyed and not fighting hard. I’m angry as hell and going for broke.

Sometimes in our lives, it’s been the other way around. But this is my pissing match.

Merrick gets a solid grip on my shoulders and flips me onto my back.

Blood trickles out of my nose. I swipe at it, making a paste of gravel dust. “Motherfucker.” I roll over onto him, ready to bloody up his.

But I’m lifted away from him. I’m about to turn and fight my way out of this one when I see the glint of a badge.

Fuck. It’s a deputy.

Wrong goddamn place to get in a fight.

Merrick jumps up. “Nothing wrong here, officer. This is my brother. We fight more than two rats in a cage.”

The man snaps cuffs on me. “You coming easy?” he asks Merrick. “Or do I need to cuff you, too?”

Merrick holds his hands up. “I’m coming easy.”

We exchange a glance as we’re hauled back into the building.

We’ve fucked up this time.

CHAPTER 33

SYMPHONY

The rest of the day goes by with no word from Diesel, then the night, and then the morning.

I stopped texting him once we got home from his house. There didn’t seem to be a point in stacking them up. He’s either not getting them, he’s blocked me, or his phone is lost. I have no way of knowing which.

The last thing I tried was calling the Leaky Skull shortly before midnight. Jake answered. Merrick and Diesel never showed, and nobody’s heard from them since Merrick called Vicki.

At least we got that tidbit of information. I have no confirmation that Diesel has looked at his phone since his last message to me.

But I have to let this go for the moment. It’s interview day, and I need to pull myself together. My future is calling, and Diesel might very well be in my past.

I put on my one corporate pantsuit, a midnight blue set with a sharp white shirt and tailored jacket. With a tiny red scarf tied around my neck, I look exactly right for a federal office.

I imagine being that top aide always standing beside the person in power, leaning in with critical reminders about who’s who and how to approach important players.

Ha. I’ll be slaving in some basement office with sickly lighting. But a girl can dream.

I slide on low blue heels and finish it with an oversized bag tucked at my side. It holds my resume, CV, and recommendation letters. Some interviewers like paper in their hands. For everyone else, I have LinkedIn.

Mina also has her interview today, about an hour after mine. I might hang around and meet up with her. I’ve been to the Government Center in Miami before, of course. The enormous library is there as well as historic courthouses.

But it’s nice to walk it, especially on a summer day.

Which it is, so I’d better stick an umbrella in my purse. Most days this time of year include a random rain shower by midafternoon. It’s why Disney makes so much money on ponchos.

Not that I would know firsthand. Poor kid to foster kid to young adult strung out on student loans doesn’t allow for pricy vacation trips.

But I’ll get there. Maybe with my first real adult paycheck.

I’m hoping that today will be the start of a whole new life.

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