Page 96 of Wicked Pickle

“Are you threatening us?” At my tone, Two-Shit and Chain move closer. Dad practically hugs the counter.

“No, no, quite the opposite. I have a way with people like that. I’ve given you the plan. Get some legitimate customers out here. Make a play on the theme, but clean things up. It’s doable. I’m here to help.”

The pressure in my chest is so intense, I feel like I’m going to explode into blood and bone. “Merrick and I have it handled.”

Sherman stands, turning to grasp Two-Shit’s hand for a hearty shake. “Great to me you. We’ll get it handled. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He waves to the room as if everyone here is a new friend. “Enjoy your drinks, everyone.”

As soon as Chain moves aside, Dad leaps from his stool.

The room watches as the two men head for the door. The white cone of light pierces the gloom as they walk out, then disappears again.

“Fuck,” Merrick says. “You think he’s for real?”

I gather empty glasses together for Jake to take to the back. “Don’t know. Sherman doesn’t generally make shit up.”

“Dad looked scared shitless.”

“He did.” I glance at the clock. Three-thirty. Still time to go to the permit office and see if anyone there will say what Sherman told us to my face. “I’m going to check on things.”

Merrick picks a bottle of Jameson to pour one for himself. It’s that kind of day. “All right. Keep me updated.”

But as I pass through the kitchen on my way to the back lot, a heavy feeling in my gut tells me that my bar troubles just got co-opted by my family.

And our independence from the Pickle clan is already completely fucked.

CHAPTER 31

SYMPHONY

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

I pace my room when I get home from class.

Something has happened. Diesel hasn’t returned my texts since yesterday.

I strongly suspect a Pickle confrontation has gone down. I’m picturing all sorts of crazy scenarios. The Pickles kidnapped Diesel and Merrick, forcing them back to Jersey to work the delis. Or the brothers took off and tossed their phones into the ocean to avoid being found again.

I need information. I don’t talk to Rhett without Bailey, and I don’t want to talk to Bailey. Not yet. I’m still fighting mad.

Marietta’s with me, lying on the bed. “I’m not interested in talking to Bailey either,” she says. “She’s cockblocking me by taking Merrick away.”

Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. I don’t know if Merrick is the least bit interested in Marietta.

But it’s nice to have someone on my side.

“I don’t know how else to find out what happened,” I say.

“Maybe Jenna will ask her,” Marietta says. “Are we still talking to Jenna?”

“Of course.” I tap out a quick message asking Jenna to check in with Bailey about the Pickles and the bar.

I lie down next to Marietta, and we stare at the yellowing lamp on the ceiling.

“Should we go out to the bar and see if they’re there?” Marietta asks.

“We could,” I say.

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