Page 69 of Told You So
“That’s...not hilarious at all.” I try to stifle my amusement.
“You laugh, but this shit hurts.” He walks over to the big oak and rests his palm against it, staring out at the swelling hills. I follow suit, finally finding the courage to ask him something I’ve been wondering about all day. “You seem...okay about everything that happened the other day,” I say, even though I know that’s highly unlikely. “Have you talked to your parents about it?”
Nick takes a deep breath and looks at me with a sheepish sort of smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. No. But, it could be worse. Let’s just say that I feel like I’m part of the club now, too.”
“What club is that?”
“The Fucked-up Family Club.” He leans against the tree with a smug smile. “According to Reilly, I’m a member of the ‘guys only’ chapter.”
“Cute,” I say, glad his friends finally know what happened. “Well, I extend you an official welcome, from the ‘girls only’ chapter.” I startle when my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
“You’re a squeaker, huh?”
“Pardon me?”
Nick barks a laugh. “That sounded wrong. I mean, you squeak when you startle.” He shrugs. “Good to know.”
I lift an eyebrow and peer down at the text message.
Dad: Where are you?
“What’s wrong? Is it your parents?”
“Yeah. No big deal. My dad probably wants to lecture me about school.”
“Hmm. Speaking of school, have you thought about which grad school you’ll apply to after you get an awesome score on your test?”
“No,” I say with a grunt, and I straighten my back. “What about you? Where are you going to work after you graduate, some big firm in Benton?”
Nick’s easiness fades, and he plucks up a long piece of grass. “No, probably not. I like working at Lick’s, to be honest.”
“Yeah?”
“Sometimes I think that’s what I want to do, just work there my whole life. I’m good at it, and I like people, most of the time.” He twirls the grass between his fingers.
“Maybe you should buy your own bar,” I tell him.
His eyes shift to mine again. “Now you’re just talking crazy.”
I push him playfully. “I’m serious. If you love it, you could get your own place, turn it into whatever you want—you have the capability. You could run your own bar in your sleep.”
His amusement turns to something more enlivened, and he smiles. “Sounds kinda nice, actually.”
“You could call it Pickle Juice. Or Nickel’s, for Nick and Pickle.”
He chuckles. “I think you should leave the naming to me.”
“Well then, what would it be?”
“I dunno. I’ve never thought about it before.”
“You have to have a signature drink with pickle juice, at least,” I tell him. “It only makes sense. You named a doll Pickles for crying out loud.”
Nick laughs, more boisterous this time, and I think I could listen to him laugh all day long and never get tired of it. “That sounds delicious but I don’t think people would go for it.”
“You’d be surprised. It would be a good marketing strategy. It would make you stand out. I think you should seriously consider it. I can picture it perfectly.”
I have to resist the urge to do a lunge or two, knowing a deep hamstring stretch would be euphoric with all the tension in my backside. Knowing I wouldn’t be as cute as Nick doing it, though, prevents me. The last thing I want is to look like an idiot.
