When it slows down, I’m tempted to text Marietta and ask what the hell is going on, but I can’t do that. Not if she’s on some official Wild Hair date. If she doesn’t reply, I’ll go stark raving mad imaging what is happening.
Fuck Iron Jack.
Fuck the Wild Hair.
Fuck Lucifer’s Kin, whoever the fuck they are.
I start clearing the bar and break two more glasses when Diesel takes me by the shoulders and sends me to the kitchen. “Things are slowing down,” he says. “Get the hell out of here before we have to serve straight out of the tap.”
I stomp out the back door to my bike. Goddamn it. Goddamn the whole fucking situation.
I ride out onto the marsh on a tiny dirt road. I kill the motor in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and moss and the sounds of frogs. A long slithering sound is probably an alligator sizing me up for a midnight snack, but maybe I don’t give a fuck.
I consider my options. Riding to the clubhouse and kidnapping Marietta myself. We could fix this thing in five minutes.
Backing out of the Wild Hair. It’s no big thing to do as a prospect, not nearly the problem as when you’re fully patched in. Then I don’t have to follow their rules. I could go for her without disrupting their plans.
Or letting Marietta figure out what she wants. Maybe this Adam fellow will be the ticket. Maybe she’ll feel obligated like she does when Betz dresses her.
Fuck if I know.
But there’s one thing I’m not going to do.
And that’s make a goddamn fool of myself over her.
CHAPTER 19
MARIETTA
So, this is new.
I protested when Symphony wanted to try to force Merrick on a double date, but I had no choice when Betz came into the bunkhouse with a cute yellow dress and told me I was spending the evening with the new prospect.
That was fast. She just told me about him this morning.
But he’s coming to church tomorrow, so she’d said, and probably he’ll be expected to report.
So, as we walk around the backyard of the clubhouse in the damp grass, we’re supposed to get to know each other.
“I hate that I can’t take you anywhere,” Adam says. “But Iron Jack was insistent.”
“They are full of rules,” I tell him. My feet feel wet, and I’m cold even though we already went back inside once for a sweater.
He notices my shiver. “We can talk inside, I guess.”
We head into the kitchen, where Carol is sitting around the center island with her kids.
Adam gives her a polite nod. “When are you due?” he asks.
“Four days,” she says. “It’s been the longest nine months of my life.”
He takes in the other three dunking chicken nuggets into ketchup. “Were the others this tough?”
Carol points to the oldest, the girl I caught with the chips last Sunday. “This one was a full week late. I’m hoping this one doesn’t take after her.”
The two boys shove the last nuggets in their mouths and dash off to their room.
“There’s nobody in the living room if you want to hang out there,” Carol says. “Sorry you’re forced to stay close by. Don’t want those Lucifer’s Kin coming after you. They’re on the prowl.”
