Symphony looks up at me, her blonde hair a wild halo in the sun. “What did you bring him for? We can’t talk about his sexual prowess if he’s standing right here.”
“I’m sure his prowess is fine,” Bailey says. “I’m glad you all dragged me back to campus for this. It’s fun to be back.” She peers up at me. “Rhett says hello.”
“How’s the Pickle empire?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Beats me. I’m interning at a law office. I have my eye on the Florida Supreme Court.”
“Sure beats beating pickles,” Jenna says with a laugh.
“How is Uncle Sherman?” I ask.
“He’s not snooping after your bar anymore, if that’s what you want to know,” Bailey says. “He is hands off, totally.”
“Good.” He probably wouldn’t be thrilled we’ve been undoing all his suggestions. We tried them. They didn’t work for us.
“You know, when he bought the place and gave it back to you, he wasn’t trying to interfere.” Bailey’s gaze on me is fierce, like she has to defend the entire Pickle clan.
“The bar is doing fine,” Marietta says. “They don’t need to attract the Gen Z set.” She plops down next to Symphony.
“Do you like working there?” Bailey asks.
I intend to go somewhere else so the women can talk, but I hesitate to hear her answer.
“I love it,” she says. “I’m going to dance there as soon as I can put a routine together.”
“You go, girl,” Symphony says, high fiving her. “You show off those assets.”
Bailey’s mouth turns down, like she doesn’t approve, but she doesn’t say anything.
“They’re going to go nuts for you,” Jenna says. “Poor Merrick here will have to beat them all back.”
That sounds like my cue to exit. “See you ladies in a bit,” I tell them. “Marietta, let me know if you see anybody who looks off.”
As I stride away, I hear Bailey ask, “What does he mean ‘off’?”
I regret saying it. Now, Marietta will have to decide how much to tell them about Lucifer’s Kin.
I sit on a bench at the far end of the quad, watching them. They can’t be talking about anything too serious because they keep laughing and leaning in.
The faint sound of a motorcycle approaches, and I stand, looking around. I text the other four Wild Hair simultaneously.
Me: Who’s approaching?
Fancy: Don’t get your knickers in a twist. It’s just Diesel.
Right. He takes classes here, too.
A few minutes later, I spot him crossing the grass. He’s aiming for the women when he spots me and changes course.
He’s different. We were one way in the Army, all swagger and scowls. We maintained it for a while after buying the bar, mainly since we had to throw out customers who got out of hand.
But Diesel is getting more chill. There’s an ease to how he walks. He doesn’t scan for danger or look to intimidate by default.
He’s getting domesticated.
I, on the other hand, seem to be going off the deep end. The Wild Hair. Enemies. Raids.
He drops onto the bench beside me. “Didn’t expect to see you here, brother.”
