Big pickle, p.9
Big Pickle, page 9
He reaches out to touch my cheek. “Maybe a little something right here.”
If I thought the way we touched before caused a spark, that was nothing compared to what happens this time. Jason Packwood pours on pure charm, his grin aimed right at my heart.
After all the mornings baking bread, the gazes I caught from him, and then, of course, this recent display of his perfect body, our connection is more like a bomb exploding.
I sidestep away from the table. “Thanks for the help today. I’ve gotta run.”
“Can I walk you to your car?”
For some crazy reason, my head fills with the torrid vision of us in the deserted downtown parking garage, him slamming me against the side of my car, my knees locked around his waist, our mouths fiery in a heated kiss.
I’m still seeing it when I say, “No. I’m fine. See you tomorrow.”
I hurry to my office and pretend to mess with my phone. I don’t relax until I hear the back door open and close.
He’s gone.
What’s going on? With him? With me?
This is a complication I don’t need.
15
Jace
Everything in my life is upside down.
I used to stay out late, dine at fine restaurants, hang out with beautiful, wealthy, well-connected movers and shakers in society. I partied hard, slept late, and drank only the best tequila.
Now it’s a Friday night, I’m wearing a T-shirt featuring a dancing pickle, and watching some long-haired dude in a hot tub on Netflix because Nova told me she liked the show.
While she’s on a date with someone else.
Damn.
What the hell am I doing? I keep flirting with her even though I know I shouldn’t. Lately, my brain has been consumed with images of her half naked on the mixing table, her knees spread.
That can’t be sanitary.
Now, see, that sort of thinking is making me crazy.
Sex and sanitary do not go in the same sentence.
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes. I’m exhausted. Frustrated. I need to blow off some steam.
In fact, I do need a shower. I smell like a walking deli.
Among other things.
I remember what I was doing just a couple of hours ago, elbow deep in toilet water, and have to shove that thought away. Nobody can know about that. Nobody.
The next episode of the show rolls around, but I pause the streaming to stand up and stretch. This is not how I expected to spend the year I turned thirty. Alone in my condo after scrubbing a bathroom.
While the only woman I’m interested in goes out with someone else.
My phone buzzes. I bend down to the coffee table to glance at it.
Great. Max.
I’m tempted to ignore it, but truth be told, I could use some thoughts on my next move. So I pick up the call.
“Jace? It’s a Friday night! Why is it so quiet?”
Shit. If he spreads the word to the rest of the family that I’ve become a homebody, I will never live it down.
“I’m in the bathroom of the club.”
I hit play on the television and crank the volume. When the noise fills the room, I shout into the phone, “Every time they open the door, it’s too loud. Hold on, let me go outside.”
I gradually turn down the volume, then slam the front door.
“That’s better,” I say.
There’s silence for a moment on the other end.
“You still there, Max?” I ask.
“Jace, my brother. That noise was episode three of the Witcher. Are you at home watching Netflix by yourself on a Friday night?”
Shit.
“Was there a reason for this call?” I’m not going to give Max the satisfaction of saying he’s right.
“I wanted to check in with you, bro. You’ve gone radio silent on everybody, and you have a situation down there. Did you figure out where you were bleeding money?”
“Not yet. But Nova’s working on it. I tried going in to look at the books when the deli was closed, but she was working and nearly busted me.”
“I don’t think it’s her.”
“You’re judging her based on one phone call?”
“Not completely. If you had your head out of your ass, you’d know the accountant has been monitoring our accounts closely for this challenge. So, unlike the aggregate statements we got a month ago, we can all see what every brother is doing in terms of sales, expenses, profits and losses.”
“Dude. That’s all Greek to me.”
“Right. You got a degree in Humanities or some bullshit.”
“The study of humans is important, asshole.”
“Yeah, I know exactly how you like to examine humans, particularly the female variety. But that’s not the point. You’re a smart guy. You can figure it out. It’s numbers. Red ones go out. Green ones go in. Make sure there are more green ones than red ones.”
“Thanks for the kindergarten lesson.” I plunk down onto my sofa. “Obviously you looked. So, give it to me. What did you see?”
He chuckles. “You’re doing better. Your weekday sales kick both mine and Anthony’s butts. It’s probably your downtown location. We make up for it on the weekends.”
I sit up. “Should I open more on the weekends?”
“Dunno. Ask your manager. But weekdays are your jam. And you’re going up.”
“Nova hasn’t said anything about more business.”
“Well, your profits are increasing. A couple thou a week. That’s all I can tell you. Unlocking why means a deep dive into your numbers.”
I stand up and start pacing the room. “Do they separate the cash versus credit transactions in the report?”
“Not that I can see. Why?”
“Just a theory. Is there any way to separate those? Can I call the accountant and ask them to do that for me?”
“Probably. The cash should be deposited manually by your manager, or somebody she appoints to do it. You think something’s up?”
Susan’s gone. She’s been gone. She can’t steal cash from the safe if she isn’t there. And if Nova wasn’t keeping track of it from register to bank, then it would be her fault.
Damn. I don’t know.
“What’s turning in your head, Jace?”
“I’ll let you know if it pans out to anything.”
“You can always put Audra on it,” Max says. “She’s got more brains than the three of us put together.”
“Good idea. Thanks.”
Max chuckles. “Don’t stay up too late Netflix and chilling with yourself.”
“You can shut the hell up.”
He keeps laughing, so I kill the call. Brothers. Assholes.
But he did have a point about the books. And I need to know more about the cash transactions going in and out of my deli. If Susan’s been gone six months, the only reason they’d increase since I’ve been there would because—I’m there. Watching.
I drop back onto the sofa, my head in my hands. I refuse to believe Nova has anything to do with the losses. But the fact is, once I arrived at the deli, it stopped happening. Maybe my presence got in somebody’s way. It could be Lamonte. Or Kate or Elda or Arush. Who knows? Maybe even the cleaning crew got access to the safe.
But I do know one thing for sure. I need Audra to pinpoint the exact moment when profit started to rise and if it was cash-related.
And second, I need to get Nova to move me up to working the register so I can see for myself.
16
Nova
It’s six a.m. and Mom is not home.
I jerk a brush through my hair, my eye on the phone screen. I’ve texted her three times. I have to arrive at work at seven to start the bread. No one can do this for me.
Leah and I were up late last night watching old episodes of I Love Lucy. So my baby sister is still crashed in her bed, and I can’t leave her alone.
I pull on a pair of distressed jeans and a green hoodie. Austin is being Austin today and dropped from warm and pleasant yesterday to freezing this morning. The cold is not improving my mood. Low-end apartments don’t come with smart thermostats, so our place got chilly before I woke up this morning and cranked the heat.
I stand below the vent, letting the warm air blow my hair back.
My phone buzzes with the alarm that I have to start driving in fifteen minutes to make it.
Dang it. Mom? Where are you?
Back in the days when Susan opened the deli, it didn’t matter if I wound up late. My pay got docked, but that was the only consequence.
Now I’m in charge, and the schedule is all on me. I wait five more minutes, and then I have no choice. Even if Mom does reply at this point, she can’t get home in time for me to make the drive.
I pop into Leah’s bedroom, dim and softly pink from the unicorn nightlight near her bed.
I gently shake her awake. “Leah, baby, I’m so sorry. I have to take you to work with me. Mom’s not here.”
Leah sits up in a rush. “Where is she? What happened?”
“I think she was out late with her friends. Don’t worry. But I need you to get ready.”
“Can’t I stay here by myself?”
“Not yet. Maybe when you’re twelve. But not in fourth grade.”
Leah whines a little more, but she doesn’t argue. I pull a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from her drawer and pass it to her. “I’ll make you some breakfast at the deli.”
“Can I have cheesecake?” Her eyes light up, seeing a loophole she can exploit.
“Eggs first, and then you can have cheesecake.”
“Yes!” She pumps her fist.
“Now hurry. We have to leave in five minutes.”
Leah scrambles out of bed with her clothes and rushes to the bathroom.
Still no message from Mom. She’s been doing better since we got our own place. Regular food, a schedule, and neighbors who notice if she stumbles in at three in the morning, all work together to tone down her behavior.
I thought we had gotten a chance to start over, even if at the expense of my student loans.
Maybe this is just a blip. Maybe she really is hurt somewhere.
My belly quivers for a moment, imagining my mom bleeding in an alley. But hadn’t she said she was going over to see Rose? They were going to make drinks. So, no, she was passed out on the sofa there. And I have to deal with the fallout.
Leah emerges and we dash around the living room for a moment, looking for her shoes. Then we’re finally outdoors, starting up my ancient Ford Focus and headed toward the deli.
Leah’s had the foresight to grab her backpack, and she pulls out a notepad to draw pictures of unicorns and emojis, her two favorite things.
“Do you think Mom is passed out drunk somewhere?” she asks.
I suck in a breath. “What do you know about that?”
“I know she hides bottles in the cabinet over the refrigerator. She has to get the ladder out to get them down.”
Actually, I’m the one who hides my mother’s bottles up there, a fact that makes her very upset.
“I think she went over to her friend Rose’s and got tired.”
“She should’ve set an alarm.”
“You’re exactly right.” I reach over and tug on her ear, which makes her giggle. “I pulled the switch, now you have to tell me a joke.” It’s an old shtick of ours.
Leah scrunches her nose while she tries to think of one. Her hair is pretty crazy, still a snarl of long brown strands. But her cheeks are rosy and her eyes happy. She’s more of a morning person than I am.
“Okay. How do you get a squirrel to like you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Act like a nut!”
“That’s a good one!”
“I read it in a book.”
“Nice job remembering it.”
The drive is mercifully easy this early on a Saturday morning. I wonder if I can convince Jace Pickle to appoint an assistant manager to help, so I don’t have to be the first one there every day. Probably not. It’s not like we’re open late. The deli only serves through lunch and we close by mid-afternoon every day.
The hours aren’t unacceptably long, even as a manager, and I am guaranteed Sundays off since we’re not open. I’m getting paid to do this. And after my income increased, I secretly opened a second bank account my mother doesn’t know about. I only put the old amount I earned into the previous one.
I love her, but I’m not stupid.
I pull into my usual parking garage a couple of blocks down.
“Why don’t you park in front of the deli?” Leah whines. “There are spaces and nobody’s in them.”
“Those should go to the customers,” I say. “I’m here all day, but they go in and out.”
“But now we have to walk. It’s cold.”
“It’s not that cold.”
The two of us huddle as we scurry down the block. I unlock the back door, relaxing at the warmth inside. In the height of summer, when temperatures can exceed a hundred degrees for weeks on end, we sometimes have trouble keeping the kitchen cool while baking the bread. But now, firing up the proofing oven, I’m glad for the warmth.
I open my office so Leah can spin in my chair.
Then I head to Mr. Chill to grab some eggs and a jug of milk. I need butter, but there aren’t any loose blocks, so I have to pause to break open a new crate.
When I walk out of the fridge, I hear voices.
I recognize Jason’s laugh. “That’s a good one! You got any more where that came from?”
Now Leah. “What kind of tree fits in your hand?”
“I don’t know!”
“A palm tree!”
“Love that one, too!”
I plunk my ingredients on the mixing table and walk over to the office.
Jason leans against the wall while Leah gazes up at him with stars in her eyes. “Jason likes my jokes,” she tells me.
“I bet he does.”
“Do you like I Love Lucy?” Leah asks Jason. “Because last night, Nova and I watched three hours straight while we were eating pizza.”
Jason grins at me. “Oh, did you? Sounds like you had a pretty great date.”
Busted.
“My mom didn’t come home last night so that’s why I’m here,” Leah says. “Sometimes she gets too many bottles down from over the fridge and doesn’t come home.”
Oh, geez. “Okay, Leah, why don’t you get back to your drawing? Jason and I need to make the bread.”
I hustle back to the table. My face feels like fire.
“I Love Lucy,” he says. “Sounds like a smashing Friday night.”
“Hush.” I crack the eggs with too much force and the shell shatters into the bowl.
Jason peers in. “I believe you just showed that egg who’s boss.”
“Don’t you have bread to make?”
“I do, I do. It’s almost the end of March. Do we have a special bread for April?”
I head toward the stove. “The bread isn’t like the pickle of the month with a definitive beginning and end. We run the specials for as long as they are doing well.”
“Everybody loves my bread,” Jason says.
Leah materializes next to him. “What bread is that?”
“It’s called Dill—”
“It’s pickle bread,” I say quickly and flash Jason a murderous look. “It’s the white bread we normally have with pickle bits in it.”
“Can I help?” Leah asks.
“Yes,” Jason says.
“No,” I say.
Jason and I look at each other.
Leah laughs. “You guys are silly.” She looks up at Jason with soft, gooey eyes. “I know how to use measuring cups.”
“Excellent,” Jason says. “I sometimes have trouble with measuring cups, and I could use the help.”
I roll my eyes and turn back to the eggs. But even as I dump them in the pan with more force than necessary, my heart thuds. Leah’s never had a male figure in her life. In fact, we don’t know who her father is.
I’ve kept any men I’ve dated far, far away. Leah attaches easily to adult men. It’s clearly a longing she has. I’ve protected her. There’s no sense breaking both of our hearts when one leaves.
And now there’s Jason.
When I turn around with the finished eggs, Jason has gotten a stool for Leah, and the two of them are sifting flour.
“Eat your eggs, Leah,” I say. “You have to do it away from the bread. We can’t have your germs.”
“Jason gave me gloves.” She wiggles her plastic-covered fingers.
“That’s great. We’ll get you a new pair after you eat.”
“Aww.” She tugs on Jason’s shirt. “Nova promised me cheesecake after I eat my eggs. Do you like cheesecake?”
“I do,” he says. “My grandma makes the best cheesecake in the world.”
“Better than the ones here?”
“Exactly the same,” he says.
That’s interesting. He’s been using his grandmother’s techniques for the bread, and now admits the cheesecake is the same. Maybe he’s a closer friend of the Pickle family than he’s let on. A cousin? An illegitimate cousin? Now that would be interesting.
Maybe I’ll look him up. I finally got Internet service, and more importantly, Netflix, after my raise. I could fire up the ancient laptop I used to use for school and type in his name.
I should have done this before.
Leah scoots to the end of the table, away from where Jason continues to make the bread. I move around the kitchen, grabbing more bowls and the pans for the proofing oven. But I watch the two of them from the corner of my eye.
I’m going to find out more about Jason Packwood.
My sister is smitten.
And if I’m willing to admit it, I have to say one thing.
So am I.
Mom finally shows up around noon to grab Leah. It’s the middle of the lunch rush, and I’m short Kate, who had a wedding to attend.
I gesture her toward the back and try to keep the line moving.
Jason arrives to refill the pepper jack and provolone. “You should teach me the register,” he says. “Maybe when it slows down, I can handle the last few of the day. That way, I could be of more use when things get crazy.”
