Page 82 of In The Weeds
I pick up my flower from the nightstand and twirl it between my fingers. “We’ll have a lot to do to tie up loose ends.” My mental to-do list appears, gathering items like raindrops in a bucket. I frown, a thought occurring. “We wouldn’t work together anymore.”
“Like you could get rid of me,” she says quietly. Fondly. “Plus, I’d like to remind you that the man has a tattoo just below his collarbone. I’d have questions if you didn’t want to stay.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BECKETT
“Stop smiling like that,”Barney snaps from the passenger side of the flatbed truck, his arms crossed over his chest and a bag full of snacks from the last gas station resting on his knee. The man has consumed more Honey Buns in 48-hours than anyone has a right to. “You look like a maniac.”
“I’m not even smiling,” I tell him.
Barney sinks further in his seat, his head against the window. His hand reaches for his plastic-wrapped heart attack. “Might as well be.”
The bed of the truck is filled with one-hundred-and-eighty-three Douglas Fir saplings. I know this because Barney insisted on counting them twice, loudly and in front of the people who mistakenly received our shipment.
“I still think those Lovebright people were up to something,” Barney grouches around a mouthful of processed sugar. “I don’t trust maple syrup farmers.”
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. It was pure coincidence that our names were so close, though I do have questions for our supplier. I gave him our address three times, and it’s printed on the invoice we already paid. “They didn’t just harvest maple syrup. They had apples, too.”
“My point remains. I watched a documentary on the underground syrup trade. Apparently there’s a whole black market. Gang activity.”
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “What’s gotten into you?”
He mumbles something.
“What?”
He shifts in his seat and gives me a look, debating. I raise both eyebrows in encouragement. We have another three hours left of this drive, and I’m not thrilled about the prospect of listening to Barney hem and haw over there like he’s sitting on a seat made out of metal spikes. “I like you better when you’re a grumpy ass,” he finally says in a rush.
That was not what I expected. “What?”
“You’ve been humming for six hours,” Barney seethes, biting off another giant mouthful. “Are you aware of that?”
I was not aware of that. I had no idea, actually.
“The radio in this thing is broken, and you have been humming for six. Hours. Straight.” He slouches back down in his seat. “Driving me up a damn wall.”
I rub my palm over my jaw and keep quiet. I’ve had an old Tom Petty song stuck in my head since I left Evie tucked beneath my blankets, the kittens crowded around her and a flower from the greenhouse woven in her hair. I didn’t realize I’d been humming.
“Your dad does the same shit,” Barney complains, digging around in his bag of snacks. He pulls out some pretzels and sour watermelon gummies, offering me the latter. I shake my head. Those things make my tongue feel like a wool sweater. “Always humming something.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmhmm. He once did the whole soundtrack toGreasefor a week straight, on a loop. He said it was my punishment for having an opinion.”
“What was your opinion?”
“That he shouldn’t fuckin’ sing.”
I manage to restrain myself for twenty-seven seconds. My opening bar toSummer Lovin’is a little shaky, but Barney recognizes it all the same. He lets out a loud bark of laughter and punches me hard, right in the thigh. I tighten my grip on the wheel.
“Not while I’m driving, old man.”
“Old man,” he repeats to me. “I’d still kick your ass.”
I snort a laugh. He probably could. He taught Nova everything she knows about self-defense. He once picked her up early from school and took her to Wrestlemania in Baltimore. She tried to suplex me from the top of her bunk bed for close to three months.
We settle back into silence, the rush of wind at the windows and the creak of the truck beneath us. The crinkle of plastic as Barney fishes out another Honey Bun. If I remembered my damn cell phone, we’d at least have something to plug into the AV outlet. But I left it sitting in the center of my kitchen table, along with the thermos of coffee I was supposed to bring and all of our paperwork.
