Chapter 32
LOOK WHO’S SCHEMING
Heath
It’s afternoon before things are settled enough at the house for me to leave Lav with Dori and Ginny and Caro and go in search of Cricket, who, to the best of my knowledge, hasn’t eaten yet at all today.
She shared her location with me so that I can track her through the winery—like a girlfriend would—and so I follow the trail to the fermentation building and the secret door to the barrel cellar.
Images of Cricket naked amongst the barrels fill my brain, but I need to focus.
She’s with Ten Rhodes.
It’s impossible not to like the guy.
But at the same time, it’s also impossible to like the guy.
I didn’t know how to properly convey that in a text, so I didn’t send it.
And now, there’s no way of telling what’s inside of the wine cellar.
She might not even be here anymore. Her last location was at the door, so I assume she’s in here.
Hopefully dressed.
I push open the downstairs door behind one of the rows of barrels, and voices filter up to greet me immediately.
“Seriously, Pip, fuck Dean,” Ten says in a slurred drawl.
“Fuck Dean!” Cricket cries, less slurred, but still slurred enough to alarm me.
“This is good shit,” Ten adds.
“Good shit!” Cricket cries.
The chicken bagocks.
All goes silent.
“Dude,” Ten says.
“It’s a sign,” Cricket says.
“Is that an egg, or is she just happy to see me?” Pip asks, which sends Cricket and Ten rolling in guffawing laughter.
I pause at the end of the row of barrels, leaning on a support beam, watching.
The three of them are parked in front of one of the lower barrels, which they’ve tapped, and plastic cups of red wine are on the floor beside them.
Ten tosses back a glass, then lifts it to Pip. “To fucking Dean over!”
Cricket tosses back what looks like an empty glass, then lifts it to Pip too. “Let’s fuck Dean over!”
Shit.
They have the urn with them.
And The Cluckinator’s pecking at it.
Cricket’s head jerks in my direction.
She looks back at her two companions, who are now arguing over how best to fuck Dean over, then grins and winks at me.
I make a drinky-drinky gesture.
She gives the slightest shake of her head.
I grin.
She grins even wider.
If she’s not sober, she’s close.
“Mabel. More drink,” Ten says, pouring her a glass.
“I’m Cricket.”
“Dammit. You’re like fun Mabel. But Mabel’s never fun anymore.”
“Because she thinks we’re—hic!—broke,” Pip says.
“To broke!” Cricket cries, lifting her glass.
“To broke!” Ten cries, lifting his glass.
“To forgetting where I put my keys!” Pip cries, lifting her glass.
Pip and Ten slam their wine.
Cricket does a magician’s trick with swapping her full glass for the empty glass, and she slams the empty glass.
Chaotic good.
That’s my Cricket.
She takes responsibility as seriously as I do.
“Are you—hic!—not really broke?” Cricket asks Pip.
“I’m so broke that my nail salon sent me to collections.” Pip giggles.
Ten giggles.
Cricket giggles.
“Wait,” Ten says. “Fuck Dean.”
“Yeah, like, Dean fuck. I mean, fuck Dean,” Cricket says.
“You should wine this sell. Sell this wine. It’s fucking good shit, Pip,” Ten says.
“Never.”
“Re-hic!-name it,” Cricket says.
“Yeah! Yeah. Rename it,” Ten says. “Call it Pip the Awesome’s Greatest Wine Even Better Than Devil Dean’s Wine. Aged longer than his body has.”
Cricket laughs so hard she snorts and falls over.
That one might be a real reaction.
I’m even stifling a snort of laughter.
“Doorknob wine,” Cricket says.
“Doorknob? What the fuck?” Ten says to her.
“Because he’s deader than a doorknob! Doorknobber than a deadhead! Wait. Is that a real saying?”
“It’s a doornail,” Pip says, then she burps, the sound echoing through the cellar.
Ten burps louder.
Cricket shoots a look at me, then she pounds her chest, and the loudest burp I’ve ever heard a human being make comes out of her mouth.
Ten and Pip gape at her.
I duck back behind the barrels and laugh as silently as I can until I’m wheezing. And even though my phone doesn’t have signal, I send a text to her anyway.
Can you do that on command?
“Burp wine,” Ten and Pip crow together.
Cricket catches my eye again and slides a look at Pip.
And I’m back in my EMT days, getting a look from my partner that says get in here because shit’s about to get really bad.
I stroll fully into the room. “There you are. Pip, Mabel was looking for you. Something about a missing eyeball?”
True enough.
She was in her workroom muttering to herself about a missing eyeball when I carried Caro’s bags up the stairs.
Ginny’s taking point on showing her sister around the property to work out the best place for the ceremony and all of the wedding trappings.
That’s all going fine.
“Why does Mabel want to sight my sing ball?” Pip says.
Ten shakes with laughter. “A sing ball. Pip, you’re awesome.”
“An eyeball, Pip,” I say.
“Oh! Oh! I know where Mabel’s eyeball is!” Cricket says. “I show can you.”
“Show can,” Ten howls.
“Up shut,” Cricket says, showing him her ring finger.
She crosses her eyes at her hand, pushes down her ring finger with her other hand, and lifts her middle finger.
He doubles over, wheezing.
Cricket slides another look at me and winks again.
And then Pip sways.
While sitting down.
Fuck.
“Hey, kiddo.” I squat next to her. “Nap time.”
Cricket flashes me six fingers.
I hope she means cups and not bottles.
Six of these small plastic cups are probably fine.
Six bottles, we’re headed to the emergency department.
She taps the cup like she’s reading my mind.
I nod.
So not as bad as it could be.
“Dude, try this shizz,” Ten says, thrusting Cricket’s full glass at me. “This is like, the best wine I’ve ever had.”
“You guys eat anything?” I ask.
“We found MERs!” Cricket says. She slides a look at Ten, then adds a hiccup.
Pip sways again. “MREs,” she corrects. “Dean played he was in the army.”
“Dude. Don’t do MRE beans,” Ten says.
“I got the crackers,” Cricket says.
Pip grins up at me. “I had dessert. Like you get dessert every night. And by dessert, I mean Cricket’s booty.”
“Try the wine,” Ten says to me again.
“I have granola bars!” Cricket shrieks.
She winces a little and sends me a sorry look while she sways and pats all around herself before pretending she just remembered she has pockets. “Ta-da!”
“Dude, I’m so wasted.” Ten slumps back against the nearest barrel.
“Drink a couple bottles?” I ask him.
“Mabel said you drank four. So I drank five.”
“I’m Cricket,” Cricket says primly.
“You’re like fun Mabel though.”
“Eat a granola bar,” she says to him.
“Five bottles?” I ask her.
She winces. “Ginny said he can handle his liquor.”
Have witnessed. Can confirm.
Five bottles is still a lot though, even spread over the hours since they left for the tasting room.
“Six glasses for Pip?” I ask Cricket.
“Half glasses?” Cricket lifts the plastic cup. “I think these are closer to half glasses.”
“Hmph. Not fun Mabel anymore,” Ten says.
His eyelids droop.
Pip grins at me again. “I dranked him under the table.”
“Sure did,” I agree.
Cricket sucks her lips in, suppressing another smile, and I know.
She played both of them.
Got Ten drunk enough that he’ll be sleeping it off and out of Mabel’s hair all afternoon, and she gave Pip a reason to sell the wine.
“How about a granola bar and a nap?” I say to Pip.
“Can I sleep with the chicken?”
“Only if the chicken agrees.”
“Tell Mabel I said I’m opening this winery my way.”
“I’m gonna let you do that one yourself.”
“Don’t worry, Pip,” Cricket says. “I’ll remind you.”
Pip grins at her too. “You’re good for us, ladybug.”
Cricket beams. “Not as good for us as you are.”
Ten snores.
Pip leans on my leg and hugs it.
I make eye contact with Cricket again, and I lose my breath.
She’s pulled her knees up to her chest, and she’s smiling at me like I’m her hero. “You’re so good at taking care of people.”
“You’re good at taking care of people.”
She is.
She’s taken care of me since she started to pull herself out of the aftermath of her trauma.
When I didn’t even realize she was doing it.
Giving me exactly what I needed.
“I hope you know you deserve to be taken care of too though,” she says.
“Starting to catch on.” I lift Pip up into my arms. “I’m gonna get her back to the house. You good here until I get back?”
She nods. “All part of the plan.”
“You’re fucking incredible.”
She winces. “Five bottles might’ve been too many. I should’ve told him you drank three.”
“Drank with him before. He’ll be fine.” I pause. “You okay?”
She flashes a smile that I want to kiss. “Almost as sober as sober gets. This wine is really good. It’s aged well. Also, I’m highly entertained. These two together—they’re hilarious.”
“You’re a scary bitch,” Pip grunts.
“Hilarious, Pip,” I say. “Cricket loves that you’re uniquely you.”
“I absolutely do,” she agrees.
“Back in fifteen,” I tell her.
“I’ll make sure The Cluckinator doesn’t peck off anything important.”
Ten snorts in his sleep, then snores again.
“Are we gonna leave him down here?” Cricket asks.
Now that, I grin at too. “I could carry him, but I’d rather bring him a blanket.”
“What did he do to Mabel?” she whispers.
“Honestly? Don’t know. She won’t tell. But it was something.”
Pip’s head tilts against my shoulder, and she lets out a long snore.
Could be she’s asleep.
Could be we’re boring her.
“Back soon,” I tell Cricket.
She blows me a kiss.
And I walk out of the cellar with Pip, feeling like I’m dancing on air.
Cricket and I aren’t dating.
We’re not formal or official.
We simply are.
And I like it more than I thought I could.