Page 2 of Wicked Love

“Such a good girl.”

“I’m just glad that she and Jack finally found each other.” Merry checks her bet and turns to Fawn.

“They wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for us,” Fawn reminds the other two.

Both other women nod in agreement.

“I thought that was never going to happen no matter how many times we kept signing Dawn up to volunteer with Jack at Parks and Wildlife.” Merry rolls her eyes.

Fawn shrugs. “They finally stopped fighting it.”

“It was a beautiful wedding,” Fern says.

“I already said that.” Merry stares at Fawn.

“Who cares? It’s still true.”

“We need more weddings.” Fawn checks her bet and Fern deals the last card.

“No one is close to dating, let alone marriage.” Fern studies her cards in her hands before lifting her shrewd gaze to the five cards on the table.

“Neither were Dawn and Jack last year and look at them now. On their honeymoon.” Merry clasps her hands together and the cards in her hand crinkle.

It wouldn’t be the first deck to be lost to their lack of attention. And it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Fawn asks.

“Same thing we always do,” Fern responds. “Let’s see, there’s Pierce and Hudson. Either of whom would be a catch.”

“Don’t forget Robyn or Elle. But not for either of those boys.” Fawn taps her lip as she adds to the list.

“No, all four of them are ready for something special. Something spectacular. It’s…” Fern’s voice fades as her attention shifts back to her cards.

“It’s matchmaking time,” Merry says and gasps when Fawn pushes in all her chips.

“All in, ladies. Who’s next?”

1

JOE

With my elbows propped up on the cold surface of the worn walnut countertop, I people-watched the patrons surrounding me. Some were in this dive bar to get shit-faced. Others were here for a late-night drink with friends. I was part of the first group. My dad had requested I come home this weekend, and I felt no joy whatsoever meeting with him. Sure, I adored my dad. He was the coolest guy I knew, but his new life’s direction didn’t please me, and I had used up all the arguments I possessed to try to make him see the truth as it was. A part of me feared that he would announce the thing I dreaded the most this weekend. A little liquid courage and a night in a hotel would prevent me from facing the reality tonight. Tomorrow could wait. For now.

The air smelled of cigarettes and cheap beer. As if the smoke over the years had welded with the paint and furniture and never dissipated. Good old days.

Rock music from the seventies played in the background, not loud enough to be distracting but soft enough to be white noise.

I hadn’t come to Dick’s Hole often in my life. The name of the bar was the first telltale sign of its crappiness. Everything around me looked dirty and old as fuck. As if it came from another era. If depression could be a place, no doubt it’d be Dick’s Hole on Fourth Avenue in a small Pennsylvania town, a thirty-mile drive from my hometown of Silverville.

Mix-and-match wooden chairs that appeared as if about to die of exhaustion, uneven, round wooden tables, a dusty jukebox that had probably not seen a quarter in ages, and ripped black vinyl stools lining the bar filled the place. Most people in here were old enough to be my grandparents, just missing a few teeth. I used to spend time in Dick’s Hole when I was in high school because they never checked IDs, and my friends and I could get drunk for cheap.

A girl with long bleached blonde hair sat in a corner, three empty beer bottles aligned on the table before her. She looked as much out of place here as I did.

She peeled the label of the bottle in her hand, seemingly lost in her thoughts, her eyes haunted.

I took in the black lines around her eyes and the dark shadows coloring her eyelids. Her top was a cut-off vintage band T-shirt that exposed her midriff, and she accessorized it with a mini black leather skirt and knee-high boots. She looked nothing like the girls I hooked up with, but there was just something about her. An air of sadness clinging to her features—a distinctive vulnerability—that made me want to know more. To uncover her truths and her secrets.

For some reason, I couldn’t seem to look away from her. In my head, I imagined what her story could be. Had she been dumped? Or had she just learned her dog ran away? Or maybe she lived with evil stepsisters and needed a night of reprieve?