Page 29 of Hold the Pickle
I lean against the counter. “What did you imagine doing with your MBA?”
She adds the onions and garlic to the dough. “I think I was on auto-pilot. My two oldest brothers got MBAs.”
“Do they work for Pickle Media?”
“Rhett works for Dougherty, the Florida outpost.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Three.”
“Did the other two escape?”
She sets down her spoon. “Axel sold his hiking app during college, and he’s all set. He got, like, half a billion.”
I nearly choke on my own spit. “Half a billion?”
“Yeah. It was a good app. He’s really into the outdoors.”
“I bet. And the other one?”
“He’s gone domestic.” She turns around at that. “What about your family?”
This might bring down the conversation. I keep it light. “It’s just me and my mom. She lives in North Carolina. She works at Wal-mart right now. She doesn’t hold down a job for long, though. She has zero tolerance for bullshit.”
“And your dad? Or is that too personal?”
And there it is. “He died when I was fourteen. Complications from a war injury.”
“Oh!” She presses her hand to her chest, like learning this about me pains her. “Is that his army duffle under the bed?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “I can’t imagine losing my dad, although my Aunt Pat died when I was a kid. I always worried about my cousins. Anthony, the youngest, was only sixteen.”
“It’s rough being a teenager when it happens.” And homeless, to boot, but I don’t say that. Dad got to die in a clean, white bed in the hospital. “But we got by.”
She flashes a smile. “I bet you did. You seem resourceful. When did you know you wanted to be a doctor?”
That is too tough of a story for this night, so I fake my answer. “When I figured out how much money they made.”
“Not saving human lives?”
I shrug. One life, mainly, but I was too young. “I will be a perfect philanthropist.”
“I’m well-versed in charity balls.”
“When I go to my first one, I’ll be sure to call on you to coach me.”
She stirs the broth and chicken. “They aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Neither is money.”
“Only people with money say that.”
She spoons a lump of dough into the boiling water. “Fair enough.”
“Any noise from the family about you staying here in LA?”
“Not yet. As long as I’m helping Max and Cam, they won’t question it.”
