Yolks on You Box Set

Chapter 8-2

Dom was shocked when he pulled out his phone with his free hand and saw he’d gotten a text from Kiko. He read it quickly, eating the deviled egg he was holding in his other hand.

I went to see Chad. I’m considering bomb possibilities.

Dom laughed at that and moved to stand under a tree somewhat away from other people to reply.

Don’t let cops read that. Egg luncheon delicious. Just had chipotle deviled egg. Avocado bacon the best.

Stop that. You’re making me hungry.

Thought I already did that.

Are we moving onto flirting? Give me a moment and I’ll give you a d**k pic.

Fresh one? asked Dom, then, seeing Alec approaching him, g2g.

“I see you looking smugly at your phone,” said Alec as Dom slid the device back into his pocket. He shrugged.

“Not my fault you have nothing to be smug about anymore. Have you tried the chipotle deviled eggs? They’re delicious.”

“Chipotle? I’d hate them.”

“It was worth a try,” said Dom, hands in his pockets. He leaned around Alec to look through the crowd of people. The tables of deviled eggs were set up in lines in what must have formerly been a volleyball court; the sand was still present. There was a box at one end of the last table for people to rate their favorite eggs for the judges to take into consideration. Children ran around, searching for prize eggs, and a young man with glasses and medium-long hair served what looked to be Golden Goose Egg beer at yet another table.

“What?” asked Alec.

“Have you seen Dill anywhere? The owner. He has a box for me.”

Alec eyed him.

“Are you asking me to help you run drugs with your new fuckbuddy?”

“I can’t even laugh at that, it’s so stupid,” said Dom. “No. I’m picking up eggs for the Grand Hunt tomorrow.” He started to walk off, but Alec followed him.

“So you have been screwing him.”

“It’s none of your business,” said Dom.

“You disgust me.”

Dom did laugh at that.

“Go find your kids,” he said, and moved off to buy a beer. Alec stalked off, pulling out his phone. Dom guessed he was complaining to Megan about him. Let them be together. They seemed to deserve each other. He went up to the young man selling the beer, noting that he could not be older than just eighteen. Still a kid.

“Thanks,” said Dom as he passed him the Solo cup. “You by any chance know where Dill is?”

“Why do you want him?” asked the kid, looking angry.

“I’m just picking up the box of eggs for Kiko.”

The boy shook his head.

“Don’t. I’ll take care of it later.”

“Not necessary,” said Dom, taking a drink from the cup. “I’m already here.”

“I said I’ll take care of it,” said the kid, the anger flaring in his eyes as his voice rose. “I’ll drop it by. When do you need it?”

Dom stared at him, trying to figure him out. Teens were always moody; it came with the territory, but he couldn’t figure out why this one would care so much about a box of plastic eggs for children. It was an odd thing to take interest in. As he was trying to puzzle that out, Dill himself walked up and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The kid’s eyes immediately dropped.

“I hope my son’s not bothering you,” the man said. Dom could barely remember him, but he was definitely the man that had served him at the bar on Thursday.

“No, no,” said Dom. Dill nodded, then patted the kid on the back.

“Good. I raised a respectable one, at least. More than can be said for most of the people here.” He nodded vaguely at the adults, mostly women, milling around the tables of eggs. “What can I do for you?”

“Just wanting to pick up the box of replacement eggs for Kiko.”

“Right. Come with me.”

Dom followed him to a garage behind the Dill Pickle, where he pulled a cardboard box out from under a worktable littered with tools and random scraps of metal. He moved to pass it to Dom, noticed the beer in his hand, then walked out of the building.

“Where’s your car?”

Dom directed him and thanked him, then returned to mingle with the other people, sipping his beer, sampling the deviled eggs, and eavesdropping. He found he rather enjoyed eavesdropping; no one cared what they said around a tourist, who knew no one in town and would be leaving soon enough.

“It’s a shame she left,” one of the women at the chipotle deviled egg table was saying. “She should have stayed behind and managed the Pickle. She would’ve done a better job.”

“On this for sure,” replied a second. “Remember how excellent this event was last year? The guess-the-number-of-chocolate-eggs-in-the-jar event for the kids, suggestion ballots on what flavor profile theme next year’s should take, the raffle…”

“Not only that,” said a third, “He’s running the business into the ground. The Pickle’ll be under this time next year, you’ll see.”

“Not if he listens to Dill,” said the second. “That kid’s smart. Annie says he’s one of the three kids with the highest GPA of the graduating class.”

“You actually think a kid could run this place?” asked the third, laughing.

“He’d be better at it than his father,” said the first.

Dom darted in to grab another chipotle deviled egg, then moved over to the avocado bacon selection. Not just the women gossiped in this town, he noticed; there were a couple of men by the table, reminiscing about Dill’s ex’s deviled eggs, which Dom understood were both legendary and tragically absent this year. He tried not to be disappointed; he would have liked to taste them.

He wandered the tables, already full but noticing there were a few he hadn’t yet tried. He ate one of each anyway, these also delicious. He picked up an egg rating paper, unsure how he was supposed to decide when everything he’d tasted had been excellent. He numbered everything and slid the sheet into the box, feeling like he’d been doing very little to figure out what was going on.

“Hey, Alec,” he said, nabbing the man as he was popping open a green egg Gabe had found.

“What now?”

“I’d like to borrow the car—”

“No.”

Dom didn’t bother to argue with him. Instead he retreated to a tree and texted Kiko again.

Alec an ass. Pick me up?

He did not receive a reply for a few long minutes.

All right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.