Chapter Twenty-One
When Nick came home from work, he found Lucy lying on the couch in his living room, crunching on a dill pickle and flipping through a book of illustrations. On the cover was a drawing of a woman wearing nothing but a melted strawberry sundae.
“Hey,” he said.
Lucy raised her eyebrows and wiggled her bare toes, but didn’t look up.
“You okay?” Nick asked. Every day was an adventure with Lucy. You just didn’t know which one was going to turn up.
It had been a strange day at work. Neither he nor Sid had made any mention of the strange conclusion to their trip to Cape Cod. As they had worked together on the clapboard siding of a nineteenth century colonial, images of his friend’s cockhead being sucked by Summer had kept rushing into Nick’s mind, and he had wondered if the
