Chapter 51

Max’s dealer got busted last week in a sweep that cut off supply as far south as the University of Illinois. It left an uncomfortable void, making everyone listless and combative. Otis keeps throwing paper clips at Bisquick when he thinks Margot isn’t looking. “Leave my bird alone,” Margot yells, over her newspaper. The she goes and dumps him out of his chair. “When was the last time you cleaned this seat, Otis? Is this a French fry?”

On the drive over to Cedar Avenue today. Muller rides with Ruby and I follow behind. The house still needs another coat of paint. All of us are outside, Ruby and me up the ladders, Muller working on the concrete blocks below us. We finish the back portion of the house, then take off to shower and change. Mary and Judy are waiting. This is a big night for them. Dancing with the senior group is supposed to help build our confidence. I don’t know how that works. We dance until ten o’clock and head home.

Muller cooks up a bunch of enchiladas and we eat out on the back deck. There’s a party going on next door. Riley sticks his head over the fence. “Come have a swim,” he says. We put on our bathing suits and join the crowd.

“Good to see you again, Sam,” Pam says. Thankfully nobody’s in the buff. I introduce her to Mary, Muller and Judy. “So we finally meet you and the kids,” she says. “Ours are at some shindig down the street. Grab a drink and make yourselves comfortable.”

Muller and Judy start playing volleyball. Pam wants to show Mary what they’ve done to the house. They disappear inside. Then Muller dives for the ball, practically emptying the pool.

“That son-in-law of yours is some character,” Riley says, swirling a margarita around on the pool steps. I smell something in the air. A group of people are over behind the cabana in a huddle. “Don’t mind them,” he says. “Just a little ganja. You toke at all, Sam? Help yourself if you want. There’s plenty available.”

“Where are you getting it?”

Riley gives me a cock-eyed stare.

“See that hedge along the back there?”

“What about it?”

“Come look.”

Riley takes me over and pulls off some leaves. “It’s all marijuana, Sam,” he says. “I brought four plants over when we moved. Stuff grows like crazy. So you’re into this sort of thing, eh? Feel free to take some home. Like I say, it grows like weeds. Must be the exposure.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing that, Riley,” I say. “How much can I have?”

“Take all you want.”

I pull Riley over to the back of the cabana. “Thing is,” I say to him. “Muller and I like the occasional stone. Only the girls, Mary and Judy, they don’t know. We’d like to keep it that way. See what I’m saying?”

“No problem, Sam.”

“We don’t even smoke it, to tell you the truth.”

“What do you do with it?”

“Brownies.”

“That’s a good stone.”

“It’s just recreational. A few co-workers, that sort of thing.” Muller does a belly flop and everyone moves back.

“How much can you sell me?” I say.

“I’m not a dealer, Sam,” he says. “Like I said, help yourself. Any chance of tasting those brownies?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He goes inside to get more margaritas. I find Muller tugging at the back of his swimsuit. I pull him over by the hedge. “You know what that is?”

“It’s grass, Sam.”

“Riley says we can take whatever we need.” Muller keeps sticking his finger in his stupid ear. “Look, I’ll grab some after the party’s over. That should keep everyone happy over at Otis’s. What the hell’s wrong now?”

“My ear’s plugged up.” He kicks his leg out to the side.

“I told Riley the girls don’t know about this, okay?” I say. “He’s agreed to keep quiet. There’s one catch.”

“What’s that?”

“He’d like to try your brownies.”

“Okay.”

“Lean over, for chrissake. Stop kicking. Someone’s going to get it in the shins. Tilt your head more.” I have my hand on the back his neck. People must think he’s about to be sick. They move further away. “Wiggle your finger around in there,” I say. “You probably have wax or something. Stop smacking your head, for chrissake.”

“I think I got it,” he says. He straightens up, looking all pleased with himself.

“Okay, we clear?” I say. “I grab some grass later, we bake at Otis’s tomorrow, then bring some brownies back for Riley.”

“It has to dry out first, Sam.”

“What does?”

“The grass. It has to cure or it won’t be any good.”

“We’ll throw it in Ruby’s dryer.”

“That won’t work, Sam.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“I’ve dried it in the microwave before. Not as good as letting it cure for a month. Up to you.”

“Otis isn’t going to wait a month.”

Muller starts pulling at his nutsack. “I used to dry it on the roof,” Muller says.

“On the roof, for chrissake?”

“Grass has to cure, Sam. It’s like tobacco.”

“Well, we not curing it on our roof.”

“Over at Otis’s, then.”

“I don’t trust him. I’ll talk to Max.”

When we get home, I call Max and tell him about the grass. “How much you got?” he says.

“Not a lot, Max. Just enough to get us over the hump.”

“Can Muller come over tomorrow and bake?”

“It still needs to cure. Muller suggests we microwave for immediate use. Then dry the rest out on the roof.”

“On the roof?”

“Nice and hot up there.”

“Ruby’s not going to like us drying pot on her roof.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Maybe in the oven on low heat. I’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t let Otis know where I’m getting the grass, Max.”

“I’ll tell him you took it off some teenagers.”

“Not funny, Max.” All I need is Otis going around shaking down teenagers.