Chapter 60

I wake up with a sinking feeling. Meek and Beek come flying down the hall in a state of confusion. Then a cupboard door slams. I lie there taking inventory of all the things I’ve done these past few months. Any one of them could put me up shit creek. I go to the washroom and hear Mary say, “I will talk to him . . .” and then she’s standing at the washroom door. “Sam,” she says “Get in the kitchen this minute.”

Muller’s sitting at the kitchen table, looking like he has friction burn. Judy’s next to him. Mary’s standing by the sliding doors leading to the deck. There’s a baggie in her hand.

“Riley just dropped this off,” she says, tossing it on the counter. “He said to add it to the pile. What pile is that, Sam? Maybe it has something to do with this?” She takes the brownie out of her dressing gown pocket and bangs it down on the counter. “Are you going to say anything, Sam?” Then she storms down the hall, slamming the bedroom door. Meek and Beek zoom past me. Then the door opens again, and Mary says, “Sam, get in here.”

She’s standing by the bedroom window with her arms crossed. “Now, explain yourself,” she says, “and don’t give me any more lies. What were you doing the other night when you said you were going for burgers? Was it a drug run? Is Riley some big dealer? Are you a mule?” She picks up a hairbrush. “The truth, Sam, I mean it.”

“I’m not a mule, Mary.”

“What are you then?”

I sit down and rub my head. There’s no point lying anymore. She has the hairbrush in a throwing position. I describe how it started, Max offered me a joint the last day at work, Muller baked grass brownies. “It’s just been recreational,” I say. “A brownie here and there after work. Nothing serious.”

“And everyone’s stoned over at Otis’s house?”

“Not all the time.”

“What does that mean?”

“I stole Riley’s plants to stop the supply.”

“You stole his pot plants?”

“I had to, Mary. Riley wants grass brownies for his party.”

“Why do you care?”

“I was worried about you and Judy.”

“You stole the plants so Judy and I wouldn’t get stoned?”

“Exactly.”

“And Riley isn’t a drug dealer?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“What about Margot? Is she stoned, too?”

“Out of her gourd.”

She takes the baggie out of her dressing gown. “Is this the last of it?”

“There’s another ounce behind the toilet.”

“For God’s sake, Sam.”

“I can’t destroy it, Mary. I already stole Riley’s plants. He’s going to figure something’s up.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’m out of ideas.”

Mary sits down on the bed beside me. She squeezes the baggie between her fingers. “I need you to level with me, Sam,” she says. “I want the truth.”

“Sure.”

“How good are Muller’s brownies?”

“On a scale of one to ten? Probably ten.”

“You’d better give this to Muller, then,” she says, handing me the baggie. “This party’s the last?”

“It is for me.”

“And you’ll wear your silk shirt when we dance?”

“Every night.”

“No complaining? No more snide remarks?” I try to pull the baggie gently away, but she hangs on. “Promise, Sam. I’m not kidding.”

“I promise, Mary. Scout’s honor.”

I was never a scout.