Page 29 of My Brother's Bad Best Friend

“You really are an asshole.”

He laughs and pushes back from his desk, standing up. “Let me show you something.”

I watch as he walks past me, opening the door to his office and gesturing for me to follow. For a second, I consider going back home and dealing with that dysfunction instead of dealing with this, but I finally get my butt up off the chair. I’d rather whore myself out here than get beaten up by Royal again.

Jonas leads me down the hallway, past the weed shop, and down a little corner. He stops in front of a heavy-looking metal door with a keypad on the wall to the right. He types in a long string of numbers before hitting a button, and the door audibly unlocks.

“Right this way.” He pulls it open and we step inside, and I stare at the space.

Half Pipe doesn’t make a lot of sense. It’s a big building from the outside, but it only uses a small portion for the café and the weed shop. I figured there must be more storage space, but I had no clue exactly how much.

This room stretches back maybe forty yards. It’s like a small warehouse, but instead of being full of product and shelving units, there are lights dangling from the ceiling and row after row of marijuana plants growing in neatly ordered pots.

“This is the heart of the operation,” he says, stepping closer to the plants. “We got a license for both selling and growing, so the plan is to become self-sufficient in a few years.

I look around the space, gaping like a moron. There are so many plants, like an absurd number of plants. Off to the left are some storage shelves, with stuff like coffee beans and plastic forks lining them. To the right, there’s a couch against the one wall with a blanket and a pillow on it, like someone slept here last night. But the plants really dominate the space.

“This is where you keep all the stuff you guys sell?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nah. That’s stuff we’ve bought and are moving along at a little profit, and we keep that in another room closer to the dispensary front end. No, this is just the future, plain and simple.”

He walks out into the space, moving between the rows. I go with him, marveling at the plants. It’s amazing how simple they are, almost pretty. They’ve caused so many problems and brought so many people joy and relief over the years, and yet here they are, just regular old plants growing in some dirt.

“This was Ezra’s idea,” Jonas is saying. “He pictured this place as totally self-sustaining in the future, so we won’t have to buy any product from other farmers at all. I thought he was nuts, but he poured himself into this project, and this… well, you can see for yourself.” He looks over his shoulder, grinning at me. “He did a damn good job.”

“Wow,” I say. “Ezra did all this himself?”

“Not totally alone, but yeah, pretty much. He had help setting it up but he’s the real farmer here.”

“Farmer,” I say with a little laugh. “I guess that’s right.”

“Just an unusual crop, is all.”

We come to the end of the row and turn around. It’s plant after plant after plant, but I start to notice little differences. The pots are different colors, with little tags at the end of each. I stop to reach one.

“California Dream?” I read out loud.

“That’s a specific strain,” Jonas says. “Your brother has a few different types out here, and each one brings a different kind of high.”

“I didn’t know there was so much, uh, variation.”

“Weed people are nuts. They’re the audiophiles of the drug world.”

I laugh at that and hurry to catch up as he strides back to the front of the room.

“Why are you showing me all this?” I ask him.

“You want to work here. This is what we do.” He shrugs a little, finally stopping near the couch and turning to face me. “I’ll give you a job, but you should know what you’re signing up for.”

“I know you sell weed,” I say. “I mean, it’s a pot dispensary.”

“It’s one thing knowing, it’s another actually seeing.” He crosses his arms and I glance at the muscles bulging under the tattoos. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

I meet his eyes and suddenly I’m not sure. I thought I could fit in, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m destined to have no friends.

He steps closer to me, arms dropping to his sides. “You don’t have to be afraid, little rose. They’re just plants.”

“I know,” I say, smiling to cover how nervous I am. My heart’s racing and he’s coming closer, and I don’t know what I want to do, run or throw myself at him.

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