Page 110 of Two Marlboros

“And who would that be?”

“I don’t know, but I was told by a friend of ours who bought these.”

With that said, he pulled a couple of eggs out of his pocket. Nathan approached curiously and took one in his hand.

“What are they?”

“Cocaine eggs. They’re good because you can keep them under your tongue, so if the police come you just swallow them and you’re clean.”

Nathan listened very carefully, scrutinized the egg once more, and handed it back to Ash.

“Cool. But how do you spell that name you were saying? W-H?”

“No, it’s W-a-i-”

A flash went through my mind.

“Wait! Nathan, repeat.”

“What, Waitch?”

There it was: adrenaline. I was close to something.

“No, the other thing you said.”

“W-H?”

I nodded, unable to speak. The excitement of discovery began to permeate my whole body. I looked at Ash with a triumphant smile.

“Yes, W-H. Like Webster Hall, for example.”

Their mouths opened wide, at least as surprised as I was.

“They could also be a person’s initials, though, couldn’t they?” asked Nathan.

“Sure, but right now I’m more inclined to believe that Webster Hall is our key.”

A moment after I had spoken those words, I realized the mistake I had made. He must have realized it too; he wasn’t stupid. I was not there to help him confront Ryan, nor to protect him in case things took an unexpected turn.

I bit my tongue.

I turned my gaze to him, but he didn’t look angry; rather, he was pensive, as he had been before descending the back staircase.

“Whatever, you guys go on about your business, I’ll catch up with Ryan.”

He made his way between us without saying much else.

As I watched him disappear, the feeling grew in me that I had played him like everyone else, used him like everyone else, and regretted it like everyone else.

21

Nutshell

(?Spice Girls - Viva forever)

When I walked out of the parking lot I saw him, but I was not too upset. Just as Ash had said, Ryan spit out two small balls, which he handed to two boys in front of him. In return, he received money.

When he turned around and saw me, he was not surprised either. He slipped the money into his pocket and came toward me. He was very different from the boy I remembered. His face was hollowed out, like Harvey’s, and his cheekbones stood out unnaturally. His eyes were big and bulging, his skin tired, throwing at least ten years more over his shoulders. There was not much left of the boy I knew.

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