Bolt by Bryan Cassiday

Author:Bryan Cassiday [Cassiday, Bryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 64

Valerie and her boyfriend Nick were sitting in Valerie’s bedroom on her bed using plastic straws to snort lines on the coffee table’s glass top as they listened to Rihanna on the stereo.

“Wow, this blow is outta this world,” said Nick, sniffing and holding his head up. “I never had stuff this good. Where’d you get it?”

“From a friend,” said Valerie, cut another line on the tabletop with a razor blade, and snorted it with her straw.

“You gotta introduce us. I know people who’d pay good money for this.” He snorted another line. “Zero zero zero.”

“What? Are you tripping?”

“Zero zero zero. It’s pure blow. I never had it, but I heard of it. I thought it only existed in urban legend.” He sniffed. “But I bet this is it.”

Valerie lay back on the bed, feeling like she was flying, her eyes tearing.

Nick snorted another line and lay back beside her on top of the world.

“Somebody killed Busby, you know,” said Valerie.

“What?” said Nick in amazement.

“It’s true. Then the sicko sent Busby’s head to us in the mail.”

Nick jackknifed upright on the bed. “That’s horrible. Who would do something like that?”

“A douche bag.”

“Bad news.”

“Maybe it was that lesbo Barbara at school,” said Valerie, thinking of her enemies.

“Was the head mailed to you personally?”

“It said the Fox Family on the address label.”

“It could have been sent to your mother or father.”

“But why?”

Nick shook his head, baffled. “Did you call the cops?”

“I didn’t. I don’t know if my parents did.”

“Do you have any idea who did it?”

“Only the lesbo Barbara. I know she hates me.”

“That’s gotta be illegal. Killing someone’s pet dog and sending its head through the mail . . . I don’t even want to think about it.”

He lay back on the bed.

Valerie thought she could hear rapping on her closed bedroom door all but drowned out by the rock music blasting on her stereo. Maybe she was hallucinating, she decided.

“Valerie?”

It was her mother’s voice, Valerie realized.

She leapt off her bed and wiped off what remained of the cocaine powder on the coffee table into her cupped hand. Nick swiped the two razor blades from the tabletop.

“Did you lock the door?” whispered Nick.

“I can’t remember,” she answered, closing her coke-filled hand, her heart racing.

She saw the door swing open. She told herself to calm down.

“Could you turn the music down, honey?” said Deirdre, poking her head around the door.

“Yeah, sure.”

“The walls were vibrating.” Deirdre paused, looking at Valerie. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine. Nick,” said Valerie, motioning for Nick to turn down the stereo.

Nick strode over to the stereo and turned it down.

“That’s better,” said Deirdre. “Are you sure you’re OK?”

“Fine.”

“Sorry to interrupt you.”

“Did you find out who killed Busby?”

“No. We don’t know.”

“What about the other thing we got in the mail?”

Deirdre sneaked a glance toward Nick and shook her head.

“No. I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, shutting the door behind her.

“What other thing?” said Nick, returning to the bed.

“Nothing,” said Valerie, deciding not to tell him about the human head or the obscene volleyball.

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