Fooled by Kendall Grey

Author:Kendall Grey [Grey, Kendall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Howling Mad Press

Chapter Seventeen

I fill Gunnar Magnusson in on our ride back to the hotel, careful not to give too many details away with the Uber man listening in the front seat. When we get to Freddie and Alex’s room, we find the door ajar. Laughter tumbles like fighting squirrels into the hall.

We exchange looks and push the door open. A fruity smell fills the air.

“Loki!” Thor slurs. His eyes are bloodshot. He brandishes a WeedPop at Gunnar Magnusson and me. “Finally! We’ve been waiting for you to get home. I wanna play poker. They said you were good at it, but you can’t beat the mighty Thor. I’m far too smart for you.” He bends over with a mad case of the giggles and falls onto the bed next to Stephanie.

Wow. He’s really stoned. It’s a refreshing change from his tired, I’m-going-to-smash-you schtick.

“Whatever you say,” I reply. There’s no reasoning with him under normal circumstances. No way I’m engaging him while he’s lit like a full moon.

Stephanie looks rather stoned too. She flings a wobbly arm across Thor’s chest and cuddles up to him. “I’ll play poker with you. Strip poker. Right, Loki?” She winks at me.

I shrug. “I don’t see any reason why not. You got all the moves.”

“Damn, she does got the moves,” Thor says, sounding suspiciously like Darryl Donovan.

“Darryl? Is that you?” Freddie sits up straight as an arrow from Alex’s lap in the chair. Alex gazes up like he worships him. Those two are disgustingly cute. I think they might be falling in love.

“Darryl isn’t home right now,” Thor says with a mock robot voice. “Please leave a message after the tone.”

Pulse picking up speed, I lean down and look into his glazed amber eyes, searching desperately for signs of my lost friend. “Tell Darryl to pick up the phone. We need to speak to him. It’s urgent.”

“Just missed him. Too late, sucker.” Thor cackles.

Damn. So close!

Alex shakes his head slowly. “He’s been playing this game for an hour. No luck.”

“Keep trying,” I say. Stephanie seems to command his full attention. Maybe she’ll be able to pull Darryl Donovan out.

Huginn weaves between Sparky and Wiggles, who are sitting as still as a pair of pylons in a construction zone.

“I thought you were giving up the party lifestyle after you OD’d on liquor and junk food the other night,” I say to the high chicken.

Sqqquuuuaaaarrrkkk! His beak opens a tad, and his lids droop over outward pointing eyes in an avian stoner grin.

“What are you guys celebrating?” Gunnar Magnusson asks.

“It’s 4/20,” Freddie declares. “We can’t blaze it—this is a nonsmoking hotel—but we can damn sure suck it!” He quick draws a pair of WeedPops from his pockets like matching pistols and points them at us.

I shake my head. Too much work to do tonight. Gunnar Magnusson refuses his too.

Still, I’m curious. “What is 4/20?”

“April 20.”

I stare at Freddie.

“Weed Day,” he explains.

“I thought every day was Weed Day.”

“Today’s the special Weed Day that comes once a year. Back in the 70s, kids started meeting at 4:20 in the afternoon to get high.

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