Hands flew up in the air (bong included), and eyes went round as saucers.
“Go check the house,” Huck demanded, glancing at Kylo. “Put the fucking bong down,” he said, tone a little less angry as the guys just sat there, arms up.
The place was packed with old people crap: frilly curtains, doilies, figurine collections, and faded art on the walls.
The coffee table was the only place that looked like it belonged to the guys. There were energy drinks, soda, candy and food wrappers, and no shortage of weed. There was also a bowl full of something I highly suspected were magic mushrooms.
“All clear,” Kylo said when he made his way back.
“Alright. Do you know who I am?”
“Captain America?” one of the guys asked, making Kylo snort.
“My name is Huck. And you fucked me over.”
“Whoa, man. No! No, we’re all love and light, dude. We’d never fuck you over.” He was a tall, lanky guy with sun-bleached blond hair, a long face, and green eyes.
“So you didn’t break into an empty warehouse and steal millions of dollars’ worth of guns?”
“Oooh. Oh, yeah, we did do that.”
Damn.
How stoned were these guys?
“Christ,” Huck said, sighing. “Why did you do that?”
“It was all Dwayne’s idea, man,” the blond said, nodding toward a guy with stringy red hair that looked like it was about two weeks late for a wash.
“What was? Stealing the guns?”
“Nah, man, going to Costa Rica.”
“You went to Costa Rica?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Last week? I dunno. What day is it?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Huck said. “What does Costa Rica have to do with this? Did you meet another arms dealer?”
“Nah, man. We met a shaman.” He paused, then added, “I know. That’s not a word we’re supposed to throw around. But these were legit shamans, man.”
“Good God, get to the point,” Huck demanded.
“We went to, you know, get in touch with…” He dramatically raised a hand at the sky.
“The roof?” Huck drawled.
“The universe, man.”
“The point. Get to it.”
“We went to a lodge and we got some magic plants.”
“The mushrooms?” I asked.
