And maybe tinkering around in his head, too—ferreting out his insecurity and self-doubt, and turning it a few notches higher. “Know what I found out after Show and Tell? I’m the best empath here. Level five. So what’re you going to do to get admin’s attention? Slide a penny across the table? I’m sure everyone will be so impressed.”
Mike’s cheeks colored. “No fraternization. They told me that when I went in for my talk.”
“No smoking, either.” Stefan gave him a glare that could wither a silk plant.
Movie Mike did his best to glare back. Stefan might wear more makeup than half the chicks in the program, but he was still the last guy anyone would want to hold a staring contest with. Mike caved first. He looked away, slouched beneath his shoulderpads and dodged around us. “Fucking fags.”
“Asswipe.” Stefan marched in the opposite direction, taking long steps now. I stumbled along beside him. “I wouldn’t have given him a cigarette even if I had any left.”
Probably not, but Mike’s threat to go tattle on us was nothing more than a bunch of hot air. Psychs were like nutjobs. They watched each others’ backs. Mike was just trying to rattle Stefan’s cage for form’s sake. I don’t know why he even bothered. Hopefully he wasn’t angling for a three-way or anything. I didn’t think so—Stefan probably would have called him on it if he had been, even subconsciously.
Stefan paused, and tugged my arm to stop me from meandering into the range of a rotating video camera. It swept the hall, red light blinking. When it focused on the courtyard door, he made for the kitchen, and towed me right along with him. He could move fast, for a big guy—especially when unlimited desserts and various institutional culinary propellants were there for the picking.
Stefan pulled a comb from his pocket, wedged the pointed end of the handle between the doors, gave it a twist, and clicked the door open. I slipped in, he followed, and he shut the door behind us. It was a crappy lock, obviously. It only locked from the outside. And you could pick it with a sharp comb if you knew where to press the bolt.
We snuck past a dozen tables with upside-down chairs on top. The industrial clock on the wall, lurking behind a steel cage as if one of us would go berserk and destroy it for no good reason, clunked as the second hand swept by the twelve. We had a good twenty minutes before the orderlies would herd us into the showers. Maybe more, but we always made it a point to be ten minutes early, at least. Especially now, with the creepy new orderlies on the payroll, I wasn’t going to take any chances.
“Oh my God,” Stefan cried from the kitchen. He sounded like he might be having an orgasm. “Brownies.”
I tore open a cabinet and looked for something to sniff. Aerosol cooking spray. Yes.
“Do you think they’ll notice if I eat one?” he asked.
“How likely is it you’ll stop at one?”
“Good point. I’ll need to be subtle. Help me.” The brownies were pre-cut, so he’d need to shave a sliver off each one so that no one noticed a portion was missing.
“Just cut the biggest ones in half.” I held the cooking spray upside down and sprayed until the oil cleared the tube, and I had access to the good stuff. I sprayed nitrous into a plastic food service glove and took a hit.
“So good.” Stefan’s voice was thick with chocolate. The walls inhaled.
I lowered the glove and the room dipped and swayed. “C’mon, do a whippit with me.”
He stuffed a handful of brownie slivers into his mouth, then came over and pressed me into the stainless steel sink. I filled the glove with nitrous and he huffed it. Then he rested his forehead against my shoulder while he enjoyed the spinning.
“They put a dead body in there,” I said.
Stefan tensed up, and spoke into my T-shirt. “What?”
“In the room with me.”
He groaned, and pushed back. I stared at him in the greenish glow of the kitchen’s
Mike’s cheeks colored. “No fraternization. They told me that when I went in for my talk.”
“No smoking, either.” Stefan gave him a glare that could wither a silk plant.
Movie Mike did his best to glare back. Stefan might wear more makeup than half the chicks in the program, but he was still the last guy anyone would want to hold a staring contest with. Mike caved first. He looked away, slouched beneath his shoulderpads and dodged around us. “Fucking fags.”
“Asswipe.” Stefan marched in the opposite direction, taking long steps now. I stumbled along beside him. “I wouldn’t have given him a cigarette even if I had any left.”
Probably not, but Mike’s threat to go tattle on us was nothing more than a bunch of hot air. Psychs were like nutjobs. They watched each others’ backs. Mike was just trying to rattle Stefan’s cage for form’s sake. I don’t know why he even bothered. Hopefully he wasn’t angling for a three-way or anything. I didn’t think so—Stefan probably would have called him on it if he had been, even subconsciously.
Stefan paused, and tugged my arm to stop me from meandering into the range of a rotating video camera. It swept the hall, red light blinking. When it focused on the courtyard door, he made for the kitchen, and towed me right along with him. He could move fast, for a big guy—especially when unlimited desserts and various institutional culinary propellants were there for the picking.
Stefan pulled a comb from his pocket, wedged the pointed end of the handle between the doors, gave it a twist, and clicked the door open. I slipped in, he followed, and he shut the door behind us. It was a crappy lock, obviously. It only locked from the outside. And you could pick it with a sharp comb if you knew where to press the bolt.
We snuck past a dozen tables with upside-down chairs on top. The industrial clock on the wall, lurking behind a steel cage as if one of us would go berserk and destroy it for no good reason, clunked as the second hand swept by the twelve. We had a good twenty minutes before the orderlies would herd us into the showers. Maybe more, but we always made it a point to be ten minutes early, at least. Especially now, with the creepy new orderlies on the payroll, I wasn’t going to take any chances.
“Oh my God,” Stefan cried from the kitchen. He sounded like he might be having an orgasm. “Brownies.”
I tore open a cabinet and looked for something to sniff. Aerosol cooking spray. Yes.
“Do you think they’ll notice if I eat one?” he asked.
“How likely is it you’ll stop at one?”
“Good point. I’ll need to be subtle. Help me.” The brownies were pre-cut, so he’d need to shave a sliver off each one so that no one noticed a portion was missing.
“Just cut the biggest ones in half.” I held the cooking spray upside down and sprayed until the oil cleared the tube, and I had access to the good stuff. I sprayed nitrous into a plastic food service glove and took a hit.
“So good.” Stefan’s voice was thick with chocolate. The walls inhaled.
I lowered the glove and the room dipped and swayed. “C’mon, do a whippit with me.”
He stuffed a handful of brownie slivers into his mouth, then came over and pressed me into the stainless steel sink. I filled the glove with nitrous and he huffed it. Then he rested his forehead against my shoulder while he enjoyed the spinning.
“They put a dead body in there,” I said.
Stefan tensed up, and spoke into my T-shirt. “What?”
“In the room with me.”
He groaned, and pushed back. I stared at him in the greenish glow of the kitchen’s
Similar Books
