Live Wire (Myron Bolitar 10)
Page 67“Our local help?”
Win grinned. “Who better?”
The car smelled like an old bong.
“Cousin Win told us you want to get into Wire’s place,” the twin driving said.
“Which one are you?” Myron asked.
He looked insulted. “I’m Billings.”
“And I’m Blakely.”
“Right, sorry.”
“Blakely and I have spent every summer on this island for as long as we can remember. It can indeed get boring.”
“Not enough girls,” Blakely added.
“Too right,” Billings said. He started driving. There were no other cars on the road. “Last year we made up cruel stories about some of the uglier au pairs.”
“So they’d be fired,” Blakely said.
“Exactly so.”
“And none of these mommies want to take care of their little brats.”
“Heavens no.”
“So they have to replace the au pairs.”
“Often with more attractive ones.”
“See the brilliance?”
Myron looked at Win. Win just grinned.
“Pretend I do,” Myron said.
“Anyway, this island can get boring,” Blakely said.
“Dullsville,” Billings added.
“Tiresome.”
“You could die from such boredom, really. And in truth, no one is even sure that Gabriel Wire lives in that estate.”
“We’ve never seen him.”
“But we’ve gotten close to the house.”
“We’ve touched it.”
Blakely turned around and flashed the teeth at Myron. “See, we bring the babes there. We tell them that the house belongs to Gabriel Wire and that it’s well guarded.”
“Because danger is an aphrodisiac.”
“If you mention danger to a girl, her panties practically melt off, do you hear what I’m saying?”
Myron looked at Win again. Win still grinned.
“Pretend I do,” Myron said again.
Billings continued: “It took us a while—trial and error, don’t you know—but we found a safe path to the beach by Wire’s house.”
“We never get caught anymore.”
“Not in the last two summers anyway.”
“We go to the beach. Sometimes we bring girls.”
“In your day,” Billings said, looking at Myron, “you probably called it Lover’s Lane or something like that.”
“Like in an old movie.”
“Exactly. Like, you took them to the malt shop and then you went to Lover’s Lane, right?”
“Yes,” Myron said. “After the horse-and-buggy ride.”
“Right. See, the beach by Wire’s house? That’s our version of that.”
“Billings is very good with the ladies,” Blakely said.
“Ol’ Blakely here is being too modest.”
“We also smoke reefer there,” Billings said.
“Doobies.”
“Weed.”
“Hemp.”
“Grass.”
“Joints.”
“A little ganja.”
“Marijuana,” Myron said, cutting them off. “I get it.”
The boys started snickering. This was not their first cigarette of the night.
Win said, “Blakely and Billings are going to lead us down their secret path.”
“Where we bring the girls.”
“Our honeys.”
“Babes-a-licious.”
“Glorious hotties.”
“Tasties.”
“Gnaw-worthy morsels.”
Myron looked at Win. “They, uh, seem young to get involved in this.”
“Nah, it’s cool,” Billings said. “They won’t hurt us.”
“Plus we’re brave.”
“Especially after we do a little herb.”
“Some hay butt.”
“A touch of Mary Jane.”
“Panama Gal.”
They were laughing hysterically now. As hysterically as you can with your jaw clenched. Again Myron looked at Win, wondering about relying on a couple of well-bred stoners. At the same time, breaking into places—finding a way into even the best guarded of edifices—was one of Win’s strong points. He had a plan. Myron would just follow it.
They drove past two security stations in the middle of the road with nary a wave. The twins and their reefer-reeking vehicle were clearly well-known on the island. No one bothered them. Billings or Blakely—Myron had already forgotten—drove erratically. Myron fastened his seat belt. During the daytime, this island seemed remote. At night, especially in the rain, it felt totally and completely abandoned.
Billings—Myron remembered now—took the car off the pavement and down a dirt road. The road tested the shocks and found them wanting. Myron bounced around the back as the car traveled through thick woods until they hit a clearing. The car came to a stop near the beach.
Blakely turned around again. He offered Myron a hit. Myron waved him off with a no-thanks.
“You sure? It’s premium.”
“Primo,” Billings added.
“Boss.”
“I get it,” Myron said. “It’s really good.”
The twins sat back and for a moment all was silent. “Whenever I’m on the beach,” Billings said, “I pick up one grain of sand.”
“Oh no,” Blakely said. “Here we go again.”
“No, I’m serious here. Think about it. One grain of sand. I pick up one tiny grain of sand and I think of how many grains of sand are on this beach. Then I think about how many of them are on this entire island. Then I start thinking about how many grains of sand there are in this entire world. And I’m, like, whoa.”
Myron looked at Win some more.
“And the kicker—the real kicker—is that our entire planet is smaller than that grain of sand next to all those other grains. Can you even comprehend that? Our solar system is smaller than that grain of sand when you compare it to the rest of the universe.”
Myron said, “How much of this stuff have you smoked today?”
Billings chuckled. “Come on. Let’s get you on your way to Mr. Famous Rock Star.”
“I hate his music,” Blakely added.
“Total crap.”