Pucked Love (Pucked, #6)(76)
I feel instantly better, which I realize is not possible.
“Okay, so tell me about these candies. Your mother’s been making them since you were a teenager?” Darren rearranges me so I’m straddling his lap, facing him.
I think back to when it all started. “Earlier than that. When we were at The Ranch, we grew all our own food. We had greenhouses, and there were some I wasn’t allowed in, but I caught a few glimpses here and there. Harvest time was always busy. My mom would be gone all day and sometimes late at night. Then they’d make candies and box them all up, and trucks would come and take them away. Jesus . . .” I pause for a moment, remembering very clearly the night we escaped. “When we left the compound, my mom had a car waiting for us, and we had three backpacks—two of them filled with candies and some money, and the other had my stuff. That’s how we survived until she found a job.”
“That was pretty resourceful and a lot fucked up.”
“This is crazy.” I can’t believe I’ve been eating weed candies for years and didn’t know it, and that my mom failed to mention it.
“Do you think they’re still making those candies?” Darren asks.
“Yes. Definitely. There was a box of them on my front porch on my birthday. I thought it was a birthday present from you, so I left them on my counter and finally opened them the other day. I was going to throw them away on garbage day because there’s no way I’d ever eat anything from The Ranch, but I haven’t had a chance yet. Let me get them.”
I find them in the garage and bring them back to the living room. Darren opens the box and peeks inside. My mom’s candies have a tiny logo on the wrapper. I’d never thought anything of it until I note the letters stamped on these mint green wrappers. Darren unwraps a candy, inspecting it.
He looks up at me. “If I’m right about any of this, we might’ve found a way to get rid of Frank.”
DARREN
When I look back on the night I met Charlene, I don’t think I ever would’ve pegged her for a pothead who was raised in a commune, but then people only let you see what they want you to, until they take their masks off.
Still, this is the kind of thing they base reality TV shows on. In fact, if they haven’t already, I’d be surprised.
“I should call Robbie,” I tell Charlene.
She looks a hell of a lot shell-shocked. I can’t say she doesn’t have a right, considering she just found out she’s been carrying around illegal narcotics in the form of candies for over a decade. And that her mother is a manufacturer of weed edibles, and may very well be a dealer.
I call Alex to see if his dad is around. They’ve been visiting Chicago a lot lately with Sunny and Violet both being pregnant.
“Yeah, man, my dad’s here. What’s up? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, things are okay. I have some questions for him, though. Would it be okay if Charlene and I stopped by?” I check the time. It’s the middle of the afternoon.
“You’re with Charlene?”
“I am.”
“That’s good news. And yeah, of course you can come over—both of you, obviously. Miller and Sunny are here with Logan, and Skye and Sidney are supposed to be over soon for a barbeque. We’re all hanging out by the pool, so bring a suit.”
“Great. Thanks. We’ll be by in a bit.”
Charlene packs a beach bag with a bathing suit and changes into a lavender sundress, with my help, of course. She seems to be on autopilot, which isn’t all that surprising. We take my car to Alex’s place with the box of candies from The Ranch and a few of the ones her mom makes, for comparison’s sake.
Violet meets us at the front door. She looks from me to Charlene and cocks a brow. “Please tell me this means I don’t have to stop at Krispy Kreme tomorrow.”
“No more trips to Krispy Kreme,” Charlene replies with an embarrassed smile.
“I’m glad that’s over, because it was getting awkward. The same kid works every morning, and he was starting to remember my order.” She rubs her still mostly flat belly. “So does this mean you’re officially back together?”
Charlene looks up at me, so I put my arm around her shoulder and pull her into my side. She feels good there, right, like she fits. “Even better. I dropped the L-bomb on her.”
Violet does some weird little dance and shakes her hands around in the air. It almost looks like a toddler who has to pee. “It’s about fucking time! We all knew you two loved each other. I’d say I don’t understand why it took so long to figure it out, but considering how screwed up you both are, I’m just glad you got there without turning into Bonnie and Clyde and going on a murder spree.”
“It could still happen,” I deadpan.
Violet points a finger in my face. “Don’t do that. Remember, I’m the one who knows how not-sinister you really are, so that face isn’t going to work on me. Also, I’m prone to nightmares at this stage in my pregnancy, and I would appreciate it if that didn’t include my best friend starring in them as some kind of female version of Dexter.”
“You’re the one who mentioned murder sprees.”
“Right. Okay. Topic officially dropped. Come on in. Alex and Miller are trying to teach Logan how to use a hockey stick. The poor kid has barely mastered walking.” She shakes her head and motions for us to follow her to the backyard.