“What?”
“Your tongue, stick it out.”
“They’re an acquired taste,” I mumble, but I do as he asks, the candy sitting on the end of my tongue.
He pops it in his mouth, rolling it around, which could be kind of gross since it’s been in my mouth, but then again, he does put his tongue in there, among other places.
After a few seconds he spits it into the wrapper. “How often do you eat these?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Usually a few a day.”
His eyes go wide. “A few a day? How long have you been eating these?”
I don’t understand why he’s so shocked. “I don’t know. My mom has been making them as long as I can remember.”
I didn’t think it was possible for his eyes to be any wider. “You ate these as a kid?”
“They’re calming.” Now I’m defensive about it. I love these candies.
“Uh, yeah, they would be since I think they’re made from weed.”
“No they’re not,” I scoff.
“I’m pretty sure they are. How do you think they get that green tinge to them?”
“They’re herbal.”
“And the herb they’re made with is weed.”
“How would you know that? You’re not allowed to use recreational drugs,” I point out.
“Correct, but I’ve spent enough time around Alex’s dad to know what weed smells like, since he’s a chronic pothead.” He doesn’t say anything else, possibly waiting for me to process this information.
I have to cover my mouth with my palm since I’m incapable of closing it. The greenhouses at The Harvest Co-op, aka The Ranch, flash through my mind—endless rows of gorgeous green plants, the smell of skunks, the barbed-wire fence, how we were located out in the middle of Buttfuck, Nowhere. All of it suddenly makes sense.
“Holy fuck,” I say from behind my hand as the truth settles in. “Oh my God. My mother turned me into a pothead.”
“Maybe there isn’t any THC in them,” Darren offers.
I think about how I’ve been this week—all the candies I’ve eaten and how much I’ve been zoned out and napping like it’s my job. How many donuts I’ve consumed.
I consider how I’m relaxed for hours after I eat those candies, and how they always seem to heighten that tingly feeling in my body, particularly the one between my thighs when I’m nervous. I have to wonder if they’re somehow related.
I almost always have one with my tea right before I go to bed when I’m at home. I can still sleep like the dead—the flaily dead—even with all my afternoon naps.
I drop my hand from my mouth. “I’m a pothead.”
“There are a lot worse things to be.”
“I’ve been carrying those around with me everywhere. I’ve taken them on planes, Darren! Oh my God, what if I’d been arrested? My mother is my dealer!”
Then it dawns on me that Darren had one in his mouth. “Shit. Now you have weed in your system! What if you test positive at the next drug test?”
“It’s off season. There aren’t any mandatory tests anytime soon, and I had, like, three sucks of a candy.”
A little of the unease dissipates, but it fires right back up. “What if I’d offered them to Sunny and Violet? They’re both pregnant!”
“You haven’t given them any, have you? Or any of the guys?”
“Well, no, my mom said it was best not to share them, but I could’ve ignored her, and then I’d be feeding a baby weed, or ruining NHL careers!” I’m starting to feel lightheaded even though I’m sitting down. “I need to get rid of them!”
“Whoa.” Darren grabs my arm before I can reach the bowl of candies. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw those out.”
“Well, I can’t keep them now that I know what they are!”
Darren pulls me back into his lap. “Calm down, firefly.”
“I don’t think I can.” Shit. I’m at risk of hyperventilating. And all I want to do is simultaneously eat all of those candies and flush them down the toilet.
He kisses me softly. “Take a deep breath and listen to me, okay, Charlene?”
I nod and do as he asks, sucking in as much oxygen as my lungs will allow, then breathing my weed-candy breath in his face.
“You said you’ve been eating those as long as you can remember?”
“Since I was a teenager, I guess?”
He tucks a few hairs behind my ear, tracing the shell with his fingertips. They’re softer than usual because he’s not training as hard.
“So you’ve been eating these every single day for the past decade?”
He picks up the discarded candy from the coffee table. Peeling it off the wrapper, he holds it to my lips. “I think you should eat this.”
My mouth waters in anticipation. “Oh, God. I’m an addict.”
“It’s just weed, Charlene. It’s not like you’ve been shooting heroin your entire life, but I wouldn’t suggest quitting cold turkey. It might be a good idea to cut down a little, though.” He taps my lips, and I open my mouth, allowing him to pop the candy back in.
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 t
he 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.
Logan seems more interested in hitting Miller in the shins and smashing flowers than the red foam puck they keep pointing out, but he seems entertained, if nothing else.
Sunny’s reclined in a lounger with Daisy and Skye on either side of her. Their conversation comes to a halt when they notice us, and I realize Charlene probably hasn’t seen them since her birthday. I lean in and press my lips to her temple.
“Don’t worry, firefly, they love you exactly as much as they did before, if not more.”
She tips her chin up, eyes meeting mine. “How did you happen to me?”
“I believe your best friend hooked up with my best friend, which likely wouldn’t have happened had Alex not won a bet and room to himself.”
“I remember Violet telling me about that. What was the bet, anyway?”
“Who could come up with the longest word in an online game of Scrabble.”
“Seriously? I expected something so much more . . . interesting.”
“It was a long bus ride. We were bored. Alex got lightning. It was impressive.” I press a kiss to her perfect lips, promising myself we’re going to make out later. For hours. Like teenagers.
I step back as Skye and Daisy converge on Charlene. Sunny’s still working on sitting upright. She’s looking really pregnant these days.
“Darren!” Robbie motions me over to where he and Sidney are sitting in the shade, watching their sons be dads.
“They’re starting early, huh?” I nod to Alex and Miller.
“Pretty sure Miller thinks Logan’s going to be drafted by the time he’s in pre-school,” Sidney says with a smile.
Alex takes a break from getting slammed in the shins with the hockey stick to grab me a beer. “Everything okay?” He glances over at Charlene who’s corralled in a corner with Sunny, Violet, and the moms.
“With Charlene? Yeah. We figured it all out. Just took me getting my head out of ass to make it happen.”
“That’s good. Vi was worried about both of you this week.”
“So was I, but I think we’ve got it all sorted. She’s agreed to move in with me, which I’m taking as a good sign.”
Alex’s eyebrows pop up. “Whoa, that’s a big step.”
I nod and rock back on my heels. “Yeah. It’s about time, right?”
He laughs. “It really is.”
“Thanks for sticking by me. I know I’m not the easiest person to understand, but I don’t think Charlene and I would be where we are if it wasn’t for you.”
“I didn’t really do anything except give you some advice.”
“You’ve done a lot more than that, Alex. Watching you and Vi grow together, being part of this family—” I motion to his backyard, full of the people Charlene and I both care about. “This is how I figured out how to love Charlene. So yeah, thanks.” Jesus. I sound like an asshole.
Alex frowns, brows pulling down, and he blinks repeatedly before he claps me on the shoulder. “I’m gonna hug you now, so don’t punch me.”
I laugh, but it gets caught in my throat with a whole bunch of other emotions when he really does pull me in for a hug. He slaps me on the back a few times, though, just to keep it manly.
Eventually I manage to get around to talking to Robbie about the weed candies. I want to make sure I’m right about the ones from The Ranch—or The Harvest Co-op as it says on the wrapper—before I go calling it in to the cops. I also want to verify that the candies Charlene’s mother makes are the same, and that we can keep her out of this.
Of course Robbie is only too happy to check out the stock. He opens the box of candies, almost giddily, and picks one up. His expression turns serious. “Where did you say you got these?”
“I’m guessing someone from the RV left them on Charlene’s doorstep the day of the party.”
“Would Charlene know where they got these from?”
“They’re the ones who produce it, according to Char.”
“Really?” Robbie’s eyes light up, and he calls Charlene over.
This prompts the entire group to congregate around the two of them while she explains what happened when she was growing up at THC—the acronym now making a lot more sense. Robbie listens raptly, as does everyone else.
“This is all very interesting,” he murmurs once she finishes explaining what used to go down at THC. “And how old were you when you and your mom left?”
“I was fourteen and a half.” Charlene chews on her bottom lip. “My mom took a couple of bags of candies with her. I think maybe she sold them, and I started eating them, but I’m not sure if these are like the ones my mom makes.”
Robbie perks up. “Makes? As in still?”
“Um, yeah. She sends them to me every month. I didn’t realize they were weed candies. She said they were herbal, and I thought it was more like a cough drop, but apparently I’m a pothead, so . . .” She stops rambling and looks around the group, her cheeks flushed.
“Nothing wrong with being a pothead.” Robbie smiles. “Unless you’re a professional hockey player. Then you have to wait until you’re retired to enjoy that kind of relaxation.” He taps on the arm of his chair. “You wouldn’t happen to have one of the candies your mom makes, would you?”
“Um, sure. I have some in my purse.” Charlene roots around in her bag and retrieves a handful of candies. “These are from the last batch, so they might be a bit stale.”
Robbie unwraps one made by Whensday and one from THC and sets them side by side on the table, inspecting them closely. “Very curious,” he murmurs.
“What’s curious?” Charlene leans in
to get a closer look.
“See how the coloring is slightly different.”
“Mmm-hmm, the ones my mom makes are greener.”
“It could be a purity thing.” He pops the one made by Whensday in his mouth.
“Robbie! What’re you doing?” Daisy asks.
“Research, darling.” He grins. “I have a few theories about these candies, and I should know in about forty-five minutes if they’re correct or not.”
“What’s the theory?” Charlene asks.
“A little over twenty-five years ago, right when I took the position at MJ Labs, edibles were growing in popularity. There was a company we’d been struggling to locate that began producing candies much like the one I’m eating. They cornered the market, but we didn’t know where they came from and couldn’t track the supplier. The recipe was flawless—the perfect balance to induce relaxation but maintain productivity. No matter how much we studied them, we couldn’t replicate the recipe. Then a little more than ten years ago, the quality began to suffer. Something about the production had changed, and we couldn’t figure it out. I may have the answer now.”
“Which is what?” I ask.
“Charlene’s mother leaving is the reason the quality suffered. I think she may very well have been the pioneer of the ultimate in edible candies.”
Forty-five minutes later, Robbie is pretty much convinced this is the case. And based on his ridiculous smile, and the coveted bowl of chips he keeps stuffing in his face, I’m thinking Charlene has developed quite the tolerance for those.
He says he has to do a few more tests to make sure he’s correct, and he’d like to bring the candies back to the lab in Canada so he can compare them, but it appears as though Frank has been funding the co-op through illegal marijuana manufacturing.
DARREN
All it took was one anonymous tip—I placed the call because Charlene couldn’t bring herself to do it—and Frank’s entire operation fell apart. The media were all over THC like rabid dogs. Charlene couldn’t handle watching any of it. Part of it had to do with the memories, but she worried a lot about the girls she’d grown up with, and how they would handle suddenly being thrust into a world that had changed so radically while theirs had remained narrow and isolated.
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