Page 6 of I Will Ruin You

He held out the bag of Cheetos to Stuart. But as Stuart reached for some, Billy suddenly pulled the bag back.

“Too slow,” he said.

Stuart sat. Billy picked up the remote again, bailed on Pyramid, and resumed flipping through channels at light speed. Stuart’s eyes widened as he watched the channels flash by.

“You’re giving me a seizure,” he said, and sniffed.

Billy kept flipping. “Blow your fucking nose. You’re like a three-year-old.”

Stuart brought out the tattered remains of a tissue from his pocket and asked, “Shipment come in okay today?”

Eyes fixed on the screen, Billy said, “Right where it was supposed to be. They’re coming later to pick it up.”

“Psycho Bitch and Butthead?”

“Call them that to their faces and they’ll stick your dick into a pencil sharpener.”

“Hey, they’re your nicknames. I never even met them.” Stuart sniffed again, wiped his nose, and tucked the tattered tissue back into his pants. “You should introduce me. Cut me in.”

“Told you. It’s between me and them.”

“I could help. Like, stand guard or something. Be part of your security detail. Find other hiding spots.” He gave Billy a sad puppy face. “I could use the scratch.”

Billy replied with a dismissive grunt.

“Fine. You don’t want to mix business with friendship. Whatever.” Stuart dug into his pocket and brought out a joint.

Billy shook his head. “Take that outside. Lucy don’t want the house smelling like a skunk’s ass. Bad enough letting you in. When’s the last time you did a wash?”

“Ran out of quarters this week. And why’s Lucy all pissy with me?”

“You’re creeping her out. Looking her up and down. Starin’ at her tits.”

“Bullshit,” Stuart said defensively. “She’s barely got any.”

Billy tossed the remote right at Stuart’s face, catching him in the eye.

“Fuck!” Stuart said, putting his hand over his eye, rubbing it.

“Not cool,” Billy said.

“Sorry. I’m just sayin’. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Billy went back to channel surfing, oblivious to the short, hateful glare from his friend. He’d flipped past something that caught his eye, went back a station. It was the Fox affiliate up in Hartford. A woman, mike in hand, was standing out front of an institutional-looking building. Across the bottom, the words school bombing averted, one dead.

“Fuck,” Billy said, thumbing up the volume. “Some dude just blew himself up.”

“...could have been much worse,” the woman said. “The would-be bomber, a former student whose motivations remain unclear at this time, ended up taking his own life, perhaps accidentally, but not before threatening to come into the school and kill an undetermined number of people. Police said...”

“That’s my school,” Billy said, leaning forward, as though that would give him a better view. “Lodge. That’s where I went.”

A headshot of Mark LeDrew appeared in the corner of the screen, with his name below.

“You know him?” Stuart asked.

“Shut up. Want to hear this.”

Stuart, almost giggling, asked, “They got pictures of him after he was blowed up?”