Page 465 of Lessons in Cruelty

A demonic red glow up ahead warns me of an intersection. I stop the Tesla, shoulders hunched as I peer through the pouring rain, waiting for the light to change. This late at night, I’d barely have slowed down before speeding through, but with such poor visibility, I’d be risking someone T-boning me.

Definitely shouldn’t be out in this weather, but I won’t suffer through a dry weekend when this rain looks like it won’t let up for days still. Who knows what I’d get up to?

Passages from Evelyn’s manuscript keep rattling around in my head. I scavenged a few pages from the trash, those I hadn’t already burned…or eaten. Jesus, I wonder if I made Ginger Snap eat a page?

There’s this shard of a memory that keeps replaying, someone saying they don’t like the way the paper tastes.

Could have been her.

Could have been me.

Should have burned all of it, but I’ve always been a collector of oddities, among other things. Besides, there might be enough evidence in those pages for some form of litigation.

All I need to do is find a lawyer willing to sue a renowned, dementia-ridden old woman.

Hmm.

I wonder if criminal charges are an option, too?

But then I’d have to appear in court, and the thought alone is enough to dissuade me.

She’ll get away with it, like she has been for decades.

I park down the road from The Hollow Point. It’s a short walk and an even shorter drive from campus, and I’ve heard they’re pretty lax about carding inside. But I’m not here for the intoxicated underage students.

Not tonight, anyway.

A young man emerges from the alleyway beside the bar, hoodie up to ward off the rain as he scurries over to my car.

“What’s up, Professor?” Corbin drawls, his fingers sliding through the gap as soon as I wind my window down far enough.

I swap out my bills for the baggie between his fingers. “All good. You heard from your dad yet?”

“Yeah,” Corbin whines. “I told him what you said, but he’s still giving me shit about dropping out.”

“Fuck him. Not everyone’s built for college. You save up enough to get your crypto business off the ground, and he’ll be the one apologizing to you.”

“After I pay back my student loans,” Corbin mutters, then hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s pissing down. I’m gonna take off.”

“You got an eighth on you?”

“Yo, weed?” Corbin laughs, giving my window a little thump with his fist that makes my jaw clench. “Since when, Professor?”

“It’s for a friend.”

“Most def-i-nitely.” He digs around in his pockets and shoves the bag through the gap in my window but flicks his hand when I try to hand him another stack of rolled-up bills. “Nah, first one’s free. This shit’s epic. You—“ he clears his throat dramatically “—your friend will def be back for more.”

He falls back, gives me an awkward half-wave that looks more like a lowkey Nazi salute, and disappears into the rain.

I peel open the bag and sniff the contents, then seal it up again and toss it into my glove compartment.

Sliding my phone off the wireless charging bay in the Tesla’s console, I tap a small heap of coke onto the screen and cut myself two precise lines with my black Amex.

I make sure no intoxicated young things are around, and duck to snort up the line with a rolled-up bill. I lick my finger and drag it over the ghostly smudges left on my phone screen, rubbing the residue over my gums.

The coke hits like a most-welcome nuclear strike.

The initial whiteout devastates everything in its radius, followed by a slow bloom, like a radioactive cloud. My ears ring as warmth and light and bliss sear through every neuron in my brain.