Page 133 of A Quick Buck

“Yeah, and a fuckin’ gun. Don’t get fuckin’ cute.” Junior cleared his throat a few more times. “Fuck me, whew.”

“So, uh. Why did you just threaten to shoot me over some Captain?”

“Because it’s fuckin’ poisoned, ya dumb fuckin’ idiot.”

Noah’s blood froze over. “Excuse me?”

“Pick up the fuckin’ bottle. Smell it.”

Noah did as Junior told him, but he didn’t find anything amiss. He shook the bottle in his direction, scoffing. “It smells like rum.”

“No. Smell it again. Come on.”

Noah wasn’t sure why, but he remembered what Alistair had told him about aerating wine and alcohol evaporating off. He went for the cap instead and sniffed, surprised to find an unusual odor that definitely didn’t belong there. “Menthol?”

“It’s fuckin’ spironolactone.”

“Spiro-what now?”

“It’s a blood pressure medicine. Been around for fuckin’ ever.” Junior scrubbed a hand over his face, still flushed a fair shade of pink. “My fuckin’ dad used to take that shit, and it set off my fuckin’ asthma if I was in like five feet of him. I’d know that shit anywhere.”

“It’s… lethal…?” Noah held the bottle out away from himself as if it might infect him.

“Anything is if yous take enough of it.”

“Why would someone put that spiro-stuff in my rum?”

“So yous would drink it. For fuck’s sake.” Junior scowled. “Are yous like mentally irregular or what? Hello. Somebody put it in there for the sole purpose of separatin’ your soul from your body.”

“Someone’s trying to kill me?” Noah was not proud of how high his voice got, and he quickly dropped the bottle over on his bed. He glared at Junior. “Hey! Is this you guys? Did you or Mace or whoever do this?”

“What? No!” Junior scoffed. “It ain’t us! Mr. Star would skin our sacs if anythin’ happened to yous, Crisco. Besides.” He shrugged. “We’d probably just shoot yous if we had to whack you. I’d make it quick. I mean, I kinda feels like we was havin’ a nice moment there for a second.”

“Wow. Thanks. I feel so much better.”

“Where did the bottle come from, huh?”

“I don’t know!” Noah was certain he was going to puke, and his mind was racing. “I don’t remember. It was just in there! I think it was already in there before you or Alistair ever showed up.”

“All right, all right, all right. Just chill your lil’ ass out.” Junior pulled out his phone and typed something.

“What are you doing?”

“Checkin’ with the boss to see what the fuck is going on.” Junior glanced up at Noah. “And you’re sure you dunno where it came from? It was there before the party?”

“I… I don’t know.” Noah tugged at his collar, suddenly sweaty and anxious. He couldn’t imagine anyone who would actually want to kill him.

Beat the crap out of him, okay, maybe.

But actuallykillhim?

“We’ll get it fuckin’ tested to be sure, but I am gonna bet money that it’s that damn medication.” Junior paused. “Weird fuckin’ way to murder somebody.”

“Christ.” Noah sat down heavily on the edge of his bed as his guts sloshed around. “Now I need a drink for the drink that tried to kill me.”

“Yeah, no. Probably wise not to fuckin’ drink anythin’ in the house.”

“Right.” Noah unbuttoned the top of his shirt. He watched Junior text some more, asking him, “So, uh, any news?”