Max gingerly licked the long side of the rolling paper. "It doesn't seem very sticky. Am I even doing this right?"
"Don't look at me," said Original Cindy. Her long nails were painted eggplant purple today with pale pink tips, and they were still drying, so she had left 420 duty to the inexperienced Max.
"I'm making a mess of this," Max sighed. "I miss Herbal."
Pale winter sunlight streamed through the windows and lit up the faded carpets in Sandeman's living room. Joshua, who didn't appreciate the strong smells of polish and remover, was out somewhere with Alec. Cindy blew on her nails. "That may be true, but I sure don't. If brother-man can't be bothered to write us a postcard, I ain't going to waste my energy on him."
Max frowned seriously. All the responsibility of being a tattooed Messiah had gone to her head, Cindy thought, or maybe it was rich-boy's influence, finally catching up with her. Max had been erring on the side of sanctimonious lately. "Come on, Cindy," she said. "Shoot him some slack. If infrastructure is bad here, think about what it must be like in Guam. Herbal probably can't write."
"Don't tell me you're making excuses for him," Original Cindy said. "Six months and no word? That's just plain bad manners."
"Maybe," said Max. "I've never really been good at giving up on people."
"Believe me," said Cindy. "He could get in a damn canoe and paddle here, if he wanted to. Call him Herbal Thoughtless."
Max put down the lopsided joint, which immediately unrolled and spilled its guts on the coffee table. "Great. Well, I don't know what we're going to do with this without him."
"You DEFINITELY need to relax, boo," Cindy observed.
"Fine. What do you suggest?"
Cindy shrugged. "You know where Sketchy's at?"