Chapter One: Busted at 3:02 A.M.
It was a quiet night at the Tipton. Boston slept peacefully beneath a veil of gentle rain. In suite 2330, the Martin twins lay sprawled across their beds, the warm blue glow of Zack's laptop illuminating the darkened room. Cody was asleep—or pretending to be—but Zack was wide-eyed, earbuds in, watching something… educational.
Then, like a thunderbolt from heaven—or perhaps hell—the suite door slammed open.
"ZACKARY ETHAN MARTIN!!!"
Zack jumped so hard he nearly flew out of his bed. Cody groaned and pulled the comforter over his head. Standing in the doorway, illuminated like a wrathful angel, was Carey Martin—mother, lounge singer, and, at this moment, the fury of God incarnate.
Clad in her fuzzy pink bathrobe, hair in curlers, and a white bra visible beneath the slightly askew robe, she held aloft three damning pieces of evidence: a Juul, a flash drive labeled "DO NOT OPEN," and a suspicious little plastic baggie of green herb.
"YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!!" she shrieked. "I FOUND THE VAPES, I FOUND THE PORN, I FOUND THE… THE DEVIL'S LETTUCE!!"
Zack, to his credit, recovered quickly.
"Okay," he said, sitting up and brushing the hair out of his face. "First off, I'll admit to the vapes. And the porn. Yeah, that's mine."
Carey gasped, clutching her chest. "I raised you better than this! You think this is funny?"
Zack leaned back casually. "No, I just think we should be clear about responsibility. Because the weed? That's Cody's."
The blanket shifted slightly. "Excuse me?"
Carey spun toward the other bed. "CODY?"
Cody sighed, peeking out from the covers. He looked far too calm for someone whose very soul was being questioned.
"Yes, Mom. It's mine. I researched the effects, ordered it online from a legal dispensary in California, and kept it for occasional use to alleviate stress. Finals have been intense."
"You—" Carey blinked, shaking. "You brought DRUGS into a CHRISTIAN HOME?"
"It's a hotel, technically."
Carey dropped the vapes and the porn drive, but held the baggie like it was a cursed relic. "You boys are eighteen, I thought I was done raising you! And now I find out I've been harboring a… a reefer addict!"
"Technically," Cody said, sitting up now, "I'm more of a recreational micro-doser."
Zack chuckled. "Yeah, he's the classy stoner."
"YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE?!" Carey shouted. "I sing Amazing Grace four nights a week, and this is what I come home to? I HAVE PRAYED FOR YOU BOYS!"
Zack gave her a sheepish smile. "Well… pray harder?"
Cody swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Mom, with all due respect, we're adults. And I'm very responsible with—"
"YOU ARE GROUNDED!"
"You can't ground adults."
"THEN I'M MOVING US TO A MONASTERY!"
Zack laughed. "Do monks get room service?"
That did it. Carey shrieked something inaudible and stormed out of the room, the Devil's Lettuce clutched in one hand like a trophy. The boys sat in silence for a moment.
Zack turned to Cody. "You know she's gonna try and burn it, right?"
Cody sighed. "Yeah… I should probably go get it back before she hotboxes the bathroom."
.
.