Feeling Whitney

Stevie is pacing once again, checking her phone every few minutes for any updates from her friends. Her palms are sweaty. Nicole's interrogation was taking half an hour longer than the others.

Finally, the door opens for the last time. Rod Serling's gaze falls coldly on the remaining Bunch member. "Stephanie Nichols, right this way."

Stevie slips her phone into her jeans pocket and starts forward despite losing feeling in her legs. She faces the dimly-lit corridor where she freezes in place. The shuttering clash of the heavy entry door jump-starts her forward again. The agent leads her into an even dimmer room, lit by one measly bulb in the center of the room. Stevie sits down and wonders if the federal agent can see her sweating. Agent Serling stands silhouetted on the other side of the room.

"Miss Nichols, I see that you are an outstanding engineering student at the university here in town."

"Yes, sir, I'm an engineering student. Outstanding? Questionable, uh, sir."

"Well, I'm sure you endure a lot of pressure studying such a discipline. Do you smoke pot occasionally to take the edge off from these pressures?"

Stevie's stomach sinks. "Uh, I thought you said this wasn't about--"

"It's not. Please answer the question."

"Yes, I do."

"Do you and your friends enjoy smoking together occasionally?"

"Responsibly, yes."

"Do you and your friends ever partake in using more illicit drugs?"

The memories of tripping on acid in the freshman dorms flood Stevie's head. She rationalizes the agent's specific use of "partake" and "illicit."

"Not that I can recall, sir, no."

"Do you have a friendship with the woman whose picture I'm about to show you, one named... Whitney Penn?"

Agent Serling slides over a familiar Instagram selfie of Whitney. If he's seen her Instagram, the answer is obvious since they have photos together on both of their profiles.

"Yes, we're friends."

"How well do you know her?"

"I consider her a good friend but not as close as my roommate, Nicole. I met Whitney through her."

"Do you buy your marijuana products from this woman?"

"No, I don't."

"Why not? She's your friend. Wouldn't that be considered safer? More trustworthy?"

"I mean, maybe. I just don't want to owe a friend money or have potential quarrels with her."

"What kind of potential quarrels?"

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand the point of this... can't I ask for a lawyer? Why haven't any of us been told exactly what this is about?"

"Has your best friend confided in you about anything--abnormal--about Whitney's recent activities?"

"Abnormal...? I--"

"Miss Nichols, my division specializes in investigating the complex series of illicit drug distribution. We've traced a large part of activity within the state and those surrounding thereof directly to Whitney Penn. This is the necessary process of tying the loose ends together. As long as you cooperate, you can avoid the penal repercussions. Do you recognize any of these faces?"

Agent Serling lines up five mugshots on the table directed to Stevie. She truly doesn't recognize a single one, but the group message from the unknown number burned within her jeans pocket. She shakes her head. "I don't know any of these people."

"These are the five leaders of the founding drug lord families, otherwise known as the High Mafia. Each of these people here represent a major region of our nation and have been tied directly to the heart of the American underground drug cartel. We've collected off-the-record sources confirming Miss Penn is in the running to take over for one of the regions at an unknown point in time. You and your cohorts, referred to as the Broccoli Bunch, were an obvious lead. Have you had contact with Miss Penn since you met her in a local bar prior to her departure to Colorado back in January?"

"How did he know I met her at Logie's six months ago?" thinks Stevie. "Not since she messaged the group this morning saying she was back."

"Did Miss Penn arrange to see any of you upon her arrival back into town?"

"Yes, but--"

"And which people of your 'Bunch' intended to follow through with a visit?"

"I couldn't visit today since I had errands to run. I'm not certain of everyone else, but my roommate visited her. All I know is that she brought back concentrated THC wax and offered to share it with us."

"Did you speak with Miss Green after her visit?"

Stevie nods.

"Again, did she have anything out of the ordinary to share with you other than getting high on cannabis concentrate?"

Stevie becomes nauseous, approaching the fine line between truth and lie. She tries to compartmentalize what he's saying. "Out of the ordinary? Not that I can recall, sir."

The federal agent raises his brow at her. "Are you sure? Miss Green revealed some important details that might contradict your statement."

Stevie can't tell if Serling was telling the truth or if it was a trap. "Did Nicole crack? Or did she stay vague? Who's to say drug dealing isn't ordinary for Whitney?"

She realizes she's stalling too long. "I don't recall anything extraordinary that Nicole shared with me about Whitney. I can't be sure of what she said to you." Thank god she wasn't hooked up to a lie detector.

"She didn't mention Whitney investing into an amount of DMT, ecstasy, LSD, and psychedelic mushrooms to distribute for profit?"

Stevie's mouth is as dry after a bowl of Northern Lights indica. "Erm, perhaps Nicole mentioned the odd fascination Whitney had of having a drug lord Netflix documentary of herself, but I don't know of her actually selling or promoting these drugs."

Agent Serling collects the documents on the table except for one of the mugshots. "Have you or any of your friends been threatened anonymously to withhold any vital information?" The singular mugshot on the table had an uncanny resemblance to Salvatore Maranzano, the Boss of all bosses.

Tunnel vision loomed over the naive college girl. Her jeans pocket could have spontaneously combusted. "N-no. But... even if we were threatened, the federal agency could provide us protection, right?"

Special Agent Serling's demeanor wavered. "Right...of course. I believe I have enough information for tonight. I'll have you escorted home. Contact me if you have any pertinent information on the matter."

Stevie stands up as the agent hands her his business card. He leads her out of the room and down a different hallway to an exit door. Outside idles an unmarked police car waiting for her. She opens the backseat door when she hears Serling clear his throat. "I wish to remind you who you put your trust in."

Stevie pauses momentarily to absorb his words before she climbs into the dark brown coupe.

The silence in the federal car is much more calming than the silence in the police station. But the trade of aged fluorescent humming for the purr of a 2020 model V6 engine did not alleviate Stevie's anxiety. "It's had to have been, what, three hours since I texted Nicole? Why hasn't she answered back?" she thinks. She reasons that after the chaos, Nicole could have likely gone straight to bed.

The coupe rolls to a halt at the front of the apartment building. The faceless driver says nothing. "Uh, thank you, sir," stammers Stevie. Still, nothing. The driver doesn't pull away until she reaches her apartment door on the third floor.

Stevie locks the door to her flat behind her. "Rod fucking Sterling? Ha," she jokes in thought. Stevie heads toward Nicole's room to check on her. She avoids turning on the light so as not to disturb her roommate in case she's asleep. Stevie strains to peer through her dark, door-less room to find her friend lying still under the covers with her fan and nightlight on. Stevie sighs in relief and heads to her own room to sleep the insanity of the day off.

It's past noon the next day until Stevie wakes up. She scrunches her nose up in disgust.

"Ew, when was the last time we took the trash out?" she thinks.

She gets up and heads for the kitchen to make some coffee and take the trash out while it brews. When she returns, the stench is just as bad now mixed with the aroma of Folger's classic roast.

"What the hell?"

Stevie can't remember if her roommate had a morning shift at work today or not. She pours herself a cup of joe and decides to check if Nicole is in her room.

Stevie reaches the door frame when her eyes start watering from the strength of the odor. She looks at the bed and sees her roommate still under the covers! "C'mon lazy bones we've got work t--"