Page 86 of Courting Danger

“Dude,” Ocean said as he carefully printed on the label. “What would you call a jellyfish combat veteran?”

“Sir?” Roan replied.

“A man o’ war,” Pope blurted, smacking a hand to his face at the absolute absurdity and the fact that his mind had instantly gone there.

“Precisely,” Ocean said, “see, you get it. Some of them are too obvious. Like, what fish goes the best with peanut butter?”

“Oh my god, he is going to throw a pillow at you if you ask him that one,” Roan groaned, giggling. “Those are so bad.”

“They get worse, I promise,” Ocean said.

“Good, save those in case we need them, which we might,” Pope declared. “I did have him laughing before I came back in here, and Grunge has made a cushion out of him, so he’s not going anywhere.”

“Think the brownies will cheer him up?” Roan asked. “They’ve got sprinkles on them and everything.”

“As soon as he bites into one and realizes they’re cosmic brownies, yeah, I think they’ll mellow him out some. Great job on the weed butter, guys; that was a nice addition.”

“I found the recipe in one of dad’s old scrapbooks,” Ocean said. “Never got to make it much, since I was always traveling, but I remember the way he’d make two batches of snacks, one he’d let me have and the other he’d keep on top of the refrigerator. He’d do that with barbecue too. It wasn’t until I leafed through the scrapbook more than I figured out why. He had a marinade sauce that had weed in too; it’s fucking amazing.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Pope said, slapping a hand to his face. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for those damn recipes?”

“Wait, you’ve had them before?” Ocean said.

“They were Chaos’,” Pope explained. “He gave copies to both of us. I lost mine somewhere and kept hoping I’d come across them tucked in a book or between the pages of the old club minutes and never did. Figured they were gone for good. None of the others I’ve come across were ever as good. He’d tweaked them all to the point that you got the mellowest buzz ever off anything you used them on.”

“I memorized them, then laminated the originals so they wouldn’t get wrecked,” Ocean explained.

“Damn,” Pope said. “First chance I get, I’m grabbing a couple racks of ribs, and you are going to whip that marinade up.”

“I’d love to,” Ocean said. “It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to make it. If you want to copy the recipe so you have it again, I have it in my room.”

“Thank you,” Pope said. “Would be nice to work with it again. He always said he wanted to refine it more, since he never quite got it to work out the way he wanted it to for beef.”

“So, it wasn’t just me?” Ocean asked, emerald eyes lighting up as he turned to face Pope after wiping down the counter.

Roan had done the same to the one on the other side and pulled the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge after lining up a row of glasses and filling them with ice.

“What did you try to use it on?” Pope asked.

“Ribeye,” Ocean explained. “Cubed it and let it soak in the marinade before we made kababs. We got the buzz, but there was a tinge of bitterness that lingered that wasn’t there when we made pork or chicken.”

“Yup, that’s the same problem he had with it too,” Pope explained. “Perhaps if we put our heads together, we can figure out how to make it work.”

“Hell yeah,” Ocean replied. “Loved getting to cook with you today.”

“Me too,” Roan said. “Even if I didn’t know what I was doing. I love that you guys took the time to teach me new skills so I could help cook too. Usually, I just open something and shove it in the microwave, since my grandmother never liked anyone in her kitchen. She was always complaining about my grandfather and me getting in the way, even if we were just trying to grab a drink while she was cooking. Not that I ever enjoyed much of what she cooked. The only seasonings in the kitchen were salt, pepper, and paprika. I asked her once what paprika even was, and she told me to get the hell out of her kitchen.”

“It’s powdered red peppers,” Ocean replied. “I only ever saw my mom use it on deviled eggs and potato salad. I swear she’d have the same small container in the pantry for years before she needed to replace it.”

“I sprinkled a dash on the eggs when I made them the other day,” Pope said. “Outside of that, and the way your mom used it, I’ve never seen paprika used on anything else. As for that grandmother of yours, she sounds like a real piece of work. I doubt she knew what the hell it was and wasn’t willing to admit it. Nothing pisses me off more than when folks refuse to own up to not knowing something and refuse to just say that and take a moment to find the answers.”

“I probably should have looked it up on the internet when I got to school,” Roan said. “Since they refused to have it installed at the house. The only cell phone I had was one of those pay-as-you-go flip-phone burner ones, so it only made calls. Didn’t even have a camera in it. I had to make sure I got my homework done at school or take my school computer to the library if I needed to research something or finish any online reading, since I couldn’t do it at home.”

“You are always welcome to ask questions here,” Pope said. “If one of us doesn’t know the answers, we’ll help you find them. That way we all grow together.”

Diesel, who up until that point had been watching everything unfold from the dog bed they’d made for him out of couch cushions when he’d refused to head back to the den where he couldn’t see them, chose that moment to pipe up and bark, including himself in the conversation.

“Yes boy,” Roan said. “You too.”