Nirvana Bites Read Online Free Page A

that, if it was an emergency, some or all of us may well be in need of comfort.
    I provided the venue, the tea and the crisis. Maggot brought a spliff the size of a leg, but I didn’t get too excited: I knew from bitter experience that she would consume over two-thirds of it in a couple of almighty, lung-blasting drags. The people on either side of her would jostle closer in the hope that what was left would be passed their way. I retreated from the action and sat on the other side of the room, knowing the tension would kill the high anyway. Frank brought a battered pack of digestives, and I wondered fleetingly if Mrs V had started selling biscuits. Nick’s contribution was Robin – which was cheating a bit, but we let it slide. Ali, from the third house, placed a large bowl of unhusked sunflower seeds in the centre of the room like an offering. My heart sank at the thought of the debris that would be the aftermath of their consumption. He nodded silently round the room before folding himself on to the floor in a full lotus that would have made his parents proud – if they ever saw him again. Their patience with their wayward son, who seemed so intent on subverting every value they held dear, had finally run out a couple of years ago when he’d arrived at their house during Ramadan wearing a ripped black T-shirt and jeans and sporting a tattoo of an anarchist symbol on his forehead.
    The only one not there was Gaia, who lived downstairs from Ali, with her seven cats, two rabbits and a hamster. Gaia was our resident earth mother. Her parents were hippies – the first time round. They were into peace and love, but by all accounts were too stoned to lavish much of the latter on Gaia. They were retired now and lived in a croft in the Outer Hebrides. Gaia had taken on many of their ideals and updated them by immersing herself into all things New Age. She and Mags often clashed over what Mags described as Gaia’s ‘pick ‘n’ mix spirituality’ (when she was feeling generous) and her ‘cultural imperialism’ (when she wasn’t). Anyway, Gaia was apparently out at some moon-worship, world-healing event involving crystals, herbs, ancient Chinese mysticism and Native American rituals.
    I had the floor, and told Stan’s story in full Technicolor detail. We had a no-interruption rule, so apart from my voice there was complete silence in the room – with the exception of packet-rustling, biscuit-chewing, tea-slurping, spliff-sucking, sunflower-seed-husking and train roaring. I was pleased to see Mags had picked up my notepad and was making notes on the virgin page.
    I finished and looked round the room expectantly.
    â€˜Right,’ said Mags with characteristic energy. ‘This is what we’ve got.’ She took another huge drag on the spliff, peered at the roach between her fingertips and then tossed it into my date palm – much to the despair of Frank and Nick on either side of her. ‘Whoever is messing with Stan is using his S&M persona to put the pressure on his straight life. In other words, they know his identity in both worlds. OK. So what do they want? There have been no demands. No threats. I’d have thought if they were softening him up for blackmail they’d have made their move by now.’
    â€˜That’s right,’ I interjected, unwilling to let Mags take over too far on the super-sleuth front. ‘So, the way I see it, that leaves two possibilities. Either this is personal, someone from the Scene that he really pissed off. And you have to admit the harassment has some obvious sadistic hallmarks.’
    Everyone winced. The fish episode had really got to them.
    â€˜Only if that was so, I would’ve expected Stan to have worked that out himself. Or, someone is trying to push Stan to the edge – and succeeded today. But why? Who would have something to gain from Stan cracking up?’
    â€˜Further to that,’ Robin