Page 52 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
“Damn, that girl’s fine. Right, Hunter? She was into you and shit. Why’d she think you was Nash? Whatever. She wants you bad. I bet she’s got some fine-ass friends too. I don’t know what I was thinking, thinking I was gonna be with Blanca forever. This girl here just opened my eyes, bro. Like, I wanna bang a girl from every race. You wanna bang a girl from every race, Hunter?”
I’m still in my head, a bunch of questions swirling. Is Nash really doing cocaine? Is he some kind of drug dealer? Did he have sex with this girl we just met? Did Alessandra know about it? What kind of relationship did Nash and Alessandra have, before she was brutally killed?
It’s beginning to look like Nash, the brother I thought I knew and envied, is not really who he seems to be.
Oscar says, “What? You don’t, Hunter? Why? You don’t like Asian girls or something? That’s kind of racial and shit. What about Black girls? You like Black girls? Now I understand why people like to travel. You go to Asia, you’re banging Asian girls. You go to Africa, you’re banging African girls. Maybe that’s what I should try to do after I graduate. Maybe I’ll travel and bang. Hey, would you watch a YouTube show that was called ‘Travel and Bang’? I mean, I can get a camera and record myself going from country to country. I mean, I wouldn’t record myself banging though. They don’t allow that on YouTube. I’d just record all the travel parts. Some of those YouTube dudes make a lot of money.”
I snap out of it and get into my car.
Oscar slides into the passenger seat. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m ignoring him, that I’m singularly focused on the situation with my brother. I think Oscar still doesn’t totally believe me about seeing Nash murder Alessandra. Because he didn’t see it with his own eyes, it’s hard for him to imagine, to conceptualize, to let sink in. He’s just along for the crazy ride, whatever it turns out to be.
I start the car.
Oscar bangs on the glove compartment in delight. “We’re going to a party, bro! We’re going to a party!”
Oscar is so excited right now, which is in sharp contrast to his mood earlier today when he was betrayed by his girlfriendand friend, so I don’t have the heart to tell him that we’re actuallynotgoing to a party, at least in the way he thinks we are.
I mean, yes, it seems that, if we do want to gather more information about Nash and what he’s up to (since things keep getting more confusing and messy), then we have to show up at Perpetual Sunset—but not as attendees. This is going to be a reconnaissance mission. We have to sneak in, hide out, watch in secret. And if my brother shows up, we have to spy on him, follow him around, go deeper into his life, a life that I apparently don’t know about at all.
As I drive us back to Point Liberty, Oscar watches travel videos on YouTube. At first, he just wants to see what the girls look like in different countries, different cities. But then he starts getting into the idea of seeing new places, experiencing new things, learning about different cultures. He’s beginning to understand the greater appeal of travel.
I stop my mind a second to think about this.
This moment here: it’s the first time I’ve seen Oscar kind of dream big. His ideas about himself, about his future, have never before extended beyond the borders of the city he’s lived in his entire life. It’s weird. I start to tear up because my best friend, who’s always been afraid todream, who’s never learned how todream, is doing exactly that.
24
Drama
Even though Oscar and I have been on the freeway back to Point Liberty for a while, I still have tons of adrenaline pumping through my body—from being chased by Nash and the police officer, from jumping into a cold swimming pool in a panic, from the millions of questions I now have swirling in my mind about my brother.
On top of all that, the image of Nash killing Alessandra won’t fade, as well as the thought of my missing shoelace and missing video files, not to mention the $10,850 that has disappeared from my room. Add to it all my anxiety problem and (hopefully mild) head injury, and I’m one hell of a mess.
I need to calm down and think clearly—because Oscar is right. “Every moment counts,” and “We can’t be sitting on our asses until the sun goes down.”
Nash got to my shoelace before I figured out what his game plan was (framing me), and he somehow got to my video files before I could secure them (probably while I was passed outovernight in the garage). What else has he already done that I don’t know about yet?
Oscar is still watching travel videos on YouTube.
“Hey,” I say, to get his attention.
“Yeah?”
“Let’s see what’s on Nash’s laptop. I don’t know what we would be looking for even. I mean, he’s not gonna have anything on there about what he’s done, but maybe we can find some clues or something about what he’s planning or where he’s going.”
Oscar reaches for the laptop in the backseat. He opens it.
“It’s got a lock screen, bro,” he says. “It’s asking for a PIN number.”
“It’s probably four digits. God, I hope it’s only four digits.”
While I drive, I announce numbers, and Oscar keys them in. We try Nash’s birth year and birth date, our street number, a combination of jersey numbers of his favorite basketball players. No luck.
Then Oscar says, “What about 1-2-3-4?”
I shake my head. “Nash isn’t dumb enough to have that as his PIN.”
Oscar turns his head away from me. “That’smyPIN number.”
