“The clock is still going,” she said, pointing at the digital readout on the brick wall.
Wes shrugged. “Yeah, for them.”
“For all of us.”
“I understand that you haven’t done many escape rooms,” Wes said, strolling along the far wall as he examined the display of gold records, “so you don’t get it. We already solved the challenge. We smart. Them stupid. If they don’t make it out, they don’t move on. End. Of. Story.”
He spoke to her like he was explaining a complicated concept to a young child—overarticulating, tone as condescending as was humanly possible. For all his happy-go-lucky stoner vibe, Wes was actually an asshole.
“There won’t be a next challenge if we don’t help them figure this out in time.”
“Whatever.” Wes arrived at the desk, pulled out the ergonomic leather chair, and plopped into it, kicking his gross sandals up onto the desk beside the computer. “You be you, kid. I’m just going to wait for the next challenge to start.”
Kid?
“I will.” Persey turned to the nearest song poster. “Hey!” she cried, pounding her fists against the lead singer of Radiohead’s face. “It’s your SAT score! S. A. T!”
From across the room, Wes snorted. “They can’t hear you. Pretty sure that shit is soundproof.”
She hated to admit that he was right, but he was right. Even if the person inside could feel the impact of her fists against the wall, they wouldn’t be able to hear what she was saying. And the door itself had no release mechanism.
Another door swung open, the Beastie Boys this time, and Neela bolted into the music loft, glasses knocked askew in her rush.
“Son. Of. A. Shatner!” she cried between breaths. Even near asphyxiation didn’t curb her need to talk. “That was. So crazy.” She caught sight of Persey, and a huge smile spread across her face. “Knew you’d. Beat me.”
Neela was apparently the only person other than Kevin that had any faith in Persey’s problem-solving abilities.
“The countdown’s still going.”
Neela straightened her glasses as she checked the clock. “All of us or none of us. We have to help them before time runs out.”
“Exactly.” Persey was relieved to have an actual ally. Even if they were, technically, competitors. “The posters conceal the doors, but the booths are soundproof and there’s no way to open them from our side.”
“Maybe the trick is oral?” Neela spun around and pushed the Beastie Boys closed. When the lock clicked into place, she stood back a couple of feet and raised her chin. “Fifteen fifty!”
“You scored fifteen fifty on your SAT?” Persey asked, wide-eyed. She’d never met anyone who’d scored that high. Not even her brother.
Neela flushed, embarrassed. She might have been the only other person in the competition with a sense of modesty. “I know. My dad didn’t understand it either. Why I didn’t get a perfect score, I mean.”
That was pretty much the opposite of what Persey was thinking. She really was surrounded by a bunch of geniuses.
A spicy, dank scent wafted into the loft. It was equal parts skunk, wet newspaper, and aftershave, and it was a stink Persey recognized right away. Turning to the computer, she found that despite the confiscation of his e-cigs, Wes had blazed up a giant blunt and was proceeding to suck it down, filling the loft with the pungent aroma of grade-A ganja.
What the actual fuck?
Wes registered Persey’s reaction. “It’s medicinal,” he said while holding his breath. Then he tilted back his head as he blew smoke up over the piano keyboard.
He was completely useless.
“Did you transport that over state lines?” Neela asked with a gasp. “I realize Leah said you were from Vegas, but I was unclear as to whether or not you still live here, but I asked about interstate transportation because that is considered trafficking due to current federal statutes, and if you are caught they could charge you with possession with intent to sell, which is a felony instead of a possession misdemeanor, which carries a minimum sentence of—”
“Two minutes.”
The voice came from a speaker mounted in the corner of the loft, and as Persey’s eyes bounced between it and the desk at which Wes sat, she suddenly had an amazing idea.
“There was a speaker in my room.”
“Mine too,” Neela said, abandoning her previous monologue. Her brows knitted together, unclear of Persey’s point, but then, all of a sudden, her forehead smoothed out, her eyes grew wide, and her jaw gaped open. “The speakers must connect to something.”
There was literally nothing else in the room but…Persey’s eyes