Ganja haze hung in the air and Led Zeppelin’s Houses of the Holy blared on the stereo when the buzzer rang. Delilah turned the music down. Gunther entered with a strange woman. “Leroy dropped her off. He said to take care of her.”
“Hoc est lupanar?” the woman asked.
“Who is she?”
The woman walked around the room as if looking for something. She went up to the stereo and pointed to the speakers. “Ubi musici?” she asked, peeking around and behind the speakers.
“What’s she doing?” asked Gunther.
“I don’t know.”
The woman then noticed the spinning record on the turntable and grabbed the tone arm, making a blood-curdling scratch.
“Oh, fuck, you just ruined my record!”
She looked up at them in confusion, the tone arm still in her fist. “Ubi musici?”
“What’s the matter with her? Is she retarded?”
Delilah pulled her away from the stereo and sat her down on the bed. “Who are you?”