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When the light to the kitchen went on, I froze, as if I hoped that I wouldn’t be seen if I just… didn’t… move.

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Kayla asked me.

“Migraine.”

She walked over and leaned up against the table beside me. “Sara’s still up?”

“Nope. I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes the yard light bothers me.”

She walked over to the window and looked out. “The yard light isn’t on, Baptiste.”

“Then I should head up to bed.”

She smiled. “Or you can cut the bullshit.” She walked back to the table and sat down beside me.

She put her hand on my lap and squeezed.

“It’s okay, Baptiste,” she said. “It’ll be okay.”

“Okay.”

She nodded. “I’m not that good at this stuff. Would you like a handjob instead?”

That made me laugh.

“You seem off,” she said.

“I’m tired… and shot… and I got someone killed today, so…”

“Come on…”

“I know… don’t blame myself and all that garbage.”

She gave my thigh a tap. “That’s it,” she said. “You’re drunk.”

“Do I smell like I’m drunk?”

She took a whiff. “No…”

“Am I slurring my words? Do I have a bottle of Jack in front of me?”

“It’s something…”

I wrapped my hand over hers. “Look, Kayla… I’m actually wanting to be alone.”

“I don’t care. I’m here. So share whatever you’ve got or this will get way more awkward.”

“It kinda feels like you’re hitting on me. Do I need to pull out my rape whistle?”

“I think that’s a euphemism… I think you’re sexually harassing me…”

“You’re the one with your hand on my thigh.”

“You’re the one with the bulge in your pants.”

I looked down and saw it. If I hadn’t already started feeling the effects of the E I would’ve been embarrassed.

Kayla put her hand in my pocket.

“Hold on,” I said. “Kayla…”

I didn’t really want her to stop…

“What is this?” she asked as she pulled out the plastic baggie. “Maple leafs…”

“Vitamins.”

“I’ve seen these before… hell… I’ve used these before.”

“What?”

“Seriously, Baptiste? You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Kayla… you can’t tell anyone…”

“Don’t worry. Where did you find these, anyway?”

“Scavenging somewhere. I didn’t know what they were at first.”

“And so what? You just decided to experiment?”

“I don’t know.”

She grinned. “You must realize, sir, that I have a rather highly tuned bullshit detector.”

“They were Ant’s.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me. I don’t care.”

“Who did you get yours from?”

“I don’t have any.”

“I mean from before.”

She leaned in and whispered into my ear. “A little unbalanced, don’t you think? I show you mine and you give me fuck all?”

“What did you want?”

She squeezed my thigh again. “What do you think I want?”

“Are you serious?”

Kayla laughed. “You’re hilarious, Baptiste.” She gave me another slap on the thigh.

“I don’t think I am.”

She stood up from the chair. “Don’t get too high, alright?” She dropped a hand on my shoulder. “You’re a pretty great guy, Baptiste.”

I nodded. “And you have terrible judgement.”

She started to walk toward the door, but then she stopped.

“I got mine from Zach Walker,” she said. “We all did. Zach and his big brother.”

“The Walkers are drug dealers?”

“Some Walkers were. It’s a booming business, providing you have some initiative and the backing of the Souls.”

“You’re kidding.”

She smiled. “Toronto isn’t the only place with a drug problem. You’re not the first junkie in town.”

Today is Friday, December 21st.

Still snowing.

Even if it wasn’t, I don’t think the Walkers would be up to working at Silver Queen Lake.

Dave Walker’s son is dead, and it’s partly my fault.

And the assholes who did it are a hell of a lot stronger than I’d realized.

So I guess it’s completely my fault.

This week’s meeting was set to be held at the Tremblays’; that was the last thing I wanted to do this morning.

That’s just what I said to Sara when she woke me up.

“You’re kidding me,” she said as she sat up in bed.

“I’m not going,” I said, turning onto my side and away from her. I was acting like a child; I felt like a child.

“I can’t believe I’m sleeping with a five-year-old.”

“I’m just not ready for this.”

She stood up and walked around to my side of the bed. “You’re coming with me, Baptiste.”

“I’m not coming.”

“We’re in crisis here. None of us have any idea what’s going to happen now. Don’t you think you oughta be at the freaking meeting?”

“I’m not coming.”

“Baptiste…”

“I’m not coming.”

“This is ridiculous. If you want to hide out here, go ahead. But I’m not going to cover for you. If people ask me why you can’t be bothered to show up and give some kind of guidance… or you know, leadership… I’m just going to tell them that you’re lying in bed like a sad little puppy.”

“Thanks for nothing, then,” I said, closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see the look on her face.

“You’re disgusting.”

I stayed in bed until I knew she’d left.

Sara came back an hour or so later, and I was still in bed, half-awake.

She stomped around the room a little, opening the blinds and making her side of the bed, all the things she does when she’s trying to get me to talk to her without, well, talking to me first.

I didn’t take the bait, so she disappeared again, and by the time I went downstairs she wasn’t there.

No one was.

Lunch had been eaten and there were still dishes in the sink.

I didn’t see anything left for me, but for all I knew it had been one of those single-serve, leftover lunches.

I didn’t check the pile of dishes too closely; I didn’t want to find out that Fiona had made something fresh and no one had come to get me.

Well… I guess Sara had come to get me… and stomped around…

I found Kayla and Matt outside on the dock, dressed in full winter gear and sitting in snow, staring out over the wintry lake, an oversized bottle of spiced rum cupped into the snow between them.

“Looking to freeze to death?” I asked Kayla.

“It’s warm out, silly,” she said. “Are you still feeling sick?”

“Sick?”

“Sara said it was coming out of both ends,” Matt said.

“We didn’t want that much information,” Kayla said.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Where is Sara?”

Kayla shrugged. “Fuck if I know.”

“Thanks for the help.”

I saw a series of footsteps heading over to the barn, so I followed them.

Sara and Fiona were in the barn, Fiona sitting on a small step ladder while Sara brushed the mare.

“Hey Baptiste,” Fiona said as I walked inside.

Sara didn’t turn to look at me.

“What are you guys doing?” I asked.

“Sometimes it’s nice to get outside. You feeling better?”

“I’m fine.”

“You should take a shower,” Sara said, still giving the horse her full attention.

“What?” I said.