Twitch!

2006-04-12T00:49:00.000-07:00

April 12

It took ten minutes for Myla's alarm clock to rouse her from unconsciousness. The low and persistent buzzer resounded stubbornly from underneath a jean jacket and down the hallway into Myla's mother's mauve bedroom. In fact, it wasn't the alarm that eventually pulled Myla from her deep sleep, but the angry pounding on her door that shook the picture frames on the wall. Myla rolled off her bed, wincing at the throbbing ache in the base of her skull, and pulling her jacket off the clock radio. She had twenty minutes before Miss. Irons would call the day to order, and she was under strict instructions not to miss a single second of conference room banter and chewing gum excitement.

"Shit," Myla muttered, moving to slip out of her pyjamas before realizing she was still in the clothes she wore the night before. "Mom! Can you give me a ride to--" she stopped short, remembering the big No-Longer-a-Student secret. That was not a conversation she was looking forward to having with her mother, never mind trying to explain to her the shady employment circumstances she'd found herself in. "Nevermind!" She'd take her chances with IntraGlobal.

Myla pulled her hair up into a messy pony-tail and began scanning her bedroom floor for the workbook she was supposed to have completed approximately twelve hours previous. Myla stopped, one shoe on, the other hanging by its tongue from her left hand. She reviewed the night's events.

Jasper called. She walked to the Stonehenge -- so far so good. She had a beer. Then... she woke up? That's not right.

"Myla, are you cognizant?"

Myla snapped out of the third rewind of her truncated evening. "What?"

"I'd prefer not to have a repeat of last night's conversation," growled her mother through the door. "I'm assuming you're by yourself. I didn't actually watch your little blonde friend leave."

"What?" Myla had no idea what her mother was going on about. She resumed her search for the workbook, attempting to simultaneously pull on her other shoe.

"I'm not saying he wasn't attractive. I can't fault your taste in men, dear, but I only ask that you know them for more than three hours before bringing them home to mother."

Myla pulled her head out from under the bed and flung the door open to find her mother standing there, frazzled and blotchy in a 25-year-old bathrobe. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"I don't have time to argue with you," her mother snapped. "I have a ear candelling session with the Kesslers' beagle at nine." She turned on her heel and stomped down the hall. "Have a good day at work."

Myla had not time to process this comment. She was late, and she hated being late like most people hated going to the dentist. It needled at her until she felt she was doing the entire world a disservice. It was at this point that she had to weigh her options, and decided that no workbook was better than showing up two hours late. She'd lie. She could deal with that. Myla grabbed her cell phone and started dialling the cab company as she flew out the front door

**

It was time to step up his game, Jasper had decided. No more tip toeing around the office as usual, hoping by some miracle that a sensitive piece of information would just fall in his lap. He'd been given this job by The Operatives, for whatever reason, and the more he thought about it, the more important than ever it seemed to finish it. He'd been set to put his skills to the test the night before, when Morgan had showed up unexpectedly at his apartment and insisted he meet with Myla instead. Thinking back on it now, Jasper realized he should have been more persistent, though he couldn't think of what he would have said, specifically, just that it would have been confident, forceful, and resulted in Morgan backing down and letting Jasper do what he was recruited to accomplish. And so, that morning, he had called into work sick, for the first time since he started working at IntraGlobal. This way, no one would miss all the work he wouldn't be doing while lurking about on the top floor of the building, trying to get anything that would satisfy Boss. Morgan had sent Jasper a message close to midnight telling him to watch out for gum. He wasn't sure whether Morgan was messing with him, but it was the only thing he had to go on.

He entered the office building at the shipping bay, nearly empty that time of day. The sudden ignition of a furnace behind one of the dark grey doors made Jasper jump, and he found himself looking over his shoulder every so often out of nervous apprehension. This was the place the Operatives had initially "met" him and Jasper realized he still wasn't over the shock of the kidnapping. Pushing thoughts of shadowy people in blue cover-alls to the back of his mind, he made his way to the service elevator, which was already on the basement level. Jasper stepped into the car and pressed the top floor button without thinking much of what he was going to do once he got up there. He figured his instincts might kick in sooner or later.

The doors to the service elevator slid open to an empty hallway. Jasper peeked cautiously out into the wall-to-wall carpeted passageway, double-checking for ninjas melted into the shadows and tripwires ready to unleash a dozen poison-tipped arrows into his back. All clear. The Benedict Room was at the other end of the floor, down the hallway and around another corner. Jasper started out slowly, inching his way along the wall, ready to bolt as soon as he saw even so much as a shadow. But nobody was there, so he picked up the pace and rounded the first corner, the thick carpet masking the sound of his footsteps.

A loud bang, the sound of a door swinging open and crashing against the wall, sent Jasper about three feet into the air. He backed away from the second corner, still hidden from view, but remaining within earshot of the Benedict Room door, which had bounced back from its violent opening and clicked shut.

"Mr. Morris, please, you have to return to your seat. We have a lot to accomplish today, and let me remind you, you are under--"

"Contract! Yeah! I know, I read it, like three times over. Air tight. Bravo."

It was Miss. Irons, and an extremely agitated Mr. Morris, by the sounds of it.

"But there's nothing on that contract about cigarette breaks, and godammit, I need one now." Mr. Morris was almost yelling, his voice was shaky, it reminded Jasper of Bruce Banner right before he burst out of his muscle shirt and exploded into The Hulk.

Miss. Irons, on the other hand, was the soundtrack for calm, cool and collected: the movie. "Mr. Morris, there is nothing here in your profile about you being a smoker. In fact, we specifically chose participants who didn't smoke."

"The damndest thing, isn't it? Went through three packs yesterday after I got home. Stayed up all night smoking cigarettes," he said incredulously. From the rise and fall of his voice, Jasper could tell Mr. Morris was pacing.

"How do you feel?" Asked Miss. Irons.

"Fine." Mr. Morris laughed ruefully. "I smell like shit but I'm as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as the fucking EASTER BUNNY." Now he was screaming.

"Please calm down, Mr. Morris," Miss. Irons placated. "I'll let you in on something now, which we were going to go over later today. This gum that you're testing -- what it does is suppress certain areas of the brain that--" The elevator dinged and Miss. Irons stopped mid-sentence. Jasper strained to hear, and even moved a bit closer to the corner as the doors slid open.

"Oh! Miss. Irons. I'm sorry, were you waiting for me?" It was Myla. "I had a horrid night last night and, god, I don't even remember-- but never mind. Sorry. Sorry, again. What do you want me to do?"

Miss. Irons sighed. "Begin on your workbook, place your completed book on the pile at the front of the room, Mr. Morris and I will be back in a moment."

"About that, I don't have my book. I kinda left it at home, I think--" but Myla's excuse was cut short by a shout from Miss. Irons, who had just noticed the elevator closing, and Mr. Morris's desperate face disappear behind the golden sliding doors.

"You don't have your book? Do not enter that room, Miss. Ritsmartin. I will speak to you when I return," said Miss. Irons sternly, rushing toward what Jasper assumed was the staircase right next to the Benedict Room entrance. The door slammed shut, and where the once was chaos, silence descended, broken only by Myla's muttered curses.

Jasper barely had time to decide to move forward again before he was nearly knocked off his feet by the appearance of a pair of blue coveralls and a bright red toque.

"Come on, we've got four minutes, at the most," said Morgan, jumping out from an unseen doorway at the end of Jasper's hall.

"What? Where'd you--" Jasper sputtered. Morgan raced past him, into the elevator foyer where Myla was standing.

"Who's there?" shouted Myla, alarmed. Jasper stumbled into view. "Jasper?"

Morgan grabbed Myla by the arm and pulled her toward the Benedict Room. "Grab everything you can. Come on, LET'S GO." He let Myla go and swung open one of the mahogany doors.

"What the hell!?" Myla shrieked, following Morgan into the conference room with Jasper right on her heels. The three bursting into the room were met with about ten stunned gazes from Myla's co-workers. Their shocked expressions soon turned to fear, and Morgan didn't help matters much by practically throwing himself on the long table and sweeping everything he could see into a black garbage bag he pulled out of his jacket. A woman screamed, but Morgan ignored her, as well as the large man getting ready to pull Morgan off the table and pin him to the wall.

"Myla, get those books at the front of the room! Jasper, watch the door. As soon as you see that woman, we gotta storm out of here!"

Jasper immediately sprung to his position at the door, but Myla stood cemented to the ground. The room had exploded into a flurry of sobs and shouts and several people, including Simon Knetter, were huddling under the table. "What is going on here?" Myla screamed over the melee.

Morgan didn't look at her, and grabbed the books from the front of the room himself. "What did you do last night?" he demanded.

"I--" Myla's mouth gaped, unable to finish the sentence.

"Exactly. This stuff they have you eating," he waved a piece of gum in the air before tossing it in the bag. "This stuff, it's doing something to your body, and as it turns out if you mix it with alcohol, you basically lose consciousness within the hour. That man you saw running for the door hasn't slept in 48 hours and for the first time in his life he's smoking three packs of cigarettes a day. You're a lab rat, Myla. You all are!" Morgan swept his arm dramatically across the room and the turned to Jasper. "How are we?"

"The elevator's coming up!"

"Myla, come on!" Morgan raced toward the door, but Myla stayed planted to her spot by the window, looking worriedly at a shaking Simon crouched on the floor.

"You're insane," she declared. "This is my job. If I leave..."

Morgan paused in the door, one eye on the elevator light as it flashed up the first few floors. "If you stay, they'll never let you go. Myla, you're wound up in this more than you know. Jasper's been following you."

"What!" Myla glared at Japer.

"Sorry," he said, quickly, wanting more than anything to bolt for the staircase door. The elevator car was less than ten floors away.

"They know he's after something. They know you've been seeing him. Myla, we have to go now!" The elevator car was one floor beneath them and Morgan couldn't wait to see if he'd convinced Myla. He grabbed Jasper's arm and leapt for the staircase door. Morgan bounded down the first flight of stairs and rounded the first landing, managing to steal a quick glance upwards. Jasper was trundling down the steps, but so far, no Myla. "Faster!" he shouted to his accomplice. The echoey slam of the penthouse door followed him down the concrete stairwell.

"Jasper, I will never forgive you for this." Myla was breathless, but her feet were light. "Do you know how much money I'm giving up for this -- whatever this is? Do you know how much longer I'm going to have to live with my mother? Minus all the jail time of course."

"Sorry," gasped Jasper. "But to be fair, I had about as much of a choice here as you did. Morgan, are we going to have to run all the way down?"

Morgan was about three flights ahead of Myla and Jasper. "My car is in the alley at the bottom. This is the fastest way down. Move, move!"

"FREEZE!" A deep voice and two heavy sets of feet pounded down from about three flights above Jasper, who had been overtaken by Myla. "It is unlawful to remove IntraGlobal property from the premises and you will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law if you do not stop this second!"

"Shiiiiit, Jasper, move your ass!"

Jasper picked up his pace, although he felt as though he could drop dead any second. His knees were beginning to shake.

"That was your first warning," came the security guard's booming voice. "I am now obligated to tell you that I can and will deploy the tear gas in this stairwell if you do not freeze."

"We're almost there!" Morgan was now jumping down the steps four at a time.

"You have been warned!" Shouted the security guard. "Five, four, three, two..."

Myla emitted an ear-splitting scream, masking the metallic clatter of a tear gas canister as it rolled down a flight of stairs and came to rest in one of the landings. Jasper held his breath and squinted so that he was viewing the poorly-lit stairwell through only the tiniest slits in his eyelids. The gas hissed and the security guards swore because the gas was floating upwards, away from Jasper, Myla and Morgan, who had reached the bottom of the stairs. The three burst out into the daylight and followed Morgan to a blue, rusted hatchback parked behind a dumpster.

"Morons," he laughed, opening up the driver's side door and chucking the garbage in the back seat. Jasper scrambled into the car next to the bag and pulled the passenger seat back so that Myla could sit down and close the door. Morgan jammed his keys into the ignition and the car roared to life, leaving skid marks in the alley and the IntraGlobal skyscraper quickly behind.

2006-03-29T00:14:00.000-08:00

March 29

Myla sat on her bed staring at the workbook spread open on her lap. She couldn't take it anymore. The questions. Were. The. Same. Over and over: "Describe the current state of your left arm."

It felt like... an arm?

"Describe the current state of your right buttocks."

Numb? Myla wanted to cram those questions right up someone's buttocks, that was for sure. She tossed the book across the bed so that it slid off onto the floor. Covering her head with a pillow, Myla slid under her covers and shut her eyes tight. It was just past 10 but it felt like the middle of the day for all she wanted to sleep. This wasn't fair. Sleep was her refuge. Usually all she had to do was blink twice and she was out, now all she could see when she closed her eyes was question after question, infuriatingly stamped into the back of her eyelids like demonic little Times New Roman soldiers.

Myla rolled over onto her back and concentrated, bringing Dr. Mitch out of his indefinite suspension and into his cozy little office at the front of her mind. He always put her to sleep.

"Myla, you should finish your work." Dr. Mitch was wearing a grey suit today, and he was smoking a pipe.

"Fuck that. It's not work, it's... what the hell is this Dr. Mitch? This isn't normal." Myla was sitting in an unusually agitated state, as if her mental self was just about as likely to calm down as her physical self. Dr. Mitch remained in his chair, as always, legal pad poised, one leg crossed over the other.

"It doesn't matter what it is," he said in that condescending tone he sometimes affected. "You took the job and it's your responsibility to finish it." Dr. Mitch was drawing something on his pad; doodling. She could tell he wasn't even paying attention.

"Something isn't right," said Myla, recalling how Genevieve was escorted out of the conference room that morning. No one knew where she'd gone. Miss. Irons refused to even acknowledge the woman had been there to begin with.

"That sounds like an excuse," sighed Dr. Mitch.

Myla screamed and stood up, ready to kick Dr. Mitch's smug little head clear through his office window (one of the benefits of having an imaginary therapist), when her phone rang. She threw the pillow off her head and rolled off the mattress, grabbing her cell phone from the night table. Myla glanced at the caller ID and raised her eyebrows. It was Jasper.

"Hi Myla, how are you?" Jasper sounded rather chipper, almost as if he were reading from a script (which, actually, he was).

"About to scrape my eyes out with a rusty spoon. What's up?"

"I had a great time the other day. I think we should get to know each other more. What do you say?" Jasper cleared his throat. Myla could hear him swear under his breath as he dropped a pile of cue cards and bent down to pick them up.

"Jasper, you're not a psycho, are you?"

"Huh?" Jasper flipped through a few of his cards.

"I mean, you don't like, collect any sort of bodily product like finger nails or urine, do you? And when you watch an episode of Star Trek -- if you watch Star Trek, which I'm just taking a wild guess that you do -- you realize that all of that stuff really couldn't happen in real life, right? You don't have any insane fantasies about phasers and alien robots?" Myla paused, thinking briefly of Dr. Mitch. "I guess what I'm getting at is I want to make sure you're not going to do anything horrible to me, and I ask these things because I doubt you'd tell me you were going to kill me if you really wanted to, because how dumb would I be?"

"I--" Jasper paused, thought, and let out a breath. "I don't think Star Trek is real. I'm normal."

"Let's go get a drink then. Right now. Do you know Stonehenge Pub?"

Jasper had barely agreed before Myla had ended the call, laced up her shoes and kicked the IntraGlobal workbook under her bed as she stomped out of her bedroom. Stonehenge was about five minutes from her house, so she knew Jasper would be far behind her. She didn't care too much and was content to knock back a few before he even poked his timid little head in the smokey establishment.

Stonehenge was fairly empty, as was usual for a weeknight. Blue curls of smoke hung like fluid curtains around the suspended lamps; Stonehenge was the only bar in the city which still allowed smoking. It was illegal, but the owner would go to his grave with an ashtray welded permanently to his forehead before he told his regulars they couldn't light up. Myla sat at the bar and ordered a pint before slapping down a twenty and calling for an entire pitcher, reasoning it would only be polite to buy Jasper a drink or two.

She was thirsty, again, and the beer tasted really, really good. Myla took a long drink and set her mug down. After nearly finishing her first glass she was feeling a better, calmer, if not a bit light-headed, which was strange. Myla chalked it up to her emotional session with Dr. Mitch, and smiled, recalling the imminent smackdown he'd be getting in the next few days. The suds in her quarter-pint swirled hypnotically and Myla actually jumped when someone tapped her one the shoulder. She spun around, expecting to see an equally startled Japer, but met the dark-grey eyes of a disturbingly familiar face.

"Do I know you?" asked the man, smiling in a way which suggested he knew exactly who she was.

Myla blinked and looked at her beer again. What was this stuff? Her mind felt like molasses. "You're that guy."

"You can call me Morgan," said the man, taking off his bright red toque to reveal a mop of hay-coloured hat hair. "I'm here on behalf of your date, who unfortunately couldn't make it." He shrugged. "Emergency meeting at work. May I?" Morgan took the pitcher of beer and poured himself a glass. An emergency meeting wasn't a complete lie. Technically there had been a meeting when Morgan surprised Jasper at his apartment and convinced him to stay at home while Morgan did all the dirty work with Myla. It was only fair, and only smart, Morgan had reasoned. He was the one who was fully trained and experienced, not Jasper. That's not to say any of the Operatives would be finding out about Morgan's involvement in Jasper's mission, but this was the only logical course of action in his mind.

"I don't know about this stuff," slurred Myla and pushing her glass away.

"Myla, dear, how much have you had?" Morgan smirked, raising his glass to her and taking a sip of the draught. Absolute piss-water -- what was her deal?

"Just this one," Myla giggled. A tiny spark of comprehension seemed to flicker in the back of her mind. "I'm probably not supposed to mix them." Myla tried to remember something in the contract she'd signed about alcohol. It may have mentioned something, but... "Where's Jasper?" She asked.

"I told you. He's at work. Myla, mix what? What aren't you supposed to mix?" Morgan set down his beer and grabbed her arm. He had intended on spending at least a couple hours with the girl, gaining her confidence, buying her a few drinks and maybe then asking her a few guarded questions about IntraGlobal, but it seemed this one innocuous beer had done his work for him.

Myla looked down at his grip and smiled. "You're kinda hot." She leaned in toward Morgan, who took her gently by the shoulders and pushed her upright.

"Can we get some water here?" He asked the bartender. She wouldn't be any use to him if she passed out now. "What is IntraGlobal giving you? Are they making you take drugs?"

Myla scowled. "No. Just this fucking gum. Which I fucking hate. It makes me want to fucking scream!"

Morgan laughed a little and took the glass of water from the bartender, holding it up in front of Myla's face. She grabbed the glass and started chugging the water.

"Gum? That's it? That's all they make you eat?" Morgan took a drink of his beer and mulled this over. Gum was a strange way to ingest a substance, but it certainly wasn't unheard of. And the more he thought about, the more sense it made. How else would you test a potentially dangerous substance on a willing group of people? No one's going to question gum.

Myla was just finishing her water when someone in the corner of the bar caught her eye. "Oh, hey. I know that dude. At least I've seen him-- at IntraGlobal." She smiled and waved at the stoic-looking man smoking a cigarette at a table by himself.

Morgan glanced at him casually over his shoulder, turned back toward the bar and whispered. "Shit, they're following you? Already? What the hell did Jasper do?" He raked a hand through his hair and finished up his beer. They needed a way out. The man obviously hadn't recognized him -- Morgan would have been in custody already if that were true -- but there was no doubt he'd be listening closely to their conversation and watching them both like a hawk. Morgan took inventory of the situation: seedy bar, really drunk girl. He turned to Myla. "Let's play a little game, okay?"

Myla blinked back, her eyes still unfocused but gaining clarity. "Yeah, man, anything you say."

Morgan put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her a little closer. "Don't scream. This is just a game, remember?" Myla nodded, and smiled as Morgan took her face in one hand and and leaned in, pretending to whisper something in her ear. Every move he made, down to the lascivious grin on his face was well-choreographed -- or would have been, hand Myla not cut it short, turned her head and kissed Morgan before he even had a chance to position themselves in full view of the stalker. He almost smirked in spite of himself. That was way too easy.

Myla leaned into Morgan and pulled out of the kiss. "Oh my God, I'm so tired," she said, leaning her head against his chest, her eyes still closed.

Morgan shook her gently. "Come on Myla. Not yet. You were perfect. Come on, let's go."

"Home?" Myla murmured, slipping off the bar stool with Morgan's arm firmly around her waist.

"Yeah. You have to show me where you live so I can put you to bed," said Morgan, leading her slowly out of the Stonehenge and stealing a quick glance at the smoking man in the corner. Myla's stalker seemed bored by the entire affair, if not a little disappointed.

"Put me to bed? Cheeky... I'm not that easy," Myla giggled.

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Morgan, pulling Myla in the direction she pointed. "But you have nothing to worry about because despite what everyone I know will tell you, I do have standards."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Myla managed to sound a little bit offended.

"It means you'll be asleep the second your head touches the pillow. And I don't have sex with women who are unconscious," said Morgan, who shifted Myla so that her arm was draped over his shoulders and he was half-dragging her down the sidewalk.

"Good," she said. "Because I'm really tired."

"I know," grunted Morgan, rounding the corner to where Myla mumbled she lived. "Come on," he said, helping her up the front steps and through the door. He looked around the front entrance of the home, a dozen shoes littered the foyer and about ten sets of keys hung from a kitschy key holder fastened to the wall. "Don't tell me you still live with your parents."

"Myla? Is that you"

Morgan almost dropped Myla, but regained his balance just in time to see a short, worried-looking woman in a long skirt sweep around the corner. "You must be Mrs. -- Myla's mother," he said.

"What has she done?" The woman strode across the room and lifted Myla's face in her hands. "Is she drunk? On a school night? Who are you?" she demanded.

"Go away, Mom," mumbled Myla, raising her head and putting a little more weight on her own two feet. "And for your information, it's not a school night, because I quit school. They practically kicked me out. And I got a job. And it sucks, but guess what? I'm making a shit-load of money, and I'm going to move out. I'm going to live with--" Myla looked at Morgan, as if trying to place his face. Morgan smiled weakly. "I'm going to live with this guy. And we're going to have beautiful blonde babies."

"You quit school?" Myla's mother was shrieking but her daughter seemed to be dozing off again. "Look at me! We're going to talk about this right now!"

Myla was leaning heavily against Morgan once more and he was beginning to slump under her weight. "Listen ma'am, I'm sorry you had to see Myla like this but she really isn't in any condition to talk right now. I'm going to take her to her room if you'll just show me where it is."

Myla's mother snapped her head up and gave Morgan a glare before pointing down a dark hallway. Morgan chose not to waste any more time with this dragging nonsense and scooped Myla up into his arms. Her head lolled backwards, but it made no difference. She was out cold. Morgan pushed open the bedroom door and snapped on a light. He unceremoniously dropped Myla onto her bed and quickly scanned the room, hoping to find something before Myla's mother decided he'd spent enough time in her unconscious daughter's bedroom.

Junk, junk -- bingo! His eyes fell on an open coiled work book tossed halfway under Myla's bed. Morgan picked it up and flipped through it quickly; he didn't have enough time to read the scribbly blue notes that covered half the pages, but he knew it was something: the IntraGlobal logo was stamped on the bottom of every page. Morgan turned to run out of the room, but reconsidered and stayed a few seconds to cover Myla with a blanket and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you darlin' I'll be seeing you in a couple days, I expect."

2005-11-27T23:11:00.000-08:00

November 27

Myla didn't sleep well at all that night, but she was still rather refreshed the next morning when she walked into the Benedict Room, right on time. The other eleven employees were chatting animatedly, sipping from their water glasses. Myla noticed for the first time an absence of coffee in the room She never drank it -- she tried once, for a year, and there were disasterous, hyper-active related results -- but the absence of the ubiquitous Tim Hortons cup still jumped out at her. She pushed her hair out of her face and sat down next to Simon.

"You're on time today," she said, shrugging off her coat.

"I'm always on time on Tuesdays," he said, setting down his water, which he had finished in one continuous gulp. "Mondays mess me up because they always come after Sunday, which is like, the weekend."

Myla took a long drink of her water. She was very thirsty. "What about the other days?"

"I'm usually pretty burnt out by Wednesday. Then I got my Tai Chi class on Wednesday nights, and me and The Jones close down the Dog and Frog, so Thursdays are a bust and--"

"Sorry I asked," said Myla. "Wait-- Tai Chi?"

"For sure," said Simon, pushing back his tangled hair. "It really centres me. You know, calms the soul. You should come."

Myla nodded, although she was quite sure she'd never attend a Tai Chi class with Simon Knetter and "The Jones." She'd much rather lead a off-centred life, she thought. She turned her attention to Miss. Irons who was shuffling papers at the head of the conference table.

"Good morning," she said, silencing the dull chatter immediately. "We have a lot to do today, so we'll get started right away. First, I trust everyone has completed Day 1 of their log books?"

Myla had completed the required log book pages the night before. It had been just as banal as her day of gum chewing and card playing -- the afternoon activities the group was subjected to after lunch. The questions were simple, but unsettlingly personal. She had to record how many times she'd gone to the bathroom (two) what she'd had for dinner (ice cream) and how many hours of sleep she'd gotten (six), not to mention a detailed analysis of what her head, stomach, back and limbs felt like at two-hour intervals, right up to midnight. Half-way through her 8 o'clock stomach paragraph, Myla began to wonder if maybe these things they were testing were potentially harmful, despite what Miss. Irons had told them the day before. Why else would they need to know all this stuff?

Miss. Irons was making her rounds with the blue box, tossing the small, black, plastic packages in front of everyone and collecting their log books. Myla ripped her package open and gave an involuntary shudder when four pieces of gum skittered onto the glossy surface of the table. She immediately reached for her iPod, unwilling to listen to even a second of Simon's slobbery gum-chewing.

"As you can see, you will be testing gum again, and while this looks and tastes quite similar to yesterday's product, I can assure you, they are very different." She slowed her pace to flip through a few of the log books. "I must stress the importance that no one but you see the contents of these log books. It is also important that you not discuss the items we test here, or the activities you participate in." She returned to the front of the room. "You may begin."

Myla stared at her gum with dreaded resignation and flipped open the day's booklet to skim through the pages and pages of what seemed like identical questions to the day before. She plugged in her earphones and popped the first piece of gum into her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the French woman, Genevieve, push her chair out from the table and walk over to Miss. Irons. Myla couldn't hear what they were talking about, because of her earphones, but she could tell Genevieve was whispering. Miss. Irons listened to what she had to say and then stood up, took Genevieve's arm and walked with her out of the Benedict Room.

**

Jasper received a message from the Operatives half-way through his morning at IntraGlobal. It was rather embarrassing.

Bea Porter, the front desk clerk, had made a special trip up to the 16th floor to deliver Jasper his bouquet of flowers. Jasper was busy in the copy room, struggling with a particularly nasty paper jam, when Bea snuck up behind him, beaming behind a spray of baby's breath and miniature carnations.

"Someone's got a secret admirer!" She sang, plopping the flowers down on the top of the photocopier. Jasper looked at the flowers and then at Bea, who looked about as excited as a four-year-old on Christmas. "So, Jasper, who's the lucky girl? Do you know, or are you as surprised as I was when these were dropped off at my front desk? Oh, glory, how exciting for you!"

Jasper picked up the bouquet carefully, took a cautious sniff and turned back to Bea, who was giggling softly. "Who delivered these?"

"Oh, I don't know. A man in blue coveralls. Read the card, read what it says!" She waved frantically at the pink card tucked into the middle of the bouquet. Jasper fished it out and read it aloud. "Thanks for lunch at Evansborough Park. You're a total hottie. Love, your secret admirer." Jasper immediately regretted reading the card out loud. Bea was positively giddy. "Thanks Bea," he said, and turned back to his paper jam.

Bea giggled again and rushed out of the copy room, no doubt to spread the word of Jasper and his newfound status as a hottie. He looked at the card again. Obviously the flowers were from the Operatives, but there was no such place as Evansborough Park. The name did sound familiar though, so Jasper dug out a telephone book and flipped to the 'E' section. The only Evansborough was a law firm in a building several blocks from IntraGlobal. Thoroughly puzzled over what the rest of the note meant, Jasper pushed his confusion out of his mind for the moment, intent on fixing the damn photocopier once and for all, and leaving figuring out the exact location of his next meeting till lunch.

Several hours later, he still had no clue what the note meant. But he figured he should go anyway, start heading in the direction of the building with the law firm, and count on the apparent constant surveillance of the Operatives to come to his rescue.

He kept expecting to be pulled into an alleyway, tackled from behind or scooped up into a moving vehicle, but nothing happened. In fact, he was ten minutes late for his meeting with the Operatives when he reached the building in which the Evansborough law firm was located. Jasper stood at the front doors, quite similar to the revolving glass doors of the IntraGlobal building, at a loss. Should he go in? Jasper turned around in a slow circle, trying to spot Morgan's bright blonde head, or the tall and lanky Lucas, but no luck. All he could see was the lunch crowd bustling back and forth, the window washers across the street, dangling from the outside of a blue glass building and a concrete ram leading down to the underground parkade-- which had a large neon "Park" sign anchored above the entrance.

Jasper smirked. He might just be getting the hang of this spy thing yet. He took off with a purposeful step toward the entrance of the parkade, and down the concrete ramp, disregarding the sign warning pedestrians to stay off the roadway. He had to flatten himself against the grimy wall as a Mustang hugged a hairpin turn and nearly clipped him on its way up. An echoey silence met Jasper as he emerged from the up-ramp onto the first level of the parkade. A door slammed in the distance and Jasper checked his watch; he'd be due back at IntraGlobal in about half an hour, and he was still really hungry. He walked up one row of parked cars, unsure of what he was looking for and beginning to doubt he'd solved the Operative's clue at all. Just before he was about to turn around and head back up to the surface, a gleaming white van, with its backdoor propped open only slightly, caught his eye. He approached it and slowly pried open the door to peek inside.

"Hurry up, you're late," said Rita, reaching for his arm and pulling him inside.

"Sorry. It took me awhile to figure out where you were," said Jasper. "Plus now everyone at work is calling me Hotlips, so thanks a lot." He looked around the van. Rita, Pete and Lucas were sitting up against the sides of the van. Morgan was the only Operative not present.

Rita took the white radio, set it in the middle of the van floor and crossed her arms. "Hey, think about it. There is a science to this sort of communication. If we'd given you a phone call, do you think it would have been more or less suspicious than the flowers we sent you?"

Jasper thought about it, and couldn't help but agree that a phone call to a gopher, who had never received a phone call in all the time he'd ever worked at IntraGlobal, would be get much more attention than the flowers. At least more questions would be asked.

Rita took his silence as agreement, nodded and flicked on the radio. "Boss, we're all in."

"Good. We'll have to make this quick. Is Operative Morgan continuing to secure the entrance?" Boss's voice came clear over the speaker, despite them being underground.

"Operative Morgan will remain at the entrance to the Parkade until we're done, Boss. He's contacted us to confirm Operative Jasper was not followed," said Pete.

"Excellent. But we must continue to be vigilant. I feel it's only a matter of time before Operative Jasper's actions become suspicious, and we need to be one step ahead of IntraGlobal on that account and pull Operative Jasper before... it's too late." Boss paused, most likely thinking, as all the Operatives were, about their fallen partner. "On that note, Operative Jasper, tell us what you've learned."

"Um, not a lot," said Jasper, starting to sweat. He didn't want to mention the confidentiality agreement, Morgan had told him not to, saying that they'd figure out how to get past it the next time he met up with Myla. "I mean, it seems she didn't know too much. They're testing a product. They have her there all day in the Benedict Room, as far as I could tell, it's a whole group of people they have working there. They're paying her a lot of money-- $5,000 a week." He stopped, unsure if he'd told Boss that already. It was all a nerve-wracking blur at this point.

"This is a good start, Operative. I have expected IntraGlobal to keep a tight leash on their employees so I don't want you to be discouraged. Meet up with your contact again, and see if you can gain her trust. You'll be surprised how much someone will tell you if they think they can trust you."

Jasper's confidence swelled slightly at these encouraging words. Even though he'd never met him, Boss seemed like his old Grade 3 teacher: confident and supportive. "Thanks Boss, I'll meet with her today."

"Good. Remember: extreme discretion. Good day, Operatives." The radio went silent. Rita flicked it off.

"You better get back to work. We'll drive you," she said, already climbing out of the back of the van and walking around to the driver's door.

**

Mr. Leland was staring out one of the large windows in his expansive office when Miss. Irons entered the room. She shut the heavy door behind her gently, but it still made a soft click, which Mr. Leland acknowledged only by shifting his feet.

Miss. Irons cautiously moved toward her boss's desk. "Sir, I--"

"Security has already informed me of the possible breach," said Mr. Leland. He turned around to face Miss. Irons, who was pale. "What are you doing about it?"

"Well thankfully we haven't gone too far in the program. Mrs. Etois has been removed, and I've determined the leak won't be too detrimental, as she only showed her husband the log book, nothing which would lead anyone to think--"

"Etois?" Mr. Leland interrupted again. "I'm talking about the girl, Ritsmartin."

Miss. Irons' eyes widened and she placed her hands on Mr. Leland's desk-- almost for support. She didn't need another leak. "Ritsmartin? I haven't heard this, what happened?"

"We don't know for sure yet. It could be nothing. But there was a telephone call to her house," said Mr. Leland. He walked over to his desk and picked up a sheet of paper. "There was a five second phone call from this building to her home two days ago."

Miss. Irons narrowed her eyes. "But that was the day we hired her, are you sure--"

"We've looked into it. When we called her, we used a different number than this one, possibly a cell phone. This call was made to her home phone number. And it was made on the 16th floor."

"Jasper?"

Mr. Leland sat down. "Exactly. It was an extremely short call though, like I said, no more than five seconds. Still, we need to begin surveillance on both individuals. I'll have security tail Mr. Kleff before and after work. We'll bug Miss. Ritsmartin's home line and follow her starting tomorrow. We can't spare any more employees dropping out of the program, so for now, we'll use extreme caution." Mr. Leland sighed. "This may, after all, just be a case of two people meeting one another and doing what young people do..."

2005-11-22T23:03:00.000-08:00

I suck. I know. Totally not going to make the 50K mark this year. My brain is too everywhere. Kirsten isn't here to bug me to write... etc etc. Next installment will appear... let's say 3 days.

Cheers, my two readers.

2005-11-19T15:03:00.000-08:00

November 19

Jasper checked his watch for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. Work was almost over, and he was gearing himself up for his date with Myla, which under normal circumstances would be nerve-wracking enough. Today he had a whole other set of issues to deal with, none of which he'd been aware of until Morgan had met him incognito during lunch hour at the Subway around the corner. Morgan's blond hair was stuffed under a bright red toque and he had a fake mustache on. It was pretty weird. After they'd ordered their sandwiches (Jasper: a sweet onion teriyaki without the onions and Morgan: 12-inch cold cuts with everything, including three different kinds of sauces), Morgan led Jasper to a corner booth and immediately began going over the details of the date.

"So first of all, you can't let anyone see you talking to her," he said, taking an enormous bite out of his sub. "Jesus, this is disgusting." He took another bite.

Jasper nodded. He wouldn't have thought of that, but it made sense. If Mr. Leland knew he might be up to something, he didn't have to give his boss any other reason to call him back for a surprise morning chat in the scary blue office. "How am I going to meet her then? I told her to wait for me outside the building."

"I'll show you how when we're done here. It's pretty simple. So we'll make sure no one is following her. We'll -- I mean, you, really -- will take her to a secure location and double check her for bugs," said Morgan. "Then you can go to a coffee shop, or where ever the hell you want."

"What do I ask her?"

Morgan had Italian sauce running down his chin, he stuck his tongue out and licked up half the trail. "Don't go right into it. She'll think you're a freak. Ask her normal stuff. What's your dog's name? Yada yada. You know."

Jasper took a bite of his sub. "And then?"

"Just kind of ease into it." Morgan wiped his mouth again and rolled his eyes. "No offense or anything, but I have no idea why they got you doing this. There is so much shit that could go wrong. Just be happy you have me to help you."

Jasper had finished his sandwich and wondered whether Morgan was taking this all a little too seriously. Now, waiting for the time he had to meet up with Myla, he was beginning to think about all the things that could, indeed, go wrong.

Myla was mentally exhausted by the end of her first day at IntraGlobal, but at the same time she had a peculiar energy that made her slightly anxious and itchy to meet up with Jasper and go wherever he had planned to take her. At 5 o'clock on the dot she was outside the IntraGlobal doors, waiting near the wall so that she was out of the way of all the cubicle-dwellers rushing to get home to their beer and recliners. Ever-punctual, and impatient with those who did not share the obsession with being on time, Myla tapped her foot and searched the crowd for the short man with a rumpled lavender shirt, who in all probability was wearing something different this day. She checked her watch after three minutes, huffed into her bright red scarf and gave Jasper another four minutes to show up, or she was going to bolt. Harsh, maybe, but they'll never learn otherwise, she thought.

Thirty seconds to deadline and Jasper emerged from the revolving doors. Myla pushed herself up from the wall and tried to make eye contact with him as he came rushing toward her. She was sure he saw her. There was a brief moment of recognition in his eyes, but then he looked away and walked straight past her, as though he had somewhere much more important to be. Myla frowned, opened her mouth to call out to Jasper, but stopped when she felt something hit her shoe. It was a piece of paper, folded tight into a square, like a note passed from desk to desk in junior high school. She looked at Jasper, but he was already half a block away. Myla picked up the note, it had a giant M on it, so she unfolded and read the brief instructions typed in a Courier font:

Stanely A. Milner Library
Non-Fiction Large Print
See you there

Myla lowered the note, at a loss for words. This was insane. Jasper was insane. But she had nothing else to do, and her mother was serving leftover eggplant mush for dinner, so she set off toward the library, which was about three blocks north of the IntraGlobal building. It was slow going because the after-work crowd was generally heading in the opposite direction of Myla, toward the bus stops and car parks, and she wondered how Jasper had disappeared so fast. The crowd thinned, however, as Myla reached the library, picked her way past the bums and tweakers and pushed her way into the foyer of the library, which was anything but quiet. University students leaned on railings, waiting for their buses out of the icy wind. Moms and their kids flipped through cardboard picture books and senior citizens sipped on their Starbucks coffee, shaking their heads at the sloppy teenagers, who were angling their skateboards against their lanky, black-clad bodies. Myla folded Jasper's note and slipped it in her pocket, heading further into the library, silence slowly enveloping her as she left the chaos of a downtown daytime population behind. She drifted past European and South American history, not totally sure of where the large print section was, only knowing it was somewhere in the vicinity. Finally she spotted the banner on the far wall, one corner hanging limply; not a single person was in sight.

"Jasper?" she whispered, peeking around the corners of the adjacent bookshelves. Was she supposed to be looking for him? Was this a game? If it was, it was really stupid. Myla sat down on a step ladder and folded her arms. One minute this time. That's all he was getting.

"Myla!"

Myla jumped on her stool at the whisper, which seemed to be coming from the row of books behind her. She peered through the gaps in the shelf. Jasper waved and beckoned her to come to the other side. Too confused to protest, she got up and rounded the corner to find Jasper with his hands in his pockets, smiling apologetically. "Hey, how's it going?" he whispered.

"What the hell?" Myla didn't bother using her library voice.

"Sorry," whispered Jasper. "Sorry I made you come all this way. I just, um-- I'm shy and I didn't want anybody I worked with to see us. I mean, not that I don't think you're pretty or anything but what I'm saying is uh--- we just had to come here, is all. Sorry." Jasper was flustered. He blew out his cheeks and smiled again.

Myla gave a weak smile in return. "Sure. So are we going to stand here and talk, or what?"

"Oh, no. We're going somewhere in a second. We just have to wait." Jasper looked around the nearly-empty library, apparently looking for someone.

Myla couldn't help but stare at him. This had already gone too far and this day certainly wasn't going to end with her chopped up and in Jasper's deep-freeze. "You know what, Jasper. Actually, I have to be somewhere, I forgot. Maybe we can do this another time?" For instance, when hell freezes over?

Jasper didn't seem to hear her. "How do you feel about ice cream?" He asked, still searching the rest of the library, for who? His partner in crime, perhaps. Good ol' Chain Saw Charlie. "Oh!" Jasper said this quietly, to himself, and suddenly turned his attention back to Myla as a young blond man came strolling toward them.

"Excuse me, but do you have the time?" The man was holding an electronic organizer, the little plastic pen poised over the screen. His dark grey eyes narrowed and he gave Myla the once-over, winking at her as Jasper gave him the time. "Thanks," he said, and walked away.

"Ready?" Said Jasper as the man walked off. Myla nodded slowly. "Great. I know a place. Let's go."

And from then on, the date was about as normal as it could be. Jasper took Myla to a make-your-own-sundae place, via the underground walkway, and insisted on buying her the butterscotch ripple with gummy bears creation. "By far the best," he insisted. They sat in one of the cherry-red vinyl booths and dug into their sundaes, which Myla had to admit, where pretty fantastic.

"So, how was your day?" asked Jasper.

Myla thought about the mind-numbing questionnaire, the minty gum that started tasting like chalk towards the end of the morning, and Simon's grunting noises as he chewed. They nearly drove her mad after about three seconds, and so as not to repeat the infamous Economics incident, she'd been given special permission from Miss. Irons to listen to her music throughout the morning. It had worked, though it did amplify her own chewing noises, which didn't bother her as much, but still made her slightly queasy so that she could only choke down her tomato and cheese sandwich for lunch. But she couldn't tell Jasper any of this, as trivial as it was (the workbook was about 600 questions, the answers to which only a rabid gum connoisseur would care about). So she abridged the day's events for Jasper. "My day was not bad, you?"

Jasper shrugged. "You know. Work."

Myla nodded and took a bite of her ice cream, happy she wasn't going to get a ten minute discussion of filing, or whatever the hell it was Jasper actually did.

"So, um--" Jasper stared into his ice cream, stirring the butterscotch and gummies so that they spiraled up toward his spoon. "Do you, like, have any pets or anything?"

And thus began the 20-minute interrogation, wherein Jasper quizzed Myla regarding every aspect of her life besides work. Her answers were generally one or two words. She didn't really get into much, simply because she didn't know Jasper and if she had told the total truth he would have been invariably bored or freaked out by the answers. Besides, it didn't really seem like he was listening to what she was saying, more he was asking the questions as if reading them off a list, working his way down until he got to the actual point of the conversation. Which he did, eventually. Myla got the impression that Jasper thought he was being rather sneaky. But he was pretty obvious.

"So tell me a little more about this job of yours. It sounds exciting," he said, and pushed his empty bowl to the side of the table.

Myla responded with a humourless gaze. "I can't, actually."

Jasper's face fell. He looked almost frightened. "Why not?"

Myla folded her arms on the table. "Confidentiality agreement. Sorry."

"Oh," Jasper forced a laugh. "Sounds pretty top secret."

Myla scrunched her nose. "Not really. I mean, it seems pretty normal to me. IntraGlobal is just really freaky about not letting anybody know about the products they're testing, is all."

"Products?" Jasper leaned in across the table. "They had you testing stuff, personally?"

Myla immediately realized she'd said too much. She shook her head rapidly. "Sorry."

"Like medicine? Food?... Toys?"

"I can't say anything, Jasper. I'm sorry," Myla said, thoroughly regretting it. It seemed so banal, so totally harmless. And yet... $20 million is far from harmless. "I should probably get going."

Jasper sighed. "Yeah. Thanks Myla, this was fun." And he meant it.

"Sure," said Myla sliding out from the booth. "This was... weird."

2005-11-16T22:08:00.000-08:00

November 16

Twelve crystal clear glasses, each filled with exactly the same amount of ice cold water sat in front of twelve dark red, leather chairs around the massive slab of a conference table in the Benedict Room of the IntraGlobal ComSphere building. The only person in the room was an attractive woman in her thirties. She brushed a fleck of lint off her tailored navy suit and smoothed her blond hair, straightening a pile of papers at the head of the table where she was standing, waiting for her employees to arrive for their first day's work. The woman, who would only be addressed as Miss. Irons, had been in the Benedict Room for the last hour, preparing the first week's packages for her employees, and reviewing their profiles, which security had provided her with.

Each of the twelve that would be working at IntraGlobal for the next six weeks were deemed the lowest security risks out of all of the applicants they'd had attend their orientation meetings. Every applicant had been given a score; a zero made you the most trustworthy person alive, 100 made you Hitler. IntraGlobal accepted no one over 10. The scores were determined through a number of security checks, including a police check, among the most conventional, as well as an examination of an applicants medical and psychological history, something not every governmental body can get its hands on.

Miss. Irons looked up as her first employee came through the heavy double doors. "Mr. Ahubudu. Welcome, have a seat." Miss. Irons' eyes flickered down to the pile of papers she held in her hand. No need to look, she knew Diyon Ahubudu was a four. A Sri Lankan immigrant with three children and a doctorate in microbiology.

Two more employees arrived. Genevieve Etois and Thomas Ridley. A seven and a five. A former nurse and an architect, who for the past three years, has been on disability. Miss. Irons welcomed them both and they each took their seats. Mr. Ridley started chatting with Mr. Ahubudu.

The doors opened again and a young woman walked though. Miss. Irons nodded and gave a small smile. Myla Ritsmartin, university student and a two, the lowest score of all of the employees. This was possibly because she was so young, she hadn't had any time to align herself with questionable organizations, or be arrested. All she had on her record was a parking ticket (paid for with her mother's credit card) and a single session with the university counsellor two years ago, during which nothing unusual had been recorded.

Myla sat down at the end of the table, shrugged off her jacket and skimmed over the first page of a pile of papers in front of her. But it was still early, and the legal jargon was hurting her brain, so she quickly abandoned that and took a sip of the bone-chilling water, which made her back teeth hurt. The rest of the employees were slowing trickling in, until all but one seat had been filled and Miss. Irons signalled the start of the meeting by clearing her throat and smiling a tight smile.

"Good morning, everyone. My name is Miss. Irons and I will be presiding over your work here for the next six weeks. I am sure you are all curious as to what exactly you will be accomplishing here at IntraGlobal ComSphere, and I will get to that topic shortly, but first I need you all to take a look at the packages in front of you, specifically the first page," said Miss. Irons, holding up a sheet of paper and waving it slightly.

There was a soft rustling as everyone around the table picked up their pages. Miss. Irons was about to speak but was cut short as someone burst through the double doors and every employee turned around to see who it was.

"Sorry I'm late everyone. Sorry."

Simon Knetter, thought Miss. Irons. A nine, and an entrepreneur, apparently. She narrowed her eyes at the man, who took the last empty seat, beside Myla.

"I was saying-- this sheet of paper is the confidentiality agreement every employee of IntraGlobal must sign. It is imperative that you sign this. It is a legal and binding document, and should you break it, severe legal sanctions may be enforced."

Myla tried reading the page again, but couldn't get past the third sentence. She raised her hand. "Sorry, but what does this mean? Like, I know what a confidentiality agreement is, but--"

"It means that whatever you do, or see here in this room does not become dinner table conversation. We will be dealing with products still in their development phase. You man not, under any circumstances, discuss items we view or test in this room to anyone."

Myla's eyes widened. She raised her hand again. "And what do 'legal sanctions' mean, exactly?"

Miss. Irons scanned the paper. "Second paragraph from the end," she said.

Myla read and then laughed a little. "They couldn't seriously sue us for 20 million dollars." At this, an equally incredulous murmur broke out in the room.

"They can, and they have," said Miss. Irons. "Now please sign your agreements, or leave the room. We have a lot we need to do today."

Nobody got up to leave. There was a flurry of pens scratching out signatures, and people began passing their confidentiality agreements up to the head of the table. Myla took another quick look over the document and then shrugged. Who was she going to tell anyway? As far as her parents, and most of her friends knew, she was still at university. So she signed it and passed it up, eager to see what was so important that they had to sign away the GNP of a small nation in order to keep quiet. Whatever it was, she hoped it had something to do with coffee; she was completely bagged.

Miss. Irons collected the papers in a neat pile and slipped them into her brief case. She leaned down to the floor and brought up a bright blue cardboard box with a fitted lid, which she pulled off and placed gently on the table. Miss. Irons began walking around the table, speaking as she went. "Each morning for the first two weeks, I will be giving each one of you a sample food. You will ingest the food, or taste it, rather, and then report your opinions of the food in the accompanying test package." Miss. Irons lifted up the spiral-bound booklet that had been sitting in front of one of the employees. "The tasting period involves a number of stages, which are detailed in your packages. This should take all morning. After lunch, we will engage in a number of activities, and you will be instructed what to do when the time comes." Miss. Irons had reached the end of the room near the double doors. She dipped her hand into the blue box and came up with a small black plastic bag, which had been sealed shut. She passed the first bag to Myla, and then went along the table once more, handing out a plastic bag to each employee. "At the end of the day you will be given a log book, which you will be required to take home and fill out every evening. The log book contains specific questions regarding the sample foods you have tasted and tested during the day." Miss. Irons finished handing out the bags and returned to her spot at the head of the table.

A grey-haired woman with a french accent was the one to raise her hand this time. "These foods. They are safe, no?"

"They are very safe," Miss. Irons replied curtly. "Of course, if you have any allergies, you will be allowed to skip a sample food." But she knew no one in the room had any allergies. That had been the deal breaker for most of the applicants. Miss. Irons looked around the room, searching for another question, but most people seemed mollified. "You may begin," she said, and then sat down in her chair to watch her twelve employees struggle with the tiny black bags.

Myla ripped hers open and dumped its contents onto the shiny surface of the conference table. Four white squares slid out of the bag. Myla held one up and took a closer look. This was what they were testing? Chicklets?

"Now, be sure to read the instructions before you begin to ingest the food," said Miss. Irons, her hands folded on the table. She didn't seem to be going anywhere, and was watching all twelve employees like they were kelptos in a jewelry store.

Myla flipped open the first page of her book, which was about 100 pages, both sides of the paper. She snuck a glance over at Simon, who had managed to drop most of his chicklets on the ground. She smiled, shook her head and turned back to the book.

1. Take one piece of gum, put in mouth, chew slowly.

2. Complete pages 2-25.

3. Dispose of gum after 1 hour. Take subsequent pieces of gum until finished.

The rest of the page was blank. Myla took a chicklet and popped it in her mouth. She looked over at Simon again, who was grinning. "Minty!"

Myla flipped to the next page. There were about a dozen questions per page, each with two or three lines of blank space following the text. Question one: Describe the taste of the gum. Question two: Describe the texture of the gum. Question three: Describe the moisture content of the gum. Myla sighed. This was worse than her statistics course.

2005-11-15T20:26:00.000-08:00

November 15

Myla was contemplating whether she should cut her losses with the new day and stay in bed again until her parents were asleep in 12 hours and she could sneak down to the fridge without anyone noticing. Life from beneath her covers was appealing, but three things, occurring in quick succession managed to get Myla out of bed and dressed before noon.

The first two events were phone calls. Myla's cell phone rang, and while under the circumstances she might have let the call go to voicemail, there was a lucrative job on the line, and Myla wasn't going to let feeling sorry for herself get in the way of parental emancipation. So she lifted the covers and grabbed her cell, which was vibrating on her bedside table.

"Myla Ritsmartin." Myla sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, fixing her tangled hair with her fingers, as though the secretary from IntraGlobal ComSphere could see her horrendous hairdo over the phone. Myla made affirmative noises into the phone, smiled and then fell back into the bed, kicking her legs into the air. She'd gotten the job.

"Your first day is tomorrow. Please meet in the same room you had your initial meeting at 8 a.m." The secretary asked if there were any questions, though both she and Myla knew very well that no questions would be answered. Myla clicked off the phone and stood up to do a happy dance.

"Screw you school. Screw your three strikes disciplinary policy," Myla sang. She pulled up her blinds and peered out the window, which looked straight into her neighbour's upstairs bathroom. It was raining. No matter, Myla's newfound employment called for a celebration, and she was still deciding what she should do when the house phone rang. Myla flew out of her room, too happy to ignore whatever tele-marketer was surely on the other end. Reaching the cordless in the hallway, she read the caller ID, and was perplexed to see an IntraGlobal number flash up on the tiny green screen. Strange, Myla thought, she hadn't given them their home number. She shrugged and answered anyway.

"Hi, is this Myla... Ritsmartin?"

"Yes," said Myla, trying to place the nervous-sounding voice.

"Hi. It's Jasper Kleff... from yesterday? The guy at the bus."

Myla winced. The IntraGlobal conspiracy nut. What on earth had possessed her to give him her last name? The must have slipped some sort of drug into her water during the meeting. That was the only explanation. "Hi, Jasper... what's up?"

"Oh, nothing... I was -- I'm calling to-- OH NO. Uh, can I call you back in like, two seconds?" She could hear him cursing under his breath.

"Okay?" The phone clicked dead almost immediately and Myla pressed her own 'end' button, thoroughly mystified. Three seconds later, the phone rang again. This time the caller ID showed an unknown number.

"Hi, it's Jasper again. Sorry about that."

"Is everything okay?" asked Myla. Jasper sounded frightened, and not in an asking-a-total-stranger-out kind of way.

"Yeah, fine," Jasper said quickly. "Sorry if I sound a bit rushed, but I wanted to uh, phone you before you forgot all about me." He laughed at his own apparent charm, and Myla waited. "I was wondering if you wanted to go out... for like coffee or something, sometime. Maybe."

Myla frowned. "I don't know Jasper."

"I know it's weird because you've talked to me for like, a minute, but it's really important that I get to talk to you again," Jasper babbled.

"Important?" Myla didn't like the sound of this anymore. It had a crazy stalkerish ring to it.

"I mean, well, what I meant was I wanted to see you again and I was thinking that since I worked at IntraGlobal I could give you tips and stuff if you do get that job."

Myla brightened at the mention of her new job. "Oh, I got it, actually. I start tomorrow."

"You did? Congratulations!" Jasper sounded almost relieved. "What do you say, then? Since we're kinda co-workers, we could meet after work tomorrow. Go for ice cream or coffee or whatever."

Myla thought about it for a second. The guy did sound incredibly creepy over the phone, but that wasn't unusual; phone-voices were rarely representative. She hadn't really gotten any bad vibes from him the other day, and she had been the one to approach in the first place. Ah, what the hell. "Okay, sounds good," she said.

"Good," said Jasper. He told her to wait outside the front doors right after work, and then they hung up.

Myla had less than a minute to reflect on this possibly bad decision to make friends with IntraGlobal's possible resident psycho before the mailbox outside the front door slammed shut, indicating a visit from the friendly neigbourhood tulip-crusher, also known as Gregory the Mail Man. Myla skipped to the front door and swung it open just as Gregory was sluffing across their lawn, headed straight for the now-empty flower bed that separated the Ritsmartin front lawn with their neighbour's. There were a handful of envelopes stuffed in the mailbox and Myla grabbed them all, sorting as she drew back inside the house and wandered over to the living room couch.

Most of it was for her parents, including the crisp white envelope with the University's return address printed in the top left corner. "Shit," said Myla, ignoring any felony she might be committing and tearing into the envelope. She unfolded the stapled pages and held them up. "Application for withdrawal," she read. "Brilliant."

Myla put the form on the coffee table and stared at for a reflective moment before dashing off to the telephone table in the kitchen for a pen. The form lay open for her, waiting expectantly, upon her return.

"Name, check, address, yeah, yeah, student number? Not anymore, heh." Myla scribbled through all the required fields, hastily checking off the box for full withdrawal from all courses. Then she got to the second page. "Reason for withdrawal?" Myla sat back and chewed on the end of her pen. It was a really long story, and she didn't know how much the bureaucrats at the university really wanted to know. Was 'my poli-sci professor was fairly insistent he never see me again,' good enough?

Myla abandoned her form for a moment and reverted to one of her favourite daydreams; the one that takes place in the not-so distant future, where she's sitting on a grey suede couch in an office in a high rise building, talking to a therapist, who more often than not, is named Dr. Mitchell Rosenbaum, although he insists Myla call him Dr. Mitch.

"Myla, tell me about your time as a university student. Now, it doesn't say here, but did you graduate?" Dr. Mitch would lean back in his chair, his pen still poised on the legal pad he always keeps perched on his left knee, the one he crosses over.

"No, Dr. Mitch. The bastards kicked me out," Myla would say. She's always abrasive and bitter in these imaginary therapy sessions; Myla isn't sure why.

Dr. Mitch would frown. "What happened?"

Myla is contemplating whether she should tell the truth or not, but Dr. Mitch always knows when she's lying. "A lot of little things happened. A few disagreements with the TAs, a small fire. You know."

"A fire?" Dr. Mitch sits up a little straighter. He is alarmed.

"It was an accident," Myla reassures. "Benny Tripp's notes were absolutely useless anyway. No harm. But I guess the last straw came during my Friday economics lecture. There was a disturbance."

Dr. Mitch raises his eyebrows. "What kind of disturbance?"

Imaginary Myla and real-Myla both sigh. "I threw a calculator... and gave someone a concussion," she trails off. She doesn't even want to talk about it in her mind. But the daydream was unusually tenacious this time, and Dr. Mitch urges her to continue. Myla starts to ramble. "Well there are some things that people do, when they're not really doing anything, or at least they think they aren't, that really drives me up the wall. Like in lecture, when someone is chewing on gum behind me, and it's all I can think about; the molars gnashing, spit squishing and squirting out of the crevices in the teeth. Or when the girl in front of me can't stop playing with her hair. She combs it with her fingers, pulls it back, takes it down, brushes it. Right in the middle of class! I just-- it drives me nuts!"

"And what about the student you hit Myla? What were they doing?"

"Oh, Red Sox. I call him that because I don't know his name. He wears this stupid baseball cap, like every day of his life and-- anyway. Well first of all, he was watching an episode of Gilmore Girls on his laptop in the middle of class, which in itself doesn't bother me. I mean, I don't understand it. Why come to class if you're just going to watch a stupid TV show? But he was chewing gum, too, which totally freaks me out to begin with, and he was doing it with his mouth open. I was four rows away and even I could hear him. Ugh. I felt like puking. That, I could have handled, believe it or not. The thing is, though, with Red Sox, he's got this jaw thing, so whenever he chews, can see the motion, even though he's not facing me. Know what I mean? His ears bounce and I can see the back of his jaw bone going up and down and up and down and-- I just snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. I--" Myla stops.

"You threw your calculator at him... because his ears bounced?" Dr. Mitch looks flabbergasted. Myla doesn't blame him.

Dr. Mitch disappeared as Myla opened her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she wiped them away in surprise, unaware of when she'd started to cry. Pen still in hand, Myla bent down to complete her withdrawal form. "Reason for withdrawal?" she repeated. "I am a fucking psychopath."

Myla took a deep breath and reconsidered her reason for a moment, then scribbled out the word 'fucking.' No need to add a restraining order to the list of evidence against me, she thought, and stuffed the completed form in the self-addressed return envelope.

2005-11-13T19:33:00.000-08:00

November 13

Jasper came to work the next morning a little bit earlier than usual. Hyper-punctuality was a symptom of his nervousness; it happened all the time. And Jasper had a good reason to be nervous. The kidnapping was still fresh in his mind, and now, not only did he have the afternoon meeting with Boss to worry about, but also the fact that Morgan was possibly spying on him at all times. There was no sign of any operative-- no sign of a blue coverall, anyway-- and Jasper was feeling rather confident in his much more masculine looking shirt this morning: a baby blue short-sleeve. By the time middle management started trickling in later on the morning, Jasper felt better and less nervous after an Operative-free hour of sorting mail and catching up on his filing. In fact, he would have been in excellent shape for the meeting with Boss had his actual boss, Mark Leland not called him in for a chat about fifteen minutes to lunch.

Jasper re-read the short memo with a suffocating sense of horror. The only reason that he knew people at his level ever had meetings with Mr. Leland was when they were hired, and when they were fired. Suddenly the possibility of him being canned from two jobs, his IntraGlobal position, and that of an Operative, could actually happen. There was only one thing Mr. Leland would be firing him for, and that was what he had been doing between the hours of three and five yesterday.

A film of cold sweat settled over Jasper's skin. He thought of Roger Gordon, the quite, meek man behind the desk at shipping and receiving. Roger was dead, that's what the Operatives had told him. Dead because he'd failed at the job Jasper was currently trying to do. If he died, who would feed his cat?

Jasper forced himself into Mr. Leland's office on the tenth floor. The secretary waved toward the heavy mahogany door. "He's expecting you, go right on in." Jasper opened the door a crack and slipped in. A rich, midnight blue rug stretched from the door to a giant antique desk at the end of the room. Mr. Leland, with his thinning, white hair, trimmed beard and tiny round spectacles sat in a large leather chair. Jasper nodded to his boss, but stood straighter only when he saw a blond woman standing at Mr. Leland's side, the same woman he'd avoided eye contact with the day before at the elevator.

"Mr. Kleff. Thank you for seeing me, this won't take long."

Jasper couldn't speak. He could barely tear his eyes away from the woman, who stared straight ahead with a steely grey gaze. Mr. Leland barely acknowledged her presence. He shuffled a few papers on his desk.

"Mr. Kleff, it has been brought to my attention that you were detained by security yesterday and escorted from the top floor, specifically from the foyer outside the Benedict Room. Is this true?" Mr. Leland lifted his eyes from the pages and pushed up his glasses.

"Yes, sir." Jasper felt like he was breathing through a straw. His words, he knew, were barely above a whisper.

"I'm curious about this because according to your job description, your duties are restricted mostly to the 16th floor, the mail room and occasionally some of the accounting offices. What were you doing outside the Benedict Room?" Mr. Leland cocked his head slightly to the left, as though he were genuinely interested in sequence of catastrophes, coincidences and mistakes that led Jasper to an area he had no viable excuse to be in.

"I--" Jasper began, again stealing a look at the woman. She was unnerving. "There was a man. He dropped his wallet and I followed him. I was trying to return his wallet. I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know I wasn't supposed to be in that room."

Mr. Leland knew Jasper was lying. He could see the words written in bright red ink across his perspiring brow. He let Jasper hang for a moment. The boy didn't know anything. Not yet. He didn't look like an Operative, but one could never be too sure. That Gordon was about as pale and anemic as his beanpole of a son, and he'd nearly brought the entire project down. No, there was no way of being sure, but there was no reason he couldn't keep an eye on Jasper. "Did you find him?"

Jasper blinked. "Um--"

"The man who lost his wallet, did you return it to him?"

He bought it, Jasper thought, actually feeling the blood flow back into his face. "I did. I found him in the lobby, after-- later on, as he was leaving the building."

Mr. Leland scanned the security report in his hands. For a moment he doubted his own suspicions about Jasper. IntraGlobal personnel had clearly reported Mr. Kleff speaking with a rough-looking individual, a man, immediately following the meeting in the Benedict Room. There was no mention of a wallet changing persons, but they could have missed it. Jasper could be telling the truth. "Well that's good," said Mr. Leland. "That's all Mr. Kleff. Enjoy your lunch."

Jasper stood still for a moment before realizing he was free to go. He backed up a few steps, nodding his thanks and then turned to leave practically running out of the office. He checked his watch. Ten minutes before he had to meet the Operatives in the park. Not too shabby, Jasper thought.

He started whistling as he swung out the revolving doors onto the street. Jasper felt like he'd made it past the an incredible obstacle. He'd pulled the wool over Mr. Leland's eyes. Just like that-- right out of the blue-- he'd come up with an absolutely brilliant lie. It had even trumped the tactic he'd used the day before with Myla. There was something in him Jasper never even knew existed.

Jasper walked swiftly down the street, vaguely aware of the lunchtime crowd slowly pressing in on him. His mind was drifting, wandering over toward the men's clothing store-- top of the line-- where he would soon be picking out a tuxedo. Maybe he'd start smoking cigars. He'd definitely have to get a better haircut.

The crowd was getting thicker. Jasper turned the corner only to encounter more people. He found himself getting shunted to the side, his shoulder eventually coming into contact with a red brick wall. Jasper pushed forward, wondering if lunch in downtown Edmonton was always this busy. He usually brought a sandwich to work. Jasper couldn't find his way back into the middle of the crowd, so he edged along the wall. The park was just ahead, but a gap in the wall where a set of double black doors were, gaped open. Jasper pushed on, but before he knew it, he'd been sucked into the red brick building by a long pair of hairy arms.

The door slammed shut; it was pitch black inside. "Hey!" Jasper gasped.

"Shut up, you moron." It was Lucas. He led Jasper through the darkness toward a band of light on the floor about 30 feet ahead of them. The air was ice cold, and a constant hum quickly indicated they were in the middle of a giant industrial fridge. The reached the band of light, which turned out to be a huge metal door and Lucas pulled hard on the latch. Rita was on the other side of the door, her hands on her hips. Lucas pushed Jasper into the tiny concrete room The floor and walls were painted a greyish-blue. A buzzing neon light swung from wires hanging from the ceiling.

"Hey, I thought we were meeting in the park," said Jasper.

"We were. Till you went and nearly brought IntraGlobal security right to us," spat Pete.

"What?!" Jasper sputtered, spinning around to face each of the Operatives. "What are you talking about? They have no idea--"

Rita rolled her eyes. "You have so much to learn," she muttered. "Listen, what were you doing this morning? Did you have any unusual encounters or conversations or did you try to do anything stupid?"

Jasper balked. How could they know about his meeting? "I was called in to see my boss, Mr. Leland. He wanted to ask me about-- something that happened yesterday when I tried to get into that meeting in the Benedict Room."

"Good gravy." Rita shook her head. "Following this meeting with Leland, did you or did you not come straight out here to meet with us?" Spit was flying out of her mouth.

"Yeah, I didn't want to be late." Jasper surrepticiously wiped a bead of spit from his cheek.

"Did you, by chance, happen to take a look behind you to see security guards, dressed in IntraGlobal uniforms, no less, following you?"

"No--" Jasper smacked himself in the forehead. "No, I didn't even look."

"Exactly. You didn't look, you didn't think," said Rita, on the verge of yelling. "What you have to realize Jasper, is that somehow between the time we intercepted you yesterday and this afternoon, you've landed yourself in IntraGlobal's radar. You haven't been caught, but you came close. This completely changes your mission. We'll have to tell Boss."

"I'm sorry," said Jasper, eyeing Morgan, who did not betray a hint of what they'd talked about the day before.

"He's coming in," said Pete, waving the tiny white radio and holding it, while Jasper and the other Operatives crowded around him.

"Operatives, are we all in?" The Boss' voice crackled through the speaker.

"Here Boss," said Pete and Morgan at the same time.

"Operative Jasper, what do you have to report?"

Jasper opened his mouth to speak, but Rita butted in. "He's been compromised Boss. IntraGlobal knows something is going on with him."

"Let him speak, Operative. Jasper, has something happened?"

Jasper took a shuddered breath and recounted everything that Mr. Leland had said. Without waiting for Boss to prompt him, he launched into what had happened the day before at the Benedict Room, and the meeting he would be scheduling with Myla.

"You sound worried, Operative, but you've done a good job," Boss said, sounding a bit amused. Rita raised her eyebrows at Jasper, who could only stop holding his breath. "I knew there was a good chance, considering your level of experience, that something like this would happen. But you handled it well. We're just going to have to be more careful from now on. Don't speak of us, don't even think of us when you're in the IntraGlobal building. Go directly home after work. Operative Lucas will provide you with an untraceable cellular phone. Now as for this meeting you've arranged." Boss paused, waiting for Jasper to answer.

"Oh, yes. With Myla," said Jasper still recovering from his close call.

"Call her immediately. We will only tell her who we are if it becomes absolutely necessary. Until then, see if you can get the information you need using other methods. Once you've set up a meeting, contact Operative Pete, who will give you further instructions to ensure that IntraGlobal remains unaware of your conversations with Miss. Ritsmartin. Is this clear, Operative Jasper?"

Jasper nodded, but then spoke up, realizing Boss couldn't see him. "Yes sir. I mean Boss."

"Excellent. Good job, Operatives, I will contact you individually tomorrow for an update."

2005-11-10T23:07:00.000-08:00

November 10

Jasper couldn't believe it. He'd done it. He'd gotten the information he'd missed and to top it off, he'd ensured that he'd get more once Myla went back to her mysterious job and gave him all he needed to know. With a flush of confidence he decided to take the rest of the day off of work. No one would notice if he didn't come back for the last half hour of the day. Well, maybe mailroom Mike would, but his opinion was mattering less and less ad the day wore on. Jasper decided to treat himself to a Dairy Queen blizzard, so he crossed the street again and headed in the opposite direction of the IntraGlobal building. He'd gone about a block and a half before the full realization of what he'd just done at the bus stop dawned on him. He hadn't scheduled a follow-up meeting with Myla. He'd asked her out. She thought he wanted a to date her which... he didn't really. She was attractive, he supposed, in a kind of quirky weird-girl sort of way, but that wasn't the point. He, Jasper Kleff, was being duplicitous.

The euphoria he was feeling had dulled into a numb sensation at the pit of his stomach. He just couldn't shake the feeling that had Myla really known what he was all about, she would have slapped him in the face -- or at least punched him in the arm. He ordered a large Skor Blizzard and walked over to an empty table. This was what his life was going to be like, he rationalized. Well, this is the way it's going to be if he becomes a member of this non-group, but even that he wasn't sure of. Jasper took a bite of his ice cream and thought about the ramifications of his new occupation.

"Hey."

Jasper dropped his long red spoon on the table, spraying melted ice cream across his lavender shirt.

"What are you doing here?" Jasper sputtered.

Morgan sat down across from Jasper, grabbed a napkin and dabbed the melted ice cream from the table. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"I thought the meeting was tomorrow," said Jasper. Boss had told Jasper that one of the Operatives would be meeting him in a public park close to the IntraGlobal building the next day. Morgan, who wasn't in the pair of blue coveralls he was wearing during the kidnapping.

"It is. I wanted to talk to you." Morgan picked the red spoon out of Jasper's Blizzard and took a bite of the ice cream. "Wow, that's good."

Jasper looked over his shoulder, searching for Pete, Lucas or Rita.

"No one knows I'm here. And you better not tell Boss when you talk to him tomorrow. Deal?" Morgan didn't offer his hand, but raised both eyebrows.

"Yeah, okay." Jasper took back his spoon. "What do you need?"

"Believe it or not, I need your help," said Morgan. Jasper sat up straight in his seat. He'd had the distinct impression that Morgan didn't like him. In fact, by his attitude that morning, it didn't look like he liked any of the Operatives very much. Morgan continued. "I've been with the group for years now, every since I graduated high school, actually. Not everybody gets recruited off the street like you, you know. I had to work really hard." He sounded resentful, even though it was clear he was trying to mask it.

"How did you even know about the-- group?" asked Jasper.

"My dad was an Operative. For my entire life I thought he worked as a tire salesman. When I turned 16 he took me on a fishing trip and told me the truth. The group is kind of backwards that way, in that many of the Operatives inherit their positions. It's the easiest way to keep things secret. I suppose every so often we get an outsider, like you, which is why I know this job that you're doing is really important. Boss has a habit of understating things. We could be working to stop the apocalypse and we wouldn't know about it." He paused. "Can we talk about this outside?"

Jasper slid out from the table and followed Morgan out onto the sidewalk. Walking behind him, he noticed how short Morgan was. Jasper himself was only a sliver over 5'7" and Morgan, with his straw-coloured hair was a good couple inches shorter.

"Like I said, I've been an Operative for a few years now. But as you could probably tell from earlier today nobody really respects me much. Driving the get-away van is pretty much all the action I see." Morgan rounded the corner into a narrow alley. Jasper hesitated for a moment before following him. "This job that you've been given-- it's huge. I want in on it." He stopped to face Jasper, who had the spoon of ice cream halfway to his mouth.

"Like, to help me... or something?"

Morgan crossed his arms. "Something like that," he muttered, and stared over his shoulder at an abandoned car, rusting away at the back of the dead end alley. "Look, I can't go into IntraGlobal. Believe it or not, the people in charge know who we are. They have our pictures and it was a miracle the others didn't get caught when they were ambushing you. Roger was relatively new, which is why he was able to get a job there. Unfortunately, you're the only guy who can do the covert stuff. But, I saw you talking to that chick."

"Myla?"

"She was in the meeting, wasn't she? You didn't even get in there," said Morgan, half smirking.

Jasper dropped his eyes. "No, but I tried. They kicked me out."

"I didn't think you would have. The guys at IntraGlobal are smarter than they seem. They have to be, obviously. So you set up a meeting to get more info out of her, right?"

Jasper suddenly lost his appetite and handed the rest of his Blizzard to Morgan. "I guess you could say that."

Morgan tossed the ice cream behind him. Half-melted lumps of gooey cream oozed out onto the concrete. He clapped his hands together once. "That's exactly it then! You're the only guy who can work under cover, but how much do you know about interrogation?"

"Well-- nothing," Jasper admitted.

"I just so happen to be exceptionally good at it," said Morgan. "Listen, IntraGlobal is going to do anything to make sure these people don't talk. They're probably throwing stupid amounts of money at them, they'll make them sign a confidentiality agreement, threaten to take their first born, the works. You need me to help you talk with this girl. You're not going to get anything otherwise, and then what are you gonna tell Boss? It won't look good, trust me."

Jasper wanted to argue, but what Morgan was telling him made perfect sense. He just hadn't thought about it before. How could he think that getting the information out of Myla would be as simple as taking her out for a moderately priced meal at the Olive Garden? Besides, even in the short amount of time he had to talk with her, she didn't seem like the type of girl who would make anything easy-- especially super secret spy work, for that matter. "I suppose you should help," said Jasper.

"Exactly!" Morgan laughed and clapped Jasper on the back. "But remember, I'm not really supposed to be helping. Not in this capacity anyway. As soon as the job is on the go we can tell Boss, but for now, we should probably keep it between you and me."

They were walking out back towards the street again. Jasper only nodded. It was only 5 o'clock, but he was exhausted. Morgan parted unceremoniously, walking off in the opposite direction from where they came. Jasper rubbed his eyes and tried to make sense of everything that had happened in the last eight hours. But it was too much. All he could think about was his cat, Milo.

**

Myla's mother's car was in the driveway when she got home. Myla checked her watch to make sure it was about the same time she'd be getting home from school. No use getting careless at this point, especially with a job worth that much on the line. Myla didn't know much about the real world, having spent approximately three summers in it, but she did know money like that didn't fall out of the sky for anyone. Of course, she was a little suspicious, but there weren't any alarm bells going off so far, plus the fancy boardroom went a long way in convincing her nothing was off.

But then there was that guy, Jasper. Myla paused at her front door to think about what had happened with that. He said IntraGlobal was doing something wrong. But what did he know? He could be some conspiracy nut for all she knew... and now he was going to call her. Myla shut her eyes. If anything was off it was Jasper, not the job. Silly, silly girl. Myla shook her head and walked into the house.

"Myla!" Her mother called from the kitchen. Myla groaned, but slowed down on her way to her room, dropping her bag on the floor in response. "Myla, come here, come taste this for me."

Myla mentally rehearsed her cover story should her mother ask about school, not that she should know. All her mom cared about was that she went, never mind what actually happened between the hours of eight and five. As long as her daughter had the privilege of listening to bitter men angry at the ignorance of today's kids, all was right in the world. "What do you want, Mom?"

"Myla, don't talk like that. Here, I'm making eggplant soup. Taste." She held out a red ladle, her long earrings and bangles ringing like wind chimes. Myla had to bend down to take a sip. Her mother was about a head shorter than she was. Her broom skirts and long tie-dyied blouses made her seem even shorter. The eggplant soup was bitter and runny, but Myla smiled.

"Tastes good, Mom."

"So how was your day, sweetie? Did you do anything interesting?" She stirred the soup again and started humming, not noticing that Myla was ignoring the question, standing in the doorway of the kitchen and waiting for her cue to leave. "Do you remember me telling you about Tic-tac, the albino kitty and her owner?" Myla nodded glumly. Her mother was a pet psychic-- a fact no one knew but her immediate family was aware of. Myla was horrified by her mother's profession, she couldn't see how anyone wouldn't be. "Well. We've been working with Tic-tac, you know, for a few weeks now, and it turns out that in a past life, she was a rebel at the battle of Alamo! Isn't that exciting?"

"Why don't any of your cats have normal past lives? Like maybe Tic-tac was a garbage man," Myla said, in a monotone. She was already leaving the kitchen, reading to hole herself up in her room for another 12 hours.

"Myla, is there something you need to talk about? You've been a little off lately." Her mother left the eggplant soup on the stove and followed Myla down the hallway.

Myla didn't turn around. She rolled her eyes. It took nearly five days for her mom to see that something might be wrong. No point in getting into it now. "Leave me alone."

"But sweetie--"

"MOTHER."

Myla's mother walked up to her, and placed a hand on her arm. Myla flinched. "Have you ever thought-- do you think it might be a good idea for you to see someone?"

"A shrink."

"I know of a really great guy. He specializes in herbal hypnosis. It could do wonders for your aura, dear. I get so worried about you sometimes."

"Good night, mother," Myla said, slipping through the crack in her door, and closing it quickly behind her. The last thing she saw were her mother's wide blue eyes, and a raised wooden spoon dripping with creamy mauve soup. She was breathing hard, she almost lost her breath walking over to her desk. Myla sat down. She felt dizzy. Her mother knocked on her door three times.

"Myla!"

Myla screamed, ripped off her left shoe and threw it at the door. "YOUR SOUP IS WRETCHED!"

2005-11-07T00:01:00.000-08:00

November 6

Jasper was starting to panic. First day as an Operative in the-- no-name group, and he was already screwing up. All he had to do was sit in on a meeting in the Benedict Room, which has seemed so simple, given the characters traipsing in the room. But he'd been unceremoniously escorted out of the building, the single security guard stationed on the top floor unaware Jasper even worked at IntraGlobal. He knew he wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. Did he look like Tom Cruise? No. And now the world as he knew it was going to come to an end-- at least that's what Boss had made it sound like if he failed. Things had started out alright. The Operatives, who more or less turned out to be an alright group, despite the kidnapping, had delivered him back at work, less than an hour after he'd been taken. The only person who had noticed his absence was Mike, the mail room guy, who was apoplectic, fretting about the fact that the accountants on floor four hadn't gotten their overnight express mail. The number crunchers didn't seem to notice when Jasper had dropped off the parcels, leading Jasper to conclude that Mike took both their jobs way too seriously.

Jasper had performed the morning's tasks as he did everyday. After a few runs to the copy room, it was as if his meeting with the Operatives had never taken place. The only constant reminder was the pinch of his new shoes, half a size too small. Rita had presented them to him on their way back to the IntraGlobal building.

She pulled of innocuous-looking brown shoes from a box and handed Jasper the left shoe. "That's the normal one. Under the heel of the right, here," she twisted the heel of the shoe, which opened to reveal a tiny compartment, packed with a mish-mash of items. "You've got all you'll ever need in a tight spot. One match, a beacon, piano wire, miniature flash bomb and cyanide capsule."

Jasper chose to forget that last item existed. "No phone?" he joked lamely.

Pete grabbed the right shoe from Rita and tossed it over to Jasper. "Shoe phones are inefficient. Besides, we became the laughing stock of secret organizations worldwide after Get Smart became popular."

Jasper examined the shoe carefully before pulling off his own and slipping on the new pair. "Is this why you wanted to look at my shoe in the elevator?" he asked Rita.

"We needed your size," she said. "We didn't have it exactly, I hope these ones fit you all right."

Jasper struggled with the second shoe, wincing as his big toe crumpled against the end. "They're fine. Lucas, what about when you were asking me for the time?"

Lucas grinned and pulled the electric organizer out of his pocket. "Checkin' you for bugs," he said.

Jasper nodded. "And you?" he acknowledged Pete.

"Oh, right!" Pete reached into his coverall pocket and pulled out a wallet, tossing it to Jasper, who took a second to realize it was his own. "Sorry, man. We needed to make sure we had the right guy."

Back at work, it was easy enough to find out when the Benedict Room would be in use. The schedules for all boardrooms was kept at the front desk on the main floor, and Jasper had managed to convince Bea Porter, the front desk clerk who had been with IntraGlobal for ages, that he needed the schedule to confirm an appointment for one of the executives. With the knowledge that the room would be in use for only an hour in the afternoon, Jasper was confident he would be able to meet with Boss the next day with some concrete information. Unfortunately he hadn't taken into account the fact that it might not have been an open meeting. Mr. Sandu had turned him away the second Jasper himself had proven he didn't belong. Now he was skulking about the elevators on the main floor, hoping to recognize one of the people who had gone into the meeting, and maybe get some information out of them. The problem was, that because he'd arrived late, he'd only seen two people enter the Benedict Room: a scruffy man in his late-20s, and a young woman about his age.

It must have been a short meeting, because it wasn't long before Jasper spotted Simon stepping off the elevator and digging a cigarette out of his back pocket. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if this man was the sort of person who would take any comment the wrong way. It was true Jasper had never actually come across such a volatile person in real life, but he had seen them in the movies. But his trepidation was nothing compared to the thought of talking to Boss the next day with nothing to tell him.

"Excuse me! Hey! Um." Jasper dodged between a few suits before catching up to Simon, who was patting down his shirt, searching for a lighter.

"You gotta light?" Simon had stopped to face Jasper, his cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth.

Jasper thought briefly of the match in the heel of his shoe, but shook his head. "Sorry, no. Actually I just needed to ask you a question about the meeting you were just in."

"Can we do this outside, man?" said Simon, digging in both his back pockets and, failing to find a lighter, stopped a man in a navy suit. "You have a light, dude?" The man brushed Simon's hand off his arm and walked away without answering.

"I was just wondering. I was actually supposed to be in the meeting, but my car broke down and then they wouldn't let me in because it had already started. And it's pretty important that I know what they talked about and--" Jasper stopped, realizing Simon wasn't paying much attention to him. In his search for a lighter he'd come across half a granola bar and was busy munching on it. Jasper couldn't tear his eyes away from the sizable piece of lint hanging off the end of it.

"Uh--" Jasper started again, but someone interrupted him from behind.

"You tried to get into the training session, didn't you?"

He turned around. It was the young woman who'd gone into the Benedict Room right before Simon had. She was fixing her hair into a ponytail. Jasper moved his mouth but no words came out.

"Are you trying to get the job too?"

Jasper watched out of the corner of his eye as Simon wandered out of the building. Probably for the best, he decided. "Job? Yeah, well, I was trying to get into the meeting anyway."

"My name is Myla, by the way. You didn't miss much. I bet you can make another appointment." Myla smiled and started walking again, assuming her conversation with Sir Lavender was over. But he limped on after her, as if his shoes were too small for his feet.

"I'm Jasper. Actually I was kind of hoping someone could tell me what happened."

Myla hitched up the bag on her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Not much. I mean, she didn't say anything I didn't know already. Except of course what we'd be getting paid." Myla blew out her cheeks and grinned. "I could move out of my parents' house. Hell, I could put a down payment on a condo. School is for suckers." She pushed on the revolving door. "Well I'll see ya around Jasper. Good luck with the job."

Jasper watched helplessly as Myla stepped out onto the street and walked off. Job? Wasn't he looking for something physical? A product of some sort? He glanced over his shoulder to make sure none of his supervisors caught him stepping out an hour early and followed Myla out the door.

"Wait a sec! Wait," he said, jogging up beside her. Myla gave Jasper a reproachful look, instantly regretting making any contact with him. He looked so innocent. "Sorry. I don't mean to, like, bother you or anything, but it's really important that I know exactly what happened in that meeting."

"Why?" Myla jabbed at the crosswalk button and tapped her foot.

"Because--" Jasper paused. He hadn't thought this far ahead. The truth would make him sound like a lunatic, but what lie wouldn't? Myla was staring straight ahead, clearly creeped out, but she was his only hope. He decided to go with a watered-down version of the truth. The light changed, and they both stepped off the sidewalk at the same time. "I need to know because IntraGlobal might be doing something wrong, and we-- I mean I-- need to find out what it is. And apparently, this thing, was supposed to be there, or happening, or whatever at the meeting this afternoon."

Myla stepped up on the sidewalk and slowed her pace considerably. "So you're not trying to hit on me?"

Jasper almost laughed, but thought better of it. "No."

Myla took a breath, looked at Jasper for a few seconds and then sighed. "Okay then. Do you want to sit down for a sec?" She motioned to a soggy-looking bus bench. "You might have the wrong meeting though, because none of it seemed bad or wrong to me."

"I don't care. Just tell me everything," said Jasper.

Myla placed her bag on her lap and looked down the street to see if her bus was coming. "Alright. So this lady, Miss. Irons, talked about the job and basically everything they told me over the phone." She explained the market research, the hours and the $5,000 a week stipend, at which Jasper almost fell off the bench. "So, nothing really unusual, I mean, apart from the secrecy. But I suppose that's to be expected. They probably don't want their products leaked to any competition. Hey, you're not from another company are you?"

"No," said Jasper, figuring out how many weeks it would take for him to make $5,000.

"Good, because I was having a total Charlie and the Chocolate Factory flashback," laughed Myla. Noticing no reaction from Jasper, she rolled her eyes. "You know, the part where the guy from the other chocolate factory is like, whispering into the kids' ears and, yeah. Okay, I'm a dork. I'll shut up." Myla stood up, seeing her bus about two blocks down. She dug through her bag, trying to find her bus pass.

"Don't you think it's weird they're paying you so much?" Jasper stood up as well, hoping for a red light to delay the bus an extra 30 seconds. He had something here, he could feel it.

Myla shrugged. "Trust me. If you were me right now, you wouldn't care." She stepped closer to the crowd of people starting to line up for the bus. It had been green lights all the way and the number 54 was right on schedule. Myla waved to Jasper. "Good luck with your -- conspiracy thing."

Jasper watched the bus approach with horror. This wasn't nearly enough information. He needed more! He tried thinking back to every spy movie he'd ever watched. What would James Bond do? What would Austin Powers do, for that matter? They'd have Myla in bed by now, that's for sure. Plus she'd probably be wearing a white bikini and Jasper would be standing in his bathrobe, sipping a martini instead of willing a city bus to crash with only the powers of mind. Jasper's head snapped up as the bus heaved to a stop. "Myla! Can I take you out sometime?"

A couple of 13-year-olds with skateboards burst out laughing. Myla looked back at Jasper, mortified. But he looked so desperate and maybe a tiny bit cute. It's why she'd talked to him in the first place. That and to save him from Simon. The line snaked forward and Myla stepped onto the bus. "My last name is Ritsmartin. It's the only one in the book."

2005-11-06T01:19:00.000-08:00

November 5

Chapter 2

"Here, Boss," said Pete, pulling the radio closer to him.

Rita scowled. "The mission has been accomplished, Boss, and we await further instructions."

"Excellent, Operatives, and I assume the new recruit is with you?" The voice crackled through the small speaker on the radio, its intensity wavering as if the man's microphone was swinging in the wind.

"He is here," said Rita, she nudged Jasper in the arm, motioning him to speak into the radio.

Jasper leaned in, coughed once and spoke. "Um, hi. Sir, I'm sorry, but I don't understa--"

"Listen carefully," the voice interrupted. "We haven't much time before the Recruit is discovered missing at his place of work. With the disappearance of Operative Roger, organizers at the project are even more suspicious of anything that's out of the ordinary.

"Roger? You mean Roger Gordon? He's dead, but I thought--" Jasper was interrupted once more, this time by Rita who shushed him.

The Boss continued. "Operative Roger's last reports indicated that he project was ready to enter its experimental stage. If what we know is true, then this stage will not last long, perhaps only a couple of months before the full-scale operation will begin. This leaves us only a short window to find out exactly what is happening and and whether or not we need stop it. The majority of IntraGlobal's monetary resources have been funneled into this operation, and they already have dozens of militaries lined up to buy whatever product is being produced. They've been careful, Operatives. We've been able to track paper trails, phone conversations and banking records, but only the highest authorities know exactly what this product is, and they haven't once mentioned anything about it, not even its name, as it is currently being referred to by the codeword 'S'," said the Boss. The Operatives listened intently, but it was obvious most of the information was for Jasper's benefit, as they seemed to know exactly what he was talking about. Jasper couldn't help but feel like he'd been dropped right into a James Bond-type movie. He actually pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"Boss, how do we know what they're doing is dangerous?" asked Morgan, who up until that point had been quiet.

Boss was silent, static taking over the airwaves for a few seconds, and even Jasper could feel the tension rise in that brief moment of hesitation. Rita shot Morgan a disapproving look. Morgan stared straight ahead at the radio, defiantly.

"Their secrecy is disconcerting. The measures they've taken to cover their tracks indicate a product of immense power is soon to be distributed amongst some of the most dangerous organizations in the world. Something like this certainly warrants our surveillance," said Boss. "Now as for our new Recruit. Sir, what is your name?"

"Uh, Jasper Kleff, sir."

"Operative Jasper, please call me Boss. I assume our Operatives have given you some sort of explanation as to why you're here," said Boss.

"I suppose so," said Jasper.

"Good. Now ordinarily we choose our Recruits carefully and screen them before training them exhaustively. But we have a unique situation in which we need to fill a vacancy quickly. As I've said, we don't have much time to find out what is going on, so you will need to forgo training and immediately begin your work with us," said Boss.

"But I-- I don't think I can," said Jasper, desperately, hoping Boss would eventually realize his Operatives had kidnapped the wrong gopher.

"You don't have a choice," Boss reiterated, and Jasper deflated. "You have been chosen because your position in the company allows for access to extremely sensitive documents that otherwise you wouldn't have thought to read. You are in inconspicuous employee, Operative Jasper, and the executive members of IntraGlobal won't be likely to notice you poking around, nor will they question your presence."

"Boss, I could always go in," said Morgan, earning another look from Rita.

"Operative Morgan, you will do as you are told," said Boss, his tone unchanged. "Operative Jasper, do you know where the Benedict Room is?"

Jasper, who was watching a silently seething Morgan, snapped his attention back to the radio. "Yes, Boss, yes I do." The Benedict Room was a seldom-used boardroom on the top floor of the IntraGlobal building. Jasper had only been inside once, when he was first hired and given his employee security card.

"Good. You will gain access to that room and bring back any information you can learn regarding the activities taking place there. I cannot stress the importance of this mission, Operative Jasper. Of course, you do know the consequences should you not follow my instructions?"

"Deportation?"

"Exactly. Unlike other secret organizations that you are no doubt unaware of, we do not use lethal force against dissidents. It's unnecessary, really, and I imagine the prospect of having to build a new life in-- which country are we on now?-- Tunisia, is not an attractive one," said Boss.

"Yes, sir. I mean Boss."

"Excellent. I am certain the Operatives can answer any further questions you might have. I will contact you in exactly 24 hours," said Boss. "Operatives, you know what is required of you." The radio crackled once more and then the radio went silence. The Operatives around the picnic table let out a collective breath, relaxing noticeably.

Pete picked up the radio and flicked a switch. "Rita, are the shoes ready?"

Rita turned and started walking toward the van. She was nearly at the back door before she answered. "Of course they're ready."

"Shoes?" Jasper picked himself up from the table, feeling a little better now that his initial conversation with Boss had gone rather well, he thought.

"Yeah man," said Lucas. "One of the best perks of being an Operative. You get new shoes."

**

Myla wasn't sure what the appropriate outfit would be for a mystery job training session, so she'd gone with a casual black skirt, dark green blazer and black tights. She never had much patience for her curly dark hair, so like most days, it had gone in a pony tail. She took the bus downtown, narrowly missed having to share a seat with Incontinent Charlie, and got off two stops too soon, because despite what she'd said on the phone, she only had a vague idea of where the IntraGlobal building really was. Sure, she'd seen it about 1,000 times. Everyone in Edmonton had. At Christmas the widow washers strung about a million lights in the shape of a giant snowman over the southern face of the building. It was a Christmas Eve tradition to come and stare at the gargantuan snow monster and visit the Santa Claus who gave kids to best candies for visiting, but only on the 24th. Yes, Myla was quite familiar with the building, she'd just never been in it before. Now, the thought of actually stepping inside via the revolving glass and gold-plated door was a little bit sickening. She wasn't sure why, though in the back of her mind she knew her nervousness had nothing to do with the mystery job and was more than likely the result of those pesky memories popping up that she'd been trying to repress since she woke up that morning.

"Happy thoughts, Myla," she muttered, pushing her way into the building. Happy thoughts indeed, though she was beginning to realize how hard it actually was to forget the look on the face of the kid she'd thrown a calculator at. Myla shook her head. The mouth breather deserved it.

She took a peek at the crumpled piece of paper she had wadded up in her sweaty hand and walked over to the building directory to figure out which floor the Benedict Room was on. Her premature bus hop had given her only a few minutes to make it to the start of training, and Myla wasn't one for showing up late, so she quickly scanned the directory and headed for the elevators, scarcely noticing the shady character walking right behind her. Myla stepped inside the open elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.

"'Scuse me."

Myla looked up and stepped back unconsciously. Apparently it was 1991 again. Either that or Kurt Cobain had been resurrected and was standing in front of her, in all his plaid shirt and ripped jeans glory.

The man stepped into the elevator and took a long look at a piece of paper before talking to Myla again. "Hey, you don't know where the Benedict Room is, do you?"

"I'm going there... actually," Myla said, pointing weakly to the right, even though they were in an elevator and the Benedict Room was more up than to the side. "Are you going for training too?"

The man gave a goofy smile and nodded. "Sweet, eh?" He stepped closer to Myla, folded his piece of paper and dropped it on the ground. "My name's Simon."

Myla shook his hand. "Myla." She pulled her hand back and surreptitiously wiped it on her skirt. "Have you ever done this kind of work before?"

"Naw." Simon shook his head. "I'm kinda on EI right now. They won't send me money unless I apply for work. Usually I just go for the jobs that there's no way in hell I'd get. But this one seemed alright. I say, if they're paying me more than what the man is giving me, why the hell not?"

Myla hugged her arms close. "Makes sense."

Simon smiled and dug into one of his giant jeans pockets, pulling out what looked like a piece of cake loosely covered in plastic wrap. Half of the cake fell on the elevator floor as he unwrapped the package. He lifted the rest to his mouth and ate right out of his palm. "Mmm. Good," he said, his mouth full. "Want some?"

Myla shook her head and kept her eyes on the elevator door, thankful they were only three floors away from the top. She watched uneasily as Simon stooped down to pick the fallen cake off the floor and drop it in his mouth. She was beginning to doubt the validity of this job.

The silver door slid open to reveal a lush lobby, with a deep maroon carpet mahogany siding and floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a breath-taking view of Edmonton's river valley. Myla left her new friend Simon behind and headed toward a tiny dark man behind a table, which was set up just outside a set of double doors. The man picked up a pen and looked up at Myla without smiling. "Your name?"

"Myla Ritsmartin."

The man scanned a sheet of paper, found her name and checked it off. He picked off another sheet of paper from a stack at the corner of the table and handed it to Myla. "You can fill this out after training. The meeting is about to start," he said, nodding to the doors behind him. Myla took the form and skimmed the questions, which were pretty standard (address, education, last place of employment, etc). She looked back to get one last glimpse of the view, which had entranced Simon, as he had still not made it to the registration table. Another man was there, though, a rather rumpled looking person in a lavender shirt, who seemed to be having some problems. "I'm sorry. You can't attend the meeting if you aren't on the list," said the dark man, his voice disappearing behind the heavy doors as they swung shut behind Myla.

About a dozen people were scattered around a large conference table. A blonde woman in a burgundy suit stood at the head of the table gazing indifferently at the motley collection of people quietly taking in their grand surroundings. Myla took a seat closer to the back of the table. Shortly after, Simon came in the double doors and took the seat to her left. Myla stared intently at the blond woman.

"Alright. Time to begin. My name is Miss. Irons. You are Group D and I will be your leader so please remember my name."

Myla rolled her eyes. It didn't matter what the job was, if she was going to have to deal with Miss. Irons, no doubt an ambitious former cheer leader intent to prove herself capable in the cut-throat world of business regardless if who she crushed along the way, she might just quit. Myla took a deep breath, reminding herself that the blind categorization of perfect strangers was a habit she was trying to break.

"Each of you has received a form, which you can fill out and hand back to Mr. Sandu following this session. We will review these forms and contact those who we wish to hire in the next few days." She stopped, noticing Myla's hand in the air. "Save your questions until the end, please."

"I was just wondering what exactly the job is. Your secretary wasn't very specific," said Myla, noticing with some satisfaction the look of annoyance on Miss. Irons' face.

"We will go into greater detail with the successful applicants," said Miss. Irons, now pointedly ignoring Myla's hand. "For now, all you need to know is that the job will entail you to test a variety of products and services, similar to market research. The job will require your presence 35 hours a week here at this building, though not in this room. In addition to that, you will be giving a log book to take home and record various observations you must make in the evenings and on weekends. This job will require 100 per cent attendance, and so if you cannot be here every single day, or cannot commit to keeping the log book faithfully, do not bother filling out the application." Miss. Irons finished her speech and looked around the room for a few seconds before shutting her leather portfolio with a soft snap. "Any questions?"

Myla's hand went up again, but Simon blurted out his question first. "So does this mean we get free stuff?"

Miss. Irons narrowed her eyes slightly, licked her lips and crossed her arms on the table. "The products you will be testing will be provided to you free of charge. But you may not bring them home. Additionally, all successful applicants will be required to sign a confidentiality agreement to ensure the integrity of our project."

"I'm sorry, Miss. Irons, I'm still a little confused as to what exactly this is," said Myla. "I don't really want to commit myself to anything before I know what I'll be doing."

Miss. Irons didn't look at Myla, only ran a hand over the side of her head to smooth out her hair. "All successful applicants will receive a stipend of $5,000 a week."

This sent a ripple of whispers throughout the room. Simon grabbed the pen in front of him and immediately set out to filling in his form. Myla raised her eyebrows, and watched with some amusement people began scribbling away madly. She couldn't help but reach for the pen herself. Going into a mystery job with your eyes wide open was one thing, but $35,000 in a month and a half was quite another.

2005-11-03T23:43:00.000-08:00

November 3

"Lavender Blue?" Pete gave Rita an amused look. "Well aren't you the super spy."

"She was making fun of his shirt," said Lucas, chuckling. He was so tall that it was almost comical to see him hunched over on the wheel well.

Pete, in contrast, sat comfortably in his makeshift chair. "Shut up, I'm not an idiot."

"Maybe. But your upper body strength could use some work," said Lucas, crossing his arms and leaning back as much as he could against the curved van walls.

"I told you, he kicked me," spat Pete.

"Boys! Now, really," said Rita, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"Don't call me a boy Rita, I'm three years older than you," said Pete. The bickering continued back and forth and Jasper was instantly transported back to the days he used to ride to the family cabin with his four older siblings. Except now he was bound and recently gagged, sitting upright precariously in a bouncing van heading God knows where. Lucas's threat to let Jasper "sleep with the fishes" was wearing thin now that it was obvious these weren't the evil masterminds their actions may have suggested. And now, though he was still frightened for his safety, Jasper was beginning to become more curious as to why exactly he was where he was and where these people were taking him.

The van slowed noticeably and Jasper slid forward, then sideways as the driver took a sharp right. The van left the smooth pavement and bounced onto a rougher road, slowing again before eventually stopping all together. The engine was cut and the motor purred into a stuffy silence. Rita, Pete and Lucas stood up, hunched over, and clambered to the back door of the van, which swung open to reveal its driver: a sour-looking blonde man who looked no older than Jasper.

"Good job Morgan," said Rita, who slid out of the van onto a gravel road.

Morgan only rolled his eyes and walked away from the back door, up the side of the van. "I drove. I could have done more."

"Morgan, don't start. We have to de-brief," said Pete, hopping out of the van after Rita. He turned back and grabbed Jasper by the feet, pulling him out a little and then going to work on the yellow nylon rope wrapped several times around his ankles. "Listen, I know this is probably extremely strange for you, but we really need you to cooperate. We don't have a lot of time and as soon as I get these things untied--" Pete grunted, having some problems with the knots. "Lucas, what the hell did you do?"

Lucas pushed Pete aside and yanked on the end of the rope. The knot fell apart instantly. Pete ignored Lucas's haughty look and went to work on the rope around Jasper's wrists. "We have operatives in the trees so if you want to run off you won't get very far. Plus, we're not really here to hurt you. In fact, we need your help more than anything else."

"Then why'd you tackle me? Couldn't you have set up a meeting with me or e-mailed?" Jasper pulled on the rope and squirmed his arms out of the bind.

Pete stopped what he was doing and looked up at Jasper, as though he'd been caught off guard by the question. "We have our reasons," he said shortly, and then left Jasper to help himself out of the back of the van. They were in a lightly wooded area, with picnic tables and fire pits scattered among a few cleared areas. Jasper immediately recognized where they were: in a large city park not far from the downtown core. But it was early fall, and first thing in the morning on a weekday, so there wasn't anyone else around. Jasper briefly considered making a run for it, but he wasn't a very fast runner. Plus he would run out of steam in about five minutes. He was also growing more and more curious by the minute as to what these people, who were no longer in the least threatening, were up to. Jasper followed Pete around to the front of the van, where Morgan, Lucas and Rita were standing around a weathered picnic table, looking intently at a small white device.

"Sit down," said Rita.

Jasper stayed a few feet away from the table. "Tell me why I'm here," he said, trying to sound intimidating. Though, even he knew at that point that the purple shirt and alfalfa hair-do weren't doing him any favours.

Rita crossed her arms. "Buddy, we're doing the best we can here. So just sit down, listen to the radio and do what we say or--"

"We'll tie you up again," blurted Lucas.

"Oh no, not with more of your death knots you're not," said Pete. The two men looked like they were about to pounce on each other, but Rita stepped in between them.

"Can you tell me who you are at least?" Jasper watched as each member of the kidnapping crew eyed the white radio on the picnic table carefully before turning back to him.

"He's not coming on," said Rita to Pete.

"May as well fill him in," replied Pete. "Just until the official de-briefing." Morgan and Lucas nodded in agreement and Rita motioned for Jasper to come closer, which he tentatively did.

"We don't have a name," Pete began. "I mean, we all have names, but the group we work for doesn't."

"Why don't you have a name?" asked Jasper. He was beginning to question the authenticity of this kidnapping. This wasn't going the way television and movies led him to believe a kidnapping might got. Shouldn't they be pistol-whipping him by now?

"We don't have a name because we don't exist," said Rita. "Not on paper, anyway. There's a lot to it, but all you need to know about is the four of us and the job we're trying to do here, which is pretty important. See, this group that we work for is kind of like an international watchdog for things like governments, monarchies, any group or organization that has a lot of power."

"Like multi-national companies," said Pete, putting one leg up on the bench of the picnic table. "Like IntraGlobal ComSphere."

"Wait, so you're like, spies?" laughed Jasper. He couldn't help it. The very idea of him being kidnapped by a group of coverall-wearing spies was hilarious.

"Surveillance work is only party of what we do," said Pete. "We've been keeping an eye on the company you work for. That's part of the reason why you're here today."

"Is IntraGlobal doing something wrong?" said Jasper.

Rita and Pete eyed one another. "We have information about certain activities occurring at this location. We had an operative working within the company, but he was killed last week," said Rita.

"What?! Killed?" Jasper's extremities went suddenly cold.

"He was careless and he became involved with matters he shouldn't have. We need you to replace him," said Rita, giving no indication she knew or even felt sorry for her colleague who had died.

"Me?! But I can't," squeaked Jasper.

"You have to," sighed Pete. "It's an international law enforced by our leaders and punishable by deportation from whatever country you currently reside in. You really have no choice but to cooperate."

"It's like jury duty," added Lucas.

"But what do you need me to do?" said Jasper. He felt out of breath, like someone had tapped his lungs and was sucking the air out through a straw.

"That's what the Boss is going to tell us, if he ever tunes in," said Pete, giving the small white radio a gentle tap. The other three returned their stares to the radio as Jasper tried to make sense of what he'd just been told. Logically, this couldn't be happening. There was no such thing as a no-name international watchdog group. Surely he'd have heard about it on CNN or something. And even if there was, why would they want Jasper? He couldn't even keep a straight face in a game of poker.

Jasper was just about to ask that very question when a man's voice crackled over the radio, and all four kidnappers leaned in close to hear the tinny voice.

"Operatives? Are we all in?"

2005-11-02T19:55:00.000-08:00

November 2

Myla sat in her bathrobe at the kitchen table, flipping idly through the classified section of the newspaper. She was feeling a little bit better since her downtime in the shower, and even a bit more enthusiastic about her current station in life since actually leaving her bed room for the first time in a few days. The possibility of doing something new, interesting and different gave her a motivation she couldn't seem to muster while mulling over her expulsion from university.

"Today is a new day. Today is a new day," she muttered. It was part of a mantra she had adopted back in first year when things started to get frustrating. Repeating those words over and over helped moved past the things she much rather forget. Things she'd said or incidents that had occurred, both of which seemed to be happening much more frequently as of late. Myla took a sip of black coffee and trailed her finger down the column of newsprint, past the fast food positions and live-in caretaker positions; ignoring any ad that had a clip art star next to the title or featured more than one exclamation mark or dollar sign.

This didn't leave much to choose from, and by the end of the classifieds section, Myla had circled only three postings. She was left with the unsettling realization that working may not be as easy and exciting as she had hoped. She looked over her selections. One was for a part-time clerk at a clothing store in a nearby mall. This wouldn't be so bad, she reasoned, taking another sip of coffee. Of course, secrecy was important, and by working in a mall there was a very good chance someone would recognize her and her secret would be out. Myla wondered if her parents were the type of people who might kick her out of the house if they found out she was lying to them and no longer attending school. Not entirely impossible, she decided.

Option number two was a night time janitor at one of the office buildings downtown. This was good in that there was almost no way she would be caught. The pay was good. But janitorial work? Myla could remember one of her first year economics teachers threatening to send his students to the janitorial diploma program at the community college if they didn't pass the midterm, and while she knew it was a lot of bull shit, she couldn't help but attach that stigma to the job. Myla scratched out the ad with her black sharpy.

Option three was a curious one because while it was vague (and you always skip the vague ads) it didn't promise a high pay or unreasonable benefits. It was a simple ad that read:

MOTIVATED INDV WANTED FOR TEMP WORK
MUST BE EDUCATED
TRAINING PROV

And then it listed a phone number. This listing didn't stand out from the other ads in any particular way, but Myla liked that you had to be educated for the job, whatever it was, and she did have some education under her belt. Not a lot, but better than none. She decided to give it a shot, and reached across the kitchen table for the cordless.

The phone rang twice before a chipper female voice answered.

"I'm calling about the job in the paper," said Myla.

"Excellent. Actually, there's a training session this afternoon if you can make it," said the woman.

Myla gaped at the phone for a moment. Although she didn't have much experience with things like this, common sense told her that getting a job, at least one that was worth getting, shouldn't have been as easy as picking up the phone and demonstrating one's ability to read the classified section of the newspaper. "Um, what is the job, exactly?" she asked.

"It's a six-week placement. A lot of it is focus group work. If you pass training you'll be placed on a panel and given tasks, products and services to evaluate," said the woman, chirping out the words as if she said them a hundred times before.

"And what company is this for?" asked Myla, wondering if she would be required to taste test the latest energy bar made of grass clippings and soy bi-products.

"It's a number of small businesses that are customers of the study group. Can I put your name down for the training session this afternoon?"

"What about money? How much do I get paid?"

The woman paused only briefly. "Your compensation will be discussed after you finish training."

Myla ran a finger through her still-wet hair and considered the alternatives. She could look for another job, one that wasn't so mysterious, and nothing that reeked of a cultish scam like this one did. Then again, it didn't sound threatening. As far as she could tell, she wouldn't be dancing topless at the bar near the airport, or selling butcher knives door-to-door. "Sure. Sign me up," she said, grabbing her own scrap piece of paper to take down the address of her afternoon training session. "The IntraGlobal building? Yeah, I know where that is. Thanks."

**

Jasper didn't have a chance to scream, the wind had been knocked out of him as he was tackled from behind and pinned to the concrete floor. He could barely emit a tiny "oof" as a piece of dark cloth was wrapped around his head and a balled up rag stuffed in his mouth. An ice-cold panic swept through his body following the initial shock, and he writhed in vain as at least two people bound his hands and legs and hoisted him off the floor. Nobody said a word and all Jasper could hear was the scuff of his captor's boots against the floor and his own muted sounds coming from behind the bitter tasting rag. His legs and hands were of no use, so Jasper started rocking his body weight back and forth frantically, trying to throw the two people who were carrying him off balance. Maybe if they dropped him he could wriggle away, or at least attract some attention.

"Stop moving! We're not going to hurt you," whispered a man, the one who was holding his upper body. He tightened his grip around Jasper's chest, causing his eyes to bulge underneath the blindfold. Jasper paid no heed to the demand, bending his knees and pushing with every ounce of strength he had at the person holding the lower half of his body. A man shouted, and Jasper felt the grip loosen on his legs, and the man stumble to the side. Jasper's legs dropped to the floor, his left ankle cracking painfully on the cement.

"Pick him up! Come on!" Said the man at his head, who was still holding tight, despite Jasper's desperate efforts to free himself. The man lowered his mouth to Jasper's ear and whispered, "listen to me: hold still or you sleep with the fishes. Understand?"

Jasper had seen enough gangster movies to know what that meant, and he wondered briefly when the Italian mob had set up shop in a city where Little Italy was nothing more than a community centre on the outskirts of China Town. Still the threat had some resonance and Jasper let his legs go limp as the other man hoisted them up and they continued down the basement corridor. Jasper knew where they were headed. He was familiar enough with the basement at IntraGlobal to know he was being carried toward the delivery room, which had a bay door installed to accommodate the mail trucks. He could hear a vehicle idling on the ramp that led up to a busy downtown street.

Holy shit. Where were they taking him?

Jasper ran through all the reasons why someone would want to kidnap him. He wasn't rich, and neither were his parents. The last serious relationship he'd had was a year and a half ago, and even that hadn't been serious enough to justify blackmail and extortion as a plausible cause for his mauling.

Did he know something?

Jasper did see a lot of classified documents as a gopher on the 16th floor, but most of those were in tightly sealed envelopes and even the ones he had seen didn't make any sense to him. IntraGlobal dipped its hands in a lot of cookie jars. There were corporate offices on every continent with dealings in oil, pharmaceuticals and Asian exports. There was every possibility that IntraGlobal was working with something far more controversial than the latest erectile dysfunction drug, but why kidnap Jasper? An investor with a single share knew more than he did.

The men carrying Jasper stopped at the bay door. Jasper could smell the exhaust fumes of the vehicle, and despite the blindfold, he squeezed his eyes shut as he was hoisted into the back of what felt like a van. The men got in behind him, slammed the rear door shut, and within seconds the van was peeling up the ramp and onto the main road.

"Nice, Pete," said a woman, who Jasper immediately identified as the red-haird lady who had looked at his shoe on the elevator just five minutes before.

"What?" said Pete defensively. "We got him, didn't we?"

"You dropped him. You and Lucas were seven seconds off because of it. We could have been caught."

"S'cuse me Rita, but the bastard kicked me in the stomach," said Pete.

At this Jasper sat up indignantly. Bastard? Him? He shook his head and made a few grunting noises, as his kidnappers had apparently forgotten he was there. After a few seconds Jasper felt someone slip the blindfold off his head. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the dark interior of the windowless van. Three people in the navy blue coveralls gazed back at him, their faces impassive.

"Are you going to scream?" asked Lucas, the tall one who had asked for the time and gotten off at the fifth floor. He was behind Jasper, sitting on the passenger's side wheel well. Rita, the shoe-lady, was closer to the front of the van, on a carpeted bench, right behind where the driver would have been seen, had a plywood divider not been constructed. Pete, the one who had initially ran into Jasper on the 16th floor was hunched over on the other wheel well.

Jasper shook his head.

"Because this won't work if you freak out," said Lucas, raising his eyebrows and looking down on Jasper, speaking like a teacher to a five-year-old who hadn't yet grasped the concept of sharing.

Jasper shook his head again. Lucas pulled on the rag and it crumpled out of Jasper's mouth; he gagged and moved his tongue around, trying to get the saliva flowing again. "Who are you? Why did you do this? Where are we going?"

Rita only chuckled. "Sit tight, Lavender Blue. We'll be there in 30 seconds."

2005-11-01T23:15:00.000-08:00

November 1

Chapter 1

With the covers pulled over her head Myla Ritsmartin could easily imagine that the world outside her bedroom door did not exist. Lying on her back at 11:30 on a Tuesday morning, with the stuffy blanket air beginning to slowly suffocate her, she marveled at the tiny cocoon she had created. Sheets and a comforter: indestructible force-fields separating her from her bedroom, her house, school and everything else. And she could stay there for as long as she wanted to. Until she had to go to the bathroom.

Myla flung the blankets off her head and took a deep breath of non-recycled air. She blinked a few times, trying to wish away the cheerful sunlight that was creeping in under her drawn blinds. Her door was closed and everyone had left the house for work and school. Myla was the only one home, just has she had been the day before, when she had waited for her parents and sister to leave the house and then locked herself in her room. She hadn't left since then, and no one had even noticed. This bothered her a great deal more than the classes she was missing. In fact, she had decided, at exactly 2:04 p.m. on the Friday before that she was never going back to university again.

Myla rolled over and thought about this. She was half-way through a degree in international commerce. Her parents had paid up for the whole year and it was only October, which was one of the reasons why she hadn't told anyone of her decision to quit school. And then there was the discomfiting fact that her departure from the University of Alberta campus wasn't entirely voluntary. Myla rubbed her eyes and curled back under the comforter. She didn't want to think about that now. She was actually in the process of deleting large portions of the previous Friday from her memory, and the going was tough because she hadn't done much except sleep since then, so there wasn't anything better to replace those horrid images with. Myla ran a hand through her knotty hair, wrinkling her nose at the slippery feeling of hair grease after four days of not showering. Her breath smelled too, and she wondered if the fact that she was disgusted by her current state of hygiene proved that she wasn't actually depressed but only going through the motions. She ran her tongue over her teeth, which were fuzzy and left a sour aftertaste that only served to remind her that her teeth were slowly rotting away, disintegrating bit by bit like chalk dipped in hydrochloric acid.

"Fine!" Myla yelled, and swung her legs over the side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "You win. I'm getting out of bed. Happy?"

God, or whatever ceiling-dwelling deity Myla was screaming at did not answer back. She waited for a few seconds, just to be sure divine intervention wasn't in the works for her that morning, before picking her way across her cluttered room and standing warily before the door. She wanted to be 100 per cent sure no one was home. Despite the rather angry insistence of university faculty and her own stubbornness on the issue, Myla still felt a guilty twinge at the back of her mind every time she thought about school. Even that miniscule voice could be enough to give her parents the advantage in an argument, she knew that; it's how she ended up taking international commerce in the first place. Coast officially clear, Myla set out for the bathroom, locked herself in and cranked on the hot water, quickly filling up the tile-incased bathroom with a sticky steam.

Myla slipped off her boxer shorts and tee-shirt, stepping over the edge of the tub without even checking the temperature. The water was practically scalding. Good, Myla thought. She wanted to forget about school. She'd been trying not to think of it for the past four days. But, of course, the more you try not to think about something, the more it pops up every other minute, taunting your sanity, ensuring that no matter what you do that one little piece of information (or in Myla's case, extremely inappropriate episode) will never leave your thoughts for as long as you live.

"Shut up!" Myla screamed, her shriek only partially muffled by the hot jets of water streaming into her mouth. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" She was breathing hard now, on the verge of hyperventilation. She grabbed for the side of the shower and lowered herself slowly to the floor of the tub. Myla's skin was red and splotchy now, protesting against the way too hot water still pounding against her back as she slid onto her stomach and lay her head on the tinny surface of the tub.

"Ung," Myla groaned. This was pathetic. And disgusting, as she was fairly sure no one had washed the bathtub in the last month. But she remained there for the next few minutes, finding the water pooling in her left ear rather soothing: like drowning, but for the fact that she could still breath. "I have to do something," she burbled, water cascading down her cheek, running up her nose and into her eyes. She blew a few bubbles into the water streaming past her mouth and went over her options.

She could tell her parents.

"No," said Myla. Absolutely not. She was kidding herself to even think that was an option, and only put that at the top of the list because it seemed to be the natural and obvious thing to do. Parents should be there for their kids, especially when said kid was going through a fairly serious existential crisis that had escalated to the point where she had been forcibly removed from one of her lectures. No, parents weren't an option. First, they would scream at her, then they would make her re-enroll, which would lead to a disciplinary meeting and... agh. Too much.

Option two: pretend to go to school but really get a job.

"Hm." Myla closed her eyes, turned over on her back and opened her mouth. Getting a job would solve a few of her problems, namely getting herself out of the house for eight hours a day. It would also take her mind off all the... unpleasantness. Never mind the fact that eventually someone will figure it out. Never mind that the only job she'd ever had was selling Dickee-Dee ice cream from a cart for two torturous weeks the summer previous. Never mind all that shit. She was broke, and she needed to leave her parents' house like nothing she'd ever needed before. Myla gargled, sat up, spit and turned off the water.

Operation Tuesday: Find a job.

**

Jasper Mleff stood in front of a smudged mirror in the men's room on the 16th floor of the IntraGlobal ComSphere building in downtown Edmonton, trying to wet down the stubborn piece of hair that was sticking up at the back of his head. The tap continued to run as he leaned in toward his reflection, abandoning his hair for the moment to investigate his eyebrows. He raised one and then the other, trying to determine whether he was in danger of developing a uni-brow, something which Oprah had enthusiastically denounced the day before as being one of the top turn-offs for women between the ages of 18 and 35. Jasper had never really given his eyebrows much concern before, but suddenly they were very important, as if those two strips of hair above his eyes had been the reason all along that women tended to ignore him. Jasper stood straight and gave one final attempt to tame the cowlick.

It wasn't the eyebrows. He sighed, smoothing the wrinkles in his lavender shirt and turning off the tap.

A pair of tweezers wasn't going to solve his problem, which wasn't obvious, as far as he could tell, and seemed to be intrinsic. He wasn't fat, but he wasn't athletic either. He wasn't boring, but he didn't have a very interesting job either. For the past two years, since he was 19, Jasper had been a junior secretarial assistant on the 16th floor of the tallest building in downtown Edmonton. His duties were varied but mind-numbing nonetheless. He had spent the first two weeks of his job hunkered down in the photo-copy room, collating employee handbooks in 17 different languages for the overseas conglomerate divisions of IntraGlobal ComSphere. It had taken him just about as long to discover that although his position sounded somewhat official, he was in fact a gopher. He'd been promoted once, from assistant to the junior secretarial assistant to his current position, and that had marked the only time in his 2-year career at the company that he had met his boss.

Jasper turned away from the mirror and swung out of the men's room into the grey hallway. He passed by the closed office doors of executives who wouldn't be in for the next two hours and rounded the corner to the bank of silver elevator doors. Jasper pressed the down button, nodding politely and avoiding eye contact with the beautiful woman in a burgundy pant suit standing next to him. He didn't recognize her, but wondered if he should say something. A nice 'hello' perhaps. That wasn't at all out of order, it was probably the polite thing to do actually. He bit the insides of his cheeks and snuck a glance at her. She was staring at the unmoving doors of the elevator in front of her, paying no mind to Jasper, who was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Too late, he thought. He had a window, he should have gone for it and now it would just be weird to say 'hello', like he'd just walked up when really he'd been standing like a dumb ass all along. This was typical, why couldn't he just--

"Uff," Jasper staggered sideways as a small man in what looked like a mechanic's jumpsuit plowed into his side. "What the--"

The man bounced back and looked up at Jasper with wide eyes. He had a close-cut, dark brown beard, and tiny eyes that blinked rapidly as Jasper struggled to regain his balance while simultaneously glancing over at the pretty blonde, who remained, unperturbed at the elevator. "Sorry dude."

"Don't worry about it, buddy," said Jasper, hoping the woman would notice how well he was handling this run-in. It was completely unnecessary, considering the hallway was empty and he wasn't standing anywhere near the middle of the walkway. He didn't even know who this guy was-- he didn't look like he belonged. "Sorry, I don't know--"

The short man was already half way down the hallway, jogging away as if continuing on his morning run. "Sorry again. Cheers, man."

Jasper looked on incredulously and then back again at the woman, who was disappearing behind the closing doors of the far elevator. He sighed and pressed the down button again, trying to flatten the wrinkled side of his shirt, which he now knew for a fact was the entire reason the blonde woman in the burgundy pant suit didn't say 'hello' to him first. The door dinged open and he stepped in, jumping slightly at the sight of the only other occupant of the elevator: a tall scruffy-looking man in the same navy blue jumpsuit he'd seen the jogger in just seconds before. But this man didn't try to crosscheck him. Jasper pressed the M-button and crossed his arms. Maybe the maintenance crew had gotten new uniforms.

"Do you have the time, man?" The man leaned in toward Jasper, digging what looked like one of those electronic personal organizers out of his front pocket.

"Um." Jasper looked at his watch and gave the man the time, overly aware of how close the apparent member of the maintenance crew was as he did so. The man punched the device a few times with his index finger and snapped it closed.

"Thanks." The elevator slowed to a stomach-lurching stop at the 5th floor and the tall man hopped out. The doors were about to shudder shut once more when a woman with curly red hair slipped in and smiled at Jasper. He didn't even have to give her the once over to know what she was wearing.

"Did maintenance get new uniforms or something?" he asked, looking for a name tag, or the ubiquitous IntraGlobal crest that emblazoned most pieces of official company property. There was nothing to indicate where these blue coveralls were coming from.

The woman smiled at him again. "Nope." She eyed him briefly before stepping toward the panel of buttons and punching the ground floor button. "Do you mind if I have a look at your left shoe?"

Jasper edged away. "Yes, actually."

The woman giggled. "Oh, you must think I'm some sort of lunatic! My husband is always going on and on about finding the perfect brown shoe and for the life of me I can never find one that he'll wear. Well I think yours are perfect and I'd ask you where you got them from but men rarely know where they get their clothes, do you?"

Jasper shook his head slowly, eyeing the blinking red lights above the button panel as they slowly descended to the ground floor.

The woman giggled again. "Of course not! So if I could just have a look at your shoe I would forever be grateful."

For the life of him, Jasper couldn't think of a reason why he shouldn't give the lady his shoe. She was pretty convincing. So he slipped it off and handed it to her. She took a quick glance at the inside of his shoe and passed it back to him just as the elevator opened at the main floor. "Thanks dear. You're not getting off here?"

"Mail room," said Jasper, struggling to jam his shoe back on. He caught sight of the woman waving to him as the doors closed once more and the elevator started down to the final level of the high rise. Jasper scratched his head, trying to make sense of the succession of blue cover-alled people he'd interacted with in the past three minutes. These meetings were odd in a way he couldn't put his finger on, and he was still puzzling over his peculiar morning when the elevator doors slid open, revealing the concrete walls of the basement floor. Jasper stepped out and managed to take one breath of stale furnace-room air before he was grabbed from behind, blindfolded, gagged and carried away by a group of gentlemen in navy blue coveralls.

2005-10-31T23:56:00.000-08:00

Hola amigos. Welcome to another year of Nano. For the third year in a row I'll be attempting to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November.

Why?

Why the hell not.

Seriously, if you want to know about it, go here: www.nanowrimo.org otherwise, just take my word for it that marathon writing is a fulfilling if not painful endeavour. I completed my story last year, as a select few can verify. It was called "Bowling For Nothing" and it's all here on the blog if you're feeling ambitious. Anyways, I hope a few of you will keep up with my efforts this year. I can always use the encouragement. I haven't got a title yet, but my working title is "The Finish Line." Don't ask me what that means. Also, I have only a vague idea of what's going to happen in the story. This is going to be fun.

Still with me?

Eeeexcellent. A few notes before we begin:

1. Since this is a blog, my entries will be most recent to least. So the beginning of the book will be at the bottom of the page... and it's confusing. So if you're planning to follow along, visit often so it doesn't get out of hand.

2. Normally, I would encourage constructive criticism when it comes to my writing... but since this is kind of a "pick up a hand full of letters, throw 'em on the page and see what sticks" sort of writing project, I'm going to ask for words of encouragement only. This is 1,700 words a day for 30 days straight... hard. So happy words only, people!

3. On that note... I can't figure out how to disable the comments part and there's a weird bot thing that goes around putting fake comment/ads and I've been getting like a 20 a week coming in my email. So I turned off the email notification. Therefore if you comment on the blog, I probably won't read it. But you can talk to me about my story via email or MSN. Any comments or suggestions will be more than appreciated.

That's all folks. Thanks so much for reading... even if it's only this intro part.

Cheers
Kim :)

2005-01-14T22:37:00.000-08:00

You guys have been way too patient. I finished... finally. Enjoy. Don't kill me, Rachel.

After a satisfyingly syrupy meal, Ada drove everyone to the RetroPit in her tiny car. It was across town, almost near the Shaw’s house, but the ride was made extra long thanks to the non-stop chatter from the backseat. Rachel and Rocky were acting like four year olds, and Ada felt like a soccer mom — she almost had to turn around and give Rocky a good flick between the eyes after he kicked the back of her seat for about the hundredth time. The front seat was a bit more sombre. Adam stared out the window, while Ada fiddled with the radio buttons on her tape deck. They finally arrived at the club. It was a small, black, square building with a few floodlights on the perimeter. A canopy hung at the entrance, with two beefy bouncers on either side of the double doors. There was no line up, which was expected as it was still quite early.

The inside of the club had a low ceiling, with white Christmas lights laced through a horizontal trellis suspended from the roof with its bare pipes exposed. To their right was the bar and at the far end of the room was a small stage, slightly elevated from a slick, black dance floor. About a dozen people loitered among the tables and bar stools, a few played a game of pool on the other side of the room, opposite the bar.

“Drink?” Rocky asked, already heading to the bar. Rachel nodded and followed him.

“You did a really good job,” said Adam. Ada looked at him, confused.

“With your sister. I barely recognize her. And she’s letting Rocky buy her a drink,” he chuckled.

“I think I may have created a monster,” said Ada. Rachel and Rocky had not shut up since she moved in. A few days ago she had asked her sister why the sudden change of heart, and Rachel had replied that it was simply a matter of old fashioned chivalry, or at least a modest attempt at it.

“When him and Eli got in that fight it was like I really saw Rocky for the person that he was. He stood up for me.” This made sense to Ada and she wondered if Luke or even Adam would draw pistols for her. Probably not, but then again, Rocky’s act of chivalry was mostly due to his drunken state and excitable personality, more so than to defend Rachel’s honour. Ada didn’t tell her that, though.

Adam looked around the club, feeling conspicuous in the mostly empty room. It was dark, but the music wasn’t on very loud, so his and everyone else’s conversation could be easily heard from one end of the room to the other. At least Luke hadn’t shown up yet. Their band was opening that night and would hit the stage in about an hour. Good time to drink, he thought, heading to the bar, and leaving Ada to keep a table by the dance floor. Rocky was already chugging a beer, much to Rachel’s mirth, when Adam arrived at the bar. He ordered a beer for himself and a cranberry and vodka for Ada.

“I feel dizzy,” said Rocky, gasping for air. Rachel patted him on the back and encouraged him to go another round by buying another beer from the bar tender. Adam shook his head and went back to Ada, who was searching the room for someone. Three guesses as to who, thought Adam. He set the drinks down.

“Thanks,” said Ada. She looked over to her sister and Rocky and gave Adam a questioning look.

“You’ve created two monsters. He won’t stop until Rachel loses interest, and your sister seems to be endlessly amused by stupidity,” he said, taking a drink of his own beer. “At least that’s the only way I can explain their new found friendship.”

Ada shook her head. “Don’t even ask me.” They watched the beer Olympics for a few minutes, after three bottles, Rocky finally stopped, as he could no longer stand. He and Rachel made their way towards the nearest table, and Adam turned back to Ada.

“We should probably talk about the other day,” he said.

She seemed surprised by this. “Why? What is there to talk about, I mean, I thought you explained yourself.”

“It was a little half-assed, don’t you think? And I’ve had time to think about it, I thought maybe you’d like a better explanation,” said Adam. He took another drink. This was going to be harder than he thought.

“It’s no big deal, Adam,” said Ada. She scanned the room again. “You were upset – for some reason. But it’s okay, it doesn’t matter now.”

“It is a big deal to me. Ada, do you know how hard it is for me to be here?”

She set her glass down and gave him a hard stare. “You told me you were okay with this.”

“Yeah, I guess I lied,” said Adam. He ripped a piece of the label from his bottle and twisted it between his fingers.

“So you don’t like Luke?” Her face fell.

“No, he’s fine. I like Luke, but I also like you. Like, really like you,” said Adam, he rested his forehead on his palm and looked up at Ada through his bangs, trying to read her face. She just sat there, staring far away, as if Adam was sitting there in front of her. The lights suddenly dimmed and the pre-recorded music kicked up an extra notch. Ada returned her gaze to Adam.

“Why are you bringing this up now?” she half-shouted, trying to be heard over the music.

“Because I didn’t know what I wanted before. I thought I liked someone else, and then they helped me figure out that that wasn’t it at all, and that my mind was just screwed up. It was confusing. But now--“

“Now Luke is here,” interrupted Ada.

“I know it seems like that’s the case, but it isn’t. I just have bad timing,” said Adam.

“No, I mean, Luke is here, as in walking right towards us.” Ada pushed out her chair and waved across the room. Adam buried his face in his hands as Luke sauntered up to their table, twirling a drumstick in his right hand. Ada jumped up and hugged Luke, squealing as he lifted her off the ground a little bit. Adam watched on, not believing she would act like that after what he’d just told her. Didn’t what he had said mean anything to her?

Ada looked down at Adam. She seemed sad, but that still didn’t count for the fact that she was holding Luke’s hand. She saw that Adam noticed this, and let go. “Adam, Luke wants to show me his drums, but I’ll be back. I promise, and we can work this out,” she said. Adam nodded numbly. “I’m sorry, but I said I’d go.”

Adam watched as Ada ran to catch up with Luke. That did not go exactly as planned, but what did he expect? Ada to forget all about Luke and accept Adam’s vague interpretations of his feelings? No, obviously not.

*

Ada took one last look at Adam before rounding the corner to the backstage area. His back was to her, slumped over and shaking his head. She swallowed her guilt and continued to follow Luke as they wound their way through a snaking hallway and into a tiny room with a stained couch and card table.

“Can you just wait here a minute, I got to run and get something,” said Luke. He smiled at her before taking off down the hallway, leaving Ada alone in the dingy room.

She decided against sitting on the questionable sofa, instead electing to lean up against he wall, and pound the back of her head repeatedly while moaning. Bad timing? He said he had bad timing? Adam, it seemed, was the all time world champion of it. Had he said something of this to her two weeks ago – 14 bloody days – she would have been able to actually consider it. But now? It was out of the question. Adam could take his stupid feelings, and his stupid rose and just shove it because it didn’t even matter if she liked him back. He didn’t deserve it. Ada crossed her arms and sighed. There, that’s it, that was her decision.

She stood up straight when Luke came running back into the room. “I guess the rest of the guys aren’t here yet. Do you want to check out my set?”

“Yeah,” said Ada, trying to smile. Okay, so her decision wasn’t holding much water, she sort of wanted to cry. Stupid Adam.

“Are you alright?” asked Luke.

“Sort of,” said Ada quietly.

Luke looked over his shoulder. “Did something happen back there with you and Adam?”

Ada shrugged. Did she want to tell Luke? Yes, she did, she wanted to tell him a lot of things, but that still didn’t change the fact that he might not take what Adam said so well. She decided to stick with the vague shrug, but retained her look of misery. Luke cocked his head sympathetically and moved closer to her, pulling her in for a hug. He held her for a few seconds and then stepped back an inch, moved his hand to her cheek and leaned in to kiss her. Ada relaxed in his arms for a moment and then pulled back.

“He kind of told me he liked me, as more than a friend.” She looked up at Luke. Talk about bad timing.

Luke stepped back and folded his arms. “Ada, you told me there was nothing going on between you two.”

“There wasn’t. And there isn’t, but you asked me what happened and I told you,” she said. Even then it sounded stupid.

“You couldn’t have waited until after I kissed you?” asked Luke. He looked bemused, but not the good kind of bemused.

“I’m sorry. Can we just forget it?” pleaded Ada. She wished so much she could take it back, but she couldn’t help what her mind was fixated on, and at the moment, it was Adam.

“Well no. It’ s obviously something you’re still thinking about. Ada, I don’t want to do this if you have feelings for Adam,” said Luke. He swung his drumstick in the air, clearly frustrated. Ada just stood there with her mouth slightly open. Could this be happening? Was Luke dumping her before they even started going out?

“I want to be with you,” she said. But even she didn’t believe what she was saying.

“Maybe we should just cool it for awhile,” he said.

There were voices travelling down the hall – the rest of KillJoy, it would seem, as before Ada could even reply to Luke, the tiny room they were standing in was suddenly full of three more guys in old tee-shirts and shaggy hair. Without even looking at Luke, Ada edged past the band and marched down the hallway, gaining speed as she went along. She emerged in the main area of the club, which had begun to fill up considerably since she had left with Luke. Ada searched the room and spotted Adam, Rocky and Rachel at the table near the dance floor. She strode over, digging her keys out of her purse as she went along.

“Here,” she said to Rachel, placing her keys on the table. “You can drive everyone home. I’m leaving.” Without looking at either Rocky or Adam, she turned to leave.

“How are you getting home?” yelled Rachel.

“Cab!” Ada called back over her shoulder. Pushing her way through the crowd, she managed to find her way outside. There were two taxis waiting off to the side, and Ada made her way to the one at the front.

“Ada!”

She flipped around. It was Adam. “I don’t want to talk to you right now, Adam!” she said, reaching the taxi. She had her hand on the back door handle, but Adam had caught up.

He grabbed her shoulder. “Wait.”

“I’m not waiting anymore Adam!”

“What happened to Luke?” he persisted.

“You. Ruined. Everything,” she said, through gritted teeth. “Luke doesn’t want to see me anymore because of you and your little speech. But guess what, Adam? It’s not going to happen. You waited too long and it was just the wrong time. What did you expect? That I would all of a sudden fall in love with you and just drop everything so I could be with you. Don’t fool yourself Adam, you’re not a great catch, okay? Luke was. He had a band and a future! Just leave me alone!” She couldn’t believe she was saying this, couldn’t even understand where it was all coming from. But there it was, on the table – ten point strike for Ada.

Adam stood, blindsided for a moment before leaving Ada to her taxi. She struggled with the handle before swinging the door open, diving in and slamming it shut again. The cab driver looked at her through his rear-view mirror.

“Avenue,” said Ada. She slumped back in her vinyl seat and buckled her seat belt. The cab eased into drive and rolled out of the parking lot. Ada rubbed her forehead and stared numbly at the advertisement on the back of the driver’s side seat.

“Want to teach in Japan?” the sign asked her, all the way home. Ada caught her haggard reflection in the sign’s Plexiglas. Yes, she thought, anywhere but here.

Chapter 15

Adam stood behind the counter of Otis Car Wash, thumbing through a motorcycle magazine and trying desperately to keep his eyes open. It wasn’t even six o’clock, and yet half the world, it seemed, found it fit to go to the local car wash and harass the hung over clerk for brewing a weak cup of coffee. Adam wanted to slap them. He wanted to slap himself. It wasn’t his fault Otis forgot to get coffee as he was so busy getting ready to show the store off – or having Adam get the store ready to show off. It wasn’t his fault he had to sit in the bar and watch Rachel and Rocky slobber all over each other, while Ada’s almost ex-boyfriend performed a ten-minute drum solo. He could barely be blamed for drinking an entire jug of draft.

Oh well. He’d get over it, he supposed. He couldn’t change how Ada felt about things, but he could change other parts of his life. Like the car wash. Adam wondered what he would do if he quit. Probably find another crappy job, except the next one would probably require him to put in a bit more effort than he did for Otis. Quitting hardly seemed worth it when you had to write up a letter of resignation, fill out applications and train all over again just to end up where you started. Start and stop, start and stop. Why didn’t he just die?

If not die, then maybe he could slip and fall in the wash. Hit his head really hard and go on worker’s comp for awhile. Or maybe he could get hit by a car – just serious enough to break his leg and render him useless behind the till. That would be fairly difficult, Adam mused, he’d have to fall just in the right place, and find a car that was going just the right speed. He sighed. Perpetrating a fraud was just too much work to even think about. Plus, it wouldn’t make Ada like him again.

Adam was stuck, and the worst part of it was, he was stuck in a job soon to be run by the father of a girl who he brutally dumped. A girl who wouldn’t even look at him anymore. Adam stared at the door, hoping that maybe the answers to all, or at least some of his problems would come walking in the door… now. Nothing. He straightened up and tried again. Nnnnnnnnnnow.

Ding.

It was Elma Wong. Adam slouched, this could only mean bad things.

“Do you know where Ada is?” she asked, walking towards Adam. Though the woman was barely five feet, Adam was genuinely intimidated. He’d only talked to Elma Wong once before – after attempting to buy some beer with a fake ID – and had come out of the experience feeling cowed and very beerless.

“Yes,” said Adam immediately, not even considering to feed this woman a lie, thinking of how well he’d been lying lately.

Her eyes lit up. “You do? Tell me where she is.”

Adam mustered up all the courage he could handle that early in the morning. For Ada’s sake. “Why?”

“I need her back at work. The store’s going down the toilet,” she said, looking about the car wash, as though Ada might be hiding among its well dusted shelves.

“I don’t think she wants to work at the liquor store,” said Adam weakly. He actually winced, anticipating a full on attack. But Elma only deflated.

“What am I going to do?” she moaned, throwing her hands up in the air. “My daughters have deserted me, and Jackson and I can’t run the store by ourselves. How am I going to find someone to replace them? Eh? Why should I even have to? They should be begging to work for us!”

Adam didn’t have an answer to this, so he just shrugged. He watched as Elma paced around in small circles, and then it came to him. “Mrs. Wong? I’ll work for you.”

She regarded him suspiciously. “But you have a job here.”

“I’ll quit,” he said.

“How do I know you’re any good?”

Adam almost laughed at this. “I’ve worked here for six years and Otis hasn’t canned me yet.”

Elma lifted her head an examined Adam, after a few moments she sighed. She had little choice but to say, “okay. You’re hired. You can start this afternoon.” Elma looked at him one last time and then turned on her heels and marched out the door, muttering all the way.

Adam felt a strange feeling of accomplishment. This was it, he was leaving the car wash. Granted, he was only moving twenty feet over to the liquor store, but it was a start.

*

Ada was still fairly angry. Her frustrations had subsided enough over the night, as she tossed and turned in her squeaky bed. She had come to the conclusion that what had happened wasn’t entirely Adam’s fault. It was partly hers, she admitted to herself, having gone over the course of events and decided that maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to bring up Adam as Luke was making his move. Still, it wouldn’t have even been an issue had Adam kept his mouth shut.

Regardless, she had decided that she’d had enough of boys for a while. For now, she had the house to herself, save for Asshat, who was keeping her company as she whipped up another batch of Angry Pancakes. Rocky and Rachel had left earlier that day. She didn’t know where they were headed, though Rocky had announced they were running away to Las Vegas to get married. Ada doubted that very much, and figured they had followed up on Rocky’s hints of another bowling ball escapade. This time striking the Southside Fun Centre. Ada wondered what a Vegas wedding with Rocky would be like. They’d probably hit up the Elvis impersonator – Rachel had always liked The King.

Ada finished measuring her milk and poured it into the plastic bowl. She had to rinse out the wooden spoon, which was still sitting in the sink from the day before. She sighed. One of these days she’d have to get a job. Her money was running out, and sitting around an empty house all day was really wearing thin. Again, she couldn’t for the life of her think of what she wanted. Driving would be fun – a delivery truck or a bus. A cab, maybe. She laughed, picturing herself behind the wheels of a bright yellow station wagon. Maybe not. Ada thought back to her cab ride home from the night before.

“Want to teach in Japan?”

She stopped, mid-stir. “Yes, I do,” she said, and then turned to Asshat, whose tail was swishing madly in tiny arcs across the floor. “I should teach in Japan!”

Ada marvelled at this new idea, stirring idly. Already she could see herself sitting on a plane, flying far, far away from everything that was here: her parents, Adam, Luke, Rachel and her scary new boyfriend. It was perfect! She almost started laughing out loud as she lit the gas stove and placed the cast iron pan over the blue flame.

“I’m going to Japan, Asshat! Yes, I am! Yes, I am!” she said, working the mutt into a tizzy. Asshat was dancing in place now, his nails clicking against the floor. He barked, and, once more, jumped on top of the counter.

“No!” scolded Ada. She reached for him, but Asshat dodged her grasp, and click-clacked down the length of the counter to grab the paper towel roll again.

“Put it down, Asshat!” said Ada, pointing downwards forcefully, but the dog ignored her, instead opting to shake the roll violently, while growling. Ada grasped for it, but missed every time, causing Asshat to shake the roll even harder. She stood back and stamped her foot. Stupid dog.

Her attention was diverted suddenly, when the sounds of someone knocking on the front door came travelling down the hallway. Ada knit her brows, this was unusual. They’ve never had a visitor to the house; Adam and Rocky had their own keys. The knocking continued as Ada ventured down the hallway, though as she got closer, she could tell that it wasn’t someone knocking that was making the noise. The small thumps were coming from somebody throwing something against the side of the house. Ada peered through the frosted glass of the front entrance, but was not able to identify anything other than some fuzzy grey shapes moving around the front yard. She opened the door slowly.

“Stupid son of a bitch!”

Thwack!

An egg splattered against the side of the house, right above the door and where Ada was standing. She ducked, watching warily as the gooey yolk dripped down the wooden slats and onto the concrete. Asshat was at her feet, barking madly at the two girls running around on the front lawn.

“Destiny? Anita? What are you guys doing?” yelled Ada from the door. The girls froze and stared at Ada. Their egg-laden hands dropped to their sides. Between them, a crate full of what looked like toilet paper, shaving cream and two more cartons of eggs sat, spilling its contents onto the lawn.

“Oh, it’s only Ada,” said Anita. She returned to her egg and swung back, hurling the tiny projectile onto a second floor window.

“Stop it!” screamed Ada, running down the walk. Asshat was on her heels, howling now. “Shut up!” Ada hissed.

“This is revenge,” stated Destiny, chucking two eggs at a time.

Ada stood there, at a loss as to what to do. “Against Rocky?”

“No,” grunted Anita, flinging the last of her eggs. “Against my ugly ass brother, who broke my best friend’s heart!” She sighed, brushed her hands and bent down to pick up a roll of toilet paper and the shaving cream.

“But this is Rocky’s house, not Adam’s,” said Ada, though she did see where the appeal of hurling food at a house to mend any hurt feelings came from. Satisfying, but pointless. “You guys are making a huge mess for nothing, Adam isn’t going to care. Come to think of it, Rocky won’t either.”

Destiny and Anita stopped for a moment to think about this. Asshat continued to bark like a banshee.

“Will you shut that dog up?” whined Anita. She checked her nails and frowned to discover that the nail polish on her right pinky was chipped.

Ada covered her ears. “Ug, I can’t. He wants pancake batter or something,” she said. “Hang on, I’ll go feed him. You two stop throwing dead chickens at the house and I’ll come back so we can figure out how to piss off Adam properly.” The girls looked at each other and grinned. Ada set back up the walk, but only got to the door before realizing something was very wrong.

Smoke.

She covered her nose with her sleeve and ran up the hallway, which was already filling with ash white smoke. It billowed out from the kitchen doorway, which was as far as Ada got before realizing the entire counter was on fire. Traces of the paper towel roll ran from the element on the stove, all the way across the counter to the sink in the corner.

Asshat, thought Ada. Stupid, stupid dog.

Flames licked the tinder dry walls and climbed up towards the ceiling. The flaking paint on the ceiling was already beginning to blacken and the fire was threatening to spill over onto the floor.

Ada gaped at blaze in front of her, already struggling for air in the room that was thick with smoke. Without thinking, she ducked down and headed to the sink, thinking maybe she would be able to direct the flow of water onto the counter and put out the fire. She didn’t even make it half way across the room before realizing this was impossible. It was already too late and Ada could tell that no amount of blanket beating or bowls full of water was going to put these flames out. Coughing and with tears streaming down her face, Ada turned and ran back outside.

She fled from the house, gagging and waving her arms. Destiny and Anita were chattering on the front lawn, still quite oblivious to what was going on. Ada ran up to them and bent over, gasping. “Fire,” she croaked. “Call 911”

Anita and Destiny looked at her cluelessly, as Asshat continued to howl. Finally, Ada found the strength to stagger over to Anita and grab her cell phone off a clip she wore on her belt loop. Smoke was pouring out from the open door as Ada dialled 911, and a hint of orange flames could be seen from down the hall.

“911, do you have an emergency to report?”

Ada murmured the address to Rocky’s house and listened to the instructions that were given to her. Get everyone away from the house. Don’t go inside. Crews will be arriving shortly. Rocky is going to kill you in your sleep.

Ada herded the girls and Asshat to a spot on the curb across the street. Within minutes they could hear fire sirens screaming from the Avenue just blocks away. Ada stood up as the red engines came hurtling down the street. Her relief on getting out of the house alive turned to numb disbelief as she watched the fire fighters jump out of their truck and immediately set to work, dislodging equipment from the side and pulling out the fire hose. Anita and Destiny, for once, were not talking, but staring wide-eyed at the scene with their hands over their mouths.

“I’m in so much trouble,” murmured Ada. She turned to Anita. “I need to use your phone, I need to call Adam.”

Anita handed it to her without looking, her gaze still transfixed on the house, which now had smoke pouring out from the second storey windows. Ada found the car wash number on the phone and dialled it. Otis answered, which was unusual. She asked for Adam.

“He’s quit? Where has he gone?”

Otis didn’t know, and Ada hung up, feeling the situation had just gotten worse. Not that Adam could do anything about the fire that was currently destroying Rocky’s house, but he’d make her feel a lot better, that was for sure. She had no choice but to call Rocky. Ada sighed and dialled his number.

“Hello?” It was Rachel.

“Rachel, why are you answering Rocky’s phone?”

“Why not?” answered Rachel, giggling. Ada wasn’t sure she liked the new Rachel better. This one was quite annoying.

The phone clattered and changed hands. Ada could still hear her sister yammering in the background when Rocky came on the line. “Yo.”

“Rocky! You need to get home. Quick!” Ada was now on the verge of tears, having gone from numb disbelief to panic in the half second it took for Rocky to take the phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just, now. Please! I think the house might be burning down,” Ada bit her lip and felt the first few tears start rolling down her cheeks. That the house “might” be burning down was a criminal understatement. The fire crews had now taken to spraying more water on neighbouring houses to prevent the flames, now clearly visible from the outside, to spreading further.

Rocky swore and hung up the phone. Ada began to hyperventilate and crouched down on the curb beside Destiny. She put her hands around Ada’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “It’ll be okay, babe. Rocky’s not smart enough to hate your forever.”

Ada took one more look at the flames through a cloud of tears and fell forward onto Destiny’s lap, bawling.

Chapter 16

It had been three weeks since the fire, and Adam was not nearly as depressed as he thought he’d be. For one thing, he’d had to move back into his mom’s house, much to her joy. It seemed that his presence in the basement and casual appearances at the dinner table were, in fact, a vital ingredient to her overall sanity. Who would have thought? After thinking about it, he realized that he was the perfect Yin to his Anita’s Yang – they balanced each other out, and for now it would have to do.

The arrangement was just as agreeable to Anita, who felt that having a hand in the destruction of Rocky’s house was the ultimate in revenge for Destiny, who had since gotten over Adam and was now dating their school mascot. (The boy inside the suit, not the actual mascot).

Eventually he would move out, Adam told his mother, because if what the Wong’s were saying was true, he could be a full-fledged manager in six months. Not too shabby, he thought.

In fact, the situation seemed to be working out for everyone involved. Both Elma and Jackson found that having employees who weren’t there children to be rather refreshing. And the Wong girls? Well, Adam had spoken with one of them several times over the past few weeks, and that had only been because she was constantly over at Rocky’s when Adam came to visit him in the pool house. Ada, it seemed, had taken up permanent residence in her family’s basement, emerging only to go to some undisclosed location. The reasons why were still fuzzy to Adam, who had managed to glean only snippets of information from her sister.

It wasn’t just him Ada wasn’t talking to, though. She had cut off communication from everyone.

Luke had even come down to the liquor store about two weeks after the fire to see if Ada had been around. That had been an uncomfortable conversation, and Adam was happy to send Luke on his miserable way after quickly assuring him that Ada was nowhere in the vicinity.
Adam was behind the counter of Wong’s Beer, musing over the recent turn of events on a quiet Wednesday afternoon, when Rachel came into the store. She was followed closely behind by a doting Rocky, who it seemed had actually combed his hair before showing his face in public. Adam shook his head inwardly wondering what other influences Rachel would bestow on Rocky. A shower every day? Clipping his toenails before they cut through his socks? It was sad, in a way.

Rachel said a quick hello to Elma (who still refused to look Rocky in the eye) at the back of the store and strode immediately to the front counter, where Adam was standing. She took off her sunglasses and folded her arms on the counter, narrowing her eyes at Adam.

“What?” Adam stepped back. Rachel was a good half a foot shorter than he, but still intimidating as hell when she wanted to be.
“You’re back in the circle of trust,” she said, stone-faced. Rachel held her serious look for a few seconds before cracking a smile and giggling.

“Ha, ha. Yes, very funny Deniro. Did you come in here just to bug me?” said Adam, sneaking a glance at his boss in the back of the store. Daughter or no, he didn’t want to lose his job.

“No,” said Rachel with a smirk. “I’ve come to tell you that Ada wants to have a conversation.”

Adam raised his eyebrows and looked up at her.

“Yes, I know, what an honour,” said Rachel sarcastically. “The queen wishes to speak with you and I am but a simple messenger.”
Adam ignored the eye-rolling. “When does she want to talk?”

“You can come over to our house after work,” said Rachel. “She should be there. It’s not like she ever leaves.”

Adam considered this as he watched Rachel take her leave and swing into the back of the store to talk to Jackson. It still wasn’t entirely clear to him why Ada had been avoiding conversation. He knew he’d screwed things up at the RetroPit, but couldn’t imagine anything he had said was that terrible. There was that whole thing with Luke, but surely three weeks was long enough to get over that. Right? Even Adam had come to terms with the fact that Ada currently despised him and that had only taken a few days.

Rocky wandered over to counter, with a stupid grin plastered across his face.

“So, another chance with Ada?” he grinned.

“I really doubt that,” said Adam. Despite his recent luck with the ladies, Rocky was as clueless as ever.

“Too bad, because those Wong girls…” Rocky trailed off and winked. Adam looked away. That had been creepy.

“So is your dad still threatening to sue you for the house?” asked Adam.

Sammy Shaw had not taken the destruction of his tax shelter lightly, vowing legal action on his only son shortly after viewing the charred remains of the three-storey.

“Nah,” said Rocky. “He calmed down after a couple weeks. I guess the insurance was worth more than what he could have sold it for. He’s just gonna sell the land at top price and maybe buy a ski-doo for the lake. It’s cool.”

They were silent for a few moments, and then Adam asked Rocky something he really cared about.

“How’s your mom doing?”

Rocky only gave him a sneered look and then walked away. Adam had garnered that he’d found out about the conversation he and Mia had had just a few weeks ago. Not that it mattered anymore, he had come to terms with the reasons why he was attracted to Mia, and now it was simply a case of caring for her as a friend.
Adam shook his head and went back to straightening the lottery tickets and scanning the store for shoplifters.

*

The Wong house was like nothing Adam had expected. First of all, the lawn needed a good cutting. By the way Jackson ran the store, Adam had expected his house would be under the same strict regime. There were leaves on the sidewalk and a dead bird underneath one of the windows, which Adam tried not to look at as he made his way up the front walk to the door.

He knocked twice and then rang the bell. A few minutes passed and the lock finally rattled. Ada poked one eye out and then opened the door entirely, walking away and beckoning Adam inside. She was in her pyjamas, even though it was five o’clock, and her hair was messy. Adam wondered briefly if she’d gone off the deep end.

“There’s a dead bird on your sidewalk,” he said.

Ada turned around to look at him and scrunched her nose. “I know. Dad’s been bugging me to clean up the yard for days now. I can’t even look at the poor thing without gagging.”
Adam nodded. That would explain the state of the yard. Looking around the house, from what he could see, it was just about as clean as the liquor store. There were even bulk cleaning products he recognized from their storeroom sitting in a corner by the shoe rack.

“How have you been?” ventured Adam. He was mystified by not only Ada’s appearance, but her attitude as well. She was acting as though she’d seen Adam just the other day, and not ignored him for the last three weeks.

“I’m a mess,” she said. At least she was being honest.

She walked up the stairs from the landing to the main floor. Adam followed her into the kitchen and watched as she began to rummage through the cupboards for cereal.

“Is it because of Luke?”

Ada stopped mid cereal-grab and rolled her eyes at Adam. “I burned down a house. I’m not that shallow that I’d have a nervous breakdown for a guy I’d known for a month.”
Adam sat down at the kitchen table. As usual, he couldn’t get a proper read of the situation. Would probably be a good idea to just shut up and listen.

“Is that what you wanted to talk with me about?” he asked.
Ada took her cereal and grabbed a bowl from another cupboard before sitting down across from Adam.

“I guess,” she said. “I also wanted to make sure things were okay between you and me. I was pretty mad that night at the bar.”

“Yeah,” said Adam.

“I hope you know I still consider you my friend. That’s cool, right?” She shoved a spoonful of frosted flakes in her mouth.

“I think I can handle that,” said Adam.

Ada concentrated on her cereal for a few minutes, leaving Adam to watch her slurp away.

“Sam doesn’t blame you for the house,” he said. “He knows you didn’t mean to set it on fire.”

“It was still my fault,” said Ada glumly.

“Everyone screws up. There isn’t anything you can do about it now.”

Ada nodded slowly and sipped up the last of her milk. Adam had a feeling she’d received the same bit of advice from everyone.

She looked up from her bowl and gave Adam a long look. “I’m going to miss you.”

“You’re going somewhere?” Adam almost choked on his own spit.

Ada raised an eyebrow. “Japan. Didn’t Rachel tell you?”
A
dam sat straight up in his chair. “No!” He felt a little sick. This had been unexpected in that while he had been prepared for the ‘let’s be friends’ talk, the ‘I’m going to Japan’ speech was something else entirely.

“Oh, well I am. I’m going to teach English there for a year.” Ada shoved her chair from the table and stood up to take her bowl to the sink. She looked over her shoulder. “Sorry you didn’t know.”

“You can’t go,” said Adam, a little desperately.

Ada stood across the kitchen with her hands on her hips. She tilted her head to one side. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” said Adam quickly. “When are you going?”

“In a month,” said Ada. She opened the fridge and began to rummage through its contents, leaving Adam to catch his breath at the table.

“Why?”

“Because – well, why not? I have nothing keeping me back here anymore. Being out of my parent’s house for the last little while has really proved to me how much I need to get away. Don’t you just want to run away sometimes?”

Adam blinked. Nothing to keep her back? “Yes.”

“There you go. I’m so excited, Adam. I just can’t imagine what it’s going to be like.”

Ada smiled for the first time since opening the door, and Adam couldn’t help but smile right back.

“You’ll be back though?” he asked.

Ada looked away. “Eventually, I suppose. Although I do plan to meet some rich, Jewish Japanese man and move to Hawaii.”

Adam forced a laugh. “Back to where your ancestors come from, eh?”

Ada looked down and smiled.

“Send me a postcard?” said Adam.

“Of course. I know where you work.”

Adam stood up and walked across the kitchen to hug Ada. She rested her head on his shoulder for a few seconds before pulling away.

“You’ve changed my life, you know that?” she said.

Adam shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s only a start, Ada. I’ll see you around, okay?”

They both nodded and Adam turned to leave. Ada called out goodbye to him as he reached the front door and waved backwards. The door shut behind him and he left the Wong house, making sure not to stare at the dead bird belly-up on the sidewalk.

THE END

2004-12-02T23:22:00.000-08:00

Ahahahahaha! Like, remember when I promised I would post the "rest" of my story on Wednesday? Yeah, totally didn't happen. Then today, The O.C. was on and I was busy hating Marissa and yelling at her outfit and cheering on Ryan and Lindsay (yay!) to write. Then a bunch of stuff happened involving stupid Dino and his stupid girlfriend and Stupid Miss. Young and her awesome way too cute Ben boyfriend, and yeah, Thursdays are a busy night. So..... the story's still not done, but here's the beginning of the end.

Rachel and Rocky left her alone as she stomped out of her room and headed towards the attic ladder, which was now permanently descended into the hallway. Good, the last thing she needed was cynical advice and license to bug both her and Adam for the next ten years.

Ada could not even begin to comprehend what Adam had been thinking. There had been no warning or indication of his intentions, and she was beginning to wonder if even he was aware of them. Ada stumbled in the dark before finding the light switch and illuminating the attic. She walked over to the window facing the front street and peered down to see if Adam was still hanging around the house. He wasn’t. Why would he just run out like that?

“Asshole,” muttered Ada. She turned back to the rest of the attic and paced a bit before finding a nice spot in the corner to sit. She curled up her legs and rested her chin on her knees. It was only a kiss. No crisis, except for the fact that it almost was. Luke was in the picture now, and although it wasn’t serious by any means, it was something — and something was more than Ada had had in awhile. But what was this supposed to mean? That after all these years, Adam was making his move and it was just a coincidence that it happened just when Luke had invited them to his concert? No, thought Ada, it meant that Adam was jealous and spiteful and all he was trying to do was — well, she didn’t know what he was trying to do, that was still a mystery.

*

Adam was walking again, this time in a different direction than before, and now, entirely thanks to him, he had a whole new set of things to mull over and obsess about. He had come to one conclusion: kissing Ada had been a bad idea. That was obvious, but it was the only thing he could think of at the moment. Adam replayed it over and over again before deciding that not only had it been a bad move, it had been a bad kiss. He could have at least put some effort into it and then maybe at least Ada could have gotten something out of it.

Adam sighed and looked up from his feet. The sun was just setting and the sky had begun to turn a lazy mauve. The air was still and Adam could hear people out in their backyards, barbecuing, talking, not being idiots, unlike himself. He ducked his head down again and set off, briefly wondering that maybe if he went back to the house that very second, and tried to explain his actions to Ada, things would be better. But it was too late, he was already heading in one direction and didn’t have the strength to turn around at that point. Before long he reached the Avenue, where the relaxed residential noises were replaced by the roar of motorcycles and cars with bad mufflers. A bus was idling about half a block away, and upon reading its destination, Adam jogged to catch it, stepping up on the rubber staircase just before the folding doors hissed shut.

He paid his fare and sat down near the back, across from a kid with headphones and what looked like some poor drunk sprawled out across the back bench. The bus hummed to life and jerked forward, allowing Adam to zone out, his gaze fixed on the ever-changing scenery rolling by the windows. He looked back to where he’d gotten on the bus and wondered if maybe going to see Mia was worse than running out on Ada. The Smart Little Man in the back of his brain told him “Yes, Adam, you bloody moron. Get off the bus.” But the giant monkey, wielding a sharpened stick at the front of his brain said “Talk Ada: bad! See Mia: good!” Adam decided to ignore the Smart Little Man. He could be such a jackass sometimes.

The bus lurched to a stop outside of a red brick indoor swimming pool. Adam could smell the chlorine as he stepped off the bus and headed in the direction of the Shaw house. It wasn’t very far away, so Adam didn’t have a lot of time to think about what he was going to say to Mia. In fact, the notion that he’d have to have any reason to see her at all didn’t even cross his mind until he could see their giant white house on the back end of a cul-de-sac. Adam stopped for a moment and then shrugged, it wasn’t like he was using his brain for anything else he did that day.

He rang the doorbell and waited for a few minutes. When nobody answered, he walked over to the corner of the house to check the driveway, but two cars were parked, so he went back to the front door and tried again, this time knocking. Adam was just about to back off the step when he heard footsteps and someone sliding across the linoleum to the front door. Mia swung the door open, out of breath and obviously surprised to see Adam standing there sheepishly.

“Adam?” she cocked her head, amused, and then smiled. “Come in.”

Adam stepped over the threshold and kicked off his shoes. He marveled once more at the high ceilings of the Shaw’s front hall and then returned his gaze to Mia, who was waiting expectantly for an explanation as to why he was there.

“I, um, just wanted to ask you something. Or, tell you something. About Rocky,” Adam finished.

Mia nodded. “Sure, anytime Adam. Listen, though, I’m just in the middle of finishing a huge order of flowers for Sam’s staff party, so would you mind if we talked in my flower room?”

“Sure,” said Adam. He followed Mia through the house and down the carpeted stairs. No going back now, Abel, you’d better come up with something good, crowed the Smart Little Man.

They passed through the family room and into what seemed to be the furnace room. The air hung heavy with the scent of heady flowers. The ground was concrete, and covered with leaves, twigs and wilted petals. In the middle of the room was a large square table. Two dozen glass vases were lined up, each with an equal amounts of baby’s breath, fern fillers and blue bells spraying out from the crystal clear water rippling with the echoes of Adam’s and Mia’s voices.

“So, what’s he done?” asked Mia, grimacing and reaching across the table to grasp a pair of pliers.

“Well, do you mind if we keep this between you and me?” said Adam. There was no use telling a lie if it was going to wind up biting him in the butt.

“Of course,” said Mia. “Is it really that bad?”

“No,” said Adam. “Actually, I just wanted some advice from you. Well, Rocky did, but he didn’t want to talk to you. He was afraid. He doesn’t know I’m here.”

Mia knit her brows, and began slowly clipping away some unruly vegetation. “You can trust me, go on.”

“He’s kind of gotten himself involved with Ada,” said Adam. He quickly scanned the room for an appropriate place to puke, as the contents of his stomach suddenly lurched into motion.

Mia raised her eyebrows, obviously having a hard time believing that Ada would allow Rocky to become “involved” with her.

“But the thing is, he’s not really interested in her. He likes someone else – someone much older,” Adam hesitated before spitting out the rest of his explanation. “My mom, actually.” He could barely bring himself to look at the expression on Mia’s face.

“Rocky likes your mom?” she asked, trying to contain her smile.

“Yeah, well, she’s pretty, and nice and funny. And they’ve hung around a bit. He knows nothing can really happen, but now Ada’s involved and he doesn’t know what to do,” said Adam.

Mia set her pliers down gently and thought about this for a few moments. “Are you sure this is Rocky you’re talking about? It doesn’t seem very much like him.”

“It’s him,” said Adam.

“So why did Rocky get involved with Ada if he likes… your mom?” asked Mia.

“Who knows? It’s Rocky, right?” Adam laughed nervously. Mia didn’t look convinced. “It might have had something to do with her new boyfriend,” he mumbled.

“So maybe Rocky’s feeling a little left out? Or maybe what he is feeling towards your mom is just a mutated version of what he’s really feeling for Ada,” said Mia. She smiled sympathetically.

Adam looked up at her, as convoluted as that was, it actually made a bit of sense.

“Your mom is safe. She’s more experienced, wiser and seems like a safe bet, but I think Rocky might be fooling himself,” she said. “Besides, if it were me, hypothetically, I would be very flattered, but I would know that it would never work out in the end. I mean, that’s just me. I’m married, and although there are some things in my life that I would like to change, it’s too late for me to start over.”

Adam nodded. He wasn’t sure if Mia knew exactly what they were talking about, but he was almost certain she had an idea. “I guess I should go back and tell Rocky this stuff. He’s kind of freaking right now.”

Mia smiled. “Before you go, here,” she walked across the room to a small fridge and pulled out a yellow rose. She handed it to Adam. “I know you might feel silly carrying this around, but I want you to give it to Rocky to give to Ada. A yellow rose symbolizes friendship, and even though he might want to go beyond that one day, something tells me Ada would be happy with this right about now.”

Adam took the rose. “Thanks,” he said. “You’ve been very cool about all this.”

Mia shrugged. “That’s my job.”

*

It was dark by the time Adam got back to the big house. The lights were out on the first floor, but the attics windows were glowing. As much as he wanted to hide away in his room all night, he knew he’d be in worse trouble if he ignored Ada much longer. So, he forced his legs to climb those stairs, twirling the yellow rose and staring at its petals. He was just about to continue onto the attic ladder when he noticed light seeping out from underneath Ada’s bedroom door. He knocked softly.

“Who is it?

“Adam.”

She was silent for a few seconds. “What do you want?” This wasn’t hostile question, but tired and weary.

“Can I talk to you?” asked Adam. He was leaning up against the door, pressing his ear to the wood to see if she was coming to let him in.

“Go for it,” said Ada, apparently content with the opaque divider.

“I do like Luke. I’m sorry I – I’m sorry I haven’t been nicer about it,” he said.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“I don’t know,” said Adam. “But I have something for you. For now, it means I’m sorry and I want to be your friend.” He put the rose on the floor.

“For now?” asked Ada.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Yes. I’m sorry, again.” He stared at the door, and then, when it was obvious she wasn’t going to open it until he left, continued his trek to the attic ladder.

Chapter 14

Ada lay on her bed staring out the window. A single yellow rose poked out from a drinking glass on the sill, it was starting to wilt, but Ada didn’t want to remove it. She liked it. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given her flowers – or a flower – and even though she’d come to the conclusion that Adam completely deserved to grovel at her feet, she was secretly appreciative of his gesture.

A few days had passed since Rachel moved in. She had eventually phoned Elma, and the results hadn’t been pretty. It was exactly what Ada had expected. Yelling. Screaming. Threatening to call the police. The usual. What she hadn’t expected was how well Rachel was getting along with both Adam and Rocky. It was as if the two years she was under the veil of weird did not happen, or didn’t count. She’d laugh at Rocky’s stupid jokes and play along with Adam’s sarcastic humour – they were one big happy family. Ada had been a bit more reluctant to let Adam get back on her good side, but she eventually convinced herself it wasn’t worth dwelling on. He’d been in a weird place, that she knew, even if he wasn’t be completely forthcoming about it. He’d dropped his funk in the last few days and even seemed to be looking forward to Luke’s concert that night. The solution, she thought, might have had something to do with him finally coming clean with Destiny. He’d mentioned her not talking to him at work, and it seemed to be doing him wonders.

Ada rolled off her bed and checked her watch, only a few more hours till they had to leave for the RetroPit. She’d promised Luke she would call him before they left but now was too soon. She was at a loss as to what she was going to do for the next three hours. Sounds of a bowling game were rattling her ceiling, so she decided to pay a visit to the happy rollers in the attic.

Rocky and Rachel were playing what seemed to be a very serious game of granny bowling. Rocky was at the pitch when Ada climbed into view. He had the ball in both hands and was staring intently at the three pins left standing. Swinging back between his legs, he let out a shrill war cry and let the ball loose. Ada put her hands over her ears as the ball bounced once on the lane and skipped over the gutter, finally rumbling to a stop in the corner of the attic.

“Rocky! You’re going to put a hole in the roof,” complained Ada. Rocky just laughed manically and Rachel giggled hysterically.

“Chill, Wongstein,” he said, strolling over to pick up the ball.

“You can stop calling me that any day,” she said, walking over to a folding chair and setting herself down in a huff. Rocky stuck his tongue out and Ada rolled her eyes.

“What’s your problem?” said Rachel, taking Ada’s ball with two hands.

“Bored. Still a few hours till the concert,” said Ada, examining her nails.

“So get ready.” Rachel rolled the ball excruciatingly slow.

Ada looked down at her clothes. Jeans, button-up shirt, she didn’t see a problem. “I’m mostly ready,” she said.

“Why don’t you make us something to eat? I’m starving,” said Rocky.

Ada frowned and was about to tell Rocky to make something himself, when the idea of cooking food seemed suddenly appealing.

“Good idea,” she said. “I’ll go make some pancakes.” Pancakes was the one thing Ada was really good at. She had Rachel had been under the culinary tutelage of their mother since they were six, so they both knew how to cook. Surprisingly, Rachel was the gourmet of the family, while Ada just relied on her abilities of presentation to mask the perpetually burnt and or undercooked food she produced. The house had acquired a frying pan at some point during the week, so Ada had everything she needed.

She set off to the lower level, thankful to have something to take her mind off of Luke’s concert that night. She wasn’t sure what there was to be nervous about, but somehow felt that this evening would be a culmination of everything that had happened in the past two weeks. They were all going, and both Rocky and Adam had promised to be on their best behaviours.

As Ada was stirring her pancake mix, she felt a cold nose on her bare feet, and then a slippery tongue between her toes. Asshat had come to beg, and Ada scooped a spoonful of batter onto the hardwood floor to appease the creature. Asshat lapped it up and then settled at Ada’s feet to gaze up at her endearingly, but she ignored him, and moved over to the gas oven to ignite one of the burners for her pan.

“What are you making?”

Ada turned around to see Adam walk into the kitchen. His hands were in his pockets, and he sat heavily down on a lawn chair.

“Pancakes,” she answered, moving the pan to the flame and giving her batter an extra stir for good measure.

“You told me one time that pancakes are your angry food,” said Adam. He looked worried, but Ada laughed.

“I told you that? I don’t even remember. I’m not angry, I just have a lot of nervous energy, I guess,” she said.

“It’ll be fine, it’s just a concert,” said Adam.

“Yeah… Luke’s concert. Are you sure you want to come?” she poised her dripping spoon above the bowl.

“Yes,” mumbled Adam, looking at his hands. He had resolved to be there for Ada, despite any new revelations he’d had regarding their relationship. The talk with Mia had helped somewhat, and he’d even stopped thinking about her constantly. Maybe there was something to what she’d said, but he was convinced that all the psychobabble in the world couldn’t bring him to his senses. For the time being, Adam was quite content to mull in confusion.

“I’m glad,” said Ada. She turned back to the stove to pour the first of her pancakes onto the pan. Thick, creamy batter dribbled out, piling into circles on the cast iron. It sizzled and steamed, making Ada’s stomach grumble. The pancake preparation seemed to have had the same effect on Asshat, who grew tired of the floor and felt the countertop would be a better vantage point for his begging. He’d hopped up onto counter and was pacing back and forth, wagging his tail, and expressing extreme pride in his accomplishment.

“Off, you stupid dog,” said Ada, swatting at Asshat with the roll of paper towel. Asshat wasn’t known for his stellar obedience, and so, instead of listening to Ada, proceeded to attack the paper towel roll. He ripped it from her grasp and shook it, sending Ada to cover her bowl of batter protectively. Adam jumped up and grabbed Asshat by the collar.

“We’ll leave you,” he said. “Call us when the pancakes are done.”

Ada surveyed the damage. The pan was askew, but her pancakes were thankfully dog hair free.

2004-11-30T23:29:00.000-08:00

Ahhhhhhhh! I did it! Woo! I crossed the 50,000 word mark with less than two hours to spare, and that is THAT, my friends. I'm not posting the final bit of my story tonight. Sorry! My brain is quite fried, and I have a few more paragraphs to go to wrap things all up. Then, say good bye to Rocky, Ada, Adam, Rachel, Anita, Destiny, Otis, Elma, Jackson, Mia and Sam. And Asshat. We can't forget him. The rest of the story will be coming soon, on Wednesday, probably. Then I'll start working on the screenplay. Hollywood, baby! Soundtracks, action figures, video games. The opportunities are really endless.

2004-11-28T23:06:00.000-08:00

Okay... we're in the home stretch. Less than 10,000 words to go, and 2 more days to do it. I dunno... it's going to be tight. Anyways, in saying that, I'm effectively apologizing for any half-assed writing that may occur. Cliches? Yes! Sentence frags? You bet! Lame ass, cheesy storylines? You better believe it. Hello, WB, here I come.
********

“Good,” said Rocky. “Because that shit would be creepy.”

Adam nodded and turned back to his game. He didn’t feel bad about lying to Rocky, but he wanted to curl up and die that it was necessary at all. Rocky continued to bounce his tennis ball against the wall, the ceiling and finally down the bowling lane to where it disappeared behind the pins.

Chapter 12

Otis had decided that the car wash needed to be cleaned up. Adam discovered this, much to his chagrin, when he opened the next day and spotted a written note lying on the counter next to the till.

Adam,
Dust shelves and wash floor.
Otis

The note was brief, but it represented a good six hours of work. There were four aisles worth of shelves, and to dust them required Adam to take the merchandise off, dust and then replace the items in the exact order with which they were removed. Adam wondered why Otis had the sudden urge to keep a clean store, and then remembered why Destiny was working in the first place. Perhaps this was a ploy to make the store seem more sellable to his potential buyer. Adam stood in the middle of the store and gazed helplessly about its infinite number of dusty shelves for a good five minutes before unlocking the front door and letting in the coffee crowd.

As the morning passed, and Adam was able to intermittedley clean, while serving customers, he began to think about what he was going to say when Destiny came in to work later that day. One thing was for sure, he was going to have to pre-emptively dump her. Adam mused that “Dumping Destiny” would be a good name for a band or novel, but reminded himself that that didn’t make things any easier. He could leave, he thought. Run away from the store and never come back. No, that would create more problems than it would solve. Adam thought that maybe if he was lucky, he would contract some horrible disease between now and then. Go blind, temporarily, or violently ill. He briefly considered drinking some washer fluid, but realized the consequences of that would be worse than actually talking to Destiny. Adam thought about phoning Ada for advice, but then remembered he was still mad at her – for some reason. That he still wasn’t sure about.

The hour, which overlapped in Adam’s and Destiny’s shifts soon arrived. And, like clock-work, his car wash protégé flounced in the store, this time with Anita in tow. Adam’s sister offered a scowl to her brother before following Destiny into the staff room. They emerged several minutes later in a cloud of bubble gum perfume, all smiles and giggles. Destiny stood behind the till next to Adam and waved good-bye to Anita, who answered by blowing a kiss.

“Guess what Adam?” she beamed. “My dad’s coming to look at the shop next weekend. He really wants to buy it, I think, and if he does, I can ask him to give you a raise.”

It killed him, absolutely killed him to have her act like this around him. He didn’t hate her, she was a perfectly nice girl – not someone who deserved to have their feelings hurt after having the guts to ask someone out. Perhaps the worst part of it all was that Adam knew exactly how she felt. He couldn’t quite put together why, other than to think that it might have something to do with his current crisis with Rocky’s mom. Whatever that was.

As luck would have it, the majority of the hour Adam and Destiny had together went by rather quickly since there was an inordinate amount of customers in the store. The only time Adam had to talk to her was when he ran out of quarters in his till and asked her to run to the safe to get more. But just before his shift ended, there was a lull in customers and Destiny managed to corner Adam in the back as he was finishing off the last of the shelves.

“So, did you think about it?” she asked, quietly. Adam froze and stated at the mangy cloth in his hands for a good while before turning to look up at her.

“Sort of,” he mumbled.

“And?” she practically whispered this.

“Destiny,” he started, then stood up to face her. “Destiny, I don’t think it’s such a great idea.”

Adam watched her face fall, and Destiny look away. “Oh. Okay. Can I – can I ask why?”

He sighed. There were too many questions he didn’t know the answers to, this being one of them. He started off with the obvious. “Well for one, you’re still in high school. I think it would be sort of illegal for us to date. Also, we work together and--,” he wasn’t able to finish this reason since it was mostly a lie. Work had nothing to do with it. “And you’re a really great person, I just don’t feel the same way you do,” he trailed off and then moved away from Destiny toward the staff room.

“Do you like someone else?” she called to him as he reached the swinging door. Adam couldn’t have this conversation anymore. He shook his head without turning around and disappeared into the staff room. Adam raked his fingers through his hair and stared up at the water-stained ceiling, searching for guidance among the brown lines snaking across the white plaster tiles. Surprisingly, the building code violation did not offer any insight, so Adam went about collecting his things, stuffing them in his knapsack and chucking his uneaten sandwich in the garbage. He poked his head halfway out the swinging door to see where Destiny was before sneaking out the store, and found her behind the counter, talking on her phone and sniffling slightly. Adam strode across the store and left without looking back, hoping that in addition to feeling lower than dirt, he was also as invisible as the dust bunnies that no longer lurked among the shelves of Otis Car Wash.

*

Adam entered the house and briefly looked about the empty first floor before climbing two stairs at a time up to his room where he could sulk in peace. The door to Ada’s room was open a crack and Adam could see her sitting on her bed, talking to someone on the phone as he passed by. Falling onto his mattress, he stared up at the ceiling and let his ears become accustomed to the silence. Eventually, strains of Ada’s conversation came floating through the walls. She was laughing and chirping away… probably to Luke. Adam rolled over and buried his head underneath a pillow.

“Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts,” he mumbled into the sheets, but his mantra was cut short by Ada’s shrill laugh. Adam rolled off the mattress and dug a hoodie out from under a pile of clothes. He walked out of his room and slammed the door shut before running down the stairs.

“Adam?” Ada called from her room but he ignored her, intent on leaving the house completely and wandering around outside until things started to make more sense. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head as he flew down the front walk, almost running into Rachel who was trudging up towards the house with her head down. She yelped, dropping a bag onto the ground.

“Adam!”

“What are you doing here?” asked Adam, out of breath.

“Is Ada home?” asked Rachel, looking past Adam.

“In her room,” he said, jerking his thumb backwards. Rachel offered Adam a brief smile then walked straight past him and in the door. He lifted his hood, shoved his hands in his pockets and set out in a random direction, refusing to think about the Wong girls anymore than he had to. Who cares why Rachel was at the house? Who cares what they were going to talk about, especially after the family meeting they’d had the other day? Who cares if they were going to get in another fight and Ada would be sad again? Who cares? Not him, he thought. Nope, he had other things to think about.

It took a while before he could find another thing to think of, but it came. He thought about how odd it was, at 24, that he would be wondering what to do with his life, not only career-wise, because that was always a conundrum, but in other areas as well. It seemed to him that it was always a case of stop and go. You go forward with one thing or another because it seems right, there’s promise of something better than what you have, more money, friends, better things. But then it stops. People change, circumstances become difficult to navigate and that job or relationship or life that you thought was fantastic, just wasn’t anymore. Adam thought about the other people in his life and how this applied. How Mia was in the situation she was: a husband with New York on the brain, and a child who despite his personality is actually growing up and potentially joining said husband in New York. Would Adam, by inserting himself into this situation, help at all? Probably not – it just wasn’t right. Much like he and Destiny wouldn’t be right. No matter how many obstacles you have to overcome to achieve something, sometimes it’s just not worth it.

Well, that’s a positive thought, he mused, bitterly.

But then what makes all the shit you have to put up with worth it? Adam didn’t know. Maybe Ada did, though. She’d left her family, which by any means seems like the wrong thing to do, and yet, look where it had taken her. Greater independence and new people in her life. Then again, this was only short term, for all he knew, Ada could be in the exact same position he was in two years time. A crappy job and no vision beyond his next paycheck. But then maybe she’d be happier, she could get married to Luke and have babies and live in a giant house that Luke and his huge television paycheck bought. Maybe it was just Adam who couldn’t get anything right – not that he tried, though.

*

Ada had her cell phone cradled between her shoulder and chin, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring out the window. Luke had phoned, again, and she’d spent the last half hour listening to him chatter on about his work and messy roommate. It was entertaining to listen to him, but she couldn’t believe how someone could talk so much. Ada had run out of things to say about five minutes in. Luke had been going on about his band’s next concert that weekend when Ada’s attention was diverted by somebody clomping up the stairs. She wondered if Adam had forgotten something; Rocky was out with Spit playing paintball.

“Ada?”

Ada whipped around, looking through the crack in her door. She moved the phone from her mouth. “Rachel? Is that you?” Rachel appeared at the door, she looked around the room before coming in and sitting on the bed. Ada returned to Luke. “Sorry, I have to go. My sister’s here.” She gave Rachel a strange look and flipped the phone shut.

“I need asylum,” said Rachel. Ada looked carefully at her sister. Something was different, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on what had changed. Though, at the same time, it was a familiar look.

“Asylum?” Sure Rachel was a bit strange, but Ada didn’t think that merited any sort of commitment.

“I’ve left the store. I’ve left the house and I need to stay here for a while,” said Rachel. She pushed the hair back from her eyes and smiled nervously.

That was it. Rachel hadn’t looked this way since the last time she left the house. “You left?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I say? Yes, I’ve left. Is Rocky here?” She stood up and walked across the room to search the hallway, while Ada watched her, dumbstruck.

“Why did you leave? I thought – is this because of me?” asked Ada.

Rachel turned back to Ada. “No, if you remember, I was the one who at least first attempted to leave the house. Yeah, that didn’t exactly work, but here I am. I need your help, Ada.”

“Does mom know?”

Rachel shifted her eyes. “No. I told her I was going to pick up some milk,” she said.

Ada knew this couldn’t be good. It was one thing to have an argument and leave, quite another to escape under the cover of darkness, as it were. She could see how the situation might be spinning out of control. With Rachel out of the liquor store, the Wong family had been divided into two sanctions. It was civil war beneath the Santa Claus. But then, wasn’t this what Ada had been fighting for?

“Rach, it’s great you’re here. Seriously. But, shouldn’t you talk to mom first?”

“I don’t think I really want to,” said Rachel, biting her lip.

“But she’ll think you’ve been kidnapped. She doesn’t know where I am, or where you’d go. Things could get ugly,” said Ada.

Rachel began to pace. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. But it was just a split decision, just like you. This past week I’ve been sitting back watching you and it reminded me of when I tried to leave. Only you did it so much better, and I was hoping that you could help me. I know I can be difficult and weird and all that, but that’s why I want to start over.”

This really resonated with Ada, it reminded her of the day she left, so she decided to pose the same question that so many people have asked her – that she had been asking herself day and night. “So what are you going to do?”

“You’re starting to sound like mom, give me a break,” said Rachel.

So the old Rachel still hadn’t entirely left, but she had a point. Nobody ever had a definitive answer to that question, though it would be nice to have a start.

“Alright, fine,” said Ada. “You can stay. But you have to call Mom and tell her you’re with me.”

Rachel sulked. “She’s going to yell at me.” Ada picked up her phone and shoved it toward her sister. Rachel hesitated but took it, flipped it open and then shut it again. “Fine. But later. Who were you talking to when I got here?”

Ada grinned. “Luke.”

Rachel sat down beside her on the bed and flicked her on the shoulder. “Do you like him?”

“I think so. He invited me to his band’s concert this weekend. It’s at the RetroPit. You can come if you want,” said Ada.

“So what does Adam think of all this?” asked Rachel.

Ada began to answer but stopped. Truth was, she hadn’t even thought about it. But why should she? “What does that have to do with anything?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. You two have been dancing around this for years. Even if he isn’t interested in you, he’s your friend, who’s a guy. They have issues with these sorts of things.”

Ada thought about it. Adam had been acting strangely over the last little while, though she’d chalked it up to his situation with Destiny. She shook her head, it didn’t matter what Adam thought. That boat had definitely sailed.

“Well, whatever. You can stay, but I should phone Rocky first. It’s his house,” said Ada. She grabbed the phone from Rachel, who was still clutching it.

“Actually, can I phone him?” asked Rachel.

Ada eyed her sister suspiciously. “Since when have you ever wanted to talk to Rocky?”

Rachel shrugged, and flipped the phone open without further argument. She scanned through Ada’s contacts and hit the button to dial Rocky’s number.

“Hi Rocky, it’s Rachel.” She grinned at Ada, then turned away. “Yes, really. I was wondering if I could hang out at your house for a few days.”

Ada watched her sister’s back. She still couldn’t believe anything Rachel was doing – it was so out of character. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was some sort of bi-polar issue. But this Rachel was only reminiscent of the sister she’d had growing up. Ada wondered at how much difference a day could make.

“Thanks Rock, I really appreciate this. Bye.” Rachel flipped the phone shut.

“Rock? Rachel, what are you on?” asked Ada. Something was definitely up.

*

Adam returned from his walk just as Rocky was getting home. He slid out of his truck and began limping up the walk and Adam ran to catch up with him at the front door.

“What happened to you?” asked Adam, grabbing hold of the door and keeping it open while Rocky stumbled inside.

“Bastard Spit cornered me at the paintball range. We were on the same team, but I shot him in the ass right off the bat, so he tracked me down and shot at my legs till he was out of ammo,” Rocky moaned and eased himself into one of the lawn chairs in the kitchen.

Adam laughed. “Why did you shoot him to begin with?”

“I dunno. He was right there in front of me, so,” Rocky lifted his arm and took aim. “Where are the girls?”

Adam looked at him, confused.

“Rachel’s staying here now. She phoned me a while ago,” said Rocky. He grinned, stood up and began tottering towards the staircase. “I’m beginning to grow on her,” he said to Adam, before disappearing behind the corner.

Adam went over to the kitchen window to stare outside. Women were so strange. One minute Rachel’s doing everything she can to avoid Rocky, and now she’s making the conscious decision to live in the same house as him? It didn’t make sense. Not that he could make sense out of his own life. The walk hadn’t offered up any sort of brilliant solution, and the only thing Adam could think of was to do what he always did: just step back and let it all blow over.

Adam turned from the window when heard someone come into the kitchen. It was Ada. She smiled at him as she walked across the kitchen, water bottle in hand, to the sink. She turned on the tap and flicked her hand under the stream, waiting for the lead to run out of the pipes. “Are you feeling better?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” She couldn’t possibly know what he’d been thinking, could she?

Ada began filling her bottle. “You just seemed a little off today when you came home. Did you talk to Destiny?”

Adam nodded glumly. “It didn’t go well.”

“I can’t imagine it would have,” she said, cranking the tap off. Ada took a sip of water. “I know it’s silly, but I thought you were mad about something else. Something I did.”

Adam rubbed his eye. “Why? What – what would you have done?”

“Well, not what I did, I guess, specifically. I mean, Luke,” Ada looked down. “You know, never mind. I’m going to go back upstairs now before Rocky accosts my sister.” She replaced the cap on her bottle and moved toward the hallway.

“Wait,” said Adam. Ada stopped and turned, but he didn’t know what he was going to say. He wanted to talk about everything he’d been thinking about over the past few days, about Desitny, Mia – not Luke. “I’m not mad at you,” he said.

“Okay,” said Ada. “That’s good to know.” She stood there for a few moments. “Anything else?”

Adam thought frantically. “Your sister’s staying with us now?”

Ada nodded. “I hope that’s okay. She’s going through some stuff at home. I guess we both are. Rocky seems to be running a bit of a half way house here,” she laughed, fiddling with the label on her water bottle. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“No, not really,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ada, dropping her hands and moving toward Adam.

“Uh,” Adam looked up. What was he doing? “I’m thinking of quitting the car wash,” he lied. “You guys just seem to be doing so well and I thought maybe this is something I needed too. You know, shake things up a bit.” He smiled weakly.

“Hey, that’s great. Change is good. Have you thought about what you wanted to do?” asked Ada. Adam shook his head. “I hate it when people ask me that. Like I know the answer,” said Ada.

They stood there for a few moments. Adam had run out of things to say. “Okay then. I’m going to go back upstairs,” said Ada, pointing down the hallway. “Before I forget, Luke invited all of us to the RetroPit on Saturday. His band is playing. You wanna come?”

No, would have been the truth, but the truth had had a habit of eluding Adam that day. “Yeah, that’d be fine. I’ll come upstairs with you,” he said. Luke was in band? Luke, with the perfect job, the future, the everything – was in a band too? Adam silently seethed as he followed Ada across the kitchen. But she stopped suddenly in the doorway and turned to him.

“Do you like Luke?” asked Ada. She searched his face, but he was looking away.

Adam took a breath. Like most questions that day, he didn’t have a real answer. Not for Ada, not for himself, not anyone. He lifted his hand, hesitated and placed it on Ada’s shoulder. She flinched slightly, but froze when Adam leaned forward and kissed her on the corner of her mouth. He turned and walked straight out the front door again, leaving Ada in the hallway.

Chapter 13

“Ada, where am I going to sleep?” Rachel was sitting cross-legged on Ada’s bed. Rocky was beside her, lying on his back with his legs hanging off the end. Both looked up when Ada walked in the room and slammed the door behind her.

“I hate Adam,” said Ada. She walked over to the window and stared out over the neighbour’s rooftop.

“What’s the matter?” asked Rachel.

“Just when I have – I’ve been there, all this time, and now,” Ada gritted her teeth. “Actually, I’d rather not talk about it.” She affected a cheerful look. “Would you guys mind if you left me alone?”

“Yes,” said Rocky. “What’d the bozo do?”

“Nothing,” said Ada. “I’m going up to the attic.”

2004-11-26T21:40:00.000-08:00

Chapter 10

Potato pancakes.

Ada stared down at plate of uneaten food, searching for inspirational patterns in the greasy fried batter. People find images of the Virgin Mary and Jesus in food all the time, maybe she’d find the Jewish equivalent at the local waffle house just a few blocks from Rocky’s. No such luck, but despite the fact that there was deity lurking in her food, Ada still wasn’t very hungry. The party hadn’t gone well — for her anyway. They arrived at her parent’s house mostly sober, and Rachel trounced up the walk an in the front door without looking back or saying anything to Adam or Luke. Ada was embarrassed and walked back to the house in silence despite the boys’ attempts to get her to talk. Now it was Sunday and Adam and Rocky had decided to go to the Wayne’s Waffle House for breakfast. Rocky was nursing several bruises and a split lip, but still managed to stuff his face full.

“So Rachel didn’t say anything all the way home? She didn’t say anything about what we talked about? Or me? At all?” asked Rocky. Ada looked up from her pancakes. “No, Rocky, for the millionth time, No.”

She wasn’t in the mood to placate his unrealistic expectations with Rachel. Her sister was absolutely hopeless, she had decided, and no manner of party or pleading was going to get Rachel to move out of Weirdville.

Adam, who was sitting beside Ada in their padded booth, stuffed something in his mouth and asked her a question, but she couldn’t understand him. “What happened with Luke?” he mumbled again, this time taking a chug of his orange juice to wash down the half-masticated food.

“Oh,” Ada smiled. “He asked for my number.”

Rocky dropped his knife and fork. “Little Wongstein’s getting some play, aw yeah!”

Ada hushed him. “He’s just phoning me to hang out. No big deal,” she said.

“He was practically jumping all over you last night,” said Adam, frowning.

“What are you talking about?” asked Ada, turning to face him, but Adam was much more interested in the food on his plate, it seemed.

“Don’t be jealous, Abel. You got the high school chick to have fun with,” said Rocky.

“Destiny?” Adam blathered. “Don’t remind me. I have to work with her tomorrow.” Adam rested his head on his hand and stared vacantly at the empty table across from them. Destiny was a problem, and it was getting worse — after he’d come back from walking Rachel home, she had tried, very ineptly, to make the moves on him. It wasn’t pretty and Adam was afraid of what she would try to do on Monday at the car wash. It just wasn’t going to happen, for various reasons, and he would have to let her down sooner or later.

The trio paid for their breakfast and began meandering back to Rocky’s house, each mired in their own private misery, barely speaking. Ada’s phone cut through the silence halfway home and Adam threw her a sharp look. Ada glanced at the screen. “It’s my mom,” she said, rolling her eyes.

She flipped open her phone. “Yes?” They kept walking as Ada listened to what seemed like a tirade. She nodded the entire way, responding with a short ‘yes’ or ‘no’ every so often. It was too much work to argue with Elma at that moment and by the time she had hung up, she had agreed to a meeting with her parents the next day before the liquor store opened.

“The family just wants to work things out with you,” she was informed. Sure, thought Ada, if “work things out” means threaten to cut her out of the family completely. At this point she was willing to try anything and after the fiasco with Rachel the night before, having no family seemed like a pretty good deal.

The rest of their Sunday was spent lounging aimlessly around the house. Ada began poring over the want ads in the newspaper once more, but became frustrated and cast them aside to join Rocky in a game of backwards bowling. By mid-afternoon, the novelty of a giant, empty house finally wore off, and Rocky had resorted to spraying Asshat with water from the sink to keep himself occupied. The dog didn’t mind, and was dodging back and forth across the hardwood kitchen floor, trying to catch the droplets of water as they flew across the room. Ada tiptoed across the kitchen, stepping over the puddles of water that had formed on the floor, to turn off the tap.

“Hey,” Rocky protested.

“I don’t want a lake in the kitchen,” said Ada. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“No,” said Rocky.

“Me neither,” said Ada, opening up the fridge and inspecting its meagre contents. “What is there for dinner?” For the first time in a week, Ada found herself longing for the Wong house, where a lavish Sunday dinner never failed to appear on the dining table every week.

Rocky swished his way across the room, soaking his socks straight through.

“We could go over for to my house. My mom said I should come. My dad’s back
from his trip.”

“She won’t mind me and Adam tagging along?” asked Ada.

“Nah,” said Rocky, shrugging. He leaned on the doorframe leading from the kitchen to the front hall. “ADAM!”

“WHAT?” Adam screamed from his room upstairs.

“COME ON, WE’RE GOING FOR DINNER AT MY HOUSE!” yelled Rocky.

There were a few moments of silence; Ada and Rocky stared at the ceiling, waiting for Adam’s bellowed reply. “OKAY. JUST A MINUTE.”

Ten minutes later Adam came galloping down the stairs to the foyer where Rocky and Ada were already waiting.

“Gah, what the hell is that smell?” said Rocky, covering his nose and opening up the door to ventilate the hallway.

“Too much cologne?” asked Adam, sniffing hesitantly at his sleeve. Ada made a sour face and nodded, sending Adam back up to the bathroom to wash some of it off.

One frantic scrubbing later, Ada, Rocky and Adam crammed into Rocky’s truck and peeled out of their quiet street, heading for the nice part of town.

*

Having three people show up on her doorstep instead of one, Mia took her extra guests in stride, throwing a few extra potatoes in the pot and dragging two folding chairs up from the basement.
“It’s wonderful that you two could come, but I wish Rocky had said something to me,” she said, aiming the last part of her statement pointedly at her son.

“Where’s Dad?” asked Rocky, grabbing a cookie from the cupboard.

“In his office. Don’t bother him though, he’s on the phone with his agent,” she said. Mia finished with the chairs and opened a drawer to pull out two extra placemats. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour if you three want to watch TV or something.”

At this, Rocky took off for the basement, urging Ada to follow. As they disappeared down the stairs, Adam approached Mia, who was sitting at the counter, flipping through a catalogue.

“Do you need any help?” he asked.

“Mia laughed lightly. “Your mother’s a lucky woman, I don’t think Rocky has ever asked to help in his life.”

Neither had Adam, it rarely occurred to him to give his mother a hand in the kitchen, and she had constantly reminded him of that when he lived with her.

Adam shrugged. “Just checking.”

“Okay, well you can set the table,” said Mia, pointing toward the cupboards above the sink. Adam walked over and gazed at the piles of dishes, at a loss as to which ones he should pull out. It seemed that the Shaws had about three different sets.

“Use the blue ones, dear,” said Mia. She watched as Adam made a clumsy effort of placing her dishes carefully on the dining table and fixing them in intervals beside each chair.

“I like your house,” said Adam, looking around the gleaming white kitchen with its stainless steel appliances. “Ours, well my mom’s house, is so small. I moved into the basement, but there’s still piles of junk everywhere. I kind of like living in the big house now, there’s nothing to trip over.”

“I have to come over one of these days,” laughed Mia. “You know, I grew up here in town, and my family lived in a tiny little house down by the river valley. I loved it. Sometimes I wish Rocky could have had something like that. I mean, it just gets so empty sometimes, especially when Sam’s gone.”

She got up to stir the potatoes, which has started to boil over. Mia checked the roast that was in the oven.

“Mr. Shaw travels a lot?” asked Adam.

Mia nodded. “Oh, I know it’s nothing to complain about, but now that Rocky isn’t living with me, it’s just become all the more clear to me how lonely it can get here sometimes.” She looked up at Adam and smiled wistfully, closed her eyes and turned back to the counter. “Thanks for your help Adam, you can go downstairs now if you like.”

Adam didn’t move but watched Mia’s back for a few moments, she hadn’t turned around and seemed to be staring out the window that was across the room.

“Mia,” ventured Adam, he wasn’t sure whether she was asking him or telling him to leave. She lifted her hand to wave him out of the kitchen and sat down. Adam was frozen to the ceramic tile floor. Mia was crying. At least he thought she was.

Mia sniffled.

“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping tentatively towards her.

“I’m not sure,” she chirped, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her sleeve. Mia took a deep breath and stood up, heading past Adam to the sink. She turned on the tap and grabbed a coffee mug that was hanging in an illuminated shelf.

Adam shifted his weight. “Is it Rocky? Or Mr. Shaw?”

Mia just looked at Adam. Her eyes were red, searching his face. He knew this was way over the line. Mia was obviously going through something he couldn’t understand, but at the same time he couldn’t just leave her there, crying by herself in the kitchen while she made dinner for everyone.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Adam asked.

“I’m sorry Adam. I didn’t mean to cry in front of you. I just — I should be alone. You go join the others downstairs,” said Mia. She gave a weak smile and stood there with the water still running and the coffee cup dangling from two fingers.

Adam hesitated before moving towards Mia and pulling her in for an embrace. She rested her forehead on his shoulder for a few seconds before pulling back slightly. “Thank you,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

Adam rubbed his arm and walked away, heading downstairs to join Ada and Rocky in front of the big screen.

“What were you doing?” asked Rocky as soon as Adam reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Nothing,” said Adam quickly. He wasn’t sure why he felt guilty, but he did, almost as if he was stealing Rocky’s spot. He had been there for Mia, not her son, as unlikely as that would have been. And then there was the tiny voice that had been nattering the back of his head all the while, telling him to hold on to her just a little longer. Adam pondered over this as he stumbled in the half-light towards the plush leather couch. An iridescent blue light was reflecting off Ada and Rocky’s faces. On the screen in front of them was a cartoon, Japanese, Adam supposed, with a myriad of Technicolour characters flying across the screen. Rocky was positively entranced, while Ada just looked confused.

It was nearing the end of the DVD when Mia called from the top of the stairs for everyone to come to dinner. Ada, Rocky and Adam climbed the stairs, emerging to the tantalizing smell of roast beef and gravy. Sam Shaw sat at the head of the table, and both Adam and Ada stopped short of pulling out their folding chairs, having never met him before.

“Hello,” he said, getting up to shake their hands. “I’m Sam, Rocky’s father. You two must be Ada and Adam.”

Sam wasn’t anything what Ada had expected. He was short, for one thing, and although she’d only seen him sit behind a desk on television, she imagined he would have been much taller. Then again, Rocky was pretty short, so that would explain it. His hair was dark and thinning slightly, and he had a small paunch, but was not overweight by any means. All in all, he seemed to be a pleasant and affable man.

Everyone took their seats and dug in. Ada complimented Mia on her meal and she demurely accepted.

“And I appreciate your help as well, Adam,” she said, watching him from the corner of her eye.

“But I only set the table,” he said.

“Sometimes it’s the small gestures that are important,” she said and then turned to her husband. “Sam, why don’t you tell us about New York”

Sam nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Well, busy, as usual. Jack and I went to this one restaurant on Saturday – Mi, you wouldn’t believe this place, it had an actual river, man made, of course, running right under the floor of the restaurant. The floors were all this thick clear plastic, so you could see everything.” Sam took a bite of his vegetables and set down his fork. “We were in the lounge afterwards and met up with one of Jack’s old buddies, who as it turns out is a producer with NBC. Anyways, we got to talking and he actually might be interested in going in on a project with us.”

Mia dabbed her mouth with a napkin and placed it on her lap. “In New York?”

“Yeah. Of course, I could do most of my work here. But it’s just something to think about. Hey Rock, I might even be able to wrangle you a job as a PA on the set. How’d you like to live in the Big A?” Sam elbowed his son in the arm.

Rocky smiled with a mouthful of food and gave a thumbs up, oblivious to his mother, who was frowning across the table. Ada could sense the subtle change of mood at the table, and so quickly changed the subject.

“Mr. Shaw, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you letting us live in your house. It’s a really great place,” she said.

“Hey, it’s my pleasure. Just don’t burn the place down.”

*

Adam, Ada and Rocky went home happy and full for the first time in a week. It certainly made a difference when you have more than just a peanut butter sandwich in your stomach, and Ada made a note to make an effort to actually cook something in the next week.

Ada woke up early the next morning, just as Adam was racing out of the house to make his shift at the car wash. She lay in bed for awhile, trying to think of a convincing argument she could make to her family that would not only allow her to keep living in the house, but also make it so that she was welcome back at the Wong’s without making an appointment. She also wasn’t sure what they would be saying to her, it was anyone’s guess.

She decided to walk to the liquor store in an attempt to clear her mind before the meeting. It was a clear morning, with a slight chill in the air. Ada could see how Adam was enjoying these early hours; the ancient neighbourhood offered up a view of interesting architecture and painstakingly manicured gardens all the way to the main avenue. Ada was enjoying a particularly eclectic collection of garden gnomes when her phone rang. It was an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hi Ada? It’s Luke. I hope its not too early,” he said.

Ada’s stomach flipped slightly. “Oh hey. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to see how everything was. You were kind of bummed after your sister left the party.” Ada could tell Luke was calling from his office; she could hear phones ringing and people chatting in the background.

“I’m fine now,” she said. “I’m actually heading over to talk with my parents right now. Wish me luck.”

Luke laughed. “Okay. Good luck. Actually I was phoning to see if you wanted to hang out today, like after I get off work.”

This was interesting. Ada hadn’t actually thought Luke was going to make good on his promise. She figured he was asking for her number just out of politeness. Adam didn’t seem to like him too much, and she wondered what he’d think if Luke came over to the house for a while. She shook off the doubt. It didn’t matter; it wasn’t like Adam was her father, or her boyfriend.

“Sure,” she said. “You can come over to the house and we can decide what to do from there.”

Luke agreed and they hung up. Ada rounded the corner to the main avenue, her steps a little lighter than when she first set off. Walking past the car wash, she peeked in, spying Adam at the back corner of the shop, refilling the ice cream cooler. Ada forced herself to move on from the car wash window and approach the liquor store door. It was locked, so she knocked and waiting while her father rushed from stocking the shelves in the store to let her in.

“Hi Daddy,” she smiled and gave him a quick hug.

“Adelaide. We’ve missed you,” he said, looking at her as if she’d been gone for a year.

Ada felt sorry for her father. This hadn’t been his idea, and although he was definitely on her mother’s side, the sanctions would not have been so harsh had he been the one in charge. Ada wondered, in hindsight, whether he should have been the one she initially talked to.

“Where’s mom?” asked Ada.

“She’s in the back with your sister. Tell her I’ll be there in a few minutes,” said Jackson. He went back to re-stocking and Ada slowly walked into the back. Elma and Rachel were sitting in office chairs, swinging back and forth and not talking to each other. There were two other chairs set up in a small circle, Ada slipped into one next to her sister. She couldn’t look at either in the eye, which was just as well, because nobody said a word until Jackson came into the back, wiping his hands on his apron and sitting in the empty chair.

“So,” said Ada, her eyes roaming from one member of her family to the next.

“Adelaide, we feel that you should come back to work for the liquor store,” said Elma, folding her hands on her lap. She stared at her daughter and pursed her lips. Ada opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She couldn’t see how this was going to be progress if they were at the exact same place as last week.

Elma continued. “It’s clear that you are independent enough to live on your own. I haven’t seen this house yet, but Rachel assures me it’s perfectly fine. I do, however, feel you should not have quit the shop. You’re jeopardizing your future. What happened to all the plans you’ve made? How will you stay with your investment schedule if you don’t have a regular pay check coming in?”

“Mom, I’m 22. How am I jeopardizing my future by exploring my options? I’m gonna get a job. I just don’t want to work here anymore,” said Ada. She looked over at Rachel who seemed bored with the entire conversation.

Elma frowned. “Look how hard I worked for you, Adelaide. Look at how much I’ve sacrificed so that you can have a secure future. Your father will be retiring soon, and we’ll need someone to take care of things. This is why we sent you to college.”

Ada slumped in her seat and tried to let the guilt trips roll off her back. “Rachel can look after the store.”

“Who says I want to?” said Rachel. Both Elma and Ada snapped around to look at her. Rachel had never verbally expressed an intention to leave her job, not since the first time she tried to move away. “Maybe I want to get a new job too.”

Elma threw up her hands and swivelled to look at Jackson. “Talk to them!” she said.

Jackson cleared his throat and looked at each of his daughters. “Is it such a horrible job to work with your family?”

Ada folded her arms. “Dad, no, it isn’t. But that’s not the point! I don’t want to sit around here for ten years and then wake up at the end of it all wondering if maybe there could have been something else for me to do. Why should you and mom be the ones to choose what I do with my life? Or what Rachel does with hers?”

“We are only trying to help you. The world is a difficult place and your family loves you very much. For your mother, for me, will you not even consider staying to work here?” said Jackson.

Ada went to answer, but Elma interrupted. “No! Jackson, she is our daughter and should honour her parent’s wishes. We should not be the ones begging her to come back to work.” She turned to Ada. “You are disrespecting us. I called this meeting because I thought you would have come around to your senses, but I see that I’ve been wrong!”

Ada could feel her face begin to burn, she sat straight up and leaned close to Elma. “No, Mom. I don’t mean to disrespect you, but it’s you who haven’t come to your senses. What I want is not wrong, but what you want is all kinds of wrong.”

“You think you know everything, don’t you?” spat Elma, her voice rising.

“How can I know anything if you don’t let me grow up?!” said Ada, her voice was rising as well, and she wasn’t sure how long it would be before she started bawling like a spoiled child. “I thought you wanted to work things out, but you just wanted to see if I was failing. Well, I’m not! So I’m going to keep living at Rocky’s and I’m going to keep looking for another job!”

“You’re living with the car wash boy?” yelled Elma. She looked horrified, as though this could be the worst fate to befall children who defy their parents.

“Yes, I am,” said Ada, not bothering to clarify in what sense she was living with him. “And now I’m leaving!” She shot up and pushed her chair away, so that it rolled across the concrete floor and rammed into a garbage can. She stomped out to the front of the store in a huff, slamming the dividing door behind her. Meeting. What meeting? Her parents didn’t want to talk with her, they wanted to control her, they’ve always wanted to control her! Ada burst out of the store and onto the sidewalk, mostly empty at this time of day. Without a second thought, she marched over to the car wash and pushed the door so hard it swung all the way back, hitting the doorstop and making the bell above it ring furiously.

Adam was at the front, dealing with a customer. Ada walked over to stand behind the woman, fuming until she left with her bag full of paper towels and replacement wipers. Adam watched her until she left the store and then turned to Ada.

“You look mad,” he said.

Ada looked at him incredulously. “Yes! What do you think? My parents think I’m some stupid… puppet that they can just control how ever they want. They don’t even listen to me! Arg. I wish I could just run away.”

Adam raised his eyebrows. “So the meeting didn’t go well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Obvious,” growled Ada, resting her elbows on the counter and burying her face in her hands.

Adam ducked down to peer at Ada through her fingers. “Everything’s going to be okay. Your parents will come around, I promise,” he said.

Ada raised her head, surprised. “That’s about the most definitive thing I’ve ever heard you say.” She stared at him for a second, but her attention was diverted to the door when the bell rang, again, quite angrily.

“Ada, can I talk to you?” Rachel walked across the store to the counter. “Hi Adam.” He waved and watched as the girls moved out of earshot, behind the sunglasses rack.

“I thought you hated me,” pouted Ada.

“I don’t hate you,” Rachel rolled her eyes. “I got slugged in the face by an asshole and I was tired.”

“So you had an okay time? I mean, other than the part where Eli punched you?” Ada smiled hopefully, wondering perhaps if her intervention had worked.

“I don’t really want to talk about the party, kay? I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re right, and Mom and Dad aren’t,” said Rachel. She pulled a pair of large round sunglasses off the rack and put them on.

“Did you mean what you said about finding another job?” asked Ada, trying no to snicker at her sister’s bug eyes.

“Maybe. I don’t know right now. It’s confusing,” said Rachel. She peered around the rack and caught Adam listening in. He looked away and Rachel turned back to Ada. “I should go. Mom’s about to plotz and I really don’t need to hear anymore about how you’re abandoning them.” She rolled her eyes and started walking towards the door.

“She said I was abandoning them?” Ada squeaked.

Rachel turned around, pulled the sunglasses down her nose to look over them and continued walking backwards. “Oh, and can you thank Rocky for me?”

“You can’t take those,” said Adam, watching as Rachel backed out the door.

“Thank Rocky for what?” yelled Ada from across the store.

“For kicking Eli’s ass,” said Rachel. The door slammed shut and Ada and Adam stared gob smacked at one another.

“She stole those sunglasses,” said Adam.

“She thanked Rocky,” murmured Ada.

Adam laughed. “Yeah, for supposedly beating up Eli. As I remember it was Rocky rolling around on the floor, not Eli. Dude, your sister’s weird.”

2004-11-22T22:25:00.000-08:00

A hushed silence fell over the attic as Eli and Rocky greeted each other. Both Ada and Adam were staring at them uneasily, as their party had been running relatively smoothly up until that point, despite all predictions. After formal greetings were accomplished, Eli turned to the crowd and gave everyone a good look over. It seems he knew most of Rocky’s friends, because his gaze skipped straight past them and landed right on Ada, who averted her eyes.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly subdued and cocking his head upward.

“Hi?” she ventured, sneaking a glance at Luke who seemed to be scowling in Eli’s direction.

Eli considered this for a moment before turning back to Rocky and now Rachel who had returned to their bowling game. Everyone else resumed whatever activity they had been busy with before Eli’s arrival, and Ada sighed with relief that this renowned “shithead” wasn’t going to ruin the party as soon as he got there.

“Do you know him?” she asked Luke.

“Unfortunately. He managed to total my driver’s side signal light at one of Rocky’s parties a few years ago,” said Luke.

“You let him drive your car?” asked Ada. Given what she knew about Eli, that didn’t seem like the wisest choice.

“No. He basically stole it. But, whatever, I’m just going to pretend he’s not here,” he said, turning from the bowling game across the attic, which was slowly degenerating into a drinking game between Rocky and Eli.

Almost on cue, Rachel came stomping over and sat herself on the floor between Ada and Luke. “Can I go now?” she monotoned.

“I thought you were having fun,” said Ada hopefully, though even she didn’t entirely believe what she was saying.

Rachel looked at her sister. “Are you kidding me? It’s like playing with an incontinent monkey, he spilled beer all over me,” she said, dismally wiping at a wet
spot on her black jeans. “Actually, I hate to say it, but Rocky was doing fine until his little frat buddy showed up. But now, I’m leaving.”

“You should stay,” said Luke. Rachel turned to look at him for the first time, having completely ignored him up until that point.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“This is Luke. And he’s not an incontinent monkey,” Ada smiled and Rachel gave her a sly look.

“And as long as you don’t trash my car, I’m sure we can be friends,” said Luke.

Rachel still seemed to be mulling this over in her mind, but she did manage a small smile, which surprised Ada. “I don’t know,” she said, staring glumly at the hole in the floor, her only means of escape.

Ada was running out of options before resorting to forced confinement, and she knew for a fact that Rachel could overpower her if need be. Luckily, her wingman chose this moment to join them on the floor,followed closely behind by what looked like a Party Time Barbie gone wrong.

“Rachel, hows it going?” he said, settling down next to Ada. Destiny stayed standing, as her skirt would not allow her to be sitting anytime soon.

Rachel frowned at Adam. “I was actually just leaving,” she said, and began to get up, but both Adam and Ada grabbed an arm and held her down.

“But you’ll miss our game,” said Adam.

Rachel regarded him suspiciously, pulling her arms free and folding them across her chest. “What game?”

Ada couldn’t remember Adam mentioning a game, and by the looks of it he seemed to be in the process of pulling one of of thin air.

“Spoons,” he said slowly. Rachel wrinkled her nose.

“We don’t have any spoons,” said Ada. It was true, all they had were three forks and a knife they shared between themselves.

“We can improvise,” said Adam. He ran over to a corner of the room and brought back a deck of cards. Sitting back down he started to explain the game. It involved four-card hands to be shuffled between the players through rapid passing of the cards. Once someone had four of a kind, they would slap their hand on the floor in the middle of the circle they had formed.Others would follow suit and the person with their hand at the top would lose and have to take a shot. It seemed confusing, but Adam assured everyone that it was really quite simple.

The game started out slowly, but soon everyone got the hang of it and even Rachel seemed to be having a good time, despite her attempts to sabotage that fun by
purposely losing. Of course, that ended up working against her, since the loser had to take a shot.Rachel had even started giggling by her third consecutive loss. Ada shot Adam an approving look.

By their sixth round, a good portion of the party had shifted over to watch them play, leaving Rocky and Eli alone at the alley. They eventually noticed they’d
lost their crowd and wandered over to see what all the excitement was about.

“Kick ass. I’m in,” said Rocky, wedging himself in between Rachel and Luke. Adam gave Rocky an annoyed look, but gathered the cards to deal him in. He began explaining the game but was interrupted by Eli.

“I’ve played this before. Strip spoons,” he cackled, wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and found a spot for himself in the circle.

“Ah, no stripping,” said Adam, watching the cards as he carefully shuffled them.

Eli laughed and slapped Adam on the back. “Why the hell not? Girls are in, right? I know she’s in,” he said, waving his hand toward Anita. Adam turned to see who he was referring to and whipped back around.

“That’s my sister!”

Eli roared with laughter, but Rocky could see things weren’t going well. “Just chill, dude, okay?”

Eli stopped laughing and glared at Rocky, “I’ll chill if I want, assface,” he snickered into his beer can,and stood up, walking straight through the circle
toward Rocky. “This game sucks,” he said, stumbling.Rocky was able to roll out of the way, but Eli flailed, hitting Rachel in the face with the back of his hand.

“Oh!” she groaned, falling forward and holding her nose.

Eli stepped out of the circle. “Whatever,” he said,taking a long swig of beer.

Ada crawled over to see if Rachel was okay. “Apologize, asshole,” she spat. Everyone was now watching wide-eyed, back and forth between Rachel and Eli.

“Prissy bitch was in my way,” he said and started back towards the alley, but Rocky scrambled to his feet and stood in front of Eli.

“Don’t call her a bitch,” he said, shoving Eli, who pushed back — hard enough that Rocky stumbled backwards.

At that point, everyone who had been on the floor were now on their feet. The girls had retreated to the corners of the attic, while most of Rocky’s friends were crowding around the escalating fight. Eli threw the first punch, his closed fist just
grazing Rocky’s ear. Rocky tackled Eli around the waist, pushing him to the ground and slugging him right in the nose. Eli managed to push Rocky off and rolled to the side, kicking Rocky in the gut and managing to pull himself up onto his hands and knees. ocky was still on the ground, crouched over in the fetal position.

“Screw this shit,” Eli said, using his arm to wipe a trail of blood trickling from his nose. He slouched toward the hole in the floor but turned to give Rocky the finger. “Fuck you.”

Ada watched as Eli lowered himself to the second floor. She was still with Rachel, who was gently prodding her nose to see if it was broken. Rocky was kneeling now, still winded, but recovering. His friends were milling around him, patting him on the
back and congratulating him on a great fight.

“Now can I leave?” blubbered Rachel.

Ada felt horrible. “Sure. You can’t drive, but I’ll walk you home,” she said. “Adam, can you come with us?” It was about a 20 minute walk to Ada’s house, and although it was a safe neighbourhood, she felt better with someone else along.

“Sure,” said Adam. He went over to pick up Rachel’s sweater, which had been tossed into the corner.

“Mind if I come along?” asked Luke. “I think I need some fresh air.”

Ada agreed and the four set off, leaving Rocky and his friends to drink to what they regarded as a very successful party.

2004-11-21T23:02:00.000-08:00

(If the last half of this - chapter 9 - seems a bit crap, that's because I was writing it while watching the Grey Cup, Desperate Housewives, Simpsons, Arrested Development and that Obnoxious Boss show. I had a very productive Sunday. The point is, that part is a little crazy... it has about every single character in it(plus a guy named Spit. I love that name!), making it slightly confusing and I'm just warning whoever is still reading this. Kirsten!!)

Ada could just imagine Rocky and Adam skulking about the liquor store, waiting for Rachel to step outside unsuspectingly and then pouncing on her with a blindfold and rope to tie her hands. She couldn’t help but laugh a little at the thought, never mind that people passing by would think that one of the Wong girls was being brutally kidnapped by inept criminals in broad daylight.

It was late, so Ada went to her room to get ready for bed, but then suddenly remembered the envelope that her sister had left her when she’d come over the night before. It was still sitting there, forgotten on the staircase; Ada supposed all the worrying she’d done over finding a job had pushed the envelope completely out of her mind.

Ada stepped outside her room and tiptoed barefoot across the hallway, snatching up the envelope that had been pushed to the side, next to the railing. Slipping back into her room, she opened it and rifled quickly through its contents. Birth certificate, social security number, health insurance – thanks mom. She had officially been cut off. Now, not even a life and death emergency would require her mother’s help. Ada knew that if she did fall down and break her neck, her parents would be with her in a flash, but the envelope was yet another play by Elma to reinforce the fact that Ada was on her own now, whether she liked it or not.

The envelope made her angry. Normal mothers didn’t do this, they didn’t cut off their children completely when they wanted to make their own lives. Ada slumped onto the bed and stared at the envelope before tossing it onto the floor next to her window. She grabbed her cell phone from her bag and flipped it open, dialing Rachel’s number and hoping she hadn’t already gone to bed. It rang three times.

“What do you want?”

“Hi Rachel,” said Ada. She wasn’t sure why she was calling; she didn’t make it a habit to chitchat with her sister just for the sake of it. “How are you?”

“Are you drunk again?” Rachel was speaking in hushed tones; she was probably not alone.

“No, Rach, I just wanted to see if you were okay. I opened that envelope you brought me and it just made me wonder about you,” said Ada. She was lying back on her bed, staring at the slightly shaking ceiling; Rocky and Adam were still walking around up there.

Rachel was silent for a few moments before answering. “I’m fine, now is that all you wanted? Because I really can’t talk to you right now.”

Ada thought about Rocky’s party. Asking Rachel to come would do no good, she knew that, and as hilarious as it would be, she wasn’t about to kidnap her. She’d have to lie, something she’d never been so good at. “Um, I think you should come over again.”

“Why?” Rachel made it sound like Ada had asked her to drink blood.

Why? Good question, why. “There’s something in the house for you. And I can’t bring it over. It’s big,” Ada bit her lip. That was horrible.

“What the hell are you talking about, there’s nothing in that house,” said Rachel.

“Okay, fine, but I can’t tell you why you have to come over, you just do. Please, Rach, you can hate me forever and never see me again, but I need you to come over this one time,” Ada pleaded.

“Fine,” said Rachel. “When? Now?”

“No, come over this Saturday night, around 10,” said Ada.

“Do you promise Rocky won’t be there?”

Ada winced. “Yeah, he’ll be gone, I swear.”

Rachel said a hurried good bye and they hung up. Ada held her phone against her chest for a while, thinking about how angry Rachel was going to be. That didn’t matter to her, Rachel was always angry, but as her sister, Ada needed to at least try and bring her out of the world she had created. Maybe it was presumptuous, and maybe, for some reason, Rachel was actually happy hiding in the shadows, but it was worth the effort. Ada wasn’t sure what a party would do to help, but it was the only thing she could think of, or rather it had been Rocky who had thought of it. That was a comforting thought.

*

The car wash opened at six o’clock in the morning and as much as Adam hated getting up at 5:30, he had to admit he was enjoying the quiet store and non-existent customers at that time of the day. Well, non-existent wasn’t entirely true, there were a number of them, but the only thing they were in for was coffee, and that was self-serve at the back, requiring minimal work on Adam’s behalf. He stood at the till, ringing in the java and wondering why he hadn’t made the change to morning shifts a long time ago, letting the cranky comments of sleep deprived customers go in ear and out the other. Life was good. It had only been a few days, but living with Rocky was turning out much better than he thought it would. Plus, there was Ada, who despite her upbringing was turning out to be a very enjoyable person to have around.

Adam mulled over the party they were supposedly having on Saturday, just two days from then. He had been to one of Rocky’s party’s before, and while he had expected stoned frat-rejects ripping up the pool house, he was surprised to find a relatively mellow group of guys playing video games and talking about their online gaming communities. Rocky didn’t seem to fit in with this sort of group, and truth be told, Adam was surprised he had so many friends at all. Mia was always going on about how much Adam’s friendship was appreciated, and he assumed Rocky was starved in that area.

Speaking of Mia, Adam received an unexpected visit from her halfway through the morning, right before the high school rush at noon. She burst in the door looking right and left, and not at all her usual cheery self. Marching up to Adam she slapped both hands down on the front counter.

“Have you seen Rocky?” she asked. Her curly hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, with flyaway strands sweeping across her angry eyes.

“No,” Adam hesitated, wondering if he should break the news to her that Rocky no longer had a job. “What’s wrong?”

Mia crossed her arms, and wiped the hair from her brow. “Sorry Adam, I don’t mean to jump all over you. It’s just I got a call today from some bowling alley saying we owe them $250. I’ve never been there before so I can only assume Rocky had something to do with that. What on earth has he done?”

Adam shrugged and shifted his eyes uncomfortably. He wondered how the Fun Centre had gotten Rocky’s phone number, but then recalled how he had used his credit card to pay for their game. Idiot.

“Honestly, Rocky’s 24-years-old, it’s not my responsibility to be picking up his messes anymore. He shouldn’t be getting in them to begin with, don’t you think?” she shook her head and started pacing. “I’m hoping this house will teach him some responsibility. I’m afraid our lifestyle might have had an adverse affect on him.”

Adam wasn’t too sure that was the cause of Rocky’s various issues. He knew most children from privileged families actually went on to higher education and followed in their parent’s footsteps. Most of them, anyway. Rocky seemed to be of the minority, and he felt sorry for Mia, who he thought deserved better.

“He’s been doing really well so far,” Adam lied. Yes, it had been fun, but there was no denying that Ada had been largely taking care of the both of them. Mia smiled at him, clinging on to the stretched truth Adam had just fed her, making him feel guilty just by standing there.

“Do you get a lunch soon?” she asked, looking around the empty store.

“Otis made it so we take our break after the rush. So yeah, around one,” said Adam.

“Oh good. I’d like to take you out, you know just to thank you for everything,” said Mia, clasping her hands and beaming at Adam.

He wasn’t too sure how to take this. He really wanted to eat with Mia, but was afraid keeping up any elaborate lies that were expected of him would be too difficult to do over a half hour.

He must have looked uncertain because Mia grabbed his arm and insisted. “It’ll just be a quick bite. You have no choice, Adam, I’m buying you lunch. See you in a couple hours,” she said, and flitted out the door, apparently forgetting about Rocky and his troubles with the bowling alley.

He would have to get his story straight and figure out how much Rocky wanted his mother to know. Other than the added stress of possibly having to lie to one of his friends’ parents, Adam was looking forward to a lunch with Mia. She was always so nice to him and her shampoo smelled like blueberries.

First things first, though, he grabbed the phone next to the cash register and dialed Rocky’s number. Three rings later, his voice messaging picked up and Adam left a message.

“Hey, Rock, your mom was in here and now she’s buying me lunch. I just don’t know if she’s supposed to know about you getting fired or not. Let me know, kay? Oh, and the Fun Centre knows we took the balls, so they’re probably going to charge them to your credit card. It was a good try though. Later.”

He hung up, and stared into space until that familiar ding brought him out of his reverie. It was the first of the high schoolers, and they went straight towards the back of the store to the ice cream cooler, avoiding the indifferent gaze of Adam.

One hour, an over-flowing coffee machine, two stacks of cups stolen and three travel mug returns later, Adam was ready for lunch. After having Otis relieve him for his 20 minute lunch break he went outside to find Mia waiting for him.

“I only have 20 minutes, so it’ll have to me somewhere quick,” he said. “I mean, it’s really great you’re buying me lunch, and I appreciate it, but I just thought you should know.”

“Don’t worry about it Adam, we’re just going to the Pita Place,” said Mia, with a wave of her hand. “It’s my pleasure anyways, you’re a good kid.”

Adam smiled self-consciously and looked at his feet. He noticed he was still wearing his orange vest, and shirked it off quickly before Mia or anyone else got a good look at him. He wasn’t really sure what to say to her; Rocky hadn’t called back, but he had a feeling Mia would want to talk about other things than her delinquent son. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to have an actual conversation with someone who wasn’t his co-worker or customer, so he hoped she would do most of the talking.

They sat down in red plastic seats adjacent from the preparation counter after ordering two chicken Caesar pitas. Mia took off her sunglasses and Adam noticed she had green eyes. He couldn’t even begin to guess what colour Rocky’s were, then again, that wasn’t really something he made a habit of noticing in other people.

“So tell me the truth. What is he really like? I’m his mother so you can be honest,” said Mia. She grinned and rested her elbows on the bright yellow table.

The truth… Adam decided to go with the “Rocky still works for Otis” truth. “Seriously, he’s cool, Mrs. Shaw. He’s weird, but I think this is going to work out.”

“Call me Mia, Adam,” she said. “And weird? Okay, yes, I’ll give you that. Believe me, I’m not one of those mothers who are blind to their own offspring’s shortcomings. His father is another story,” she rolled her eyes. “What’s your family like?”

Adam thought about his mother, and immediately felt guilty for not talking to her since the day he’d moved in, even after she’d brought over his mattress. “My mom is a legal assistant and I have a 17-year-old sister. We don’t get along,” said Adam, fidgeting. Their pitas arrived and he dug straight in, taking a massive bite. A drip of garlic sauce dribbled down his chin and he grabbed a fist full of napkins to wipe it off before Mia noticed.

“That’s too bad about your sister, I have a sister too, and we’re really close,” she said. Adam nodded, still chewing his first bite. “She’s young though, so you two will probably grow out of it. So do you like working at the car wash?”

Adam gulped down his half-chewed pita and gagged slightly before answering. “No,” he laughed nervously.

Mia smiled, the corners of her eyes forming soft crinkles. She dipped down and took a small bite before replying. “You’ll find your way, Adam. I remember being your age and not having any clue what I wanted to do. I worked at a drycleaners,” she groaned. “Then I met Sam and his career took off. Anyways, you never know what’s going to happen.” She took a sip of her soda. “So, do you have a girlfriend?”

Adam hated that question, as he imagined, all single people did. “No,” he took another giant bite of pita to avoid having to further explain himself. He could already feel his cheeks beginning to burn; it wasn’t a good look on him.

Mia gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry Adam, you’re young, you’re allowed to be single. I was only asking because I hear you have a young lady living with you,” she raised her eyebrows.

Adam smiled and shook his head. “Oh, Ada. No, she’s not… I mean, we’re not, like, going out or anything. She’s a friend,” he finished his stammered sentence and took a long gulp of his soda. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought of Ada in that way. There had been a time a few years ago when he actually considered asking her out, but then he’d convinced himself that she wasn’t interested and his nerve ran out. Now it just seemed to late to do anything about it, if he was interested, which he wasn’t -- he didn’t think. Adam wanted someone funny, pretty and nice.

Mia smiled.

Someone just like Mia.

“Well we better get going Adam,” she said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “Don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Adam shook his head and fumbled with his jacket before leading Mia out of the Pita Place. On the street she took a deep breath and beamed, “gorgeous day, don’t you think?”

“Gorgeous,” he agreed.

*

Ada spent the day with Rocky. He had insisted, saying he needed a female perspective when picking out drinks and snacks for their party on Saturday. She wasn’t sure how she would be much of help, but thought riding around in Rocky’s pick-up all day would be better than submitting applications to the A&W and Dairy Queen. It turns out, working at the liquor store for so many years did have its advantages, and she was able to teach Rocky something about wines and expensive liqueurs, despite the fact that he ended up buying cheap highballs and domestic beer instead. They stopped off at Hot Franks for lunch and were just sitting down under a red-striped umbrella when Rocky’s cell phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen before sliding it across the table, towards the condiments.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” asked Ada, taking a bite of her hotdog.

“It’s the car wash. So, no,” said Rocky. He stuffed about half of his first dog in his mouth all at once.

Ada looked away, trying not to focus on the mashed food rolling around between his teeth. “It could be Adam. Maybe it’s important.”

Rocky smirked and licked his fingers clean of some errant ketchup. “You can answer it, if you want. I know you want to.”

“What are you talking about?” said Ada, choking slightly on some onion.

“Well you like him, obviously,” said Rocky. He had a huge piece of relish stuck in his teeth.

Ada scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

Rocky gave a knowing look and turned back to his second hot dog. Ada shook her head and took a sip from her water. Rocky really didn’t know what he was talking about. As angry as it would make her family for her to have Adam for a boyfriend, she wouldn’t be in a relationship with someone just to spite her parents. Besides, even if she did have feelings for him, he would have to make the first move, and she imagined that would take about 20 years, considering where he was career-wise.

“Just imagine, you and Adam, me and Rachel. Everyone in the big house, all together,” Rocky smiled and Ada grinned, she had never seen Rocky so wistful, only mad with too much energy.

“Well it’s not going to happen. None of it. And you have to be human to my sister when she gets here on Saturday, don’t freak her out,” said Ada.

“She’s coming? Sweet.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know about the party. I had to lie to her. She also thinks you won’t be there, so don’t feel bad when you don’t get a great reception from her,” said Ada. She brushed the crumbs from the table and swept them off her hands onto a napkin before gathering up their trash and stacking it on a tray.

“I’ll be Prince Charming,” said Rocky. Ada wasn’t convinced, as far as she could see, Rocky’s idea of Prince Charming was chewing with his mouth closed and she hadn’t even been witness to that. Still, she was happy he would at least try to act civil with Rachel. She wanted her to have a good time, and that wouldn’t happen if Rachel turned on her heels and left the party as soon as she got there.

“Where to now?” said Ada, sliding out of their booth and bringing the tray with her.

“Hairdressers,” said Rocky. “I go twice a year, and it’s your lucky day.” He grinned, and for a second, he did seem slightly charming, even if there was only a hint. Ada thought there might be hope for him yet, maybe not with Rachel, but every dog has his day.

*

Ada avoided the job hunt for the next two days, preferring instead to focus on the house and do her best to prepare it for their little get together on Saturday. Despite what Rocky said, she did want to make things look nice, or at least make the place look like it was being lived in. During the day on Friday, she was able to drive over to her parents’ house and smuggle some old furniture out of the garage: a few folding chairs and some end tables. Not much, but it was a start. Ada even encouraged Rocky to give her a hand and he came back from the hardware store with some patio lanterns to hang up in the attic.

Adam was off early the day of the party, so he went shopping with Ada to pick up some food.

“I’m not very good at parties,” she admitted to him half-way to the grocery store.

“You? Nah,” said Adam. They both laughed. “Don’t worry Ada, you’ll have fun.”

Ada eased her car into a crowded parking lot and began scanning the rows of vehicles for an empty spot. “I get shy and I’m afraid to look people in the eye, especially people I don’t know. Promise you’ll hang out with me, okay?”

“No worries,” said Adam. He had planned to anyway. He wasn’t inviting anyone and thought that a night spent with Ada was as good as any.

Ada found a parking spot three spaces from the back of the lot, and pulled in. “And stop me if I drink more than three coolers,” she said.

“Noted,” said Adam. Strolling towards the store, he suddenly remembered his own promise to call his mother. That had been two days ago and even Anita hadn’t been in the store since Destiny started working. “Can I borrow your phone?” he asked Ada.

She tossed it to him and they continued walking as he dialed his home number.

“Mom,” he said, plugging one ear with his index finger to hear her better. He nodded intermittently, listening to her rant on about his incommunicado. Ada watched on sympathetically.

“No, I can’t tonight, mom. We’re having a party,” he said. Suddenly, the phone call wasn’t such a great idea, she was giving him the mother lode of all guilt trips, trying to have him come home for the weekend. Apparently, Anita had won some sort of contest and she wanted to celebrate.

“I have to go mom, I’m on Ada’s cell,” he said. “Uh huh, okay. Good bye.” He hung up and handed the phone back to Ada, rolling his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Do you fight with your mom lots?” asked Ada, grabbing a shopping cart from the long row of them lining the side of the store.

Adam shrugged. “I guess. Not as much as we used to, anyways. When I was just out of high school she used to be on me every other day, bugging me about school and whatever. Now, it’s just like she’s given up on me. I’ve moved out now, so that’s good,” Adam gave a half-hearted laugh and they walked in the sliding doors, right past the produce section towards the chips and soda at the back.

“You never wanted to go to university?” asked Ada.

“Yeah, at first, but I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do. I started working at the car wash and just coasted for a while. Now I don’t know if I should even bother.” Adam grabbed a bag of chips from the shelf, and then two more.

“It’s hard to decide,” said Ada, hoisting some cola into the cart. “When I went my dad picked out all my courses for me, and I let him because I thought he knew what was best, it was all for the liquor store anyway.”

Adam sighed. “We are going to be a fun group at the party tonight, aren’t we?”

“I expect Rocky’s friends will be responsible for all that. Rachel’s coming, by the way,” said Ada.

Adam looked surprised. “Do you think Rocky has a chance with her?”

“Hardly,” Ada laughed. “We’ll be lucky if Rachel talks to me. She doesn’t know there’s a party. I feel bad lying to her but she can’t hide away for the rest of her life. I’m out here now, and I can’t believe I did it. I’m just not so certain she’ll do it on her own.”

Ada and Adam continued down the snack aisle, piling food into their cart and dodging other customers as they wheeled back and forth from the chip dip to the pretzels.

“You make it sound like your parents lock you in the basement,” said Adam.

Ada smirked. “No, they’re great. They love us, anyway. But they’re warped. I’ve always known that but now it just seems all the more apparent. You know my mom converted us all to Judaism when I was a baby?”

“That’s not warped, it’s just a religious thing, isn’t it?” said Adam. Not that he knew anything about religion, his mother was decidedly agnostic, and the only times he’d ever been to church was for his cousins wedding and when his neighbour brought him to Sunday school in grade three.

“Well there’s the values and morals part of it, but a part of me thinks she was doing it just to make things harder for Rachel and I,” said Ada. Adam looked confused. “Think of how hard it’s going to be for us to find Chinese-Jewish men to marry.”

“Race and religion is an issue?” Adam was surprised. Since birth, it seemed, he had been raised to believe that “it’s what’s on the inside that counts.” It always shook him to know that others weren’t brought up the same way, especially those he was specifically taught not to discriminate against.

Ada chuckled. “With my family? Chinese, yes. Jewish, oh yeah. We’re double trouble, but I like to think that if I decided to marry a white guy, my parents would eventually get over it.” She smiled to herself. “What your mom do if you brought someone like me home?”

“She’d buy you a car,” Adam laughed. “Like I said, she’s written me off.”

They reached the front check out and started piling all their junk food onto the moving belt.

“Anyways,” said Ada. “You’re my wingman for Rachel tonight. Make sure she stays, and we’ll try and socialize her a little bit. I’ll make her a functioning human being yet.”

“Wingman, eh? Now I feel important,” said Adam, grabbing the shopping bags and lifting them back into the cart. Once Ada had paid, he wheeled their cart past all the bag boys and out the sliding doors.

Chapter 9

The first of their guests started piling out of pick-ups and hatchbacks at about 8 o’clock that evening. Rocky had been crawling the walls all afternoon, pestering Ada while she scrounged for bowls to put all their chips in and hounding Adam mercilessly for going out to lunch with Mia two days before. Adam had told him, while trying to determine what information Rocky’s family was privileged to for future reference.

“Dude, you went out with my mom?” said Rocky, clearly disgusted.

“No, she bought me lunch. She was mad at you for stealing the balls, and she just wanted to feed me, I guess,” said Adam. Truth was, he was having a hard time defining what it was that happened between him and Mia the other day. The logical part of his brain assured him that it was only as his friend’s mother that Mia took him out, but deep down, he wanted to believe she did it because she liked him as a person, not just as someone who was taking her son off her hands.

Rocky made it clear that he still wanted his parents thinking he worked at the car wash. “They’ll take away the house if they knew, or make me get another job,” he said.

As it were, Rocky and Ada were having a great time being unemployed, and Adam was slightly jealous for the fact that he worked all day, while they bombed around the city. He had no choice but to work, and while Ada would eventually have to get a job, Rocky was free to do what he wanted until his parents found out and cut off his weekly allowance.

Rocky had more or less forgiven him by the time people started showing up for the party. The guests were led straight up into the attic, the lower floors were still woefully short of furniture and other amenities. The attic, complete with its patio lantern and folding chair décor, was positively handsome compared to the rest of the house.

Sounds of the night’s first bowling game came thundering down to the first floor of the house as Ada stood in the kitchen, pacing back and forth and wringing her hands.

“Maybe you should drink,” said Adam, offering her a beer.

Ada looked at him to see if he was serious, and then decided that maybe one would be a good idea. “I’m not getting wasted tonight. That was a one time event, so no more drunk Ada.” She took the can from a disappointed looking Adam, took a swig and scrunched her face at the bitter taste. “Gross.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” said Adam. “Let’s go upstairs. They’re not going to bite, and Rachel won’t be here for a couple hours.”

Ada agreed and sipped from her beer as she followed Adam up the stairs to the second floor. She hadn’t asked Rachel to come until ten. By then, most of Rocky’s friends would be pretty drunk, maybe that wasn’t such a great idea. “I should have her come earlier,” she said, and ran into her room to grab her cell phone.

Ada sat on her bed and dialed her sister’s number. It only rang two times before someone picked up.

“Hey, Rach,” she said. There was silence on the other end of the phone. “Rachel?”

“Are you having fun, Adelaide?”

Ada fell back on her bed and rubbed her forehead. “Hi, mom.”

“Why haven’t you phoned us? Don’t you think we’d be worried about you?” Ada could hear Rachel in the background, trying futilely to have Elma hand over her cell phone.

“Rachel knows where I am, didn’t she tell you I was safe?” Ada looked over to her door and saw Adam peeking in. She motioned for him to continue upstairs to the attic.

Elma grunted. “I let you try things on your own because I want you to see how hard things are without your family. Not because I’m angry at you, you know that, right?”

“You kicked me out, Mom! I think that sends me a pretty clear message.” Elma was trying to make her feel guilty again, and only because she hadn’t come crawling back like Rachel did.

“I love you Ada, and your father does as well. We should sit down and have a conversation, it’s been almost a week,” said Elma.

Ada sighed. “Alright Mom. I’ll talk to you, but remember, you were the one who made me leave the house. All I wanted was another job. Now can I please talk to Rachel?”

Elma grudgingly handed over the phone to Rachel, who sounded just about as pleased to be receiving the call.

“What?”

Ada took a deep breath. “Can you come over earlier? Like, now?”

“Whatever this is can’t wait?” whined Rachel.

Ada knew very well that her sister had nothing better to do, she wasn’t going to let this one go. “No, just come.” This was the best argument she could offer without giving away her true intent for Rachel. After assuring her sister that Rocky was no where in sight (which, at the moment, he wasn’t), she clicked her phone shut and went up the pull-down stairs to join the party in the attic.

A half-dozen of Rocky’s friends, all guys, were crowded around the bowling lane, sucking back various kinds of booze and laughing raucously. Rocky popped out from the crowd when Ada approached them, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, bringing her into the fold.

“Guys, this is Ada. Ada, this is Pete, Jonesy, Luke, Spit and Freddy,” said Rocky, grinning. Ada offered a weak ‘hello’, trying to remember all their names. They all looked quite similar, lean and shaggy – Rocky prototypes.

The boys turned back to their bowling game, which as it turned out, was merely a contest to see who could whip the ball fastest down the lane. Each time the pins went flying, they cheered progressively louder. Ada went over to stand beside Adam.

“This isn’t so bad. I expected them to be pounding their chests and crushing beer cans against their foreheads,” she said, leaning against the wall and taking another sip of her beer.

Adam gave cheers to that. “Rocky’s friends are relatively normal. It’s a little scary,” he said. “So that was your mom on the phone?”

Ada nodded grimly. “We’re going to ‘talk’ next week. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold out on whatever sort of intervention they’ll be planning.”

“You’ll do fine,” said Adam.

Ada wasn’t so sure. It had been easy up to this point, with her only means of communication with her parents being Rachel’s courier service. Face to face, she was afraid she’d crumble, losing whatever ground she’d gained over the past few days with a mere look from her mother. She mulled over that and barely noticed when one of Rocky’s friends came wandering over to where she and Adam stood. Spit, was it? She couldn’t remember.

“Luke,” he said, holding out his hand for Adam and Ada to shake. “Nice house,” he said, gesturing his can of beer to the multi-hued lanterns draped randomly over the walls.

Neither Adam nor Ada could take credit for the house, so they just nodded appreciatively. They did, however, have quite a hand in procuring the bowling balls, and that was something else. “How do you know Rocky?” asked Adam.

“Our parents know each other,” said Luke. That explained a lot, and Adam wondered whether that was how most of these guys knew Rocky. They certainly couldn’t have met through regular channels. “I actually work for his dad.”

Ada knew Sammy Shaw produced a daytime talk show in the city. “Really, what do you do?” she asked.

“I edit. No big deal or anything, but it’s a start. I want to produce one day, and Mr. Shaw’s a really great boss.”

Ada automatically admired Luke, if not for his effortlessly cool vintage tee shirt he was wearing, then for the fact that he seemed to have his shit together. She told him so. “I don’t even know what kind of job I want. I’m jealous,” she said.

Luke grinned and looked down. “Ah, it’s nothing. I work too much anyway. Plus, I wouldn’t have even gotten the job if my dad wasn’t old friends with Mr. Shaw.”

Ada smiled. Luke was nice, why she had been so nervous about the party, she didn’t even know anymore. Just then, her phone rang, she checked the ID and looked at Adam. “It’s Rachel,” she said.

“Good luck,” said Adam. Ada excused herself and crawled down the ladder to the second floor. She ditched her beer on the staircase before going to open the door for Rachel. If the increased number of cars in the front hadn’t tipped her off, a Canadian Light would.

Rachel was standing on the front stoop with her arms crossed, staring absently at the chipped paint above the door. She smiled slightly when Ada asked her to step inside.

“Why don’t you just say what you have to say while I stand out here?” she said.

Ada silently seethed. Why was her sister so difficult? She was only trying to help her. Knowing she wouldn’t get very far trying to B.S her way through this conversation, Ada decided to just bite the bullet and tell Rachel the truth.

“I invited you here because we’re having a party,” she said, preparing to grab onto Rachel’s sleeve and hold tight if she tried to leave, but she only stood there.

“You want to have me at a party?” Rachel laughed. “Why would this be a good thing for you?”

“Not me, you,” said Ada. “I just want you to see what it’s like outside the universe of mom and dad.” She hoped this didn’t sound too condescending.

“Oh, so you think you’re doing me a favour? Well, St. Ada, thanks, but no thanks. See you later,” Rachel turned to leave, but Ada followed after her.

“No, it’s not like that Rach, I want you here. I miss you,” said Ada. It was a stretch, but she thought it might work. Rachel only held her hand up, waving good bye, it seemed.

“Fine, Rachel, do whatever you want. I’m sure mom and dad will be happy to have you home tonight,” said Ada. Rachel stopped and turned around, studying Ada’s face for any bluff.

“You really want me here?” she asked.

Ada nodded and walked over to her sister to grab her elbow and start leading her back up the front stairs. “You haven’t even seen our bowling alley yet,” she beamed. “And Rocky’s only had a few, so he’s still pretty manageable.”

Rachel stopped again and tried to turn back, but Ada forced her in. They had just about closed the door completely when two people running up the walk squealed for them to stop. Ada opened the door once more to find Anita and one of her friends shivering in their club wear on the step.

“Anita, what are you doing here?” said Ada, eyeing her friend who was craning her neck to look around into the hallway.

“Duh, party,” said Anita. “This is my friend, Destiny.”

“I work with Adam!” said Destiny. She seemed very excited by this fact. Ada couldn’t remember Adam saying anything about the new employee at the car wash, least of which the fact that she was one of his sister’s friends. She shrugged it off and let Anita and Destiny in. The girls followed Ada up the stairs, twittering about this and that and giggling, while Rachel sullenly brought up the rear.

“Up here,” said Ada, mounting the ladder to the attic. Rachel just looked at it with disgust, while Destiny and Anita whined about climbing up with their spike heels. Ada emerged to see the boys crowded in one corner of the attic, bribing Asshat with some cheezies.

“Hey guys,” said Ada, hoping she wouldn’t have to introduce everyone to everyone. Luke was the only one she could remember.

“Girls!” said one of the boys. Their group scattered towards the hole in the floor where Rachel, Destiny and Anita were eventually emerging.

“Rachel, baby,” said Rocky, walking open arms towards her. Rachel cringed and let Rocky hug her. He lifted her straight off the ground before letting go.

“Anita, what the hell?” said Adam, he pushed his way past a couple of the boys to confront his sister.

“Mom told me you were having a party, and Destiny wanted to come,” pouted Anita. She slithered past him and headed towards the cooler near the bowling alley, but Adam cut her off.

“No beer,” he said. Anita made a face at him and reached around his legs to grab two cans of beer from the cooler, tossing one to Destiny.

“Adam, silly, why didn’t you tell me about this? You have a great house,” said Destiny, cracking the beer and taking tiny sip. Adam didn’t have an answer for her other than to say he hadn’t wanted her there in the first place. That would have been mean, and as much as he despised Anita at that that moment, he kind of liked Destiny, for a high school flake, anyway.

While Adam was busy dealing with his underage guests, Ada was corralling Rachel away from Rocky and towards his friends. She introduced her sister, who gave a weak wave. Rachel was pulling back, attempting to blend into the walls and Ada was trying desperately to pull her back in. It was a very strange game of tug-of-war.

“You work at a liquor store?” asked one of Rocky’s friends (Spit?). Rachel nodded and backed up a step.

“Do you get a discount?” asked (Jonsey?). Rachel shook her head, backed up.

“What about free samples?” asked (Pete?). Rachel rolled her eyes, stepped back.

Ada could see this wasn’t working; she searched the room for her wingman, but Adam was bickering with Anita while continually pushing Destiny off his right arm. He was busy. Ada almost cried when she saw Rocky sauntering over to their group, Rachel was gone for sure.

“Hey, Rachel? Wanna game?” he asked, motioning towards the alley. Rachel looked back and forth between her choices: claustrophobic crowd or Rocky?

“Sure,” she said, and ducked out from the conversational grasp of her new friends to join Rocky at the ball retriever.

Ada couldn’t believe it, Rachel was voluntarily socializing with Rocky. There was hope for her yet, even if this concession was only a means of getting out of a much more congestive social situation. Ada turned back to her audience and smiled, mostly out of relief for having achieved her main objective for the evening. Now she could relax.

“C’mere,” said Luke, calling Ada over to the cooler. He handed her another beer. “Sit down,” he said, and plunked himself down on the hardwood floor.

“Why?” said Ada, taking the can slowly, and looking around, making sure he wasn’t talking to anyone else.

“Because I want to talk to you,” said Luke, patting a spot on the floor next to him.

“Why?” said Ada, sitting down cross-legged next to Luke.

“Because you’re pretty,” said Luke. He grinned and poked her playfully in the leg.

Ada smiled and dipped her head, blushing. She had no idea what to say, thank you? You’re pretty too? He was pretty, for a guy. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“What about you and Adam, are you…” he trailed off and grinned again. Luke had dimples, Ada noticed.

“Oh, me and Adam? No,” Ada giggled. “Why does everyone keep assuming we’re a couple?”

Adam, meanwhile, had decided to ignore his sister, but was finding it much more difficult to avoid Destiny, who was on him like a cold sore. She had managed to corner him and was currently explaining her plans for graduation.

“So my mom said she’d sell me her old convertible when I turn 18. It’s like ten years old and a little rusted, but at least I’ll have my own ride. Plus, I could totally pimp it up. That’s why I’m working at the car wash. Do you have a car, Adam?”

“No,” he said, stuffing a handful of all-dressed chips in his mouth. He searched the attic for Ada, hoping her dilemma with Rachel would be excuse enough to dodge Destiny, but Rocky seemed to have taken care of that. And Ada was talking with some guy on the floor. Who was that? Spit?

“That’s alright, I guess. My brother didn’t have a car until he was thirty, but that’s mostly because he’s in a wheelchair,” Destiny mused. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Hm?” Adam wasn’t paying attention. He was watching Ada laugh at whatever (Pete?) was saying, and Rachel actually standing beside Rocky without instinctively pulling away. What was going on?

Just then he heard the front door slam two floors below and someone yelling Rocky’s name as he clambered up the stairs. Adam left Destiny mid-sentence and walked towards the hole in the floor to take a look at who their latest visitor was.

“Rooooooooockyyyy!” growled the intruder as he stomped down the hallway. Adam peered over the edge.

“Hey Eli,” he said, and pulled himself up. “Rocky, Eli’s here.”

“Hey, ya big bastard,” Eli said to Adam, handing him a six-pack of beer and hoisting himself up into the attic. He stood up, brushed himself off and scanned the growing crowd for Rocky. Upon locating his friend, he let out a ferocious roar and barreled towards him.

Adam watched as poor Rachel was shoved aside so that Rocky and Eli could bump chests. He didn’t like Eli much, and not many people did, perhaps making he and Rocky the perfect match. While Rocky’s other friends may have been coerced into friendship, Adam knew that Eli was there voluntarily. He’d known Rocky since high school and had once almost gotten him expelled for flooding the cafeteria.

“Dude.”

“Dude.”

“Dude!”

Their exchange was fascinating.

2004-11-20T11:12:00.000-08:00

Arriving home, Adam was pleased to find the front porch light on for the first time. Again, he hadn’t even thought about power in the house until he was half-way home and was wondering what was on television. They didn’t have a set, but that was beside the point, and Adam was greateful someone had thought about the electiricity.

He could see how he and Rocky could live in the house several weeks before doing something about it.

The hallway had a warm glow to it and Adam walked straight through to the kitchen to find Ada moping lawn chairs.

“I’m never going to find a job,” said Ada without looking up from the newspaper she was flipping through.

Adam thought this was a bit dramatic. She had only been looking for a day – less than a day, really. “How did it go?” he asked.

She looked up at hjm, rolling her eyes. “Well first of all, I’m an idiot because I don’t know what the first thing about finding a job. I left the house and got in my car and just sat there for ten minutes because I had no idea where I was going!” Ada put down her newspaper.

“So I went inside to ask Rocky, but he was asleep on the floor next to the fire place, and swore at me when I tried to wake him up, so I went back outside,” said Ada. “Then I spent the rest of the day gathering applications from fast food restaurants ang gift shops. Adam, I want a real job, not the exact same thing as the liquor store! What do I do?”

Adam was stumped. He didn’t know how to find a “real” job either.

“Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out,” he said, and slumped down to sit cross-legged on the floor next to Ada.

She answered with a heavy sigh. “And then there’s my sister who flipped out on me this morning and I don’t even know why. That’s all I need is my entire family ignoring me.”

Again, Adam couldn’t be of much help, he just looked up at Ada sympathetically and watched as she raked her fingers through her hair.

“Do you know where Rocky is?” he asked.

Ada shook her head. “Not since this morning.”

“Otis fired him today,” said Adam.

“Intelligence doesn’t count anymore does it? I mean, I’m a smart person, my mom has told me that like, a million times. I always thought that my life would just work out, you know? What’s up with this? Why am I struggling to know what I want to do, or how I’m even going to do it?”

Ada was still on about her lack of a job, and Adam couldn’t blame her, but ignoring him wasn’t going to do any good. He decided to drop the subject of Rocky, seeing as how it barely mattered to either of them whether he had a job or not. “Ada, everyone feels like that, trust me.”

“Then how do you deal with it? I’ve been going crazy and it’s only been three hours. You’ve been at a job you hate for years and years. What is wrong with us?” she wailed, burying her face in her hands and resting them on her legs. Adam patted her on the back.

“It’s life, I guess,” he said, but then thought about it. Did everyone feel like this? Why did it seem to him that some people just had things sorted out for themselves. He knew about people he’d gone to school with who had families already, who had started their own businesses or graduated from university and had gotten a job that actually mattered. Was it the same for them? Did he have to despise what he did for the rest of his life? And was this doomed existence contagious? Ada had been fine just weeks before, what had changed since then?

“I don’t know,” he said, after a while. Ada was still hiding in her hands but peeked out from her lap to give Adam a look.

“Don’t know what?” she said.

“I don’t know anything,” said Adam. He stood up and wiped the dust off his pants. “You want to go grab something to eat? Last time I checked, all we had was cereal and one melted Eggo.”

Ada straightened in her chair and gave a wane smile. “Actually, I went shopping. But, yeah, greasy food sounds good right about now.” She stood up and crossed her arms, looking up at Adam sheepishly. “I’m not crazy. All that stuff I just said right now, it’s because I’m worried, you know?”

“It’s alright,” said Adam. He turned to lead them out of the kitchen and stood in the hall waiting for Ada while she changed her shirt. Rocky almost knocked him out when he burst in the house, slamming the door against he wall.

“Hey!” He grabbed Adam by the shoulders and shook him. “I just had the best day, ever!”

“Otis fired you,” said Adam, pulling himself from Rocky’s grasp.

“Yeah, like the best thing that ever happened to me! I snuck into the movies, then I went to the bar, got some ice cream. Then I figured out where we could get some bowling balls. We can go there tonight,” he said.

Adam took a few minutes to let this all sink in. “Bowling balls?”

“Yeah, for the alley,” Rocky duhhed. He pushed past Adam and ran upstairs, blowing by Ada on the way.

“What’s going on?” she asked, reaching the bottom of the stairs with a jacket in hand.

“We’re going for bowling balls,” said Adam.

Ada sighed. “I thought we were going for pasta.”

*

Rocky didn’t really have a plan, but he was sure he didn’t want to buy the bowling balls.

“Those cost like $100, dude, do you really want to pay that?” he asked Adam when the subject came up. They had all piled into Ada’s car and were heading to the north side of the city, as Rocky had directed. All of them agreed that $100 was too much for a bowling ball, especially since they would probably want more than one.

“So, what? Are we going to steal them?” aked Ada.

“Of course,” said Rocky. “Unless your parents would be willing to buy them for us.”
Adam stared at Rocky incredulously for a few seconds before smacking him upside the head. “We’re going to steal bowling balls. From a bowling alley?”

“Ow! Yes, geez, it’s like I’m asking you guys to hold up a bank or something, it’s not that big of a deal. Bowling allies have hundreds of balls, they won’t even notice.”

Ada turned slightly to look at Rocky who was riding shotgun. “They won’t notice when three people walk out the front door with ten pound balls stuck up their shirts?”

In response, Rocky gazed out the window. He obviously hadn’t thought about the execution of a bowling ball heist or the apparent set backs that came along with them.

“We’ll think of something once we get there,” he said, finally.

Adam gave an exasperated noise from the back, and Ada looked uncertainly at Rocky. “I don’t want to steal bowling balls,” she said.

“Why?!” said Rocky.

“Because stealing is wrong. And we’ll get caught. And I don’t want to go to jail.” She could just imagine having her parents come down to bail her out for stealing a bowling ball, not only would it be a ridiculous offence, but it would give her family full permission to keep her under lock and key for the next 20 years.

“Stealing from a multi-million dollar corporation is not wrong — it’s balancing out the system,” said Rocky.

“The Northtown Fun Centre is a multi-million dollar corporation?” interrupted Adam.
Rocky continued, “and we’re not going to get caught, Adam and I would never do that to you, Wongstein. Just, trust me guys, okay? Once we get these balls, we can throw a kickin’ party up in the attic.”

“Why don’t we steal some furniture then,” said Ada under her breath, and either the boys didn’t hear or they pretended not to.

“Alright, whatever, Rock, we’ll do it, but you have to think of something good,” said Adam.

Ada was still silent on the issue, but despite her oppositions, the appeal of some wild and crazy scheme was there. Sure, it was a risk, but there was a chance they would get away with it. And if they did, she’d have something to tell her grandchildren, or at least her sister, who she was sure would be impressed.

They pulled into the parking lot of the fun center and stepped out of the car, staring up at the twenty foot neon bowling pins glowing above the building. A flickering bowling ball blinked down a series of unlit neon tubes to crash into the row of pins. Ada was shaking slightly and looked over at Adam, who just seemed bored with the entire idea. Rocky had a wicked gleam in his eye and urged them on toward the door. But once they got there, he kept going, straight down the strip mall to a small grocery store on the end. Ada and Adam followed him into the bleach-white store. Display cases of celery, lettuce and tomatoes glowed with incandescent freshness under the halogen lighting.

“What are we doing in here?” asked Adam. Rocky was searching through the produce section, and bolted to a case near the back, having found what he was looking for.

“Watermelons,” he said, grabbing hold of a green orb and hoisting it out of the case with one hand. “We each buy one, and then walk into the Fun Centre with them in plastic bags. The employees will see us, and then when we leave with bowling balls in the bags instead, they won’t be able to tell the difference!”

Ada and Adam looked at each other. They couldn’t believe it, but it was actually a pretty good plan, almost as if Rocky had been thinking of it for years.

“Come on, let’s pick ‘em out. Try and find the round ones,” said Rocky, digging through the pile of watermelons perching decoratively in chipped ice. He found one fairly reminiscent of a bowling ball and handed it to Ada. She examined it, holding it at eye-level and deciding that yes, it did look like a bowling ball. Also, she figured that this would be better than shoving the ball up her shirt and having to pretend she was pregnant with an inert mass of marble. Adam and Rocky each chose their specimens and they headed up to the register to purchase the watermelons.

“Double bag them, please,” said Rocky, raising his eyebrows at the pretty cashier. She rolled her eyes and did ask he asked, all without making any eye contact with him. Melons in hand, the trio headed out of the store and back toward the fun centre.

The clerk at the check-in counter eyed the melon bags suspiciously before taking Rocky’s credit card for payment and handing them a score sheet. He directed them toward lane three. “What’s in the bags?” he asked, leaning over the counter to peer at Ada’s, which was getting heavier by the second.

“Watermelons,” said Rocky, beaming.

“No outside food in the lanes,” pointed out the clerk.

Rocky saluted, snatched the score sheet from the counter and began marching to lane three, his walk uneven because of the weight dragging down his right side. Ada and Adam followed dutifully.

“Put them down next to the rack,” said Rocky, pointing to the circular ball rack situated between lanes three and four. There were four levels on the rack, with close to a dozen brightly coloured balls resting in their bulbous pattern. Rocky bent down to examine the balls, pawing several before pulling a fluorescent orange one from the bottom level.

“Sweet,” he said, weighing it and peering out over the top at Adam and Ada.

“This is insane,” said Ada. It was, there was no denying that, and yet, it felt as if there was no turning back — as though the watermelons sitting in their flimsy grocery bags were giant fruits of commitment that begged to be left at the bowling alley rather than be cracked open and slurped free of their juicy pink innards. Ada gave a shuddered sigh
and knelt down to pick out a sky blue ball near the top. It was light enough and had holes to fit her slender fingers.

Adam stepped up, grabbed the first ball he saw — red — and then turned to Rocky. “What now?”

“Now, we bowl,” said Rocky. “So as not to rouse suspicion.”

Adam wondered if there was a movie about stealing bowling balls that he was not aware of, because Rocky seemed to have this operation down pat. Nevertheless, he followed his captain’s orders and proceeded to bowl a gutter ball before knocking down half of the pins. “I suck,” he said.

Rocky didn’t do much better, knocking down the middle pin on his first try, and shooting the ball straight through the gaping space on his subsequent frame. “Dude, I suck too.”
Ada showed up both the boys, managing a spare. She let out a yelp and turned back, grinning at Rocky and Adam who looked at their own scores, ashamed. Ada shrugged,
“I was on a team for five years,” she explained.

The game continued, with Ada soundly beating the boys all the way through, and Rocky earning a complaint from the lane next to them for his incessant swearing. On the last frame, Rocky motioned Adam and Ada to where he was kneeling conspicuously near the ball rack. “Put your balls next to the bags,” he said. “Now grab some more and bowl your last frame.”

Ada and Adam chose two new balls and returned to their game. Once they had finished, and Ada had won by 150 points, they turned back to Rocky, who was leaning against the ball rack, examining the back of his hand. Their balls were no longer on the floor beside the grocery bags, and the watermelons had somehow made their way onto the ball rack. If you weren’t looking for them, they would have easily blended into the rest of the balls.
“Not bad,” said Adam. He seemed surprised.

Rocky gathered his bag and led the way back towards the front doors of the fun centre, with Adam and Ada following, each trying their best to look as non-guilty as possible. They had nearly passed the front desk, when the clerk who had helped them check
in stopped them.

“Hey,” he said, walking out from behind his counter. Adam, Ada and Rocky froze, trying to hold their balls as still as possible and out of plain view of the clerk. “Here’s your credit card, you almost forgot it,” he said, and handed Rocky his card.

Rocky fake-laughed. “Thanks dude,” he said, taking the card.

“So what’s with the watermelons?” asked the clerk, again taking a closer look at the bags.
“We like them,” said Ada. “They’re delicious.” She swallowed and smiled, fearing she’d lose her grip on the shopping bag and blow their cover.

“Okay,” said the clerk, smirking. “Can I see one?”

“No,” said Rocky, quickly. “We have to go.”

They began hustling towards the door, but the clerk had had enough. “Hold it! What is in the bags, sir?”

“Watermelons!” shouted Rocky, slowly breaking into a full run.

“Security!” yelled the clerk, now giving chase.

Ada grabbed her ball and held it tight against her body as they made a break for the door. The clerk was still at the far end of the corridor as they burst outside and sprinted towards her car. She fumbled for her keys and managed to open her driver’s side. Rocky and Adam were jiggling their door handles frantically, and leapt into the car when she managed to lean over and unlock their doors.

“Go, go, go!” said Rocky, banging on the dashboard and watching as the clerk ran down the front of the fun centre, getting closer to Ada’s car. She finally managed to turn the ignition and floored the car in reverse before peeling out of the parking lot. Rocky slumped into his seat, out of breath and Adam sprawled out across the back seat.

“You’re such an idiot,” he said to Rocky. Adam was breathing hard too, and looking out the back window at the fun centre as it got smaller in the distance.

“Whoooo!” Rocky screamed, making Ada jump. She was white as a sheet and gripping onto the steering wheel, no doubt leaving marks where her fingernails dug into the plastic. “That kicked so much ass! I rule!”

Ada shook her head. “I can’t believe we did that.”

“Wongstein, do I not rule? Tell me I am not the shit,” said Rocky, cackling with his own malevolence.

“You’re the shit,” she said, missing her turn off.

“Shut up,” said Adam, trying not to smile. “Can we get something to eat now? I’m starving.”

Ada pulled into the first burger joint she saw, parked and turned off the ignition. Nobody left, but sat in the car for a few moments, contemplating their recent foray into the world of bowling ball embezzlement. Ada couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit proud of herself, gazing down at her ball-shaped grocery bag rolling around next to Rocky’s, her heart was still beating wildly.

Chapter 8

The bowling balls were a smashing success. Now that he power was turned on, there were lights in the attic, old stained glass lamps hanging from the ceiling, and a series of track lighting hung above the actual lane, transforming the dusty attic with a flick of a switch. The ball return mechanism worked too, making the game less arduous that Ada had expected, thinking of traipsing up and down the alley to retrieve the balls and re-set the pins.

After three games, Rocky grew bored of the alley and started walking about the attic, inspecting its dark corners and planning for his party. He thought it would be a good idea to have everyone over that weekend, and although Ada wasn’t quite sure who “everyone” was now, she agreed that it would be fun, as long as the party stayed in the attic. The rest of the house, even with the lights on, was pretty gloomy, and while she had no intention of inviting anyone she knew, she wanted to make a good impression.

Rocky laughed at this. “Believe me, these people won’t really care.”

Ada looked at Adam skeptically.

“Don’t listen to him, they’re harmless,” he said. “Wait, are you inviting Eli?”
Rocky nodded, grinning.

“Okay, Eli is a shithead, but the rest of Rocky’s friends are fine. Ada, you should invite some people too,” said Adam.

“No, that’s okay,” said Ada, flicking the switch off for the ball retriever and walking over to where Rocky was peering out the attic window.

“Wait, you’re not going to invite Rachel?” asked Rocky.

Adam covered his mouth to stifle a laugh and stole a glance at Ada who smirked in return.

“What?” demanded Rocky, crossing his arms and walking towards Adam.

“Nothing, dude, but don’t you think you should give it a rest with Rachel. She obviously doesn’t like you, why torture yourself?”

Rocky scowled.

“Sorry Rocky,” said Ada. “I mean, I could invite her, but I don’t think she would come. If you ask me she does need to get out. She gets really freaky when she’s alone for awhile, and with me gone – we weren’t the closest, but at least it was something.”

Rocky brightened. “See? It’ll be for her own good. Wongstein, make your sister come.”

“I can’t make her,” said Ada.

“Sure you can,” said Rocky.

“What am I going to do? Kidnap her?”

The wicked grin spread across Rocky’s face again and he licked his lips.

Ada threw up her hands and turned on her heels towards the hole in the floor. “This conversation is over. I draw the line at stealing sports equipment, we are not kidnapping my sister.” She lowered herself down the ladder and to the upstairs hallway.

2004-11-15T22:22:00.000-08:00

Drinking was fun, Ada had decided. There had always been that inclination, since she did work in a liquor store and had received some clues in the $200 purchases some people were apt to make, but her parents had always made sure she did not experiment herself. Even in college, Ada was always the designated driver for the few parties she had attended – out of choice too, because it had never occurred to her to drink herself silly. Now, sitting on the floor of her new room in Rocky’s house, she wondered how she had been so sheltered all her life, and why her parents were against something that was obviously so much fun.

The world had dissolved into a mess of slow moving people, slurred sounds and dancing shadows cast by the camping lantern they had set up on the floor in front of them. Some of these things sense, but mostly everything just made her laugh. Ada had moved on from her coolers to shots of tequila in a bizarre game of Rummy that Adam had initiated after finding a deck of cards in one of Ada’s bags. She was losing badly to Rocky and Adam who were getting louder but faring well. They were talking quite a bit, and Ada was half listening, nodding every so often to keep herself awake.

“We should just, like, take off one day, you know. Go to California or something. Screw Otis. I hate him.” Rocky was on a roll, having effectively called his own upbringing a sham, denouncing his current life working at the car wash, and making plans for he and Adam to get away. Adam vehemently agreed with this plan.

“I love California!” said Ada, suddenly snapping back to the game. Her cards were face up in front of her and she had long since lost count of whose turn it was. In fact, nobody had played in the last ten minutes, yet Adam and Rocky had continued to hold onto their cards.

“I wanna live on a beach and eat coconuts all day!” said Ada.

Rocky threw down his cards and laughed. “Coconuts don’t grow in California, Wongstein. They grow in Florida. It’s like penguins.”

Adam and Ada gave him a strange look and Rocky rolled his eyes.

“You know, you think they live in the North Pole, but they don’t. They like, live down on the South Pole and shit. That’s why they can’t fly. They’re like coconuts,” Rocky stopped and thought for a minute. “No, wait. What?”

Ada shook her head, and the faces in front of her trailed slowly behind to finally meet her gaze. Even her mind was working too slow, she could actually listen to her own thoughts in real time, it was like she was reading them from cue cards.

“Wongstein, I have to ask you something,” said Rocky. He moved closer and draped his arm around her. She leaned into him and waited for the question.

“Who would you rather sleep with? Me or Adam?”

Ada pulled away and tried to look disgusted, but again she laughed.

“Shut up, Rocky,” said Adam.

“No, come on, you have to say. It doesn’t matter,” said Rocky.

Ada felt suddenly sick. She didn’t want to answer this question, for several reasons, and even in her current state, she could see how any answer could be a bad answer. So, she buried her face for a second and thought about it.

“I have to pee,” she said, and got up. She walked slowly across the room and then turned around. “Rocky, that’s a retarded question.”

Tottering down the hallway, she thought about how she handled the situation, and felt it went over quite well. Rocky was an ass anyway, and it didn’t matter what he thought, she decided. In spite of herself, she started thinking about what it would be like to kiss Rocky. It was not a pretty picture and Ada stopped herself short of taking it any further than that by pinching herself in the arm.

After using the toilet, and almost falling asleep on it, Ada headed back toward her room with the intention of kicking the boys out so she could pass out and go to sleep, but she didn’t get that far. From the main level she could hear someone knocking on the door.

“Someone’s here,” she yelled into her room. Ada felt her way slowly down the stairs, tripping only slightly on the last few. She stumbled to the door and swung it open to reveal a dark figure slouching on the step.

“Rachel!” she said and flung her arms around her sister. “I missed you.”

Rachel stood there dumbfounded before peeling Ada off her person. She held her sister at arms length and took a good look at her from the dim light of the street lamps, as there were no lights on in the house.

“What’s wrong with you?” she said, slightly amused, but still confused, having never seen Ada act like this. Then she smelled the tequila. “Are you drunk?” she asked, incredulous.

“I’m having fun, Rach. Rachey. Rachello,” Ada giggled and then turned back and started walking toward the stairs, leaving her sister on the doorstep.

“Mom sent you some stuff,” Rachel called from the step, staying on her side of the threshold. The house seemed dangerous, and dark. She wondered why there were no lights on and what that smell was, almost as if someone had tried to burn wet newspaper.

Ada was already at the stairs, but beckoned Rachel to follow her. “Come on, come see my new room.”

Rachel relented, but only because she was afraid Ada would fall down the stairs, and that would mean she would be to blame, at least in the eyes of her parents. “Fine, but if any of your stupid friends are up there, I’m leaving.”

Apparently, it hadn’t occurred to Rachel that Ada, having never been properly drunk, would probably not do so the first time alone. She followed unsuspectingly up the creaky stairs but stopped short of the top when Rocky’s raucous laughter came floating down to meet her.

“You can’t be serious,” she sneered. “No, Ada, I’m not going in there. Here just take this envelope. Mom made me bring it to you since I won’t tell her where you’re staying.” Rachel held out the envelope but Ada ignored her.

“Rachel, just come say hi. I promise you can go after that,” said Ada, already at her door. Sounds of a slight scuffle ensued and then Rocky was at the door, trying to see past Ada, who was holding it shut.

“Rachel’s out there? Hey Rachel! Your sister said she’d sleep with me,” he said, through the slight opening in the door.

“I did not,” said Ada.

“You didn’t say you wouldn’t,” said Rocky. He had managed to fit one hand through the opening in the door and was now feeling up and down the frame, hitting Ada’s head every so often.

“This is disgusting. Ada, here, I’m leaving this for you,” Rachel held up the envelope and placed it on a step. “And I’m going to go home and tell mom and dad that you’re having a very nice time, where ever you are, and that, in fact, you might have found your future husband – a drunk idiot who doesn’t know how to work a door.”

Ada let go of the door, and watched as her sister stomped down the steps. Rocky fell out into the hallway and Adam followed.

“Rachel!” Rocky called. “I’m not her future husband, Adam is.” Adam punched Rocky in the shoulder. “Rachel, wait, come back we just want to tell you something.”

Rachel stopped, and despite her common sense, turned around to listen. “What.”

“I’m going to throw up,” said Ada.

Rachel let her shoulders fall. She sighed and climbed back up the stairs, past Rocky and Adam and followed her sister who had run into the bathroom.

Chapter 7

At around 1 o’clock in the morning, Rachel had phoned her parents to tell them she was staying with Ada for the night. She assured them that everything was all right, although Elma made it clear that she was worried for her daughter that was still in the family business, and that the one who had abandoned them could sleep in the gutter for all she cared. Rachel knew this wasn’t true, and that her mother was only trying to convince herself that she didn’t care. In fact, it seemed that Elma was actually glad when Rachel told her she was spending the night, though to be fair, she didn’t name everyone she’d be spending it with. Not that that had made a difference. After Ada’s initial puke fest, Rachel had kicked both Adam and Rocky out of her room. They were half asleep anyway, so there was very little resistance, and Rachel was prepared to use force if necessary. After the boys stumbled off to Adam’s room to sleep on his bare mattress, Rachel led a barfy-smelling Ada to her own bed and covered her with a light blanket. Rachel eventually crawled in next to her and fell asleep in her clothes.

Ada woke the next morning to the sounds of Adam running up and down the hallway, trying to get ready for work. She looked at her watch, and saw that it was almost 10:30. He was late, and for a second, she thought she was as well, as Wong’s Cold Beer opens at 11. That thought was quickly wiped from her mind when she moved her head, and all at once a sharp pain shot from the back of her neck up to her forehead and a wave of nausea swept over her. She moaned and turned carefully onto her stomach. Someone was in the bed with her.

“Rachel?” she said. She tried to think why her sister would be lying there across from her and could come up with no good explanation. The last conversation she could recall having with Rachel had been over the phone, but she didn’t remember inviting her to sleep over.

“God, your breath stinks,” said Rachel, rolling over. She was scowling, and all of a sudden Ada remembered what had brought her there. Kind of – she remembered opening the door.

“You’re going to be late for work,” said Ada.

Rachel rolled off the bed and stretched. “Oh, no problem, Ada, I totally didn’t mind holding your hair back while you puked your guts out last night. And dealing with your asshole friends here was just great. I hope we can do it again.”

Ada searched her muddy memory again and could now clearly recall sitting face-first in the toilet for a while. “Thank you for staying,” she said. Watching her sister gather her things from around the room, she couldn’t help but wonder at the fact that Rachel had stayed at all. Maybe she was a hero to her, but then thinking of some of the things she had said the night before cast doubt on that notion. Maybe for once, the strong bonds of sisterhood prevailed over the fact that Rachel didn’t like people. Maybe she was changing.

“Yeah, well don’t count on it for next time,” said Rachel.

Maybe not.

“You aren’t really going to tell mom, are you?” Ada was upright now, which didn’t help matters. Her headache was positively blinding and the roof of her mouth felt dry.

Rachel turned and rolled her eyes at her sister. “No, I’m not that evil. Plus, it would only prove her right. What you did last night was not the smartest thing,” she said.

Ada tried to remember doing anything dangerous, but she couldn’t. She’d only gotten a little tipsy, hadn’t she? Aside from smoking out the main floor of the house, she felt she’d handled herself quite well. Rachel was still rushing out the door, but stopped when Ada began to argue. “Don’t you see though, this sort of thing happens to people our age all the time. What’s not smart is going insane staying in a situation that isn’t working. I love mom and dad, but look at you Rach...”

Rachel stopped and narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t about me, Adelaide. And what made you such an expert all of a sudden? If I remember correctly, you were the good little daughter just two days ago, so don’t go lecturing me.

You can stay and live with the loser car wash boys for all I care, but don’t expect me to come running when you need something.”

Ada watched as Rachel stomped out of her room, dropped her jacket and picked it up before running down the stairs. The door slammed, shaking the entire house and Ada fell back into her bed. Out of the corner of her eye should could see someone poking their head around the doorway.

“Morning, Adam,” she said.

“What’s going on?” he asked, toothbrush in hand.

“She’s just mad at me, I don’t know why,” said Ada. For the life of her she couldn’t figure it out. She would think Rachel, of all people, would jump at the chance to move out of her parent’s house and yet she was running away from a perfectly good opportunity. Sure, the conditions weren’t the greatest, but it was a start. And if last night was any indication, the benefits would outweigh the costs.

“Sorry,” said Adam, and then he stood there for a second, unsure of what to do.

Finally, he put his toothbrush back in mouth and walked back into the bathroom.
Ada started thinking about getting up and finding some aspirin. She hadn’t packed any and wondered if she should go to the drug store. The idea of heading out to buy something made her think of money and the fact that it was quickly going to be running out if she didn’t find some sort of employment. She did have some in her savings, but most of her pay cheque from the liquor store had gone towards rent, car payments and a retirement fund her father had set up for her when she was 18. Ada decided that she would go looking for a job that day, and although she had never had to find a job in all her life, she was quite confident it wouldn’t be much of a problem.

*

Adam rushed out of the house ten minutes before the start of his shift. He looked longingly at Rocky’s and Ada’s cars sitting idle in front of the house, but decided against asking either one of them for a ride. Ada didn’t look to be in very good shape, and he hadn’t seen a trace of Rocky all morning. The first morning with Ada in the house hadn’t been half as strange as he thought it would be. Having seen her only in the car wash and liquor store for as long as he’d known her, Adam was afraid seeing her in an outside environment would have been, for some reason, awkward, almost like seeing a teacher at the video store. He was surprised to find himself thinking that Rocky had been right with the whole “bonding” night — even if the most they had learned about Ada was that she was an easy drunk. Rachel’s visit had been weird though, she was the last person he’d expected to see at the house, let alone sleep over.

Adam was only five minutes late when he burst into the car wash. Otis was at the counter writing furiously on his legal pad and barely acknowledging Adam as he ran into the back to grab his vest.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Adam, mostly out of habit. He wasn’t really late, nor was he very sorry.

“Do you know where Rocky is?” asked Otis without looking up from his writing.
Adam slowed his step and stopped in front of the counter so that he was facing his boss. “No. Am I supposed to know?”

“He was supposed to open today. He’s not here. I dragged him into work yesterday only to have him leave half-way though his shift. What I would like to know is where that little dipshit is, so I can fire his ass,” growled Otis. Adam took a step back.

“He might have mentioned quitting,” stammered Adam. “I- I mean, maybe. I can’t really be sure. Rocky says a lot of stuff.” He also couldn’t be sure why he was taking the heat for this. He’d shown up, after all, despite his hang over.

“Well, if you happen to see him, tell him not to bother coming back. I’ve hired someone for the afternoon shifts, so you’re on mornings now,” said Otis. He gathered his papers, and headed toward the back. “She starts today, so I need you to stay a few hours to train her.”

She?

Adam watched his boss waddle to his office beside the car wash. Otis didn’t hire women, and not that Adam cared, but this sudden change in policy disturbed him. If Otis was rescinding his racist ways, what would be next?
Time and half on stat holidays? Half-hour lunches instead of 20 minutes? In any case, Otis must have been planning to fire Rocky for quite some time now if he already had a replacement lined-up. Despite his extra hours he would be putting in, Adam was excited. Not only would he not have to put up with Rocky at work anymore, he’d be working with a girl. Possibly a cute girl.
Things were looking up and up.

*

The day had gone by relatively friction free. Ada had come in once to moan about the difficulties of finding any job, seeing as how her parents wouldn’t offer any sort of reference. Rocky had also come in, five hours late for his shift, and left jubilant when he was informed he no longer had a job at the car wash. Adam was positively buoyant, for once in his life, by the time 4 o’clock rolled around, and the new employee was due to start.

He waited behind the counter watching the door and glancing at his watch every few minutes. It wasn’t this often that Adam got excited about anything, but with the new house he felt that things might finally be turning around for him. He even went so far as to think that if Ada was successful at her own emancipation, then he too might think about moving forward with his life. It was his job after all, nobody was going to walk in off the street and just hand him a high-paying career at Disneyland. No, he would start working hard, looking around, and exploring options. This was the first day of the rest of his –

Ding.

Adam stood straight up, then slumped back down again to see that it was only Anita who walked in the door.

“Hello, brother,” she smiled and snapped her gum.

Adam glared at her. “Please leave.”

“Why?” Anita smiled and sauntered up to the counter leaning towards Adam and grinning madly all the while. He backed up instinctively and resisted the urge to flick her on the forehead.

“Because I’m working, that’s why,” he said.

She stood up and examined her nails, “and what if I’m working too?”

Adam felt the blood rush from his face and his stomach turn. He had finally left the clutch of the she-devil and now he would be forced to work with her? “You’re kidding me,” he growled, his fists clenched.

“Ha! Yes, I am. God, you’re such an easy mark,” Anita flicked her hair and sashayed back to the door. “My friend, Destiny got a job here.”

Destiny? As in it was Adam’s destiny to have to deal with flaky teenage girls for the rest of his life? That it was his destiny to be a loser who works at a car wash and does nothing about it because he’s too lazy? Adam’s good mood and all semblance of motivation came crashing down. Anita opened the door and in bounced in bubble gum girl from the day before.

“Adam! You’re going to train me? How cool is that?” she said. Adam guessed it was a rhetorical question, otherwise he would have answered her: about as cool as a heat wave in hell. Otis chose this moment to wander out from the back and greet his new employee and Adam watched in bewilderment as his boss shook her hand and smiled.

“Adam, this is Destiny. Destiny, this is Adam, our most senior customer service associate,” said Otis.

Adam couldn’t understand why he was talking like that, all sunny and cheeky, or why he had referred to Adam as a “customer service associate.” Otis guided Destiny behind the counter and left her there before coming back to Adam.

“Now Adam here is going to teach you how to use the till. It’s not that hard, I’m sure you’ll pick it up in a jiffy,” said Otis. Adam stifled a laugh at the use of the word ‘jiffy.’ “Destiny, don’t let Adam go until you’re good and ready to be here on your own. I’ll be in the back if you need me.”

Adam continued to watch Otis until he was out of sight, and then turned back to Anita and Destiny, who were conferencing in whispers by the till. He walked up behind them and they both stopped talking; Destiny covered her mouth in a giggle.

“Okay, now go,” he said to Anita, and guided her out towards the door. Anita writhed out of his grasp and went back to Destiny.

“Kisses!” she said, and the two proceeded to peck each other on each cheek. “Have fun Des, and don’t let my brother boss you around too much.”

Anita left and Adam turned back to Destiny, who was literally quivering behind the till. She followed his every move as he made his way back behind the counter.

“This, is a till,” he said.

She nodded and rolled her eyes, but was still smiling maniacally.

“When someone comes up to buy something,” he continued, but then stopped, looked back towards Otis’ office and again at Destiny. “How did you get this job?”

“Oh, my dad’s on the chamber of commerce with Otis, and my dad was saying how I was looking for a job, so here I am,” she said. Destiny pulled the elastic out of her hair and combed it with her hands before pulling it up into another style. “Plus, my dad’s thinking about buying this place, so I think Otis was trying to get in on his good side,” she giggled.

Son of a bitch. So, he sold Adam out for early retirement, Adam couldn’t believe after all the years of varying degrees of work he’d given Otis, he’d been handed this. He drummed his fingers on the counter and Destiny waited for him to restart his lesson.

She actually wasn’t as dumb as Adam had assumed. Destiny did pick up on the basics of a cash register in a jiffy, leaving Adam free to peruse a magazine while she handled the dinner rush. He was thankful for the steady flow of customers, for once, because whenever there was a lull Destiny would find an excuse to sidle up beside Adam and coo over his shoulder or hit him playfully on the arm. He didn’t really need that. Although she was an attractive girl, she was just that – only 17, and his sister’s good friend as well. By 7 o’clock, he received reluctant permission from his admirer to go home, as she felt she could handle the rest of the evening.

2004-11-13T23:22:00.000-08:00

Up the walk she could hear a dog barking from inside. Ada couldn’t remember Adam saying he had a dog, nor could she envision Rocky as a dog owner, but again, she was surprised to find out that the animal was his.

“Asshat’s hungry,” said Rocky, grinning. “Me too. Do you have any food?”

“No,” said Ada. She was hungry too, not having eaten at all that day. “You named your dog Asshat?”

Rocky laughed. “Yeah. Kick ass, eh? I think he likes it better than Zeke – that’s what my mom still calls him. I think we have some left over Eggos from this morning if you want some.”

Rocky opened the door and stepped into the dark hallway. A musty smell of old wood and dust met them as they felt their way into the brighter kitchen area. A box of frozen waffles sat on the counter open. Rocky stuffed his hand in the box and pulled out an orange Eggo. He offered one to Ada but she shook her head, not seeing any heating device in the kitchen; Rocky stuffed the soggy pastry in his mouth cold and fed another one to Asshat, who was at his heels, begging.

“I have a great idea,” said Rocky, his mouth still full. A small piece of waffle fell out as he spoke and Asshat rushed to lap it up.

“What’s that?” said Ada, scrunching her nose and watching as the mutt licked the area of the floor where the food had landed clean.

“Since you’re going to be living with me and Adam, we should all get to know each other a little better, you know? Like, I know your family runs the liquor store but that’s it. I don’t even know where you’re from.”

Ada shifted her gaze from the crumbs of waffle that had stuck to Rocky’s T-shirt. “Um, I’m from here.”

Rocky wiped his mouth and grabbed another Eggo from the box. “No, I mean are you from Japan or Hawaii or what?”

“Hawaii?” Ada took a deep breath. “I’m from China. Well, my ancestors, anyway. I was born here in Canada and so were my parents. My grandparents came here when they first got married.”

“Hm,” Rocky nodded. “Well the point is, the only way we’re really going to get to know you is if we all sit back and have a few. What do you say?”

How silly of her to think Rocky actually wanted to learn who she was, all he wanted to do was to get drunk. Then again, this could be Rocky’s way of making friends, she wasn’t quite sure yet. And although she’d worked in a liquor store for almost ten years, Ada knew very little about the actual act of drinking. When she was in high school, the kids used to bug her to steal or buy beer for them, she had always refused, making her somewhat of an outcast and a target for spitballs from the football team. Ada had the odd drink, but was not into the practice of drinking for the sole purpose of getting wasted. Rocky almost looked desperate for her to say yes, so she did.

“You get the drinks though, I’m not going into Wong’s,” she said.

“Sweet. Yeah, just pitch in a bit and I’ll get the stuff. I’ll buy you something girlie like a wine cooler or whatever,” Rocky held out his hand for some cash. Ada dug into her pocket and pulled out a twenty.

“This enough?” she said.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Rocky. “I’m gonna head out now. You can pick whatever room you want. Adam’ll be home soon, I think. Maybe in a couple hours. See ya in a bit, Wongstein.”

Rocky tripped over Asshat, who followed his master faithfully to the door and then returned to the kitchen to lap up the rest of the crumbs once the front door slammed shut. Ada was left in the middle of an empty and echoey kitchen, gazing out the naked windows. The backyard was overgrown and tiny, but she could tell it used to be beautiful. There were remnants of a small patio in the back corner and an old trellis crawling across the fence.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Rachel’s number. Her sister would be on the till right now, but answered her phone anyway, even if there were customers at the front. The phone rang twice before a familiar growl answered.

“Ada, you’re my hero.”

Ada gaped for a second before stammering out a ‘hello’. “Um, okay. Rachel, are you all right?”

“Just jealous as hell. Where are you?”

“In a house,” Ada said. That’s the best she could come up with, and it was true. This was a house. A big, empty, dark house.

Rachel seemed to accept this. “Alright. Well, what do you want?”

“I heard you came looking for me. I just wanted you to know I was okay.”

“Wait, how do you know I was looking for you?” said Rachel.

Ada sat down on the floor. “I was at the car wash. Rocky told me,” she winced.

There was a moment of silence on the other end and then Rachel almost yelled. “Adelaide, where the hell are you?”

Ada weighed her options. Telling her sister would most likely result in Rachel doing something weird. She couldn’t guess what that would be, but aggravating people like Rocky always made her go off a bit. The good thing was, Ada could count on her not saying anything to their parents. So, she decided to spill.

“I’m at Rocky’s house.”

Rachel laughed. “He has a house?”

Ada looked around her. “Of sorts.”

“Well you’re doing better than I did, kid. I heard mom got to your credit card,” said Rachel.

“Yeah, I have some money in the bank, but hopefully I’ll be getting another job soon.”

Rachel didn’t respond.

“Rach, do you think Mom’s going to be mad at me for very long?”

“I dunno.”

Ada sighed. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

“I think I can handle myself,” Rachel snorted. “Can you tell me where you are, just in case somebody dies?”

Ada hesitated before agreeing. She ran to the front door to check the street address and read it out to her sister.

Rachel laughed. “Geez, you’re like five blocks from here. I guess it doesn’t matter, but I’d have thought you’d be in another city by now.”

Ada didn’t know what to think of that. She’d barely considered moving out of her parents’ house and yet Rachel thought she’d be the type of person to pick up and leave town on a whim?

“Okay, well, I’ll tell Mom you’re alive,” said Rachel. “Later.”

Ada snapped her phone shut. She was a hero to Rachel, the girl who seemed to have lost the will to live. This was a real breakthrough, for the both of them. Ada had never been someone to look up to, she had never been on the leading edge of anything, and now, here she was, leading the Wong girls to independence!

She wondered if that was a bit dramatic. Considering her current surroundings, independence was not all it was cracked up to be. Sure, Rocky had been very nice to her so far, but she kept expecting the anvil to fall. The night ahead of her could be interesting, but Ada decided not to think about that and instead focus on making herself at home.

Rocky hadn’t even shown her the staircase, so it was a few minutes before she found the second floor of the house. The ceiling was low in the bedroom hallway, and the doors were narrow, but there was a good size bathroom and at least four bedrooms for her to choose from. There were a pile of clothes in one, so she chose the room next to it as her own. It was about the same size as the one she had at her parent’s house, with a doorless closet in the corner and a large window with shutters on the north wall. On the wall adjacent to the window was what looked like a ceiling-high frame built right into the house. Ada looked at it, curious. It was almost as if there were something behind it, like another room, but if she remembered correctly, that would be the bathroom. Why would someone build an adjoining door to a shared bathroom? Upon looking closer, Ada found a handle at the top of the frame, painted the same colour as the wall. She tugged on it and was surprised when the wall gave way, falling slowly forward to reveal a bed.

“Sweet,” said Ada. She’d heard about these. What were they called again? She couldn’t remember, but it did solve the problem of her having no bed. She felt bad for Adam who seemed to have slept on a pile of shirts. Not sorry enough to give him the bed though.

Ada tried the light switch on the wall and was not surprised to find that it didn’t work. Seeing as how the boys were showing no inclination on getting the power going in the house, she decided to take this job into her own hands as her first act as a member of the Rocky household. She took out her cell phone and called information, and was soon connected to the power company, who put her on hold for 45 minutes. In that time, she managed to move her luggage up to her new room and explore the rest of the house, all while having the phone cradled between her cheek and shoulder and Asshat following faithfully at her heels. An hour later, she had one hell of a crick and a promise that the house would have power between 9 and 5 the next day.

Ada felt accomplished, having successfully completed her first task as an independent adult. Not too shabby, she thought as she stood in the shadowy family room at the front of the house. She liked this room because it had a bay window and a stone fireplace in the corner. Ada decided that if they weren’t going to have light that night, they could at least have a fire. So, it was off to the gas station, which was the only place Ada had ever seen firewood for sale. On the way, she decided to pick up something to eat other than soggy waffles.

*

Adam didn’t feel like walking home. He had just finished his seven-hour shift and thanks to a clumsy priest with bad aim, had had diet Coke sloshed all over his work shirt, meaning he’d have to wash it in a sink. There was nothing he could do about it, it was an accident after all, and Adam figured it must be a sin to yell or even think bad thoughts about a priest. And even though home was no only a few blocks away, he had no desire or ambition to drag himself that far. It was a good thing then, when he saw Rocky coming out of Wong’s Cold Beer. His new roommate was holding two large paper bags and a large grin. Adam ran up to him.

“What’s with all the booze,” he said, stealing a peek in one of the bags. It was mostly beer, but also a four-pack of what looked like a mango cooler. Adam looked up at his friend with slight confusion. He wasn’t sure Rocky even knew what a mango was.

“Oh, it’s Wongstein, she wants us to all bond, now that, you know, we’ll all be shacking up.” Rocky opened the passenger side and dumped his bags on the front seat. Adam stopped the door before it slammed shut and moved all the bags to the floor of the cab so he could slide in.

“Ada suggested this?” Adam couldn’t believe that, in fact, he had a hard time believing the girl had ever tasted an alcoholic drink.

Rocky jumped in the driver’s seat and nodded enthusiastically. “For sure, she practically begged. I think your girl’s a lush, Abel.”

Adam decided not to question this, though he knew that if Ada was a lush, then Rocky was Einstein incarnate. “Where were you all day, anyway? You just left. Otis was flipping out.”

Rocky rolled his eyes and pulled out into traffic. “Whatever, Abel. Now that I’m not living with my parents, I don’t need that shitty job. They won’t know I’m slacking, and I’ll keep getting money from them.”

“That’s evil,” said Adam.

“No, man. They’re loaded. Why should I work my ass off when I don’t have to?” said Rocky.

Adam could think of a lot of reasons why, but he also knew that if he were in Rocky’s position, he’d be doing the exact same thing. Still, deep down, it bothered him that Mia had a son who would do this to her. He would barely question lying to his mom, but Mia was a different story.

Rocky rounded the corner of their street and parked the truck inches behind Ada’s rusted coupe. Adam felt suddenly weird about seeing Ada outside of the car wash setting. Sure, they’d had good conversations and had even gone out for coffee once, but thinking about her sitting in Rocky’s big empty house was like seeing a department store Santa take off his beard and have a smoke.

Rocky and Adam filed in the front door to find Ada and Asshat sitting in the front room.

“Hi,” she waved from a lawn chair. She had set up four of them in a circle close to the fireplace. “Look what I stole from my parents.”

Adam raised his eyebrows. One day of freedom and the girl’s out of control. “At least we don’t have to sit on the floor,” he said.

“Yeah. I also have wood, so we can make a fire tonight. The power company will be here tomorrow, so we’ll have electricity, but until then I bought some non-perishables. There’s cereal, some fruit and crackers. Oh, and chips, for our little thing tonight. Adam, your mom was here. We carried your mattress upstairs. I hope that’s okay,” Ada finished and grinned.

The boys stood dumbstruck. Neither of them had even thought about food or the electricity and Adam had completely forgotten his mom was even coming over to drop off his bed.

“Simmer down, girl,” Rocky said, placing his bags on the floor and taking a seat across from Ada. “This is casa de Rocky, where there are no rules.”

Ada blinked and stammered, “oh, well. I just thought--”

“It’s okay, Ada. Thanks for all that, it’s really cool,” said Adam.

Ada smiled and watched as he sat down in the lawn chair next to her. The three of them sat and stared at each other for a few minutes, unsure of what to do next. Unable to sit still for more than two minutes, Rocky broke the ice by lunging for one of his paper bags and yanking out a six-pack of import beer.

“Asahi Dark, Japan’s finest,” he said, cracking open a can and holding it up to Ada. “In honour of your ancestors.”

Ada suppressed the urge to correct him. “Why don’t we phone for pizza?”

Both Adam and Rocky agreed that his was an outstanding idea.

Upon ordering two extra large from Roy’s Pizza, Ada sat back and watched while Rocky and Adam proceeded to chug their beers.

Rocky took a breath. “Well, what are you waiting for, Wongstein? Dig in.” He waved toward the paper bags, which were now on their sides. Asshat was in one of them, growling and pawing at the sides.

Ada rose uncertainly from her chair and peered inside the dogless bag. She pulled out a large bottle full of clear-blue liquid.

“That one has a hallucinogen in it,” said Rocky. “It’s banned throughout most of Europe.” He belched and Ada set down the scary drink. She finally came out with an innocent looking bottle with pictures of fruit on the front. It didn’t look the least bit dangerous.

Proud of herself, she sat back down and popped the lid with a bottle opener Adam had on his keychain. “Cheers,” she said and took a swig. It was bitter, but sweet, and not half as bad as some of the stuff they have sampled at the store sometimes. Speaking of the store, that reminded her.

“Did Rachel sell you this stuff?” she asked Rocky, thinking particularly of the hallucinogen drink. Rachel may keep her location secret from her parents, but the same might not hold true if she thought Ada would be jumping off buildings, thinking she could fly.

“Your dad,” said Rocky.

Ada sighed and took another drink. That wasn’t so bad. Her father barely knew who Rocky was and he didn’t know Ada was staying with him. Thinking of her dad made her feel even better that she was here and not there. Strange, thought Ada, normally, the idea of disobeying her parents would bring about feelings of extreme guilt and doubt. She looked at the bottle in her hand; maybe it was the “Mango-tastic Rumble Berry.”

She was on her second drink by the time the pizza arrived. Standing up to answer the door, Ada lost her balance momentarily and stumbled backwards. Rocky laughed.

“Wongstein, you’ve had like, two.”

Ada grinned. “Maybe you should get the pizza.”

Rocky just laughed hysterically and grabbed another cooler for Ada on his way to the door. He came back with two enormous pies and slapped them on the floor. They dug in, and Ada felt better after eating a slice of meat lovers with triple cheese. Still, she’d polished off half of her third cooler and every time she moved her head, the room seemed to spin just a little.

“We should start the fire,” she blurted, thinking this would give her a break from the mango. At this rate, she’d be passed out before 8.

Crawling toward her pile of wood placed in the corner beside the fire place, she started to giggle.

“What?” said Adam, half-laughing himself.

“Oh my God, this is just too much fun, you guys. We should have bought a house, like so long ago!” Ada sat down beside her tinder, slightly out of breath. “Seriously. So much fun.”

Rocky howled, and Ada set back to her task of starting a fire. Fumbling with the string that tied the wood together, she managed to loosen it, sending the logs tumbling across the front of the hearth. Taking pieces from an old newspaper, Ada scrunched the newsprint and chucked the balls into the fireplace. She had never really made a fire before, but this seemed like the natural thing to do. Neither Rocky or Adam were saying anything different, so she continued to scrunch newspaper balls until the filled most of the fireplace.

That finished, Ada piled a few pieces of wood into the pit and searched around her for the box of matches she’d picked up at the gas station. She tried to strike her first match, but missed the box completely. Second go, it lit, but Ada moved it toward the fireplace too quickly and the tiny flame was snuffed out. She picked out a new match, spilling half the box across the floor. Ada giggled.

“Do you need any help Ada?” said Adam.

She waved to say that she was fine, and proceeded to strike and miss, match after match until finally one lit and she was able to carefully transfer it into the fireplace and light one of the newspaper balls.

“Success!” she squealed, watching as her tiny flame ate away at the newsprint, slowly corroding its fuel up and toward the centre of her small pile of wood and paper. Grey curls of smoke floated out from the flue, stinging Ada’s eyes. She waved it away and backed up, coughing. The good news was that the fire was growing. The sparks had caught onto one of the smaller pieces of wood and orange flames were now licking the bleached wood. The bad news was that the smoke was not going where it was supposed to, in that it was not floating up the chimney, but rolling into the family room. Asshat started barking and peed on the floor.

“Shit! What the hell Ada, why isn’t the smoke going up the chimney?” said Rocky, coughing and holding one arm over his nose, while protecting his beer with the other hand.

“I don’t know,” she said, waving her hands frantically and stumbling away from the fireplace. A choking cloud had now filled about half of the room, causing Ada, Rocky and Adam to get on their hands and knees for fresh air. Ada peered into the fireplace.

“The fire’s out, but it’s still smouldering,” she said. Tears were streaming down her face and her throat hurt. “Upstairs,” she gagged, motioning toward the stairs.

Rocky and Adam didn’t argue, and managed to grab the pizza and booze before racing up the stairs. Smoke still hung in the air, but was lighter in the upstairs hallway. Ada had left her room door closed, so when they stumbled in and slammed the door behind them there was fresh air, at least. Ada rushed to open her window, and hung out over the edge breathing in deeply. Adam joined her, and spit a great gob onto the ground below before turning to Ada.

“What happened? I thought you knew how to light a fire,” he said. His eyes were red, but he didn’t look angry. Amused, actually.

“I thought I did. Maybe the chimney’s blocked. I didn’t even think about that,” Ada looked to the ground below her. Her room looked out over the sidewalk running along the perimeter of the house. Remnants of a flowerbed shot out of the ground in a strangled mess.

Adam just looked at her and pulled himself back into the room. Ada followed and went over to her bed where Rocky was sitting, nursing his beer.

“Wait a second, why do you have a bed?” said Adam.

Ada shrugged. “It came from the wall,” she said.

Adam grabbed another drink and slid down the wall to sit on the floor, wondering why he didn’t think to look around the rest of the bedrooms before making a nest out of his dirty clothes. Ada followed suit, thinking she deserved another cooler for having almost died of smoke inhalation.

2004-11-12T17:03:00.000-08:00

Someone banged on the door and Ada whipped around, unsure of what to do.

“Cleaning,” announced the voice, and without another knock, a stocky woman in a drab, grey uniform pushed her way into the room, bottom first.

She looked over her shoulder at Ada. “You better get out of here now, I’ve got 20 rooms to do before 1.”

Ada scrambled off the bed. “Couldn’t you wait a bit on mine?”

“No,” said the maid. She was already tugging on the bed’s sheets, balling them up and throwing them out the door into the hallway. Ada just gawked. “Well, what are you waiting for?” said the maid.

“I have nowhere to go,” said Ada. She looked down at her cell phone still in her hands. That was partially untrue. There were at least 30 people in her address book she could turn to. But every single one of them was a Wong and there was no doubt Elma had already phoned them, giving instructions not to take Ada in.

The maid didn’t find this the least bit concerning. “Don’t you have parents?”

“Yeah,” said Ada.

The maid sighed and straightened up. “Then I don’t see what you have to complain about little girl. Now get moving.”

Finding no sympathy from the cleaning staff, Ada quickly stuffed cloths back into her duffle bag and left her beautiful hotel room with the day time TV still on for the cold streets. Outside, she threw her luggage on the sidewalk and sat on top of it, leaning against the wall and wondering where she would be going next.

Flipping out her cell phone, Ada looked over her contact list once more.

“I am so pathetic,” she mumbled, clicking past all her aunts, cousins, family friends and relatives once removed. Frustrated, she set about deleting every single entry, figuring that since she was starting a whole new life, she may as well find some whole new friends. Finally, after sending off “Rita,” her mom’s hairdresser’s daughter, she found a name that made her stop and think twice about its possibilities.

“Rocky,” it read. Ada clicked on the more info button. “The sexiest man alive,” it said.

Ada remembered Rocky had entered his phone number into her cell one day when she was in the car wash. How he had found the time to insert a description into his entry, she didn’t know, but the important thing was that she had his number. He was the only person on her phone that wouldn’t be in direct contact with Elma, and while she had no intention of going to Rocky for help, it was his co-worker who had suddenly become her last resort.

*

Ada had to park down the block from Otis’ Car Wash, and creep along the wall of their building just in case anyone from Wong’s Cold Beer saw her. She slipped inside the car wash shop and spotted Adam at the till dealing with a group of students from the nearby high school. It was the lunch hour rush and Adam hadn’t even noticed her enter the store, so she drifted to the back and started flipping through some magazines.

Some of them were horribly out of date. The equestrian magazine she first picked up had a circulation date of about two years ago, not that it mattered, she supposed. A horse is a horse no matter what year it is. Ada sat down on the ledge and began rifling through their selection of teen magazines. So absorbing was an article on finding your best hair colour that she barely noticed Rocky standing over her until he started talking.

“Reading porn, Wongstein?”

She slammed the magazine shut and stared up at him. Rocky was shorter than average, a little taller than Ada, but he seemed extraordinarily tall looking down at her. She stood up.

“No,” she said.

Rocky laughed. “Just kidding Wongstein. Geez, you take everything so seriously.”

Ada glowered.

“So, you gonna hang here all day now that you got kicked out?”

Ada’s mouth dropped open, how did he know? The Wongs make it a rule never to speak to anyone in the car wash and she couldn’t imagine why Rocky would even care after she’d come into the shop the other day to tell Adam she’d decided to quit.

Rocky laughed again. “Rachel was in here asking about you this morning. That’s kick ass Wongstein. Seriously, I mean, I know how the boss can slag on you. I tried calling in sick today, but Otis made me work when he saw me at the 7 eleven. Shit man, that sucks, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. And then there’s you – little Ada, and you totally just told off your own parents. That’s sick, man.” Rocky held up his hand for her to slap it, and she did, half-heartedly. Half of what Rocky had said didn’t make any sense to her, but all she could think about was Rachel being worried for her. It made her feel even worse for leaving the way she did. Ada promised herself to phone her sister later.

“So what are you going to do now?” said Rocky, completely ignoring a lady who was standing behind them, holding a travel mug. She eventually gave up and walked away, but Ada was stuck with Rocky for the time being.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“You got a place to stay?” said Rocky. Ada looked at him with concern. He usually didn’t make much of an effort to have an actual conversation with her, let alone ask her questions concerning her life. And giving his expression, it seemed as though he actually cared. She hesitated, but answered truthfully.

“No,” she looked over at Adam, who was being hassled by the travel mug lady. “I was hoping Adam would know where I could go.”

“Dude, you should totally come live with us,” said Rocky. He looked genuinely gleeful.

Alarms were going off in her mind, but she shut them up. “You guys are living together already?”

Rocky nodded his head and glanced over his shoulder, watching out for Otis who was busy in the car wash.

Ada felt cornered. Here she was, desperate for somewhere to stay and Rocky, possibly the rudest person she had ever known, was offering an answer to all her problems, and the only thing she could do was try and think of an excuse so that she wouldn’t have to take him up. She could just imagine their tiny, one-bedroom apartment. No dishes or furniture, one toilet with two boys. Yuck.

“I don’t know,” she said, letting her eyes wander to Adam again. He would be able to get her out of this. “I don’t have any money.”

“It’s free,” said Rocky. “Think about it, Wongstein,” he said, and then bounced over to start straightening cans of spray paint on the shelf behind them. Otis had come in, and it seems he’d given some warning to Rocky for playing hooky, because his eyes went straight to his errant employee. Ada tried to look busy, and not feel so sick to her stomach.

*

Adam’s eyes were glazed over; he stared straight through the woman standing at his counter to Rocky and Ada at the back of the store having what looked like a conversation. That was strange.

“I bought this mug two days ago, and it’s not working. Here stick your finger in this coffee – luke warm!” The customer shoved the mug under Adams nose and he obediently dipped his finger into the liquid.

What were they talking about? And what was going on with Ada? Rachel had been in the store earlier, freaking out. And she never came in the store if she could help it.

“I want a refund, and a discount on another mug,” said the woman.

Adam’s attention snapped back to his customer. “Listen, I don’t think these mugs are supposed to keep the coffee warm,” he said. There were only a few kids left in the store, and they were starting to throw things at him.

“Excuse me?” The lady looked vehement, but it didn’t bother Adam, he’d dealt with her kind a million times before. They always felt the world was out to get them, even disheveled-looking clerks in a car wash convenience store were secretly plotting against them. Maybe this feeling didn’t manifest itself in conspiracy theories and mass suicides, but it did make life extremely difficult for the poor souls forced to wait on them.

All Adam wanted was to get the high schoolers out of the store for another day, so he decided to cut his losses and bend to travel mug ladies demands. Giving into them only makes them stronger, but had decided he didn’t care anymore. Adam gave her cash back, but refused to discount her next purchase. That would mean having to ring in her second travel mug, and he treasured his sanity too much to have to deal with her again. She stomped out of the store, half-satisfied, and Adam rang his last beef jerky stick to a boy at least 100 pounds heavier than his scrawny self.

Store cleared of customers, Adam went in search of Ada, who was curled up in the back corner of the magazine/hardware section of the store. She looked tired and confused.

“What am I going to do?” she said, as Adam sat down on the lower shelf opposite to her. He shrugged.

“Two days ago, I had never in my life thought of quitting the liquor store. And now, here I am, hiding out in the car wash, no home, no friends and no idea what I’m supposed to do with myself,” Ada rubbed her forehead.

Adam was hoping she wouldn’t cry. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Rocky didn’t say anything stupid to you, did he?”

She gave a small laugh and rolled her eyes. “He asked if I wanted to stay with you guys. I mean, no offence, but I can’t even understand why you’re living with him. I would be scared to pee, with him in the same apartment as me and I just couldn’t deal with all that in such close quarters. I know, I know, beggars can’t be choosers, but really, it would be like knowingly sleeping while an axe murderer was stalking around your bed. Am I a bad person for thinking this way, Adam?”

She was out of breath and close to the point of hyperventilating, so Adam let her breathe a little before answering.

“No, it would be a perfectly normal reaction, I would think,” he said. “But you can stay with us, you know. It’s not an apartment, it’s practically a mansion,” he thought about that for a second. “Well, maybe not a mansion, but it is big. You’d have your own room. We don’t have any electricity yet and there aren’t any beds – or chairs, but there’s a toilet. You should come, Ada. I’ll be good, I promise, and Rocky – well, he won’t like, watch you when you sleep. You can lock your door.”

Ada grimaced. It still didn’t seem like a good idea to take up Rocky on his offer, but then again, she couldn’t think of what else she was going to do. Despite what Adam said, she couldn’t help but feel like a spoiled brat for even questioning crashing at Rocky’s. Homeless people would probably jump at the chance to sleep on the floor of a dark house with no chairs, and she was homeless. Far from digging through the garbage can, but homeless in all technicalities.

“Alright,” she smiled. “Thanks Adam, you guys are really pulling through for me.” She moved to give him a hug, but Adam pulled, back, hesitated and then responded half a second late, resulting an awkward embrace across the aisle.

“I better get back,” said Adam. There were two people wandering the store and Rocky had disappeared. He left Ada sitting with the magazines. “Go get the keys from Rocky and you can go over to the house right now if you want.”

Ada watched Adam as he slumped toward the cash register.

Chapter 6

Rocky left work early to hitch a ride back to the house with Ada. He had been oddly thrilled to learn that she was coming to stay with them, and had insisted he accompany her back to the house to show her her room, the bowling lane and the large, empty rooms that made up their new abode. Moments after pulling from the curb, Ada learned why Rocky was being so enthusiastic; he may have been predictable, but he was far from subtle.

“You should invite Rachel,” he said. He was rifling through the glove compartment and had found an old pack of gum. He stuck a piece in his mouth.

Ada shook her head. “Why do you like her so much? I’m sorry to say this Rocky, but Rachel barely knows you exist. Don’t take it personally, because she ignores most people, but why is there this fascination with her?”

“Gross, what is this? Chocolate gum?” Rocky examined the faded wrapper and rolled down his window to spit out the offending wad.

Ada looked over. Rocky was ignoring her question, and she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer anyway. While she felt slightly sorry for him, it was true what she had said. Rachel had been normal at one point in her life, right before the infamous Elma vs. Rachel incident, actually, but since then she had spiraled. It started with the clothes, which became predominately black, and her hair, which was now long and straggly. Then came the music, bizarre German techno groups with names like, “Der” and “U”. Then there was her room: she had stripped the wallpaper and painted her walls red and had refused to sleep on her bed for a period of two months. It was all very bizarre to Ada, who felt her sister had gone off the deep end. Elma and Jackson had decided to ignore it, and now it was just Rachel and they were all used to her.

They pulled up to the house and Ada couldn’t help but give Rocky credit, this was a nice house, in a nice neighbourhood. Not the crack den she had envisioned.

2004-11-08T17:21:00.000-08:00

Kay, little weird, but due to some editing issues, the first installment of this thrilling tale may not be under Nov 1 as promised. The first part starts like this: "Shrantok stared at the craggy rock..." and the rest go up from there, with the latest installment at the top of the page. Confusing, yes, and I apologize.

I also apologize for any inconsistencies or spelling errors as I haven't gone back to edit anything, seeing as I am severly behind on my word count as it is.

2004-11-07T01:24:00.000-08:00

(Story starts Nov. 1)
The sun was just dipping below the tree-line of the aging neighbourhood when Adam and Rocky pulled up to their new home. Mrs. Shaw had actually fed Adam dinner while Rocky fiddled around in the pool house for a good hour or so. By the time they had gotten Rocky’s beat-up pick-up loaded, it was almost 9 o’clock.

Rocky jerked his truck to a stop, cranked it into park and yanked out his keys.

“Home sweet home, man,” he said, wagging his eyebrows.

Adam peered out the window at the house. Rocky hadn’t been exaggerating when he said “big-ass,” the house towered above the tops of the elm trees lining both sides of the roads. All of the homes on the street were like that: three storeys, wooden sidings with peeling paint and wrap-around verandas. Their house was a dusty blue with white trim. There were bay windows on the second floor and porthole windows peeking out from the attic. The yard was overgrown, with a 15-foot hedge on both sides, dividing their yards with the neighbours’. A cracked sidewalk led up to the front porch and weathered white door.

Rocky jangled his keys. “Let’s check this baby out.”

The boys stepped out of the cab and walked up to the front door. Rocky tried several keys before finding the one that fit and swung the door open to reveal a bare and dusty front hall. Adam stepped in and flicked the light switch.

“This light doesn’t work, dude,” he said, flipping it up and down.

Rocky walked further down the dark hallway and tried the next one.

“Shit, we’ve got no power.”

Adam sighed. “I’m gonna go get my stuff.” He turned to leave but Rocky stopped him halfway out the door by grabbing his arm and hauling him back.

“First you have to see the best part of the house,” he said. He set off toward the stairs and ran up, two steps at a time. Small clouds of dust billowed after him and Adam coughed as he climbed, clinging tightly to the railing, up the creaky stairs.

Rocky was waiting at the top. “Can you believe we get to live here? This is awesome.” He rounded the corner and followed the railing to the end of the upstairs hallway.

There were three bedrooms and one bathroom on the second floor. Two of the doors were closed, but Adam could see the ancient looking bathtub Mia had been talking about and the spacious, but empty interior of one of the rooms. He poked his head in, but Rocky urged him to the end of the hall.

Adam arrived and looked at Rocky. In the half-light of the hallway, dark circles made his eyes look demonic. Adam gave him a questioning look and Rocky pointed up. A cord hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly in the newly disturbed air.

“Stand back,” said Rocky and he yanked the cord down. It stuck at first, but after a few short tugs, he managed to pull it halfway down. Rocky grabbed the edge of the door and put his weight into it; a ladder slid down its bearing and landed on the hardwood floor with a soft thud.

“It’s up here,” said Rocky. He clambered up the ladder and disappeared into the attic. It was dark up there and gave Adam the creeps. Even though he lived in the basement, he slept with the light on – not that anyone knew about it. Even Anita didn’t know, she stopped coming into Adam’s room after taking sex ed. in grade 5.

Reluctantly, he followed, being sure to cross his fingers on the way up. Emerging, he saw Rocky standing across from the opening by what looked like a long stretch of bleached wood.

“Bowling lane, dude. Check it out,” Rocky said. He mimed weighing a ball in his hand, swinging backwards and rolling the ball. He raised his hands and let out a whoop.

Adam walked over to Rocky. “Are you serious?” He inspected the room. Even in the dark it was clear there was a bowling lane in the attic. There were even two gutters built into the floor, a pin mechanism at the far end of the room and a ball return machine next to where the boys stood. No balls, but that was beside the point.

“What the hell?” said Adam. The idea seemed silly to him, and this was from the guy who once ripped up the floorboards in his kitchen one day because he was bored. (That was when he was 14. His mother wasn’t pleased.)

“Kick ass, eh? All we need to do is find some bowling balls and we’re set,” said Rocky. He bowled another phantom ball.

Adam still couldn’t get his mind around the set up. Furthermore, he wondered why having a bowling lane in an attic made the pastime seem suddenly cool. The only bowling lanes he knew about were strictly for chain smoking old men and kids too young to drive a car, and even these places had at least a solid floor. Adam could only imagine what kind of noise it would make, and could easily imagine a situation where Rocky would get a late night craving for a little pin action. This was not a good thing.

“Abel, you’re not saying anything.”

Adam shrugged. “It’s just – a little weird. Why would somebody build this?”

“Who cares?” said Rocky, sliding up the polished lane. He reached the end and kicked over the pins, which were attached to wires so that they dangled instead of scattering across the room. “He shoots, he scores!”

Adam turned to descend back to the second floor. “I’m getting my shit,” he said.

Rocky let out one last whoop before following Adam. “Booooooooowling,” he said.

2004-11-06T15:46:00.000-08:00

(The story starts on Nov. 1, for anyone reading. I'm at just over 7,000 words so far... way behind what I should be. Ack!)

“What’s up?”

Ada looked at Rocky with unease and edged even further away.

“I’m quitting,” she said, smiling and wondering why she had never thought of this before. True, she had gone to college for two years and received a diploma in business management, but that was all for the liquor store anyway. In all her life she had never supposed she’d be doing something other than price checking sparkling cider.

Adam looked as clueless as ever.“Quit? Like the store?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, smile slowly fading

"Why?”

That was not the reaction she’d been looking for. Then again, she’d known Adam for too long, ever since he started at the car wash, and should have known better. He was the closest she’d ever had to a long-term relationship with a man outside her family. Granted, nothing much had happened between them besides the occasional half-hearted flirt by Adam, but it was a relationship she treasured nonetheless, mostly because Rachel hated him with a vengeance.

“Because—,” Ada searched for a valid reason. “I’m not sure. But I want to. What, don’t you think this is a good idea?”

Adam shifted, gazing over Ada’s shoulder to the broken clock. “I dunno, I guess so.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes.“But if it’s what you want, then go for it. I know I’d quit if I had something else to do,” Adam paused. “What are you going to do?”

Good question. She hadn’t even thought of that, Ada had been more concerned with what she was going to tell her parents. They wouldn’t take this as lightly as Adam. Elma, for one, would threaten emancipation, at least that’s what happened when Rachel suggested moving out with a friend when she was 20. After a severe case of the silent treatment and a mysterious slashing of her hatchback’s tires, she relented, promising her mother that she would move out only when she got married.

She told Adam she didn’t know and shifted uncomfortably under his quizzical gaze, leaving an opening for Rocky who had been standing silently on the sidelines.“You could work here. We need more chicks,” he said.

That was about as insulting as it was improbable. Otis didn’t trust women in the workplace. He’d once told Adam this after a 55-year-old woman named Jeanne Bean (really) applied for car wash attendant. Adam couldn’t believe what he was hearing, even if he was silently hoping not to have to work beside stinky Jeanne.

As for Ada, she felt a job at the car wash would be self-defeating, if the intent was to get away from her parents.

Wait. Was that the intent?

Ada loved her family. Well, she liked Rachel, sort of. Could she be sub-consciously attempting to spend less time with her family under the ruse of expanding her horizons?

She asked Adam.

“Well most 22-year-olds I know don’t spend every waking moment with their parents,” he said.

Ada slumped down to sit on a bare bottom shelf, she looked up at Adam. “So you think I’m weird?”

“Yes.”

Ada kicked Adam in the shin.

“Ow,” he said, stepping back. “So you’re weird, so what? I just can’t believe it never occurred to you to quit before. I think about it every single day.”

“Then why do you stay?”

Another good question. The pay sucked. The people were horrible. Adam’s high school marks would suggest that he could actually do something with his life if he’d applied himself. In the end, Adam supposed he stayed only because he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

He shrugged and Ada made a face, wondering how it became that Adam was her confidante. In the books and movies people were supposed to be inspirational, not – un-spirational.

“Thank you, for everything,” she said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. If anything worked on Adam, it was snark, not sincerity. Ada started toward the door. “I have to get back.”

“Wait,” Adam grappled, trying to think of something to tell her that would make her not be mad at him. He glanced over at Rocky, who was picking his nose. “I’m going to live with Rocky.”

Ada stopped and turned around.

“—In a house, we--” he trailed off, silenced by her expression of disbelief.

Ada looked to Rocky and then at Adam. This was about the funniest thing she’d heard all day, but neither of them were laughing. She on the other hand couldn’t hold it in.“Oh my God!” she gasped and took a deep breath before leaving the store. “Good luck with that.”

Chapter 3

Ada was still giggling when she stumbled back into Wong’s Cold Beer. The thought of Rocky and Adam living together was fairly ludicrous, though she could see how they might balance out. Rocky would sit around and be disgusting, while Adam would lie around and not care, creating a dysfunctional harmony. Still, Adam was insane for agreeing. Ada would never in a million years live with Rocky, she figured she would probably camp out in the liquor store office before that ever happened. Rachel had, that one time she got kicked out.

“What’s so funny?” asked Rachel. She was in the same place Ada had left her, reading a magazine behind the stainless steel counter.

Ada explained the situation to her sister, but was met with an uninterested stare.

“Did you forget my sandwich?”

Ada hadn’t even thought about it. “Get it yourself,” she said, in a rare moment of temerity and flicked her hair before half-skipping to the back of the store.

She didn’t have to see at Rachel’s face to know what it looked like: a mixture of disgust and annoyance. Ada even knew what her sister would do, probably leave the store unattended to get said sandwich, not really caring whether someone stole anything or not. About two years ago she had left the store empty and unlocked for five hours while she went to a movie with some friends, and came back to find 16 bottles of African wine smashed in the entrance.

Ada knew her family too well; she knew that her mom would be sitting at the white particleboard desk near the delivery door, pouring over invoices and drinking tea with sugar. She knew her dad would be on the computer, going over inventory and talking on the phone with a supplier. What she didn’t know was what she was going to say to them, or even if she was going to say anything. The middle of the day with an empty store in the front seemed like a bad time to quit, but then Ada also knew that if she didn’t tell her parents now, she’d never do it. She might go another eight years before deciding to get another job, or go to school again or do whatever it was she was going to do.

“Mom?” her voice trembled. All of the ferocity she had momentarily felt with her sister had dissipated.

Elma answered by raising her finger to silence her daughter while she finished off a sum. Ada stopped and waited, watching her mother’s back. After a minute, she turned around, pulled off her reading glasses and set a disapproving stare on her youngest daughter.

“What is it?” she said.

Ada stammered. Maybe this wasn’t the best time. Maybe she should practice and do this later tonight, after dinner! Maybe she shouldn’t quit at all. Maybe –

“I think, I mean, I want,” she bit her lip. “Mom, I want to quit. The store.”

Elma was still, only her eyes moved. She was like a firecracker, waiting to be detonated. Ada had seen her at her angriest, and there was always a calm before a storm.

This time, however, she only laughed and then turned back to her work as if Ada had only told her they were out of bottle openers.

“You think I’m kidding?” Ada said, her voice still weak. She looked around for her father but couldn’t see him.

Elma shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Ada was at a loss for words, she stood there helplessly because she had expected no less than a good scream from her mother. Her guard was up, but no words were there. She looked around for her father.

“Jackson won’t allow it,” said Elma. “He needs you here, you can’t leave him.”

Ada crossed her arms. “You can hire other people, you know. The job isn’t that difficult.”

She felt like crying. She always did when it felt like things were getting out of control. It didn’t look like it, but there was an undercurrent of animosity rippling through the dusty air of the Wong’s Cold Beer back room. When Ada had gotten out of bed that morning, she had no intention of turning her back on her family. That’s not what she intended now, but so powerful was Elma’s ability to instil guilt in her daughters, that’s what it felt like. What had changed between now and then? What had clicked, and why hadn’t it clicked five years ago? That would have made much more sense.

“Why do you want to quit?”

There was that question again. Ada thought about what Adam had said and couldn’t believe she’d never seen it before.

“Because this isn’t normal, mom. People are supposed to grow up, you know – get their own lives. I don’t know what I want to do yet, but this isn’t right. I have to leave.”

Elma eyed her once more, this time getting up from her ripped vinyl chair and crossing her arms across her chest with a deadly calm.

“I’d think very carefully before you do this, Adelaide. This family is not like every other family, we grow together, we are a team. Do you see that?”

Ada was crying now. “I used to, but I can’t see that anymore. Rachel’s a mess, Mom, did you notice? And I feel like I haven’t lived a day in my life.” Ada walked past Elma to sit in her still-warm chair. “I need to leave. I need to,” she pouted.

“If that’s what you need, then I don’t want you here,” said Elma, her lip trembling. She pointed a finger toward the door. “And when you’re sleeping on some couch tonight, and not the comfort of your own bed, maybe you’ll think again about what it is you need, and what you think you need.”

“You’re kicking me out?” Ada wailed. “But I haven’t done anything! Mom, drug dealers get kicked out, pyromaniacs get kicked out, I just want another job!”

Elma marched over toward Ada, grabbed her shoulders and lifted her out of the chair. “These are the rules, and you know that,” she spat. “Now I suggest you get a head start on finding that couch.”

Ada let her mother push her out the back room door into the store. Elma let her go and stood stoically in the middle of the liqueur aisle. Ada was blubbering now, tears and snot running down a red face, she opened her mouth to say one more thing, but at the last moment found some resolve.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see you on Sunday for dinner.”

Ada stomped out the door, doing her best to slam it behind her, the chimes above it jangled angrily. Leaning against the stonewall, she wondered where to go next, but the options were obscured by a running dialogue of what she should have said to her mother, instead of weeping uncontrollably. Elma was really kicking her daughter out onto the streets. This was only a ploy and she’d seen it done before. Her mother only wanted her to find out that there was no way she could survive alone, she wanted Ada to come crawling back like Rachel did. Ada ignored the nagging voice in the back of her head that was begging her to do just that.

Find the easy way! Stick it out for just a few more years, then you’ll get married and have kids and live just down the street from Elma and Jackson. It won’t be that bad!

“No,” said Ada. She looked up and down the street and began walking – away from the car wash. It might have made sense to turn to her only friend that wasn’t directly affiliated with the extended Wong family, but she couldn’t let Adam see her like this. It wasn’t for vanity’s sake either, the silly boy buckled at the first sign of tears; having him ineptly try to comfort her would only make things worse. Instead, Ada headed for home to pack a suitcase and find a moderately priced hotel to spend the next few days in.

Chapter 4

Clean. Clean. Dirty. Ripped. Clean. Dirty. Questionable.

Adam lifted an old tee shirt to his nose, breathing in. Smelled okay. He held it in front of him, studying the design screen-printed on the front.

“Blame Clinton,” he read, considering its message might be a little outdated. Adam threw it in the clean pile anyway, because anything was better than the shirts that smelled like ass.

Adam was in his basement bedroom, stuffing clothes and other necessities into an old leather suitcase that used to belong to his father. The house was empty, which was a godsend because the last think he wanted to do besides pack would be to explain his departure to his mother. She’d let him go, he had no doubt in that, but she would find any excuse to lay a guilt trip on him, not to mention bring up the subject of his father leaving to live with his other family in British Columbia.

Adam stood up from his packing to rip down a poster and roll it carefully before slipping an elastic around it. He looked around and gathered a few more items: a notebook, some pens, deodorant, a paperback and his bedside lamp. He wondered how he was going to get over to Rocky’s.

Rocky had promised him a ride, but only from the Shaw’s house to their new place, not from Adams house. Adam called a cab, and then unplugged his phone, wrapping the cord around and stuffing it on top of the suitcase. The zipper didn’t work anymore, so he had to wrap a belt around the one side without a strap.

Packing completed, Adam lugged his possessions up the stairs and into the front hall. Anita had come home and was in the living room yapping on her cell phone.

“Good bye forever!” he yelled, even though, in all probability, it would only be until the New Year, six months from then.

Anita glanced up at her brother and gave him the finger.

*

Rocky hadn’t even started to get ready by the time Adam’s cab pulled up to the palatial Shaw residence. Coming to their home was like stepping out of middle-class, medium-sized Alberta city to Hollywood Hills, California. One would half-expect a rap star past his prime, or hot shot music video producer to live right next door. The channel six anchorman did, but that was hardly anything to be excited about, in fact it was rarely mentioned as Rocky had apparently defiled the man’s rose garden when he was 12-years-old.

Adam rang the doorbell to the double doors and waited. A ceramic pig stared up at him from the foot of the front step.

After a few moments of staring at the pig, one of the doors opened, it was Rocky’s mom.

“Adam! How are you?”

“Good,” he said, and stepped in.

“Oh, let me take this, sweetie,” Mia Shaw scooped Adam’s halogen lamp and pillow from his arms. For the mother of a borderline sociopath and a wife to a once top-rated late show host, she was surprisingly normal. As far as Adam knew, Mia didn’t drink, she wasn’t controlling or manipulative, she was unlike any adult he’d ever known. Rocky’s mom put together flower arrangements part-time in her basement, selling them to small weddings and her friends’ garden parties. Today she was dressed in a baggie sweatshirt and jeans.

“Adam, dear, can I get you something to drink? A glass of water?” She put the lamp and pillow on an antique-looking chair in the foyer and padded across the marble floor toward the kitchen.

Adam shuffed off his shoes. “Sure.” The Shaw’s water always tasted good; it was fresh and cold with a lemon in it. Suddenly, Adam wished he were moving into this house instead of Rocky’s.

“Is Rocky ready?” he said, absently gazing at a piece of abstract art hanging in the hallway.

Mia rushed out of the kitchen, water in hand, and wiped a stray hair out of her face before smiling. “Oh, you know him,” she laughed and looked away. “It’s going to be strange not having him here.”

Adam smiled and took an indulgent sip of water; it was so cold it hurt his teeth. “I’ll make him visit,” he said.

Mia laughed, but her eyes were brimming with tears. “You’re a good influence on him, you know. Rocky’s always been a little different, but since you became friends with him, he’s gotten better,” she laughed self-consciously. “Oh, I know that sounds stupid, but it’s true. You’re a good person, Adam.”

Adam didn’t know what to say to that. He wanted to hug her, which was strange, as he barely hugged his own mother. He also wanted to tell her that he wasn’t that great, that he was only friends with Rocky because he had to be, and his moving out had little do to do with him wanting to make Rocky a better person. Adam remained where he was standing, gave a small smile and looked down.

“Is Mr. Shaw here?” he said.

Mia sniffed, smiled brightly and motioned Adam to follow her into the kitchen. “No,” she said, clearing newspaper off the counter. “He’s in New York doing interviews for some A&E thing. He’ll be back in a couple days though, so I’ll have the whole house to myself until then.” She sighed.

Adam tapped his fingers on the ceramic tiled counter. “So, have you seen the house?”

Mia looked confused. “The house? Oh, you mean the one you two will be taking care of! Right, how could I forget? Yes, as a matter of fact, I have seen it, and its gorgeous Adam, you have nothing to be worried about. Roof’s a little leaky and the top floor is fairly drafty, but what can you expect for a building that’s over 100 years old.”

Adam raised his eyebrows. When Rocky had said “big-ass” he’d been expecting a something like a two-bedroom with a finished basement, but leave it to Rocky to leave out some important details.

Mia continued. “There isn’t any furniture, but I’m sure you two will improvise something. Rocky’s taking his sofa over and there’s this lovely claw-foot bathtub in the upstairs washroom.”

Adam was wondering where he’d be sleeping.

“Oh, but I’m sure you don’t really care about that,” Mia laughed. She grabbed a dishcloth from the sink and started wiping down the counter. “Where is that boy?”

She picked up the cordless phone from its cradle on the wall and hit a button.

“Rocky? Adam’s here,” she smiled and listened. “It’s in the linen closet, hon. Could you hurry up, please? I want you two in the house before it gets too dark. Okay? Okay. Bye.” Mia hung up. “He’ll be down in a sec.”

Adam nodded and looked around once more. He could never get enough of the Shaw house, everything was so meticulously placed, it seemed perfect. Rocky didn’t belong here, that much was obvious, but Mia loved him anyway. It boggled Adam’s mind.

“I like your house,” he said.

Mia just smiled again and looked over Adam shoulder, through the patio doors to watch for her son coming from the pool house.

*

2004-11-02T22:35:00.000-08:00

“How old are you?” asked the bubble gum friend, pushing through her friends to the edge of the counter.

“He’s like, 50, give it up Jenny,” said Anita. She pushed the candy toward Adam, “can you just ring it up so I don’t have to look at you anymore?”

“I’m sorry Ani-bear, I think I forgot where the discount button is. You’ll have to pay full price,” said Adam.

This didn’t bode well for his sister who threw up in her hands in exasperation and stomped her feet. “Oh, my God. You suck, SO bad,” she said through clenched teeth. “Come on you guys let’s go to the dollar store.”

Anita flicked her hair and turned on her heels, followed by her henchmen and a reluctant Jenny who gave Adam one last look over her shoulder on the way out the door. He mentally chalked one up for himself in the perpetual battle between brother and sister and turned to the rest of his customers; they’re demeanour toward him ranged from surly to blatant hostility. He felt so special.

Eventually the lunch crowd petered out, leaving behind the magazine readers and harried soccer moms with half-washed vans. Adam leaned up against the back shelf and examined his nails. From the corner of his eye he could see Rocky sidling up beside him.

“So it’s all set. You can come over tonight,” he said, eyeing a middle-aged chubby man rifle through a fitness magazine.

Adam grunted. He still wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. Then again, living with Anita was it’s own sort of hell; it was like the girl could never be alone, there was always at least one of her “girls” after school and in the mornings, at least half a dozen of them on the weekend. Most guys would relish a steady flow of pretty girls in their home, but Adam had had enough of it by the time he’d turned 13, the appeal certainly wore off after their excited squeals over anything was permanently etched in his nightmares.

Rocky or Anita. It was a tough call, but the fact that Rocky was currently poking him in the back with an unsharpened pencil tipped the scales to the former.

“Yeah, sure,” said Adam. “Can I bring my junk over after work?”

“That’s what I said,” said Rocky.

“I need a ride,” said Adam.

Rocky slammed his fist on the counter, “fine. Whatever.” He dipped back from behind the counter toward the back of the shop. “I’m gonna empty the cash boxes in the wash.”

Adam nodded.

Rocky stopped at the door to the washing bays. “Oh, and I’m going to bring Asshat with me, that cool with you?”

Asshat was Rocky’s dog, a mutt, really, with no discernable features and a severe drooling and flatulence problem. His name used to be Zeke, but that changed several years ago for no apparent reason.

Adam started to say yes, but Rocky had already left to steal quarters from the machines – not enough to get caught, but just the right amount to buy a jumbo slurpee from the gas station down the block.

Chapter 2

The Wong family ran business beside Otis Car Wash, a liquor store. Wong’s Cold Beer was most notable for it’s giant inflatable Santa Clause fastened to the roof of the building year-round. Jackson Wong, the proprietor and head of his household will claim he paid $2,000 for the balloon and was not about to use it only two months out of the year. Those who knew the Wongs best were equally perplexed by their perennial Christmas cheer since the family was Jewish. Jackson was a capitalist extraordinaire, however, and would not let a petty detail such as season or faith get in the way of good marketing.

Elma Wong managed the books and her two daughters, Ada and Rachel, who minded the register on most days. Elma had converted the entire family when Ada was born and Rachel was three. She felt the girls needed some sort of religious upbringing and Judaism seemed to be the most sensible to her. Its history also appealed to her, as she subconsciously revelled in any drama that came into her life. Jackson was all business, but they worked well together.

The same day that saw Adam sell his soul to the demonic Rocky and a squatters’ dream, Ada had decided to quit working for her parents.

She had been standing behind the till at Wong’s Cold Beer for eight years, since she was 14, but it was only having been short-changed by a cranky old woman with an out-dated punchcard that pushed her over the edge. Her parents would be devastated, but the idea of doing something other than facing cheap champagne and dusting off wine bottles grew on her until it completely obscured the disappointed faces of Elma and Jackson that seemed to be permanently stamped in her brain.

By midday she was buoyant, and even an incoherent drunk wandering into the cooler at the back of the store couldn’t dampen her spirits. Ada was pushing her foul-smelling visitor out the door when Rachel sauntered into the store to relieve her sister for lunch.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” said Ada, slipping off a burgundy apron and tossing it to Rachel.

Her sister stuffed the article in a corner behind the till and raised her eyebrows. “Are you going to the sandwich place?”

“No,” said Ada.

“Well could you? I need a turkey on brown or I’m going to faint,” said Rachel. “No cheese.”

Ada ignored the order and left the store. Twenty feet up the sidewalk, she swung open the door to the car wash. The bell announced her entrance to no one; the store was empty.

“Adam!”

A broken clock ticked above a rack of trashy novels.

“Hello?”

“He’s in the can.” A tangled mess of brown hair popped up from behind the front counter.

“Oh. Hey, Rocky,” Ada said, glancing toward the door. She had no intention of holding any conversation with Rocky, even for a few minutes.

“Wongstein, long time, no see,” Rocky rested his elbows on the counter and smiled. “How’s Rachel?”

“She’d actually really like it if you stopped calling her at the store,” said Ada. “Hey, is Adam going to be back soon? I only have a few minutes.”

Rocky left the counter, moving toward a rapidly retreating Ada. “Lemme see.” He marched across the store, opening the car wash door at the back to the restrooms, which were just inside.

“Adam!”

Rocky paused at the door, he nodded, “dude’ll be just a second.”

Ada crossed her arms and nodded, rocking back on her heels and gazing about the store. It hadn’t changed in all her life.

Rocky stared at her. “Know what I just figured out? If you add an ‘m’ to your name, you and Adam are like, the same.”

Ada let out a breath, “wow.”

“I know, creepy, eh?” Rocky left the car wash door and came up to Ada, so close she could smell stale donut on his breath. “What’s your phone number again?”

Ada shifted out of his towering gaze, covering her nose. “Actually, I don’t think my parents would like – oh, hey Adam.”

Adam came through the car wash door. He waved and wiped his hands on his jeans. Ada was cool, and having her over made his shit-day just a little better.

2004-11-01T21:52:00.000-08:00

Shrantok stared out at the craggy rock, wondering.
“Will I ever get to see Wilhelma again?” He thought, pondering a future without his bosomy bride.
One thing was for certain, the journey he was to embark on was one of peril and unknown danger. It was. . .
Adam Abel, author undiscovered, lifted a blue ballpoint from the scrap piece of paper. He chewed on the end and thought about what sort of journey Shrantok would be taking.
He re-read what he had written.
“Pure crap,” he muttered and cast his eyes about an empty store, making sure some small child or quiet old lady hadn’t snuck in during his brief moments of literary inspiration. It had happened before, and he had gotten in trouble for it. This time though, the boss was occupied in the back, and no stealthy intruder was lurking about the air fresheners and wiper fluid.
Adam looked down at his paper and sighed. Maybe best selling author wasn’t the way to go. And Shrantok was a stupid name.
“What’s this?”
The slip of paper slid across the counter. Adam jumped a little; he hadn’t even seen Rocky standing there.
“Dude,” he said, making a feeble attempt to take back his fantasy novel-in-progress.
“Abel, are you writing on the back of the car count forms?” Rocky laughed and turned away from Adam.
“What is this? ‘Bosomy bride’? Seriously, man,” Rocky’s eyes scanned the rest of the paper, and then looked to Adam, amused.
He didn’t know what to say. He could feel the heat creeping into his cheeks, intensifying as Rocky tried to hold back his laughter.
“It’s stupid,” said Adam. “Just something I was goofing around with. Give it back.”
“I don’t thing so. This is going in the break room,” Rocky grinned.
“No. . .”
Rocky whooped, wagged his tongue and gave Adam devil horns before launching himself over the counter and running toward the back of the store.
Adam started after him, but stopped when the bell to the store rang. He closed his eyes. He was the only one there, except for Rocky. The bell had him trained, like a seal. Ding. Stop what you’re doing. Smile.
“Hi, can I help you today?”
It was a woman. Old. Grey. In the middle of the day. The worst kind.
She grunted, digging into her purse.
Adam returned to his side of the counter, and waited. He scratched his neck; the orange polyester vest Otis made them wear was giving him a rash. Maybe it was the bleach his mother was using.
A liver-spotted hand slapped a wrinkled piece of paper onto the counter.
“I have coupon,” she said, peering up at Adam through plastic-rimmed bifocals. Her accent was thick, somewhere eastern European.
Adam grinned despite the involuntary cringe he felt whenever the hard-to-please came a-calling. Though it didn’t look like she would be much of a problem then, he could always tell in advance. After seven years in the service industry, it was like sixth sense.
He looked at the coupon. “I’m sorry ma’am, but I don’t think we can honour this.”
She peered at him and frowned. Adam tried to look away from the dark whiskers growing from the top of her lip.
“Why not?” She asked.
“Well, I’m sorry to say this, but this coupon is for Wishy Wash, we’re Otis Car Wash. Plus, this expired two years ago.” Adam placed the coupon back on the counter. “So, that’ll be $6.50 please.”
“No, no, this says $2.00 off. I only pay you $4.50.” She began digging through her cracked plastic coin purse, slapping quarters and dimes on the counter.
“We can’t honour this coupon,” said Adam, typing the full price into the till. Why should he have to deal with this? Why isn’t Rocky here? Why do people even need to wash their cars anyway?
The woman finished counting her change and looked up at Adam, frowning. “There. You know, you’re not a very nice boy. I should talk to manager about you next time.”
Adam swept the coins into his hands and counted them. $4.00. He looked up only to see that she was already out the door.
“Hey!” He yelled.
She didn’t even look back. Adam’s shoulders slumped and he punched in the $6.50, jotting down on a notepad beside the till that they would be $2.50 short at the end of the day. He slammed the drawer shut and ran his hands through uncombed hair. Looking across the depressed store he wondered for the millionth time how this could be his life. Why was he working here? How could he be 24 years old and still living at home? How the hell could he consistently let tiny old ladies get the better of him?
He wanted to cry. He wanted to break a window. He wanted to take the stupid, dusty sunglass display rack and just – Ding. Smile.
“Hi, can I help you?”

*
Rocky Shaw was a bastard, but Adam couldn’t blame him for that. It was an innate quality his friend and co-worker had, like having brown hair or blue eyes, save for the fact that his boorishness couldn’t be covered by aqua blue contacts or dyed wild cherry red. There were a lot of people who hated Rocky, fundamentally, but like most other situations in Adam’s life, he’d been thrust into their friendship and as a result, could think of no other way out other than to deal with it.
He did like him, in a way, but it was purely because of convenience that he talked with him on a regular basis. Adam had a feeling it was the other way around as well.
Otis was in the store today so Rocky and Adam took their lunch break together at 11. The car wash was a convenience store as well, so the kids from the local high school would swarm the shop, buying nickel candies and stealing Popsicles for the entire hour, making a normal lunchtime near impossible.
Rocky was smoking, which Adam found mildly disconcerting considering Rocky’s grandmother had died of lung cancer five years ago.
“Dude, they’re herbal,” said Rocky blowing a plume of acrid smoke toward Adam.
“As in weed?”
Rocky coughed. “Man, even I wouldn’t bring that shit to work. I bought this stuff at the health store across the street. Tastes horrible.”
Adam took a frozen dinner from the fridge, stabbed a few holes in the filmy cover and threw it in the microwave.
“What’s the point of smoking it then?” he asked.
“Who cares? It’s cool,” Rocky coughed again, this time stubbing the cigarette on the table. There were no ashtrays, as Otis had decided to make the entire building smoke free after his doctor made him quit six months ago. “So what’s with Shrantok and his wifey, Wilhelma?” Rocky grinned, waving his hand toward Adam’s scrap of paper, tacked to the bulletin board.The microwave beeped and Adam got up, poked at the still-frozen Salisbury steak and potatoes and chucked it back in.
“I don’t know, it’s just something stupid I was trying. Give it a rest, okay?”
Rocky only threw back his head and laughed. Brushing ashes off the table, he opened the fridge to rummage through lunches left over from the past week, eventually coming out with a stale donut.
Adam turned back to his microwave and watched as his lunch rotated and glowed. It’s not like he wanted to become a world famous author, just anything to get him out of the car wash. Anything that didn’t involve school or hard labour. He had briefly supposed that maybe there was some literary talent in him he hadn’t yet discovered, but even he, having read two books since graduating from high school, knew that no amount dedication would make him a good writer. That wasn’t a big deal though, he didn’t particularly care about writing. He did care about not having to work for Otis anymore, and the failure of his latest inspiration left him feeling deflated.
“You still living with your parents?” This was Rocky, talking through a mouthful of cruller.
The microwave dinged again and Adam pulled out his lunch. It was still frozen in the middle, but he decided to eat around that part.“I live with my mom, yes,” he said.
“Dude, that’s sad,” laughed Rocky.
Adam wondered why he was friends with such an asshole.
“Not everybody has parents who’ll pad their minimum wages with thousand dollar allowances at 24, Rocky. Plus, you live with your parents too,” said Adam.
“In their pool house. You’ve been there Abel, it’s got a kitchenette and everything. It’s basically my own place.”
Adam rolled his eyes. He was one of the few who really knew what the deal with Rocky was, beyond the obvious social retardation. Sammy Shaw, Rocky’s dad, was host of the top rated late night cable show from 1985 to 1987, Shaw Before Shut Eye. The money he made then was enough to keep him and his family happy for 100 years, but after all three seasons were released on DVD, the royalties were enough for the family to live comfortably on a tropical island for the rest of their days. Unfortunately, the Shaws felt that Rocky should work for at least some of his money, and thus had forced him upon the rest of the working world which was left to deal with him 40 hours a week.
It’s arguable as to whether Rocky would have turned out any different if his dad hadn’t have been rich and famous, but Adam tried not to think about it.
“So my dad’s got this pile of shit house about three blocks south of here. He bought it ‘cause he wanted to reno it, maybe make a few bucks. Then the contractors he’d hired were sued for a shoddy job they pulled for some city councillor, so my dad figured he wouldn’t do it after all, so he’s like — hey, could I have some of that cranberry sauce?”
Adam slid his tray over to Rocky, who dipped his fingers in to chilly sauce and scooped it into his mouth.
“What was I talking about?”
“A house,” said Adam, his appetite suddenly gone.
“Oh yeah. So he was going to sell it, but I guess there’s some tax thing that if he keeps it until the end of the year, he’ll save money or something,” said Rocky, picking up what remained of the Salisbury steak and gnawing on the frozen part
.“Okay,” said Adam, wondering why his friend had become suddenly interested in real estate, even if it was only a tenuous grip.
“So do you want to move in with me, or what?”
No, would have been the default answer, but Adam still had no clue what Rocky was talking about. He resorted to a blank stare.
Rocky licked his fingers. “My dad, he’s letting me stay there ‘til he sells it. It’s a big-ass house, Abel, think of the parties we could have. Or, like, just the fact that you won’t be living in your mother’s basement.”
“You’re asking me to live with you?” Adam still couldn’t fathom why anyone would voluntarily live with Rocky, but the idea did have it’s appeal, especially when you were a 24-year-old car wash employee who still had his own mother touch his underwear on a regular basis.
“No, shit! Yes, live with me. God, you’re dense.” Rocky wiped his hands on his pants and gave Adam an exasperated look, as though it should be a privilege that he had even asked.
“Sure, I guess,” he said, ignoring good portions of the last three years in which Rocky had managed to screw, cheat and metaphorically kick him in the balls repeatedly.
He tried to imagine what his life would be like at Rocky’s house. He had been to his parents’ house before and it was almost what you’d expect an aging b-list celebrity’s house to look like: dusty awards on the mantle pieces and framed magazine covers from publications that he had never heard of. The décor was stuck in the mid-90s, though Adam assumed the Shaws had redecorated since the release of the DVDs.
Rocky’s space was another story. He had the poolhouse, and the only time Adam had ever been there, it smelled like oatmeal and pickles. Rocky didn’t have an explanation for the smell but he did show Adam his collection of autographed glossies of old wrestlers.
“It’s a big house, right?” asked Adam, belatedly worried. He’d already said yes and Rocky was half way to the phone, presumably to phone his dad.
“Yeah, for sure, like I said, big-ass,” said Rocky as he dialed.
“Abel, get your ass out here.”
Otis, a burly man nearing or slightly past 50, poked his head around the corner of the break room.“You’re on till. I gotta head over to Home Depot, buy some rope. Can you close?”
Adam looked at his hands. He’d opened and Rocky had stumbled in just two hours ago, yet he couldn’t stand up to his boss, even if he was a toadish slob who had long since lost the will to live and did everything to make sure his employees were also miserable. No, Adam was too chicken shit for that and he reluctantly, but predictably agreed.
What did he have to do after work anyway? Sit at home, talk to his mom. Yeah, he may as well not talk to his mom and sit at the car wash. Ada might even stop by.
He pushed himself from the table and left Rocky babbling on the phone. There were already half a dozen kids in the store.
“You watch them Abel, the snot heads took off with a case of cheery cherry air fresheners yesterday,” growled Otis.
He put his old trench coat on over the same grey shirt he wore everyday and trundled toward the door. “I won’t be back. See you tomorrow, Abel.”
Adam watched his boss jaywalk across the street, then he turned toward the growing line of high school kids with $2 purchases. There was Anita, his 17-year-old sister, along with her pack of hangers-on. She barely looked at him, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Anita came into the store almost every day, mostly for the 10 per cent discount Adam got.
“Hi, Ani-bear,” smirked Adam, using Anita’s dreaded childhood nickname.
She only smiled sweetly and placed eight cherry lollipops on the counter.
“Hey, your brother’s cute,” giggled one of the girls, pink gum smacking.
“No, he isn’t,” said Anita. “Adam, you clogged the toilet this morning. Please try and be less disgusting tomorrow.”
This was what passed for wit as far as Anita was concerned, which wasn’t very far. Her world revolved around boys, lip smackers and prime time dramas. Adam’s world, wherever that was, didn’t mesh.

2004-10-31T11:52:00.000-08:00

No longer is this a site for my thoughts on my sometimes-crazy job.

It hasn't been for about 6 months, and I'm only now recognizing this. First of all, because I am a severe slacker when I don't have a deadline. Second of all, my phobias of being found out by someone in Town that I had this blog and was essentially insulting some of them were founded when others I knew had issues where they worked. This excuse doesn't hold water, however, for a few reasons. Her blog was actually read by more than two people, for one, and this incident took place several months after I gave up on this one, for another.

Anyways. I'm taking part in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) this year. This is where you write a 50,000 word novel in one month. I tried last year, but started a few days late and quickly lost momentum. I am determined to at least put forth my best effort this year and have been thinking about plot and characters for the last month or two now.

I'll be posting my daily accomplishments here, if anyone wants to follow along. The working title for this story is "Out in the Wash" and follows one Adam Abel, an uninspired slacker who works for a convenience store/Car wash in a suspiciously Old Strathcona-ish neighbourhood. And that's all you get, because so far, that's all I have. Wish me luck!

www.nanowrimo.org