20 - Depression

Kirk hadn’t been a drinker since his marriage had fallen apart. It was the one problem he could put on his shoulders, something he could improve, a way he could take responsibility. That and choose women who weren’t whores from that point out.

“I’ve hadn’t seen you like this since I was in college,” Katelyn said. She sat across from him as he ordered a sixth double whiskey sour. She waved off the waitress. It wasn’t her liver to injure anymore. “And you’re not 28 anymore.”

“The wedding’s off,” he said. “Fuck, I should’ve listened to Frieda. Why the hell am I this stupid?”

“Testosterone poisoning,” Katelyn suggested. “It’s not Val you’re angry about is it?”

“That fucking glasses wearing French bitch is fucking Maxim’s whore!” Kirk slammed his fist into the table.

“Cool it, man. If you’re going to be an angry drunk, I can’t listen to you,” she said. Kirk wasn’t going to hit her. Katelyn had seen the man stripped down by alcohol to his purest, emptiest, simplest self. She had never seen what could take him to violence.

“Jesus Christ!” Kirk swore. He looked up at Katelyn. “I know you and her have a history. I know she fucked--”

“That’s not the problem between us,” Katelyn interrupted. “Look, Kirk. You picked wrong again. Maybe, it’s you.”

“Of course it’s fucking me,” Kirk bitched. “But it’s also each and every one of them. Look at this chucklefuck!”

He played the video again and slid his phone across the table to Katelyn. She picked it up and frowned. She turned the volume down, ignoring the looks of disgust and curiosity from the other patrons. There he was again. That man. She schooled her features and assured herself that only she could hear her heart.

“That piece of ratshit ... It’s not just Val. Frieda’s tits over teakettle for him too.”

“That’s his last one,” Katelyn said, the waitress put down the glass and walked away.

“Bitch.” Kirk snorted. Katelyn shook her head.

“You need to stop, think, and slow the fuck down.” Katelyn suggested. “Tell me--”

“I can’t think with--” He interrupted her harshly and then glared at her. “You’re still fucked for money, aren’t you?”

“What are you getting at?”

“I got to work out this anger and I’ve just got a lot of money freed up for a wedding I won’t be having,” He said. Katelyn was a beautiful woman, 35 year old Metis woman. Her dark complexion, long hair, high cheekbones, almond eyes. She was good looking long before Kirk had started drinking.

“What?”

“Like old times, like when we first met you,”

“I’m not a 20 year old any--”

“Fifteen grand,” he said.

She leaned over. Grabbed his drink. Drank half the glass and threw the other half in his face.

“Oh fuck off!” Kirk slid back in the chair. He saw the security good coming over. “Yeah, we’re done. Take me to pay the bill and you can walk me out.”

“Good,” he said. “You all right miss?”

“She’s fine, even pissed off that I raised her price a thousand percent.”

Katelyn grabbed her purse. She turned first to the bouncer and second to Kirk. “Can you call a cab for me? Good night, Kirk.”

“Yeah, right,” Kirk shook his head. The bouncer nodded and walked him over to the register. Katelyn stepped out into the late Halifax winter’s night.

Fuck me, she thought. I really couldn’t afford to turn that down. He’s going to be pissed.

Elizabeth walked to Owen’s place through the wind. It was just cold enough to snow, but the crystals hit her hair and face and melted instantly. She was miserable and looked it. She tugged her toque down over her eyes and trudged up the last hill on the walk home.

Home. Fuck. This is where she lived now. She refused to wonder how Brett was doing.

The worst thing was, Owen wasn’t the kinda guy she hated. The kinda guy who would fuck her and be done with her. The kinda guy who chased other women and couldn’t see one pair of tits from the next. The whole thing choked her heart and worsened her anxiety.

“I didn’t raise a whore.”

Was that what she was? Owen had bought her body. Whore’s had the sense to rent it.

“What’re you laughing about?”

Elizabeth jumped at the voice. She rolled the front of her toque up. Snow melt rolled down her face like tears.

“I was just thinking about you and me,” she said.

Owen grinned. He slipped an arm around Elizabeth’s waist and dropped his keys into the hand of the little freckled brunette girl. “You know, I never really saw myself with a girl like you? Too hot. Too friendly. Too perfect.”

“I’m hardly more than a fucking wreck,” Elizabeth frowned. They walked under the eave of the apartment doors and followed the brunette into the warm building. Elizabeth sighed.

“Well, I don’t think anyone could’ve seen things turning out like this,” Owen said. “I think this mean’s God is real.”

“What?”

“How else would magic coins work?”

“Just because you’ve proved there’s a devil, doesn’t mean you proved there’s a god,” Elizabeth worried morosely.

Frieda spun around at the elevators. “Is that true? But doesn’t--Shit.”

“You know,” Owen said. “I wish I’d been prepared for these.”

“Why weren’t you?”

“Would you believe a crazy old man who said his coins were magic?” Owen shook his head.

“What would you have done differently?” Elizabeth asked. The three of them stepped into the elevator.

“I would’ve bought you still,” Owen squeezed her hip. “I don’t think I could’ve stopped myself.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the most beautiful woman I knew I could get along with,” Owen said.

“I had a boyfriend and--” Elizabeth cut herself off instantly.

“Yeah,” Owen touched his eye. It was still yellow brown but it was healing. “I can’t say I’m a good person, can I?”

“What’s wrong with having superpowers?” Frieda asked. “You bought me and Elizabeth and now you’re going to get millions of dollars.”

“I don’t think I can sell them,” Owen said. “Besides, I don’t want to.”

“But--” Frieda frowned. “Dad’s going to be devastated.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth said. “Besides, I can’t waitress well enough for everyone. We need good money.”

“Yeah,” Owen said. “I think I’m going to have to buy the rich man.”

“That doesn’t seem to make you happy,” Elizabeth said watching Owen’s face. The elevator doors opened. Janice and Roxxi were down the hallway. Owen waved.

“Party at your place?” Janice asked. Roxxi lit up.

I’m never going to have monogamous sex ever again. Elizabeth thought to herself. How am I supposed to fall in love and be happy if I don’t get to know him?

“Not tonight,” Owen said, shocking Frieda and Janice. Roxxi looked disappointed.

“So what’s the plan?” Janice said.

“Nice and easy,” Owen answered. “C’mon, Elizabeth, you need to warm up with a shower.”

Giselle entered her hotel room and the hairs of her neck stood on end. Someone had been here. Housekeeping? Yes, them too. Maxim had many enemies. She didn’t expect any of them to have followed him to Canada. She frowned. She was going to have to search everything and--

Maxim knocked on her door. And again in the time it took her to turn around and open it.

“Good, you’re back,” he said, in French. “How did it go?”

“There are complications,” Giselle opened. Maxim’s eyes narrowed. He crossed the room and sat in the chair. “My room has been invaded and--”

“Your tools and property are your responsibility,” he interrupted. “Tell me about Owen.”

“He is excitable. He is not used to having control over multiple women. Over one woman most likely. His tastes are vanilla but aggressive.

“We went first to a bar and restaurant in the South End. I believe he wished to show off several of the waitresses he had purchased with the coins.”

“Hm ... Why did he waste coins on simple waitresses?” Maxim said.

“I believe he didn’t know the scope of the coins’ power until after a half dozen mistakes,” Giselle said. “Besides myself, I don’t think he has made one well considered decision.”

“Good,” Maxim said. “He sounds remarkably uncomplicated.”

“He maybe, but that also makes his blind spots quite large,” Giselle explained. “After the restaurant, we travelled to Mr Marcusson’s shop.”

“What for?”

“I believe he wished to know where all of the coins were, definitively,” she said. “When he sits down to deal with you, he wants all weapons on his side of the table.”