* * *
At three thirty a.m., the streetcar was half full, which would have been unusual on any other night of the year.
“Happy New Year,” a drunk guy sitting across from her said. He was drinking something out of a brown paper bag and looking at her with bleary, bloodshot eyes.
“Happy New Year.” Joey’s hand went to her throat, her fingers searching for her pendant, but it was no longer there.
Ten minutes later, she pulled on the cord above her head. The driver stopped to let her out, and she heaved her duffel bag and knapsack full of cash and drugs off the streetcar and into the freezing cold. Probably the only good thing that could be said about winters in Toronto was that the lake didn’t stink. It was crazy to think that when she was small, she’d swim at the beach not far from here, she and Ruby in matching swimsuits, Joey wishing for all the curves her mother had that made the dads stare longingly and the mothers glare resentfully.
She was now in the area known as the Motel Strip, and she started walking. Because it was a holiday, every motel she passed had its NO VACANCY sign lit, until finally, she reached one that might have a room available.
RAINBOW MOTEL SATELLITE / JACUZZI / BREAKFAST INCL
The lobby was warm when she entered, and the entire space smelled like pot. The stoned clerk barely said a word to her as he slid a form across the desk for her to fill out. The Tragically Hip was playing on his CD player, and years later, the song “Bobcaygeon” would always remind her of the night Mae died. Because it wasn’t just Mae.
Joelle Reyes had died, too.
“I lost my ID,” Joey said, sliding the form back to the clerk, blank, along with four worn fifty-dollar bills. “Lost my credit card, too.”
“No problem.” The clerk was unfazed as he slipped the money into his pocket. “But you’ll have to prepay. How many nights?”
“Let’s do a week.”
He gave her the total, and she paid him in cash. He handed her a room key. As was the case in most of these old motels, it was an actual brass key on a keychain. The plastic-shaped rainbow was so worn that the colors had faded.
“There’s no housekeeping included,” the clerk said, which told her that this entire transaction was off the books.
She was okay with that. “Is it clean?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Depends on your definition of clean.”
* * *
The room had a rainbow bedspread with matching rainbow curtains, and was gaudy as hell. But the sheets smelled like detergent, the bathroom smelled like bleach, and the TV worked just fine.
Joey made a phone call, figuring there was a fifty-fifty chance he was still awake at four a.m. He was, and while he was surprised to hear from her, he agreed to come to the motel. She was just coming out of the shower when she heard a soft knock. She checked the peephole, then opened the door.
The room felt smaller the instant the big man stepped inside.
“Why are you here?” Chaz asked, looking around. “Is that guy sleeping at your house or something?”
He meant Drew, of course.
“No,” Joey said. “He’s gone. I won’t ever see him again.”
As soon as she spoke the words, she felt an imaginary hand wrap around her heart, and squeeze.
She took a seat on the bed. Chaz sat beside her, and leaned in to kiss her. She put a hand on his chest. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“I thought I was here to—”
“I’m leaving Toronto,” she said. “And I need your help. I need a new ID, and I need your help unloading this.”
She reached for her knapsack, opened it, and showed him what was inside.
“Jesus Christ,” Chaz said. “Where the fuck did you get that?”
“It’s better you don’t know.” She pulled out the brick of white powder and placed it on the bed between them. “I don’t know what this is worth, but I’m sure it’s a lot. And I’ll give it to you, in exchange for a driver’s license, a birth certificate, and, if possible, a passport.”
Chaz looked down at the drugs, and then at her. “Joey, what did you do?” he asked softly.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” she said. “But you’re the only person I can trust. I can’t stay here, Chaz. I know you have that cousin who’s into some.… off-the-grid stuff. If you can get him to unload this, then you guys can split the money. All I need is an ID. I need to leave the country.”
“Are you for real?” Chaz was looking at her like she’d lost her damn mind. “You want me to call Reggie?”