Diego slipped into the police station’s filing room with his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest. It was dim here, with only a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. He walked down the rows upon rows of labelled plastic boxes, until he reached ‘R’. He pulled out the box, as quietly as he could, found DeeDee’s file and yanked it out. It was dull yellow, with her name printed in imposing black letters. He flipped it open. He was greeted with the now-familiar list of DeeDee’s run-ins with the police. Arrested for some protests in the 50s and 70s, drug records...she even served time for battery. Diego pulled out the piece of paper from her file and quickly replaced it with the one he’d printed the night before – almost identical, except the charge at the bottom was for ‘excessive marihuana smoking in public’, not growing and supplying, of weed or anything else. To make sure his lie wouldn’t be caught out, Diego had Raphael move DeeDee’s van to a more remote location fo
‘’We have over seventy nine thousand,’’ Val said. She sounded pleading as she looked at Gus over the small table in the meeting room in the jail, her dark hand hovering near Gus’, as if she wanted to reach out and hold it, but knew she couldn’t without being thrown out. The cop in the corner was already giving her suspicious looks; afterall, she’d been locked up alongside Gus not two days before, ‘’we can spare your bail.’’ Gus stared at her, ‘’what do you mean, you can spare my bail? Of course you can’t! I’ve done the calculations. Time is working against us. We need to get the remaining twenty one thousand in the next few days of we’ll lose the building. How much is my bail? Seven hundred? Eight hundred?’’ Val bit her lip, looking away, ‘’one thousand two hundred.’’ Gus closed his eyes briefly. He hated being stuck in his cell, especially since he now had a leering, rude drunk lo
On the evening of the full moon, a spring storm was raging. In Ellie’s small apartment that she now owned instead of her impressive condo, Val sat on the arm of the armchair in the bedroom, looking out of the window. The full moon wasn’t visible, hidden by steely grey clouds. Rain was coming down hard, snaking down the windowpanes, and there was a distant echo of thunder. There was something calming about the storm. Val sat in the bedroom, not bothering to turn the light on, in one of Ellie’s warm, 100% cashmere sweaters and her own ripped jeans. Her feet dangled just above the floor. She was...relaxed. She couldn’t remember the last time she truly was relaxed. Ellie walked into the bedroom, carrying a mug of tea, made with half cold-water, half hot-water, like Val liked, so she could drink it straight away, ‘’admiring the rain?’’ Ellie asked, slipping the cup into Val’s hand and collapsing into the armchair
Watching the last building on Bay Street get knocked down was as hard as expected, but the tenants tied to it – Raphael, Art, Jamie, Buster, Val and Gus – decided they wanted to see it go. Wanted to say goodbye. DeeDee wept all morning and refused to come out of her van, which she was hot-boxing. Everyone else that had worked in the building – Toby, the other barista; Nicky, the owner of A Touch of Ink; the old, grumbling landlady and everyone else...to them, it was just a building. Just a job. They’d find another. But not the gang. The best years of their lives were tied to this building. This is where they met, where they became friends. Where they built up the Crypt from nothing, where Jamie manned the coffee shop with the ferocity of a mother bear protecting her cubs. This was where they housed DeeDee and her weed plants – her ‘babies – and where Buster, Val, Gus and Jamie found a place for themselves, their own little corners to live in. This was where Art collapsed after a har
My sweetest Gus,I miss you. I miss you so freaking much. I can’t even tell you just how much. I don’t think that big of a number has been invented yet. I hope you miss me that much, too. I mean, I don’t! I hope you miss me, but I also hope that you’re happy. I got your letter this morning and could barely get through the day without thinking of what to write to you. I got shouted at by my commander during drills, and I spaced out so much during cooking duty that I got smacked upside the head. Now I’m sitting in my bunk, at the desk, and writing this by candlelight. It’s late. This base is so huge, but it gets so quiet at night. Discipline, I suppose. I’m going out into town to drink with the boys tomorrow; we have leave for a couple hours, so I’ll mail this letter then. I’ll probably get drunk and whine about how much I love you again. They’re sta
The smell of coffee and pastries filled the coffee shop; at this point in his young life, Jamie wanted to throw up at the smell. He’d been the barista at the coffee shop in the last building on Bay Street ever since he arrived a few years back. The coffee shop had a name – something shit and mediocre, like ‘Bay Coffee’ – but to all the regulars, it was known simply as the coffee shop. Not only did the smell make Jamie want to gag, but the rush was slow today. The estate agents had finally turned their hawk eyes on Bay Street and were starting renovations from the opposite end of the shit hole. The last building on Bay Street wasn’t safe for long, considering all the new tenants pouring into the houses down the road that wrinkled their noses at the tattered building at the very end of the street before the shabby forest started. That also meant that other than a few rough-bred regulars, no one else dared brave the coffee shop. Which meant Jamie was
That morning, the coffee shop did not open as usual.Jamie sat at one of the worn, scratched wooden tables in the corner, ass planted firmly in the faded couches, the stuffing coming out in a few spots. His small, pale hands were wrapped around a tall glass of juice, since just the taste of anything that held caffeine made him gag. His baseball bat, which he had studded with nails he had nicked from a building site when he was thirteen, rested against his leg under the table, giving him comfort. As he concentrated on the orange liquid in his glass, he kept replaying an image of him hitting one of those werewolf gang kids over the head with his bat. He’d named it Berta. He wished he’d used Berta, before they had taken Raphael. The rest of his group looked just as miserable. Gus was on one of the mismatched chairs, knees pulled up to his chest, arms around them, staring at the steam rising from his tea with glassy, dark eyes. Val was pacing up and down the coffee sh
Buster was awoken, like every morning, by the soft snoring of Valentina in the bed in the opposite corner. Except today, Buster wasn’t in a happy mood. He had an internal clock that awoke him each day at six thirty am, so he could begin early and have a whole day to find jobs. But today...Buster sighed, rubbing his face without getting up. Today was the first of September – and school was back on. Six hours wasted on hearing the shit teachers at community college drone on that he could spend actually earning money. One more year, Buster reminded himself, then its goodbye compulsory education. He sat up in his too-small bed, stretched and reached out to pull the rag-tag, patchwork curtain away from the window above his bed. The weather reflected his mood – it was a grey, dull morning, rain drizzling in short bursts. It was still warm enough but Buster gave September a week before he had to dig out his old coat. He let the curtain flop back in place over the dreary landscape and stood,
‘’Art, can I speak to you for a moment?’’Art blinked, surprised, ‘’sure, Mr March.’’‘’I’ll wait for you,’’ Buster promised, slipping from the room with the rest of the class.Art approached Jed March’s desk, where he was filing through the assignments the class had (miraculously) handed it, ‘’good lesson today,’’ Art said truthfully; he certainly enjoyed learning how to apply writing to life skills more than math or science. March offered him a quick smile, ‘’so what’s up, sir?’’ Art was eternally grateful that his mate turned out to be someone so logical. March barely ever brought up their bond and he was happy to leave Art alone, unlike a certain cop who hounded Jamie most days.‘’Tomorrow is the full moon.’’Art grinned, ‘’are you going to change into a proper werewolf? Go all ‘Wolfman’ on the town?’’‘’It’s no laughing matter, Art,’’ March said calmly, setting down the paper and lacing his fingers together on his desk, ‘’I could try to attack you.’’Art blinked, the grin disappe