to take turns cleaning it. After my first look at the place, I never went back. Instead, I used Dougalâs bathroom to shower when I could, and if that wasnât possible, I waited for darkness, then made my way up the hill to Secret Valleyâs recreation building where there were clean showers and toilets.
I was starving again, but before I settled down to eat some of Dougalâs leftovers, I communicated with my bladder to determine if it could hold out until morning. It couldnât.
Toiletries in hand, I opened the door. I looked both ways for slavering beasts, then raced up the hill to the rec hall where, after relieving myself, I took a shower and washed my hair. Returning to the safety of my trailer, I was barely able to stay awake long enough to lock my door before falling into bed. My empty stomach gave way to exhaustion, and I found sweet unconsciousness on the lumpy mattress.
It seemed I had only been asleep for seconds when there was a loud thumping on my door. My eyes shot open to find the sun was shining through my bedroom window. It was morning in Hemp Hollow, and my regular Sabbath visitor better be bearing the gift of strong coffee.
Chapter
FIVE
I threw an old fleece jacket over my pyjamas and opened the door. My neighbour, Rae Zaborski, usually dropped in on Sunday morning with two cups of coffee. I looked at the old windup clock on the counter and wasnât surprised to see it register seven oâclock. Rae liked to get her visiting done before she left for church at ten-thirty.
âCome in, Rae,â I said, âand close the door. Itâs chilly out there.â
âWell, my dear, the temperature dipped a bit last night. Here, this will warm you up.â She handed me a large blue mug.
âI hope this is strong.â
âExtra strong Columbian for both of us.â
She settled herself on my patched bench and pulled her yellow chenille bathrobe more tightly around her toned curves. Sunday was Raeâs day of rest, and it was sacrosanct. The bathrobe stayed put until she put on her church-going clothes for an hour, then it returned for the duration of the day.
âI had a really good week,â she began. âFourteen clients.â
âGeez, Rae, thatâs more than two a day. How can you stand it, and where do they all come from?â
âTwo a day is usually my limit, but I have my regular customers like Ewan Quigley and some of his friends, and I donât like to turn any of them down. A couple of the guys were willing to pay extra if I fit them in, so I thought, what the heck, itâs all money in the bank, right?â
âI guess.â Ewan Quigley? Eesh. I guess if you closed your eyes, you could pretend you were doing George Clooney.
Rae was a hooker, and quite a successful one. She charged a hundred dollars a pop, so made at least twelve hundred dollars a week, tax-free. Rae also taught water aerobics to seniors at the high school three afternoons a week for minimum wage. Since her income from this legitimate job was so limited, like mine, she never paid a lick of income tax. But she filed religiously each year to keep Revenue Canada happy â and ignorant of her more lucrative career.
Rae was only twenty-five, but she had been investing her money since she was eighteen. She took endless aesthetics courses and figured that by age thirty she would have enough money to open her own spa. She already had a name picked out: Pamper U.
âToday weâre doing your hair, remember?â She indicated the plastic shopping bag hanging off one arm.
âI forgot. I donât think I have time today, Rae. I have a real estate client at one oâclock. Nothing will come of it, as usual, but Elaine Simms made the appointment with people from out of town, so I have to meet them at the Barrister house.â
âWeâll be done in less than two hours. Come on, quit stalling. Iâve been dying to get my hands on your hair for
Drew Karpyshyn, William C. Dietz