Rawle told his roommate Kale to tell the head housekeeper he was quitting his job as a bed-bitch the next morning, and he moved out of the staff-accom that night.
Olivier moved out of his storage closet, and together they joined up with some other Montreal kids living beneath the Second River Bridge, a small concrete span over a thin tributary of the Athabasca River, on the outskirts of town, towards Old Fort Point.
They were trying to find Olivier’s friend, Gillespe, but he was notoriously difficult to track. He slept in a new place every night and often picked up and left Jasper on a whim or when he felt the heat was getting too hot. Gillespe dealt coke and hash, Olivier said, which almost guaranteed that he had a connection to bikers.
It was just about mating season and the bull elks were starting to come down from the forest into town to find mates.
The angry, horny bulls would charge Rawle from time to time, if he got in their way: Tall, galloping brown giants with their huge racks down, but all he had to do was step out of the way and they would trundle by like a stagecoach.
Hippies and Montrealers hanging around the Patch were starting to swarm. Everyone was talking and getting angry about the rising arrests for pot possession and illegal camping, both of which the hippies considered to be discriminatory against their way of life.
A lot of the Montreal kids had warrants and pasts and were afraid to get arrested.
There was talk of a “crackdown.”
Were the rangers getting picky?
It was starting to be a concern, for Rawle too. The last thing he wanted police to take a look at him. They could call his family and everything back home, and tell Kelloway he’d been arrested as a homeless person. He didn’t want to worry Kellwoay with that, she was already worried enough. She was faring better not knowing the specifics of what he was doing. Plus, there was the bloody clothing in his trunk.
Game over.
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