Chapter 136

He bounced along beside the furtive man, two blocks, to his pleasant-looking hotel room at the Holiday Inn.
There was a rental Neon in the driveway, outside his suite.
Throughout his manhunt across the Canadian West, Rawle had been continually blown away by the kindness of strangers. Several of the people he hitchhiked with, gave him money, or stopped and bought him meals or cigarettes.
A good-looking chick, all by herself, had driven him from Jasper to Hinton to Jasper one time, even though he looked like a criminal.
She even confessed she’d had a bad experience hitchhiking: When she was fifteen, she hitched a ride with some guy and fell asleep in the passenger seat. When she woke up, the guy had his cock out and was jacking off, with his long cock pointed in her direction. She asked him to “stop it” and he said “no,” and proceeded to squirt on the plastic console in between the seats.
Rawle really didn’t think going to this guy’s hotel room, alone, was weird. In his heat exhausted delirium, he thought it was just another example of a West Coast stranger, being kind.

They walked into a normal looking hotel room. The man got a few cans of Canadian out of the mini-fridge and brought them out to a small apartment-style balcony off the main room, through a set of sliding glass doors.
They sat down at in plastic chairs and talked for a while.
He said his name was ‘Bruce.’
Rawle told him his name was ‘Michael.’
“What are you doing in Osoyoos?”
“Picking fruit, looking for someone I hate. He owes me money. I found him and now I don’t know what to do about it. I’m either going to kick his ass, or just let it go.”
Bruce raised his bushy black eyebrows and wiped a speck of foam from the edge of his lip. “Why don’t you kick his ass?”
“It’s not that simple.” Yes it is. It’s that simple. You’re just too much of a pussy.
“I know some people who can help you, if that’s what you want.” Bruce said, in a quiet voice. “I know some Gypsies, y’know.”
Small world, Rawle thought. “Yeah? Real Gypsies?”
“Yeah. I used to do some gardening work for a Gypsy. New West chapter. He told me, if I ever needed someone to be a heavy, I could call him up. He was a pretty nice man.”
“I wouldn’t want to bother someone like that with my problems,” Rawle said.
Bruce blushed. “I suppose not. I guess, I’m just trying to impress you.”
“What for?” Rawle said, swigging his beer. The cold beer was going down, like water.
“Where is this guy you’re after?” Bruce said. “Is he here in town?”
“He’s here in town. Yeah. We just split up, ‘cause I was feeling sun-stroked. He’s trying to hook up with some fat chick he met at the liquor store.”
“So, you think he’ll be in town, all night tonight?”
“I guess. What do you care?”
“No, I just…. So, do you want to take that shower now?” Bruce said, changing the subject. He got up and fetched a clean towel and wash cloth from a small closet off the bathroom.
Rawle didn’t answer.
“Do you want to take a shower?” he asked again.
“I’m okay, right now,” Rawle said.
“You might as well. Who knows when you’ll have a chance to take a shower again?”
Rawle stared at the man, cautiously. “I guess your right.” He stood up and grabbed the towel and washcloth.
Bruce showed him to the bathroom. “You can use any soap and shampoo you find in there.”
“Thanks.”
Rawle closed the bathroom door and locked it behind him. He wondered absent-mindedly if Bruce might have a camera or something, installed in the shower, to spy on him.
He stripped off all his clothes and climbed in the tub, turning on the water nice and hot.
It felt great. He hadn’t had a shower in weeks.

When he got out of the bathroom, Bruce was sitting on the sofa, waiting.
Rawle was glad because he thought maybe Bruce would’ve tried to come in the bathroom after him. He was getting a slight weird vibe now from Bruce, although he still felt pretty delirious and out of it.
He joined Bruce on the beige tweed couch and they talked a bit more. Rawle thanked him for the beer and the shower. Bruce said something very softly. “It’s okay… I need this. Please, have another beer.”
There was an open can of beer on the coffee table.
“Have another beer,” he said again.
Rawle felt the strange vibe again. The beer was open. Why would he open a can of beer for me?
“I’d better just get going…” He stood up to leave. Bruce looked up at him, almost desperately, and spoke in a quick voice this time: “Do you want your cock sucked?”
Rawle bent down slowly to put on his shoes. He processed what Bruce said and then burst into laughter.
“Do I want my cock sucked?” he repeated back to Bruce, looking him in the face.
Bruce was not smiling. He whispered “Yeah,” in his soft voice again.
To Rawle’s surprise, he suddenly felt a repulsive urge to take this man up on his sickening offer, just because he’d never done it before.
“$60,” he said, surprised at his own words.
Bruce’s black bushy mustache quivered over his mouth. He he took his glasses off, then put them on again. Then he took his wallet out of his back pocket and removed three twenties from a larger bill-fold. He set the money on the dining room table, then kneeled, facing Rawle’s crotch.
“Do you want your beer?”
Rawle shook his head.
Bruce took off his glasses, again, and put them on the table, next to the money.
He made a girlish moaning sound.
Rawle smelled something really bad, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He thought it must be Bruce’s breath.
“Fuck that.” Rawle changed his mind.
Bruce tried to hold him by his thighs. “Where are you going?”
Rawle could smell shit now, very strongly. It was definitely a feces smell.
A cross between shit, urine and perfume.
Or baby powder.
Rawle had smelled this exact same smell before.
It was Athan’s Diaper Wizard.
The Diaper Wizard, a sealable plastic garbage can for diapers, with liner bags inside that smelled like baby powder. Whenever you opened it, to change the bag, you smelled that fermented odour combination of shit, urine and baby powder.
Rawle shook himself away, revolted.
“What is that smell?” He stumbled backward and jumped up onto the couch, pressing his back against the wall.
Bruce looked up at him, wide-eyed, then got up off his knees and waddled quickly into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Rawle made for the door and wriggled out, slamming it behind him and running full tilt down the hallway.


He went to sleep early that night on the lawns of a nearby park.
As he fell asleep, he couldn’t help but imagine Bruce coming after him, for refusing that open beer.
He slept with a heavy stick, holding it like a club, under the thermal blanket.