Mason took the stairs two at a time. The apartment was empty. He plugged in his cellphone and called Chaz. No answer. He ran down the stairs and out-then down again, into the belly of the Cave. And there he was, his oldest friend, wiping down the bar. He looked like someone strange.

"Did you get my text?" said Mason.

"What happened to you?"

"I fell off a horse. Did you get the f.u.c.king text?"

"Yeah."

"And ...?"

"And w.i.l.l.y's safe," said Chaz. "What do you mean you fell off a horse?"

Mason looked at the mirror, trying to look through it. "Is she in there? Is she back there right now?"

Chaz nodded. "You want to see her?"

He thought for a moment. "What time is it?"

"What?"

"I need a gun?"

"Your head is bleeding."

"So?"

"I'm not giving you a gun."

"Fine!" Mason took off his backpack and slammed it down on the bar. He held the edge of it, wobbling. "Then how 'bout a drink?" Chaz poured him a gla.s.s of Jim Beam. Mason did a quick succession of lines.

"What the f.u.c.k's going on, Mason?"

"What time is it?" said Mason.

"Almost time to open."

"I gotta go."

"Oh, you do, eh?"

He took Seth's notebook from his backpack and handed it to Chaz. "Hold on to this. And keep w.i.l.l.y safe."

"Anything else?"

"I could do with a gun."

"You mentioned that."

"Just a small one ..."

"Sit the f.u.c.k down, Mason."

Mason stared at the mirror. "I gotta make last call," he said.

"That's what you gotta do?" what you gotta do?"

"Yeah," he said, then killed his drink and exited through the curtains.

THE B BOOK OF H HANDYMANIt was so bad I thought of killing myself.And then, one day, something happened.I was waiting for the doctor. As if a prescription of despair and emptiness isn't enough, I have to go and wait to have it filled. So I was sitting in the doctor's waiting room, trying to plan my suicide, when suddenly I heard a voice."w.i.l.l.y told me what you did!" it said.I looked up and there you were, standing in the open doorway, shouting at Dr. Francis. I don't know if you saw me. You were mad and self-righteous, f.u.c.ked up and wound up. It was like listening to my very own G.o.d: "Don't you accuse me of hurting people-or trying to save them! Take a look at yourself, Doc!"And with a nod to me you left. You didn't know me-but I knew you: my lucky star, my resurrection.Yes, you, Mason Dubisee, are going to be the one who saves me.

Mason came fast through the door, right into the mahogany coat rack. He hit it with his face and down they both went, crashing to the floor. Mary, behind the bar, howled with glee. The men banged their fists: an explosion of sound, laughter like shrapnel. "For the houuuuse!" shrieked Mary.

He got up quick, a fresh flash of red across his nose. His clothes were heavy with dirt and sweat, hair stuck in a gash on his head. "f.u.c.k the house!" said Mason. And then he saw Seth.

He was fifty feet away, on the other side of the pool table, a cue in his hands. They looked at each other.

"Where is my notebook?"

Mason shrugged.

"I warned you," said Seth.

"Oh wait," said Mason, his heart so fast it made his words feel slow. "What's this ...?" He looked down at his right hand. No one moved.

Then he lifted his middle finger.

In the time it took five men to thump the bar twice, Seth was past the pool table, Mason running straight at him. The men pounded the bar once more-Seth swinging his cue, Mason airborne.

They collided with a breathless crunch, the cue splitting as they tumbled over the corner pocket, into a row of chairs. Seth scrambled to his feet but Mason drilled him down with an elbow to his face, punching and pushing him away at the same time, trying to make enough distance for a cross to the head. And that's when they grabbed him.

f.u.c.king Finns, thought Mason, as they pulled him up, an elbow tight across his throat, his arms bent behind him. A cane smacked against his thigh. His ankle twisted. Someone stomped on it. Through the pain and loss of air he heard Mary squeal with happiness. He wished he'd bought a round for the house.

Then Seth stood up.

Maybe it was because things had been moving at all different speeds, all that galloping, cocaine and adrenaline-or that his collapsing windpipe created the effect of time slowing down-but it seemed Seth wasn't just standing; he was rising rising before him ... before him ...

In each hand was a half of the splintered cue. Where once there was pudginess, now there were muscles-veiny arms stretched at his sides, low and taut, as if lifting weight and and menace. His pale eyes glowed like fluorescence. His hat was on the floor and his scalped head, full of horror, rose like a nightmare forming. menace. His pale eyes glowed like fluorescence. His hat was on the floor and his scalped head, full of horror, rose like a nightmare forming.

What hair remained was stringy and grey, like the cut of a dishevelled monk. The crown looked nothing like the top of a man's head: instead of hair, or even skin, there was a shining cap of red-purple flesh, like an organ exposed. The men holding Mason gasped, and he realized they didn't know Seth from Adam-could have just as easily stayed out of this. Backlit by the aquarium, Seth now stood before him.

As Mason ran out of air, he saw the circle of grey hair shining-a silver halo surrounded by fish, pale blue orbs, a broken cue raised like a flare. Something whistled by his head. He thought of plums. Then, in superslow motion, he saw a red six ball spinning, mirrored, for an instant, in aquarium gla.s.s. The tank exploded.

In the moment before he pa.s.sed out, there was a shining flood-a wall of water, the crystal blue wave rushing towards them, fish flying over the head of Seth, glistening and baffled into the world.

THE B BOOK OF H HANDYMANWhat do you believe in, Mason?Me, I believe the universe is controlled by two things: compet.i.tion and coincidence. Not G.o.d, nor the Devil nor fate nor logic.The Big Bang, the splitting of an amoeba, evolution, ice ages, the harnessing of fire, the creation of the wheel, war, vaccination, every new life, every new path-they're all the result of compet.i.tion and coincidence, neither profane nor divine. That's what WE have, Mason: will, and the intersection of instances. And you'd better f.u.c.king believe it.You're in MY universe now.

Mason came to, surrounded by pieces of gla.s.s, seash.e.l.l, porcelain figurines and a half-dozen fish flopping-baby birds crashed on a deck. The floor was wet with blood and water. Looking up, he saw a man in a black helmet battling atop a pool table-swinging his cue like a light sabre. Right on Right on, thought Mason, then pa.s.sed out again.

THE B BOOK OF H HANDYMANIt's cosmic, ain't it, that of all the doctors' offices in all the world, you'd be shooting your mouth off in mine. And not only would you be a hack, a gambler, and a f.u.c.k-up, but you'd be a f.u.c.ked-up hack who writes suicide notes to cover his gambling debts. And you happen to know the sins of our doctor. I do believe my universe loves me.I believe in offers that can't be refused.I believe our doctor will replace the progesterone with a placebo, allowing me to live-free and free, alive and alive.I believe you will convince her to do this to save yourself. Or, if that's not enough, to save your w.i.l.l.y-so to speak.I believe I dream in colour.I believe in rock 'n' roll.I believe in so many things now, thanks to you.This faith-it is the making of a great new game.And you, my man, must play it. So listen well to the rules.You must return to Tony's Happy Daze Bar and Beer before last call tomorrow, alone and una.s.sisted.Should you fail to do so, these are the penalties: (1) I will send the authorities the specifics of your business. (2) I will hunt down Ms. w.i.l.l.y and convince her to help me in your stead.I'd love to ride a crippled mare.And by the way, you needn't worry about my letter. You might want to write one for yourself, though. Just in case.Ciao for now,Seth HandymanP.S. If you don't bring this notebook, you'd better come ready to fight.

When Mason next awoke, the fish were gone. His face was wet with beer, and Chaz was standing over him, an empty pint gla.s.s in his hand. "Let's go, Dorothy," he said. "We got to get out of here."

Mason tried to lift himself, shards of gla.s.s, sh.e.l.l and porcelain cutting into his palms. Chaz hauled him up and leaned him against the pool table. There were two unconscious men slumped in a corner. Neither one was Seth. Mason tried to ask his whereabouts, but all that came out was "Cahhhhhh ..." "Cahhhhhh ..." It felt like his throat had been stomped on. He tried to lie down on the table. It felt like his throat had been stomped on. He tried to lie down on the table.

"Now," said Chaz. "Before the cops get here." He put Mason's arm over his shoulders. They staggered across the wet, beach-strewn floor and made it out the door. The streetlights were bright. Chaz's motorcyle was parked on the sidewalk. Mason got on the back. He tried to ask what had happened to the fish-but all that came out was "Cahahhhaaahhhhhhh ..." "Cahahhhaaahhhhhhh ..." He could hear the sirens as they pulled away. He could hear the sirens as they pulled away.

63.

Mason lay on the floor of the Cave making pitiful scratchy sounds.

"He's got no head?" said Chaz. "What do you mean he's got no head?" He held a gla.s.s of whisky, salt and lemon juice and poured a bit down Mason's throat-trying to open up that windpipe.

"The top of it... is gone," Mason croaked. Mason croaked. "You didn't notice?" "You didn't notice?"

"I was kind of busy saving your a.s.s."

"Thank you."

"So let me see if I've got this right-come on, try to sit up: you quit your job selling hotdogs and started writing suicide letters instead."

Mason nodded.

"For psychos."

"I didn't... know."

"Of course not-how could you? Only well-adjusted people hire a guy to ... Is that even a thing? How do you think of something like that?"

Mason tried to speak, but nothing came out.

"Forget it. I don't want to hear." He propped Mason's back against the bar, then sat in a chair and looked at him.

"So. Since starting this new job of yours, you've-let me see ... you helped somebody jump off a bridge, you wrecked the Dogmobile, you stole a horse...."

Mason was nodding.

"You stalked a convicted psychopath, took his journal, then attacked him in front of several witnesses who came to his rescue, forcing me to a.s.sault pretty much everybody in the place.... But before doing any of this you told him all your secrets, and spelled your last name for him.... Have I got this right?"

"We did quid pro quo."

"You what?" what?"

Mason tried again. "Quid ... pro quo. I ask ... a question, and then..." "Quid ... pro quo. I ask ... a question, and then..."

"I know what quid pro quo is quid pro quo is, you moron ..."

"But we had to ... aaaach, sink a ball."

"What the f.u.c.k are you talking about?"

"Quid..."

"If you say pro quo pro quo again I'm going to strangle you too." again I'm going to strangle you too."

"It's ... moot anyway."

"Moot? What could possibly be moot?"

Mason tried, but all that came out was "Caaaaahhhhh ..." "Caaaaahhhhh ..." He started to mime something. Chaz leaned forward with the gla.s.s. Liquid gurgled into Mason's mouth. He started to mime something. Chaz leaned forward with the gla.s.s. Liquid gurgled into Mason's mouth.

"He read my file."

"Your what?"

"We had the same therapist."

"The same what?"

"She's a doc...."

"So the horse thieving, the psycho a.s.saulting ... that started after after you got professional help?" you got professional help?"

Mason nodded.

"You should look for a new therapist."

"She's in danger," said Mason. said Mason.

"Of course she is," said Chaz, standing up. He walked behind his chair.

"Read the notebook."

"First things first," said Chaz. "We gotta get you cleaned up."

Mason nodded.

"I mean all the way clean," said Chaz, looking Mason in the eye. "You're no good to anyone like this."

Mason stared at the floor between his legs. He took a moment and raised his head. "The doc... can help." "The doc... can help." As Chaz circled the chair the room began to spin. As Chaz circled the chair the room began to spin.

"Why would she do that?"