"Take the methadone," she said, "and give me your answer tomorrow."

He stood in the hallway. Both elevators opened at the same time. Mason got into one as a green shoe stepped out of the other.

He walked down Spadina, into the Market, then over to Busytown Park. It was a sunny day. He sat on the gra.s.s with his legs crossed, then he swivelled around and did some push-ups-his shoulders felt unused, but strong. He went over to the small jungle gym, kids climbing all over the place, and did a dozen chin-ups. When he dropped down on the sand his ankle stayed firm. He drank some water from the fountain then headed back to the Cave.

He decided to enter through the alley. He hadn't been back there since he'd taken the Dogmobile and headed for Utopia-that ill-planned journey, ending in a country ditch. So it was a surprise to see the fibregla.s.s fedora parked in its usual spot. He walked up to it and reached out his hand, like he would to a skittish horse. Lines from a Springsteen song sang through his head: Well now, everything dies, baby, that's a fact.

But maybe everything that dies someday comes back.

He went down into the Cave.

72.

To: [email protected]: [email protected]: I want my f.u.c.king notebook back.

S. Handyman Now Mason knew for sure: there was only one copy of "The Book of Handyman." Seth's hubris hadn't allowed for xeroxes. If something was taken from him, he'd get it back-his freedom, his strength, his mojo-all the f.u.c.king marbles. Seth wanted the book, but that's not what it was about. He had the taste of challenge on his tongue-like blood and vodka mixed with honey. Mason could taste it, too. the f.u.c.king marbles. Seth wanted the book, but that's not what it was about. He had the taste of challenge on his tongue-like blood and vodka mixed with honey. Mason could taste it, too.

To: [email protected]: : Okay, you hack I'll play you for it.

M. Dubisee "What did you just say?" Dr. Francis rose from her seat.

"I challenged him to a game of eightball ... but then he suggested poker instead. I knew he would. But I wanted it to be his idea."

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about, Mason?"

"Playing pool for your soul isn't as cool. With stakes like these, poker's more intense. It's more cinematic. Plus, he's sure he can win."

"Stakes like what?" She was looking at Mason as if he'd always irritated her-but now he was a guy who irritated her and happened to be holding a bomb.

"If he wins, he gets his notebook back. Plus he gets his freedom."

"His freedom?"

"Like he wanted from the beginning: you stop the treatment without anybody knowing, and you keep him out of jail."

She moved fast across the room. "I will not," not," she said, so close to him he could feel her breath. she said, so close to him he could feel her breath.

He looked her straight in the eye. "You won't have to."

She rocked back on her heels, changed her focus. "So what? You're going to win?"

"I won't lose," said Mason.

"In which case ..."

"He's back in prison."

"I told you, Mason...."

"You told me there was a lot you weren't telling me."

She took a moment. Then shook her head. "If he loses, he kills himself."

"Why would ...?" But then Mason stopped. "You know," he said, "that might just work."

73.

"I hate it when you're gone," said w.i.l.l.y.

"You were asleep. I was just out there in the Cave."

"What were you doing?"

"Emailing Seth." He stroked her head. "You can't get reception in here."

"Oh."

"How do you feel?"

"Half-'n'-half," she said. He pinched her a.s.s on the feeling side. "When do we get out of here?"

"I just got to beat the psycho. Then I'll take you back to my place."

"I love it when you talk like that."

"Everything's going to be okay." He kissed her shoulders.

"I'm scared about something," she said.

"What?"

"You're so much better now. Without the drugs and the booze and everything. You look better, you sound better."

"Isn't that good?"

"I don't know. It scares me."

"Why?"

She looked away. "I'm never getting better. You know that, right?"

Mason smiled. "Deep down, I'm still a mess."

w.i.l.l.y didn't smile. "It's hard to explain."

"What is?"

"I kind of feel like a fake sometimes."

Mason waited.

"It's like when you asked me what happened.... People always ask me that. And I know they mean why am I in a wheelchair but they also mean why am I junkie-or they don't don't mean that!" mean that!"

"What do you mean?"

She punched him with her senseless fist. "I told you it's hard to explain."

"Sorry."

"It's like everyone a.s.sumes they're the same thing, that this is why I do drugs ..." she pointed at her body. "Or why I did did drugs or whatever. You know why drugs or whatever. You know why I I think I'm f.u.c.ked up?" think I'm f.u.c.ked up?"

Mason shook his head.

"The stupidest reason ever." She looked up, at the bottom of the top bunk. "Some stupid guy broke my heart. I loved him a lot and he broke my heart. Same as everybody, right? And when he left I couldn't even go after him-so maybe in that way, yeah: I'm f.u.c.ked because I can't run after them."

There was silence for a while.

Finally Mason spoke. "Well, you know," he said. "It usually doesn't work."

"What?"

"Running after them."

w.i.l.l.y took a breath. "But sometimes it does, right?"

"Maybe."

"You know why I liked Bethany?"

"No," said Mason. "Not at all."

"Because I didn't like her." She turned her head and looked at him. "I'm scared you're going to leave me." And then he could see she was crying.

Dr. Francis was at her desk, Chaz in the corner like he was her bodyguard or something. She lifted her head and looked at Mason, who had chosen not to take a seat. "He says you're not as good as you think you are."

"I said he's terrible," said Chaz.

"Well, he can go f.u.c.k himself," said Mason.

"If you don't win, we're screwed."

"I'm going to win."

Chaz came out of the corner and stood in front of Mason. "I don't think you understand. If Seth wins, he's not walking out of there. We're not just letting him go."

"So."

"So what then? I shoot the guy?"

They looked at each other. "Sounds good to me."

"Jesus, Mason!" Chaz sat down in the chair where the patients sat. He looked at Dr. Francis. "Jesus ..."

Dr. Francis turned to Mason. "I'm worried you think Seth will be easy to beat."

Mason went over and stood by the window. The doctor kept talking.

"Don't a.s.sume sociopaths, just because they lack empathy, aren't good at reading people. Usually it's the opposite. That's their currency-other people's weaknesses. They can see them like ... like stink lines in a cartoon. It's what makes them so good at manipulating." She pointed her finger at him. "You won't get anything from him, Mason. But Seth-he'll read you perfectly."

"Ha!" said Mason, turning away from the window.

"What?"

"You're f.u.c.king right. He's the Warrior Monk." He looked at Chaz, a half-smile on his face. "Seth is the f.u.c.king Warrior Monk."

"It's why he agreed to play ..."

"Why he chose chose the game," said Mason. the game," said Mason.

"He knows he can't lose."

"He thinks thinks he'll win," said Mason, now leaning against the windowsill, "but it's not a given. If it was, he wouldn't be interested. He wants the highest stakes there are he'll win," said Mason, now leaning against the windowsill, "but it's not a given. If it was, he wouldn't be interested. He wants the highest stakes there are and and a meaningful adversary. That's always been missing for him. And now look at this, it's perfect: He already hates me, but he trusts me as a gambler. If he wins he's got my humiliation-your humiliation, too-his notebook, his freedom. And if he loses he's dead." Mason walked towards them. "The doctor was right: it's a meaningful adversary. That's always been missing for him. And now look at this, it's perfect: He already hates me, but he trusts me as a gambler. If he wins he's got my humiliation-your humiliation, too-his notebook, his freedom. And if he loses he's dead." Mason walked towards them. "The doctor was right: it's way way better than prison. It's exciting to him. He thinks the odds are in his favour but the stakes actually shake him. They shake him all the way. He couldn't better than prison. It's exciting to him. He thinks the odds are in his favour but the stakes actually shake him. They shake him all the way. He couldn't design design a better game." a better game."

"The odds are are in his favour!" said Chaz. "Even if what you're saying made sense, how are you going to beat him? You play to lose." He stood up. "I love you, man. But you're a terrible poker player. You play with heart and no brains. You like the rush too much. You're good at the game, but not at in his favour!" said Chaz. "Even if what you're saying made sense, how are you going to beat him? You play to lose." He stood up. "I love you, man. But you're a terrible poker player. You play with heart and no brains. You like the rush too much. You're good at the game, but not at winning winning. You think that's going to change?"

Mason faced Dr. Francis. "Why does everyone know me better than I do?" He looked at Chaz. "And since when do you talk like a normal person? What happened to Chaz the Goombah? Life start getting him down?"

Chaz shook his head and walked out of the office.

Dr. Francis sighed. "Why do you do that, Mason?"

"What?"

"You make people feel stupid for caring about you."

"Really?"