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“John?” Nick called from the back room.

“Yeah, man?” John shouted.

“We have a situation, in here…”

“It’s Christmas eve, Nick… I’ve gotta get home to my wife. What’s going on?” John stopped in the doorway and his mouth dropped open. Nick’s nose was bleeding profusely, as was Robbie’s. “What the hell Nick…”

“Somebody’s been in here and fucked around, bad,” Nick said. “I thought it was pure, I haven’t prepped this yet.”

Nick was pissed. Things hadn’t been great with him and Cary since he’d gotten back. Even though Cary believed he had nothing to do with that bad batch in the fall, he hadn’t really let it go, either. He’d been taking a lot of heat for stupid shit, and John told him to just put up with it. ‘Weather the storm until it passes’ he kept telling him. But Cary could storm like nobody he’d ever seen. It was a never-ending hurricane and Nick was beat. He’d been looking forward to picking up his Christmas cookies from John’s wife and spending a few days alone at home with a bag of blow, away from the stress that was Cary fucking Hawton.

Instead, him and Robbie had snuck a nip and both doubled over, eyes streaming. It felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to the insides of his nostrils, right up into his brain.

“Who had access to this today, John?” Nick asked, wiping the trickle of blood with a rag and throwing one to Robbie.

“Me, Cary, Jimmy, you two… but we were with Jimbo the whole time…”

“Any of the girls around?”

“Nah, not on Christmas. It’s been quiet all day.”

“Except for Linette,” Robbie said.

Nick’s head snapped around and John went deathly still.

“Linette was here?” Nick asked, looking between John and Robbie.

John flushed.

“Yeah, popped by a few hours ago,” Robbie said, not picking up on the obvious tension radiating out of John.

“And what exactly was Linette doing here?” Nick asked, narrowing his eyes.

John started to sweat. “Robbie,” John said, speaking slowly while looking at Nick, “I think you should get going home now. We’ll sort this out.”

Robbie nodded, eyeing the coke wistfully before leaving.

“Nick…” John said in a pleading voice.

“Save it,” Nick said. “I don’t give two shits if you step out on your wife. And I care even less who with. But she messed with the supply, John!”

He went white.

“You know we have to tell Cary…” Nick said.

John swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, we do…” The guy looked like he was going to throw up on his khakis.

“Look man… the details are none of my business,” Nick said. “I see no reason for me to specify anything other than it looks like Linette has been in here messin’ around. But you should get a story straight, because I won’t make one up for you.”

“Thanks, Nick…” he swallowed again. “I need to talk to Linette, first…”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Nick asked.

“I’m gonna be straight with you, I’m not about to tell Cary that I let Linette suck my dick and then left her unattended with his merchandise which she then ruined. I don’t feel like dying, today. I need to talk to her. There’s no gettin’ around her messing with his things but maybe… Maybe I can get her to leave me out of it.”

“Would she do that?” Nick asked skeptically.

“Maybe. Can you do me a favour?”

“What’s that?” Nick asked.

“Swing by Jerry’s. Tell him what happened, no need to sugarcoat. Jerry might be able to persuade Linette. He’s the only one who might… I just don’t want you talkin’ to him about this over the phone…”

“And where are you going?”

John swallowed. "I need to go talk to my wife."

Nick sighed and checked the rag. No fresh blood.

“Fine, John. But you fucking owe me. You hear me?”

John nodded profusely, and then took off out the door. Nick grabbed his keys, and headed out to the scrap yard, his Sunfire sliding on the backroads.

Some Christmas Eve this was turning out to be.