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Nick was in an even worse mood by the time he got to Jerry’s. He’d been stopped at a RIDE program on his way out of town, and had to pull over for an ambulance, his tires getting stuck in the slush for a few minutes.

He knocked loudly on Jerry’s door.

“Yeah! Coming!” someone yelled. The door swung open, and Jerry stood in the archway in plaid pajama bottoms holding a tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a tumbler of eggnog in the other.

“Can I help you?” Jerry asked.

“I’m Nick,” he said. “John sent me.”

Wariness crossed over Jerry’s face, and he glanced nervously inside before opening the door all the way and nodding for Nick to come in.

Jerry’s place was cozy, if not obviously the house of a chronic bachelor. All his furniture was brown. His floors were brown, his curtains were brown, his TV set was brown. Nick had never seen so much brown in his life. But it was clean, a fireplace roaring merrily, and a shockingly good-looking teenager - maybe even better looking than Cary - sat sprawled on the couch watching Die Hard, a stogie in one hand and a whiskey in the other.

The guy looked familiar, but Nick couldn’t place him.

“Why don’t you come into the garage,” Jerry said, glancing at the boy again and sticking his bare feet into his boots.

“Sure,” Nick said. Jerry had just opened the door to the garage when the boy looked over at Nick and froze. His eyes darkened, nostrils flared, and he glanced at Jerry and then stood up, stubbing out the cigar in a ceramic ashtray on the coffee table and taking a step towards Nick.

Nick fought the urge to back up. There weren’t too many men that could intimidate him, not after spending so much time around Cary and his crew. But this guy was something else, a primal warning bell going off full force in his brain, screaming at Nick to run.

“Wait…” Nick breathed, a memory from the rave climbing to the surface of his mind. Of a guy’s face, blinking in and out of view in the strobe lights, walking towards him like a bulldozer. This guy’s face.

“What the fuck is he doing here, Jerry?” the boy said, not taking his eyes off Nick.

“I don’ know kid, but we need a minute.”

“Like hell you do,” he seethed, grinding his teeth and pointing at Nick. “Get the FUCK out of this house!”

“Who the hell are you?” Nick asked, his hackles raised.

Shane launched at him but Jerry stepped in the way, locking his arms around Shane who was snarling like a rabid dog.

“Now you listen to me boy!” Jerry snarled right back. “Nick is here on business and now ain’t the time for this, you hear me?” Shane’s chest was heaving as he glared at Nick, looking like he was ready to rip off his face. “DO YOU HEAR ME?”

Shane’s eyes slid to Jerry and they looked at each other for a moment, before Shane nodded and shoved Jerry off, stalking down the hall.

Somehow, Jerry had managed not to spill either of his drinks. He watched Shane storm away and winced when a door slammed, before chugging one and then the other.

“Make this quick,” Jerry said. “He’ll be pacin’ in there and I’m an old bag o’ bones now, I won’ be able to keep him off ya if he tries for real.”

“Isn’t he more of the sucker punching type?” Nick spat, glaring down the hall. He remembered. The guy hadn’t announced himself, hadn’t said a word. Just walked right up to him and fucking dropped him.

Jerry shoved him into the wall with a surprisingly firm hand.

“This is my here house, and this is my here family,” Jerry said, a warning in his tone. “You better get to tellin’ me what John thinks is so important that he gotta be sendin’ ya in person on Christmas Eve.”

“Linette has been breaking into Cary’s shop, tampering with the product,” Nick said.

Whatever Jerry thought Nick was there to say, it wasn’t that. He looked like he’d been stung in the mouth by a dozen wasps.

“Jesus Christ…” Jerry muttered, his eyes wide. “Cary know?”

“Not yet,” Nick said. “Just me. And John.”

Jerry puffed out a breath and tugged on his ears. “John… Shit, John, you goddamn idiot…” Clearly Jerry had put it together on his own rather quickly, and Nick didn’t have to explain.

“We’ll need to get her to talk to Cary…” Jerry muttered quietly. “It’ll be bad. But if she goes to him, if she goes to him first, tells him she messed up… Well, she’s one of probably only two women in the world he wouldn’t murder for this. But we gotta find her first.”

The phone rang, and Jerry stomped over to it. “Hello?”

Nick watched as all the blood drained out of Jerry’s face. He stood silently for over a minute, before putting his hand over the receiver and looking at Nick.

“Did Linette take any of that shit home with her?”

“I assume so,” Nick said, “she took enough to re-sell for a pretty penny, but if it were me I’d have held back my own personal supply…”

Jerry turned a sickly greenish colour and removed his hand from the phone, speaking into it urgently. “We’re leaving now. We’ll be there in forty minutes, give or take. And Dustin?” Jerry paused, looking panicked. “Call Cary.” Then he hung up.

“What’s going on?” Nick asked, feeling uneasy.

“Shane!” Jerry yelled, tearing around the room. “Where are my keys! Where are my keys…” Shane appeared in the doorway, a menacing look on his face as he glanced at Nick, but it gave way to confusion at Jerry’s frantic panic.

“What’s going on, Jerry?” Shane asked.

“I need my keys, RIGHT NOW!” he yelled. “Help me look!”

“Jerry,” Nick said, alarm creeping into his voice, “I hit a RIDE program on the way here, and you're bombed. You can’t drive. What the fuck is going on?”

“Laney,” Jerry choked out, coming to a halt in the middle of the room. “Laney…”

“What about Laney?” both Nick and Shane asked at the same time.

“She’s on her way to the hospital. They think she overdosed…” Jerry covered his face with his hands, breathing heavily.

Nick looked at Shane, hatred bubbling up in Nick's gut, but the guy looked like he was going to sink right through the floor and die.

Later, Nick thought. He and I can do this part later.

“I’ll drive,” Nick said, looking Shane in the eye.

Shane nodded once, and they all piled into his Sunfire, Jerry’s face still in his hands, his shoulders shaking like he might be crying, and Shane burning a hole in the glass, his eyes on fire.

Nick drove thirty kilometres over the limit the whole way to the hospital.

They didn’t hit a single RIDE program.