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she said.
    He nodded. He seemed a little embarrassed. “If you like I can turn on the TV for you.”
    “That’s okay,” she said. “I’m going to go into the washroom and use all these nice things you bought. But you go ahead.”
    As she closed the door to the washroom she heard him turning on the TV behind her. Why did her life have to be like this? Why couldn’t she have found such a nice, caring guy back in Montreal? Why did she have to meet him here, under these circumstances, now that her freedom had been taken away from her?

VIII
    R OSE AND PATRICE SAT NEXT to each other on the bed and watched mindless television shows all afternoon. She must have eaten three or four donuts and he also ordered some pizza which she devoured. She really had been starving but slowly she felt her strength coming back to her. She never forgot just how awful her situation was, but having a friend like Patrice almost made it all bearable.
    After finishing the pizza, Patrice looked at his watch. “I better go wait outside,” he said. “Someone else is coming to watch you at seven. I don’t want them to see us cozying up like this. Serge won’t let me guard you anymore if he realizes I like you.”
    Rose almost dropped the soda can she was holding.
    “What?”
    Patrice looked at her and she couldn’t believe it. He was actually blushing.
    “You like me?”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “No I don’t.”
    “I mean, you’re a nice person. I wish this wasn’t all happening to you.”
    “But if it wasn’t happening, we’d never have met,” she said.
    Patrice blushed even harder. Rose was surprised at herself. She was flirting with him. She was smiling. She was smiling because she was actually happy. How could that even be possible? She’d just found out that her life was being taken from her, that everything she’d been living for back in the city was gone forever, and here she was, sitting on a bed next to this prospect for the DRMC, the club that had killed her father, and she was smiling.
    “Anyway, what I’m saying is, it’s better if no one knows that we’re friends. I know Serge wouldn’t like it. He might even get jealous.”
    “Well I won’t tell anyone.”
    “I better clear up the food and everything.”
    “What about the stuff you bought me?” Rose looked down at the t-shirt and sweatpants she was wearing. She really didn’t want to have to get back into the racing suit.
    “They’re fine,” Patrice said. “Serge told me to get you those. He doesn’t want you to die or anything. He told me to feed you too.”
    “Okay,” she said.
    She watched him clear up the pizza box and soda cans and the coffee and donuts from earlier. He put everything in a garbage bag and then brought it down to a trash can in the parking lot. Rose got up and went to the door. She went out to the landing. It was an open walkway with the doors to the various motel rooms on one side and a view down to the parking lot on the other. She leaned on the rail and watched Patrice walk across the lot.
    She wondered if she’d be able to forge a life for herself in this place. Maybe it would be possible to create something here, something with Patrice. She knew she was being silly, unrealistic. She was allowing herself to dream, to get attached to Patrice, and that was the one thing she shouldn’t have been doing.
    Hope could be a dangerous thing if you let it creep into a world in which it didn’t belong. She’d learned that when she was very young. After her father and the rest of the Sioux Rangers had been wiped out, she’d been taken into the care of the City of Montreal. She’d spent some time in institutions, some time with foster families. She’d gone through some pretty tough times before finally being placed with a couple who were able to give her the care and support she’d needed.
    *
    W HILE PATRICE WAS CROSSING THE parking lot another bike pulled in. Rose couldn’t see who was riding it in the dimming light of the