Lake on the Mountain. Jeffrey Round

For now.”

      “Yeah? Then why’s he always running around half-naked, doing E at clubs and acting like he’s still in his twenties? He’s a doctor, isn’t he?”

      “He’s still a big kid at heart.”

      “I’ll say.”

      Dan took a pull from his beer and set the bottle on the table. “Anyway, it’s not as if I have options.”

      “And it’s not as though you advertise, either. When was the last time you went out to a bar?”

      Dan shrugged. “I don’t get lucky in bars — I just get drunk. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m no beauty.”

      “No, Sugar, you are not, but you have a very tight, trim body the older boys love because it makes them feel like powerful daddies, and the younger boys enjoy because it makes them feel desired by a hot, sexy man. So everyone’s happy.” Donny looked askance at Dan. “What about you?”

      “Don’t be a spoilsport.”

      Donny glanced over at Ked again. “The boy was asking how come you and I don’t date any more.”

      Dan took another pull on his beer. “What’d you tell him?”

      “I said I only fuck white boys to hear them scream, and I don’t date you because I couldn’t respect you if I did.”

      Dan threw a hamburger bun at him. It glanced off Donny’s shoulder and rolled across the table.

      “Asshole! You did not say that. And as I recall, you’re the one who screamed on our dates. Good thing I told Ked not to believe a word you say about me.”

      “Well, I think I once told him his daddy was pretty sizeable for a white boy. He told me his mother said the same thing.”

      Dan laughed quietly. “Bastard.”

      “What? It’s true! It’s a monster.”

      “You don’t need to tell my kid that.”

      “Don’t you want him to grow up to be proud of you?”

      “Not for that.”

      “Suit yourself.” Donny crossed his arms and turned away. He waited a moment before looking back. “So you and Miss Doctor are getting along these days?”

      Dan shrugged. “He’s unreliable and takes forever to return calls, but he’s great in the sack....”

      “And you say I reduce everything to sex!”

      “… which you do … plus I’m going to meet some of his friends this weekend. Did I mention that the wedding we’re invited to is on a yacht?”

      “Ooh! A yacht even!” Donny made a face. “The girl’s classy for a low-down bitch. Where’d she buy these friends?”

      Dan stabbed the air with a finger. “You are a total asshole.” But he was laughing.

      “It’s my greatest charm....”

      “You have no charm,” Dan said, emptying his beer. “One of the guys getting married is Bill’s oldest friend. They went to school together. Upper Canada College and a few years of university somewhere.…”

      “You and your rich boys.”

      “I was still born in the gutter.”

      “And you’ll die there, if you don’t stop dating men like Bill. Like most poor folk, you confuse money with class.” Donny peered intently at Dan. “You used to be a regular prolie when I met you — rough around the edges and wet behind the ears — but somewhere along the line you picked up some pretty bourgeois tastes.”

      Dan snorted. “Really? And what about you?”

      “Moi?” Donny splayed a hand against his chest — Marie Antoinette before the tribunal, disavowing all knowledge of privilege. “I’m as middle-class as they come. Which is why you stopped dating me. It’s okay, though. I respect you now. But do tell about the wedding. It sounds very recherché.”

      “Let’s have some Scotch first,” Dan said, rising.

      Donny’s hand went up. “I’ve had enough for tonight. Haven’t you?”

      “Maybe.” Dan sat back and cupped his hands behind his head. “Anyway, I don’t know much about the wedding yet, but it promises to be fun. I’ve never spent an entire weekend on a boat before. Just me and Bill and a bunch of rich folk.”

      “Rich white folk, no doubt. And where does the prideful event take place?”

      “Somewhere in Prince Edward County, half an hour east of Kingston. Ever hear of a place called Glenora?”

      Donny took so long to answer that Dan thought he hadn’t heard his question. “Yeaaah ...” he said finally. “Something about a freak lake?”

      “I don’t know anything about a lake, freak or otherwise, but they make a very nice pale ale.” He held up the bottle of Glenora Red Coat he’d just finished.

      “Oh, is that why.…”

      “Just sampling the local wares.”

      “And here I thought you were getting cheap on me.” Donny shook his head. “No, man — this place is famous. There’s some strange geological phenomenon like nowhere else in the world. It’s up on a mountain somewhere. Apparently it has no incoming source of water, but never runs dry.…”

      “Underground streams?”

      “Maybe. I don’t remember.”

      “You sure you don’t want another drink?” Dan asked.

      Donny put down his bottle and stood. “Thank you, no. I must depart.”

      “It’s about time. I thought you’d never leave.”

      “And that’s the only reason I stayed this long.” Donny looked over at Ked. “Say goodbye to the kid for me.”

      “Take some cake?”

      “Please!” Donny made a face. “Keep it for your doctor.”

      Ralph sniffed curiously at Donny as he passed through the kitchen then turned back to his bed.

      “Thanks for coming,” Dan said. “Ked was thrilled you made it.”

      “Me too.” Donny filled the doorway. “It was fun to celebrate somebody else’s birthday for once.”

      They hugged as Donny’s fingers felt around Dan’s midriff. “Still not an inch of fat on you. I don’t know how you do it, with all the drinking you do.”

      “Willpower,” Dan said. “That and light beer.”

      Donny smiled. “You have a good weekend, Sis. And take notes — sounds like it’s going to be trés elegant. I expect you to come back with lots o’ dirt. I want to hear all about how the rich and filthy-minded live. I need to compare notes!”

      “I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

      An hour later, Ked was packed off to bed. Dan had cleaned up the porch and headed inside. After pouring himself a final drink, he put away the bottles of alcohol. Upstairs in his study, he turned back to the folder containing the file on the runaway, Richard Philips. He read the report again, and again laboured over the photograph. Something about the boy’s eyes — some vulnerability — wouldn’t let him go. Finally, he closed the file and turned off the machine.

      Three

      Coffee and Donuts

      Dan’s heart pounded beneath the sheet. The phone was halfway through the second ring. The caller ID strip glowed green: bell payphone — 3:34 am. It might be Bill calling to say he’d finished his shift, though he usually crawled