The pain in my neck after sleeping with my back against the bathroom wall was unbelievable. I blinked and looked around the room, soaking in the realization that I'd spent the night in a bathroom. I came to my feet, rubbing my sore neck, and noticed that Ellie was gone. Well, at least I hadn't found her dead. I leaned over the sink and splashed some water on my face. My reflection looked tired. I needed a shave and a haircut. I looked like shit, in other words. Not exactly the look I wanted on the day of a job interview.

I trudged wearily across the living room, where Sean was parked on the couch eating a Pop-Tart. He whipped his head around in confusion. "You're up?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "I didn't even hear you go in."

Oh, right. Guess you missed the part where I was in the bathroom all night watching over your druggie girlfriend. "Yeah," I said, yawning. I went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. I was overcome with the haunting feeling that each morning I woke up, the day ahead seemed longer.

Sean didn't even ask where I was going when I left the house a few hours later, dressed in a clean black shirt and the only pair of jeans I owned that were hole-free. I showed up at Mark's Motors ten minutes late and stepped into the back office with a pretty unhappy-looking dude with a plastic name tag that read, "Leonard."

For the next half hour I shifted from side to side uncomfortably in my red plastic chair while Leonard looked over my application with scrutinous eyes and tossed gruff questions my way. I'm a charmer, by nature, good at giving people what they want. I mean, sure it's all bull shit, but even bull shitting takes a certain level of skill. Unfortunately, Leonard remained completely unimpressed with everything I had to say. I guess with the truth about me in black and white in front of him, there was only so much meaningless elaboration I could give him.

"Mr. Cameron, I'm gonna have to say my greatest concern is the length of your former jobs," said Leonard. He flicked his mustache and took a loud sip of his coffee. "You were fired from Holston's in 2001 after only eight months of employment?"

Eh. Holston's. It was a lousy gig, anyway. "Yes, well, the situation there was a misunderstaning. There was a family emergency, and I couldn't get into work one day. My boss was pretty unforgiving." Family emergency being my my mother calling me up in tears one day and saying if I didn't come get Sean and let him move in with me, he was going to jail.

"Mmhmm." Another flick of the mustache. I was taking that to be a bad sign. "And your next job, you quit after a year and a half?"

Yeah, that... that was a lousy gig, too. "I had to leave for personal reasons." Personal reasons being the owner was a dick and he was pushing me around. If there's one thing I won't give up, it's pride. At least that's what I thought two years ago. But with Leonard giving me those evil eyes, pride suddenly didn't seem so important.

"Mmhmm, and the job after that? For Tires Express?"

"I was given a better offer." Better offer being the Alberta dream-job. Where I went with Wendy.

"Yes, and that better offer... you quit in less than a year?"

Right, that. That wasn't exactly the best choice I made. "I had to deal with some... family issues." Family issues being a bitter, ungodly divorce.

Leonard sipped his coffee and glanced over my application again. I shifted again as he left me to sit in awkward, hopeless silence. At last he stood up, signaling to me that the interview was over. I stood up as well and reached out to shake his hand. "We'll review your application and call you in the next few days," he said, shaking my hand so weakly I knew the outlook wasn't good. "But I'm going to have to tell you flat out, I don't think there's much chance of this working out, Mr. Cameron. Your record just isn't as reliable as we generally look for."

In other words, fuck off, you lousy bum. I nodded and mumbled a thank you, anyway, before getting the hell out of there as soon as possible. It's just one job, I tried to tell myself. Don't get angry. It's just one job. It didn't help. I still slammed the door and pounded on the gas pedal harder than I should have, speeding away from Mark's Motors, never to return.

I went to Phil and Clint's apartment and let myself in. Clint was sprawled on the couch with a bong, watching reruns of British comedies on public television. Just looking into their apartment made me feel at least a little better about myself; my life wasn't quite THAT much of a shithole.

"Tracker, man!" Clint greeted, not bothering to get off his ass. "Wanna hit?"

"No thanks," I said, surveying the wasteland he called home. "Where's Phil? I brought his car back."

Clint shrugged and took a hearty hit from his bong. "Dunno. Haven't seen him since yesterday."

"Oh. Well... I hope he found a ride somewhere. I kind of jacked his car last night."

"Eh, I wouldn't worry about it. Phil disappears all the time. Shows up a few days later like nothing happened. It's all good."

Once Clint had fulfilled his daily buzz, he gave me a ride back to Red Lounge where my bike was waiting for me with a fifty-dollar ticket stuck to it. Just my fucking luck. I fired up the bike and angrily rode back home. The ticket in my pocket flared up all new disappointment over the job interview I'd blown.

The last thing I wanted to deal with, of course, was whiney teenagers. So naturally, the moment I walked in the door, I spotted Sean and Ellie in the kitchen, looking back at me with the guiltiest of faces. I sighed. "What it is it?"

"We need to talk," said Sean.

My initial thought was, shit, Sean's got the girl pregnant. And if that was the case, I so did not want to hear that shit at the moment. I had enough of my own messes to clean up without dealing with Sean's. "We'll talk later. I'm not in the mood right now." I went to the fridge and pulled out a beer, then made my escape out the back door as quickly as possible.

I popped open my beer and took a weighty gulp as I sat on the back porch. I stared at the white-trash clutter of my back yard. A graveyard of car parts and cigarette butts. An orange alley cat maneuvered through a hole in the fence. I looked up at the sun, high in the sky. It was barely past noon, and I was chugging a beer on my back porch. I'd reached a low mother fucking point.

I heard the screen door creak open. "Tracker?" said Ellie's soft voice.

"For the love of Christ," I groaned, not bothering to turn around. "Can't I get one god damn minute?"

"Sorry." She came and sat down beside me anyway. "Look, I'm not going to drag this out. I want to move in."

I felt a headache coming on; this was even worse than her being knocked up. "No way, man. Forget it."

"I won't be any trouble, I promise. I'll keep the house clean, I'll do all the errands. I'll get a job and chip in with the rent if I have to. Tracker..." I felt her sad brown eyes digging in to me, and I had no choice but to look at her. What a miserable face, I thought. There was nothing in her eyes that begged for pity; there was only the misery in her face. It spoke for itself, and it gave no excuses. "My mom and I got in a huge fight today. It was pretty messy. But she's agreed to go to rehab. I just need somewhere to stay while she's gone. Please. I've got nowhere else to go."

I reached into my jacket pocket and retrieved a cigarette. "Rehab, eh? Are you sure you shouldn't be going with her?"

Her eyes fell. She tugged at her sleeves and said nothing.

"Look, Ellie, here's the thing: you're trouble. You're a cutter, a druggie, a slut, and most of all, you're a liar. I realize your life is a little fucked up and all that, but welcome to the real world. Everyone's life is fucked up. All I want to do right now is get my life in order, okay? I sure as hell don't have time to deal with you and your baggage. Not to mention the fact that for the first time ever, Sean actually has a chance of going somewhere in his life. He has a chance, you know? The last thing he needs is you bringing him down and fucking it up for him."

I watched her face as I exhaled gray cigarette smoke in her direction. She looked like she'd just taken a bullet to the head. "How can you say that?" she snapped, acting for the first time as though she had some kind of pride to defend. Her voice was shaky, but determined all the same. "I love Sean. I'm the reasonSean's got a chance. I'm the one who's been here while you were GONE, Tracker. Don't... don't try to tell me that I don't care about Sean. I'm not perfect, but I'm no worse than you. You've got no right to judge me."

She was probably right, I realized with reluctance. But that didn't mean I had to help her. "I don't owe you anything."

"No... you don't. But you owe Sean. You know he wouldn't want me on the streets. Please, Tracker. Just do this. At least for Sean." She looked at me pleadingly. I tried to fight her eyes as I took another drag. She kept going when she realized I was fading. "I really have been getting better. I promise I won't cause any trouble. That razor you found was old. I haven't cut in months. And I've stopped seeing Spinner, too. I've been doing really good, I swear."

"Wait, what? Who the fuck is Spinner?"

Her skin got paler. "The guy you saw me with... at the store. I broke it off with him after I talked to you. And last night with Craig... I was just desperate, okay? Things with my mom were getting out of control, Sean was busy... I just wanted to get out of the house. All I'm asking for is a place to stay, Tracker, please..."

"All right, just stop." I brought my face to my hands and rubbed my temples. This was so much more shit than I wanted to know. "Just, shut up. You can stay, all right? But I don't want you bringing that shit with you, hear me? I'm not bringing you home wasted or lying to Sean for you any more, got it? The first time you fuck up, you're gone."

Ellie smiled, and I sighed. I knew I was going to regret this later.