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Back No Going Back: a Novel Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Part 1
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. Part 2
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. Part 3
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. Part 4
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. Part 5
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. Part 6
  67. 59
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. 69
  78. 70
  79. 71
  80. 72
  81. Acknowledgments
  82. About the Author
  83. Also by Sheena Kamal
  84. About the Publisher

“I respect that,” he says, though his voice is doubtful that he does. “But I’m not sure if I know where he is, if ya know what I mean.”

“Maybe this will help you remember.” There’s forty dollars in my wallet. I hand him twenty, in hopes that he comes cheap.

To my delight, he does.

“Joe sometimes works the door at the Van Club, for private events. If you don’t find him, come back. You can leave the cash with me.”

“Sure thing,” I reply, even though I have no intention of leaving any more money with him than I already have.

I look at my phone and think about calling Simone. I don’t do it, because if she wants space, that’s fine by me. She probably got wrapped up in work, hacking into servers and chatting about her various digital accomplishments with other cyber fanatics the world over. If that’s even what they do. I send her a text instead and even try out an emoji, for effect. It looks wrong, coming from me, and I immediately wish I hadn’t. Lesson learned.

In truth, I’m relieved that she’s ditched me for the night. I’m not sure I’m up for much conversation. My voice, normally deep, is venturing into Tom Waits territory. Traces of the smoke I inhaled during the warehouse fire in Detroit linger in the tissue of my lungs.

As I walk to the Van Club I hum a little to clear it, even though it hurts. I’m in tune, which isn’t surprising because it’s me, and I always am.

14

The first thing I notice about Joe Nolan is that he has a lopsided, little-boy smile that he directs only at the attractive women entering the Van Club. The smile disappears for the men and the average-looking ladies, even though they have money to spend, too. Nolan’s blunt features are softened by the smile, but nobody looks at him long enough to notice.

The club is a members-only affair and I’ve never received an invitation, but I’ve seen pictures. There’s no view like it in all of Vancouver.

With a membership, you can go in and see clear views of the harbor, see the seaplanes take off. On a cold night like this, you could be in short sleeves, sipping hot toddies by one of the fireplaces inside, looking out over your kingdom.

Without a membership you’re out on the pavement with me, watching a man smile at women who are so far out of his league they might as well be in a different stratosphere.