Last Dance

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David Russell W.. Last Dance

Cover

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

ALSO BY DAVID RUSSELL

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Last Dance

David Russell

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My body replenished, I undertook the ten-minute walk back to my condominium and found it in its usual depressing condition. Living this close to the ocean is supposed to be a blessing along with a curse; one is blessed with the view of Vancouver’s remarkable English Bay but also cursed with the problem of never getting anything done wiling away the time staring out the window at the view. For several months, neither blessing nor curse had been an issue, given the large green tarpaulin hanging from roof to basement of the three-storey building. Like many of its contemporaries, my apartment building had succeeded in bringing in young urban professionals looking for a semi-upscale lifestyle but had failed miserably at what would seem the simple task of keeping out Vancouver’s notorious rain.

My view was now limited to the small sliver of a seam where two tarps joined right in front of my balcony. When the wind was blowing, sometimes the view through my vertical viewfinder would blow back and forth, like a filtered panoramic camera lens teasing with little bits of view. I used to pity the poor suckers who had fallen victim to the myriad unscrupulous contractors who sold them faulty buildings. Now I was one of them. I had sought to avoid being a victim by employing an independent building inspector to give me an unbiased, thorough inspection before I signed on the dotted line. Turns out there are all kinds of unscrupulous independent building inspectors too. I had almost made it through the campsite that had once been the building’s front foyer when a familiar though unpleasant voice rang out from the darkness. “Winston!” it barked.

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