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“Want a beer?” he asked, finally reaching the bottom and disappearing into a separate room.

“Yeah, sure.” Leaf took in the cozy basement furnished with three sofas and a round wooden table in the center. Among the ashtrays and empty beer cans, glass bongs, and small pipes a pungent aroma wafted in the air.

“Here, as always,” Nathan said, returning with two beer cans and a yellow envelope. “Have a seat.”

Leaf extracted the money from his pocket and placed it on the table. He sat on the brown leather sofa and unpacked the opium.

“It’s getting harder and harder to find this stuff,” Nathan said, opening the can with a loud hiss.

“I know,” Leaf murmured, lighting a cigarette and kneading small balls with his fingertips.

Deep down, he knew he had lost control after Milo’s death. But as long as he didn’t have the urge to shoot up again, everything was fine. At least he could keep telling himself that.

“Is it true?” Nathan asked, rolling a joint. “Tristan’s back?”

Leaf nodded weakly.

“Have you seen him?”

Leaf took a deep drag from his cigarette and exhaled loudly. The prolonged silence was all the answer Nathan needed. He leaned back on the black sofa and smoked his joint.

“Why aren’t you with him?” Nathan eventually asked. “I mean … you’re together, aren’t you?”

Yeah. Sort of.

Or aren’t we?

“I’m gonna swing by his place later,” Leaf said, taking the last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “It’s complicated.”

“How is he?” Nathan inquired.

“I don’t know. I wish I knew.”

“Haven’t you asked him?”

“He wouldn’t tell me the truth, probably.”

Nathan merely raised his eyebrows in an undefinable gesture and took a drag from his joint. “Shitty situation, what happened. And what do you plan to do now?”

“I’ll make sure Diego goes to jail.”

Nathan frowned. “But Diego didn’t pull the trigger.”

“No, but if it weren’t for him, it would have never come to this. I can only make amends for my guilt by putting him behind bars. The guy has enough dirt on him. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

“And what about Nightstalker?”

“We’re playing at the Whisky on Saturday.” Despite not believing it himself yet, the words came surprisingly easily from his lips.

“This Saturday?” Even Nathan couldn’t hide his surprise. “When was the last time you were in the rehearsal room? Even before this catastrophe, I haven’t seen you rehearsing at Gaucho for a long time.”

Leaf packed some black balls into the glass pipe and reached for the lighter.

“Leaf?”

He looked suspiciously at the black-haired photographer.

“It’s always the same,” Nathan said, holding out his open hand.