Part 22 (1/2)
Ann slapped her hands on the table and leaned in. ”Let's go to the paper.”
”Somehow I think they'd be missing those issues.” Cameron drummed his fingers on the library table. He blew out a laugh. Of course! He knew exactly who to talk to. Unbelievable. Maybe his memory was returning.
It was time to pay another visit to Arnold Peasley and his newspaper museum.
CHAPTER 25.
After saying good-bye to Ann, Cameron sat in his car determined to find something to take his mind off Jessie, his memory loss, the book, Ann-everything. Even if it wasn't good for him. Yes, he and Ann were making progress on her history-Peasley had agreed to see him Friday afternoon-but he was still buried in six feet of Three Peaks dust in his search for the Book of Days.
The Peak Me Up Bar & Grill flashed into his mind. The sting of Jack Daniels and Wild Turkey had led him down a path of emptiness for six months till he'd broken its hold, but when there was little to live for, the city of Empty wasn't a bad destination. A few drinks couldn't hurt.
He pushed open the maple-colored bar door and ignored the voice inside screaming to walk away. Maybe it was Jessie's voice. Maybe his dad's. Maybe his own. It didn't matter. He was going to get plastered, kiss the world good-bye for two or six hours, and love every second of it. Or at least give it an Olympic effort.
The bar was empty except for two fortysomethings who racked b.a.l.l.s on a faded green pool table and the bartender who stared at a television that wasn't turned on.
Cameron sat at the bar on a maroon stool with silver legs that looked like it had been minted yesterday. No b.a.l.l.s dropped on the break, so the second man stepped up and tried to sink the six ball in the right corner pocket. He sank the eight ball instead.
The perfect commentary on Cameron's life.
”You're Cameron Vaux.” The bartender said it as if he were required, no emotion behind the greeting.
”Yeah, and you're the bartender.”
The bartender nodded, as if slightly perturbed.
”Sorry, I'm probably not happy enough for happy hour right now.”
”What can I get you?”
”Mr. Jack. Double shot.”
Thirty seconds later the drink sat next to him, its mellow whisky smell tempting him. But really, there was no temptation. The battle was over. Daniels had won.
He slid his fingers around the shot gla.s.s and watched the liquid bounce against the sides like a miniature pond in the wind.
Just a little liquid to set him free.
Cameron carried the drink over to a booth in the darkest part of the bar and stared at it. It was a good choice. As long as he was forgetting things, he might as well forget the futility of his life for a while. He ignored the voice still yakking away in his head and lifted the drink to his mouth.
”Nothing compliments a double shot of Jackie D better than a double-decker mushroom and Swiss burger over at The Sail & Compa.s.s.”
Cameron whirled to find the source of the familiar voice.
Taylor Stone stood to the left of the front door, next to the electronic dart board, arms folded, one ankle crossed over the other as he leaned back against the wall, a little knowing smile on his face.
”Mr. Stone. Good to see you.”
Taylor sauntered over to the bar and sat next to him. ”I suppose I could go through all the 'you don't want to do this, and are you sure this is the best choice right now speech,' but you're too smart for that to work. So let me just bluntly say you know where this road leads, so before you toss that double shot down your throat, why don't we get some food in your stomach?”
He stared at Taylor, then at the gla.s.s. Taylor Stone, his rescuer. Irony rears up to take a bow. Taylor Stone, the thorn in his flesh. Taylor Stone, the man with hidden answers about the Book of Days. Taylor Stone, the man with his own demons.
”Will you talk about the book?”
Taylor pushed himself up from the barstool and folded his arms again. ”You coming?”
Why not? Cameron took another look at the shot gla.s.s. He threw down a twenty-dollar bill, set the drink onto the middle of Abe's face, and strode with Taylor out the front door.
When Cameron stepped outside, he stopped to let his eyes adjust to the sun pounding down and turned to Taylor. ”The burgers are decent?”
”The best. Let's go.”
The Sail & Compa.s.s carried its theme throughout the restaurant. Pictures of sailboats adorned every wall, a drawing of an ancient-looking compa.s.s covered the front of the menus and the napkins. Even the ceiling was covered with the night sky, little white dots representing the constellations-nature's map for sailors.
They ordered and watched a Seattle Mariners' game on the big screen inside the bar while waiting for their food to arrive.
When the game went to commercial break, Cameron turned to Taylor. ”It seems odd to have a sailing themed restaurant this far inland.”
”Maybe this is the closest people around here will ever get to the water.”
”They could take a drive. It can't be over one hundred and fifty miles to the ocean from Three Peaks.”
Taylor tilted his head to the side. ”Want to bet?”
”Sure, loser pays for the burgers.”
”One hundred and fifty-seven miles to Newport. I win. You lose.”
Cameron tossed his cardboard coaster at Taylor and hit him in the stomach. ”You want to know why most of our conversations start off okay but drift into the realm of animosity?”
”Sure, enlighten me.” Taylor grinned.
”Probably because I get too close to the truth, pick away too much of your scab that covers it up, and you can't handle the pain.”
”Probably true.”
Cameron expected Taylor to respond with anger, but he didn't.
A moment later their plump waitress with her megawatt smile s.h.i.+mmied up to their table with their meals. As soon as Cameron's plate skidded to a halt on the table, he grabbed a handful of French fries and shoved them in his mouth.
”What are you doing there, sailor?”
”Trying to counteract the effects of Mr. Jack.”
”Uh, h.e.l.lo? You and Mr. Jack didn't end up meeting this afternoon.” Taylor laughed.
”What?”