Part 22 (2/2)
”You didn't throw down that shot, Cameron. Are you okay?”
No. Not in front of Stone. Think. Did he swallow the drink? That's right, Taylor came and he ... paid for it but didn't ... Oh, wow. Cameron's stomach knotted like he'd swallowed a sixteen-pound bowling ball. He had to get a grip, keep Stone from seeing him panic.
”I guess I was so determined to have the drink when I went in, I thought I...”
”Relax; it's an easy thing to forget.” Taylor's mouth said the words, but his eyes and tone of voice disagreed. He stared at Cameron as if waiting for a confession.
”I haven't been sleeping well since I got here.”
Taylor grabbed the ketchup and squirted what looked like half the bottle in between his double-decker mushroom and Swiss burger and his fries. ”I know you want to talk about the book, but let me throw out a wild idea instead. You can decide to shoot me down in flames or go along for the ride.”
Cameron squinted at him. ”Okay.”
”Let's pretend you don't care about the Book of Days' legend, and I don't care that you have an obsession with it. We'll pretend we're old friends telling stories of the insane things we did in our late teens and early twenties. Hmm?”
He shook his head and gave a weak smile. How could Taylor know Cameron and his dad shared those kinds of stories with each other a few years after the disease took hold? Like how his dad set the unofficial record for getting from West Seattle to downtown by running every stoplight and stop sign along the route. How he swam across the bone-numbing waters of Hood Ca.n.a.l on a whim in the summer of '78.
Cameron rubbed his face. He missed those talks. He missed his dad.
”What's wrong?” Taylor said.
”My dad and I used to tell each other those kinds of stories.”
”Hey, we don't have to-”
”Nah, let's do it.” It might be the closest he could ever get to talking with his dad again.
By the time he was done with his hamburger-which was as good as Taylor said it would be-Cameron had told him about everything from the time as a teenager where he and two friends had filled up fire extinguishers with water and spent the night soaking everyone on the street they could find, to how in their early twenties Brandon and he had parachuted into the middle of a Dave Mathews Band concert at the Gorge Amphitheatre in eastern Was.h.i.+ngton.
Taylor arched an eyebrow. ”I'll bet the aftermath of that stunt was interesting.”
”It was a stupid thing to do. But we only spent one night in jail.”
After Taylor told of his rock concert days, experiments with drugs, and the time he outran a cop in his 1963 Chevy Impala SS, Cameron smiled. ”You were a certifiable wild child, Mr. Stone.”
”It was the sixties, there was no choice.” Taylor downed the last of his third c.o.ke. ”And I have to say, based on your stories from the early nineties, you would have, uh, fit right in with my group of friends.”
”I'll take that as a compliment.”
”It was meant as such.” Taylor raised his gla.s.s of now only ice and Cameron clinked his against it.
”To life.”
”To life,” Cameron agreed.
After their waitress took their plates, Taylor pulled out his wallet. ”Just so there's no argument, when the check comes I'll be paying.”
”Really. Why's that? I'm the one who needed rescuing from the bottle. You rescued; I should pay. Plus I lost the bet.”
Taylor wiggled his ears. ”First, because I asked you, second, penance for lying to you the other day at the jazz festival.”
Cameron frowned. ”How?”
”When I said I didn't know anything about a note threatening you if you didn't leave Three Peaks.”
”You didn't lie; you didn't say anything.”
”I knew the truth and didn't speak it. It's the same thing as lying.”
”So you did send the note.”
Taylor stared at him with a thin smile.
Cameron pushed himself back from the table, teetered back in his chair, and smiled. ”It's okay. I knew you sent it. Knew you were lying.”
”Oh, you did?” Taylor threw his Visa card onto the table and the waitress snagged it a few seconds later. ”I believe it. Most people are human lie detectors. Did you know the people who have the most trouble spotting a liar are other liars?”
”No.” Cameron shook his head and leaned forward in his chair. ”So you feel bad about the lie?”
”For the most part, yes.”
”Does this mean you're going to tell me what you know about the book?”
”On that count, I'm afraid I'll have to bring you a bit of disappointment.” Taylor looked at the ceiling and pursed his lips. ”But I do promise not to lie to you anymore, as long as we close the book on the subject. Pun intended.”
”Lousy pun.”
”So do you agree? The subject is closed?”
”I can't. I have to do this.”
Taylor stared at him, hands folded on top of his head. ”You're a good kid, Cameron. Really. But a secret is kept by one. However I will tell you this. No matter what you hear from anyone else, there is no Book of Days that you can leaf through like an old Sears catalog. Never was. Never will be. You can hang out here in town the rest of your life for all I care. In fact, I think I'd like it.”
Taylor lowered his hands from his head and leaned forward. ”I know I'd like it. But you'll never find a book where G.o.d has written down in heavenly black ink every moment of every man and woman's past, present, and future, no matter how long you search.”
”But you know more than you've told me.”
Taylor sighed and leaned back.
”You can trust me.”
Cameron saw the battle going on inside Taylor. Part of him wanted to talk. But it was like sneaking up on a three-point buck. The more noise he made, the quicker the deer would spook and bolt away.
This was a hunt Cameron had to let play out without cras.h.i.+ng through the woods like a rookie. The more he backed off, the better chance the war going on inside Taylor's eyes would turn in his favor. But Cameron was running out of time. The waitress brought their bill and Taylor's Visa card back.
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