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CHAPTER NINETEEN
Asher
We were around the corner from where the bar was located and I stopped the truck again. I glanced at Melody; her cheeks were flushed and she didn’t look well.
“Do you want to stay in the truck while I go in?”
“No. I think I’d like to go visit their bathroom. Then maybe order a ginger ale or something.”
“Okay. That sounds like a good idea. I want to go in and act like customers anyway. I don’t want to tell anyone who I am right away. If anyone asks, we’re on our way to Bend, Oregon.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
“You sure you’re up for this?”
“Yeah, I’m just a little carsick, that’s all. I’ll be fine with some food and drink.”
I pulled into the small parking lot beside the bar. It was two in the afternoon and sweet music flowed into my ears as we opened the door and entered the bar. There was a band up on stage, two women harmonizing along with four guys. They were good. Strange, I thought, that they would be performing in the middle of the day. I looked around and didn’t see many customers. We headed to the bar and I pulled out a stool for Mel. The guy behind the bar walked up to us.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll take a Coke and a ginger ale for her. Where is your bathroom?” I said.
He pointed behind us. “Straight back past the stage and then left at the first door.”
Mel got up and walked to the head. I watched her go. I hoped she began to feel better soon, or this trip was going to be a drag. She walked right in front of the stage, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from the band. I knew just by looking at them who the two guys in front were. I didn’t know which one was Jackson and which one was Brodie, but that had to be them. Their features were similar to mine, and this was their bar. I didn’t know they played in a band, though. That was one point in their favor. If thatwasthem.
The bartender placed the Coke in front of me and the ginger ale in front of the stool where Mel had been standing before she left. I picked up the Coke and sipped. “Hey, who’s the band?” I asked the bartender.
“That’s The Beaumont Brothers. The two guys in front are the leads. The one on the keyboard is Jackson, and the one on the bass is Brodie.”
I turned around to watch them play. They were good. They seemed cool. I had to find a way to introduce myself. I’d thought about a hundred different scenarios regarding what I would say when we got here, but now that I was here, all of those words sounded stupid. “Hey, I’m your brother.” Or “Funny thing, I’m your half-brother.” Or how about, “You’re gonna laugh…” None of them seemed to work right now. I didn’t think any of this was funny. I just didn’t know how to approach them. At that very moment, the band stopped playing.
“They perform three nights a week,” the bartender said. “Stick around and you can watch them tomorrow night.”
“I might.”
Just then, I felt a cold and wet nuzzle on the wrist of the hand I had braced against the seat of the barstool and turned to see a large brown dog. His droopy forehead and floppy ears were typical of a hound dog, and his wagging tail suggested he was friendly. He was a beauty.
“That’s Rufus,” someone said from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see the guy who had been playing the keyboard. Jackson.
“Nice dog,” I said, patting Rufus on the head. His fur was smooth to the touch, and when I stopped petting him, he plopped down on the floor at my feet. Not annoying me to pet him more like so many dogs did. I could tell he was well trained.
“He’s the best. And you should stay and listen. We’re not bad. Hey, Derrick, let me have a water. No ice, please.” He smiled at me. “So, welcome to Turtle Lake. Are you just passing through or new to our little town?”
“Just passing through on our way to Bend, Oregon,” I lied. “But I think we might hang out for a while. Take a little vacation. We aren’t in any hurry.”
“This is a great place to hang. I ought to know. I’ve been hanging here practically my whole life, give or take a few years here and there. I’m Jackson Beaumont.” He stuck his hand out.
“Ash,” I supplied and shook his hand.
The bartender placed a glass filled with water on the counter and Jackson picked it up, drank down the entire contents then placed the empty tumbler on the bar. Mel came out of the bathroom and sat in the stool next to me. “This is my friend, Melody. Mel, this is Jackson.”
“Nice to meet you, Melody.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“You feel okay?” I asked her.
