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“Maybe it means actively acquiring books by authors of color,” he said, “or promoting writers who have less of a voice in certain genres, like women in science fiction, men in romance…I don’t know. Somehow supporting a wider diversity of authors so the forest has more…birdsong.”
Sam didn’t respond. Embarrassment crawled up Lincoln’s neck.
“Or whatever,” he muttered. “Hey, is the deal still on?”
“You’ve still got time to give me three good reasons why someone would want to stay in Bliss Cove.” Sam pushed off the barstool. “Yeah, the deal’s still on. And Brooke wants you to come over for dinner one night. She thinks I’m being a shitty host.”
“You are.”
Sam chuckled. “You kind of suck as a guest, too.”
“Yeah.” Lincoln dredged up his “high road” mantra. “Look, I’m sorry for being an ass about Jake Ryan. I talked to him about it and apologized. I just don’t want to be involved in the movie.”
“Your call.” Sam pulled his car keys from his pocket. “What’re you doing after you leave Bliss Cove? Besides dealing with Folio.”
Afghanistan.Since Lincoln hadn’t gotten the final confirmation about his clearance yet, he said, “I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should use the time to figure out a plan.”
Lincoln watched his brother stride to the door. He rubbed his shoulder.
“You spend a lot of time here?” a voice asked.
He looked up as Ray Berry approached. “Not so much. You want a bacon burger?”
“I actually just came for a drink.”
“Come on.” Lincoln slapped the barstool Sam had just vacated. “My treat. I haven’t eaten dinner yet.”
With a shrug, Ray sat down. Lincoln asked Grant to bring Ray a beer on tap and started to put in an order for two bacon burgers. He paused and glanced at Ray. “Maybe you’d better have chicken or fish.”
“Christ, you sound like my doctor and my daughter.” Ray scoffed and pointed at Grant’s order pad. “Two bacon burgers with fries.”
Grant nodded and went to put the order in.
Ray took a sip of the beer and leaned his elbows on the bar. “Where’d you get the shiner?”
Lincoln made a mental note to look up the origin of that exact phrase. “Sparring with my brother.”
“I heard he was a pretty good boxer.”
“Better than me. Obviously.” Lincoln broke open a peanut. “You ever box?”
“No.” Ray squinted at his hands. “I grew up with it, though. My old man and I were big fans. He named me after Sugar Ray. Ali was my idol, though. My dad once took me to a championship fight down in LA. One of the best nights of my life. If I’d had the chance, I might’ve given it a shot. But I didn’t have the time or money to get into that kind of stuff.”
“You could try it now.”
Ray snorted. “Right.”
“Didn’t your doctor recommend exercise?”
“Walking, for god’s sake. Maybe biking. Not boxing.”
“You could do it for fitness, not competition.” Lincoln swiveled to face the other man. “Cardio, plus resistance and strength training. The gym has a track and a weight room in addition to the training equipment. Nothing fancy, but everything you need for a full-body workout. I bet your doctor would approve.”
“I’m too old for that shit.”
“Okay.” With a shrug, Lincoln turned back to his beer. “I hear they’re playing shuffleboard and bridge over at the senior center. That’s probably more your speed, huh?”
