Chapter Ten A Cheeseburger Fit for The Gods
?
“This is a little more my speed.”
Dave’s Bar & Grill was a well-lit, old-time establishment that believed the secret to a successful business was no secret at all. Give the customers what they want. Dave’s customers wanted good beer, good burgers, and a good time with their friends. His restaurant was designed to deliver precisely that.
Mike grinned as a dart zinged past him through the air, burying itself dead center in the target on the opposite wall. This was met with a chorus of applause and shouts of approval from a bevy of onlookers. Cameron blushed shyly, ill-used to this amount of attention and praise. He clinked his bottle against Mike’s when it was offered, and the two enjoyed a cold swig of IPA.
After his first beer, Cameron had managed to stop grimacing every time he forced himself to swallow. After his third, he’d begun to loosen up.
“So, who taught you?” Mike asked, unbuttoning the high collar on his shirt and loosening his tie so it dangled on both sides of his neck. “Or were you just born with natural ability?”
“My father taught me,” Cameron replied without hesitation, copying Mike and adjusting his clothes. “He threw spears with me every afternoon when I was growing up. I suppose it’s more or less the same concept. Balance, precision… centering one’s focus to avoid losing a limb.”
Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “Spears, huh? Was he some sort of survivalist? Or like a martial arts master?”
“No, just a kindhearted man who wanted to indulge my childhood fantasies.” Cameron turned the dart over in his hands, remembering. “I wanted to be a great warrior.”
“Bruce Lee?”
“The archangel Michael.”
Mike’s beer paused on its way to his lips before he gave a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, okay, I can see it.”
Cameron let another dart fly, again hitting dead center, again meeting with a cheer from the growing crowd of onlookers.
“You know, if you have half as much talent with a ball, you should come to our next soccer practice. We’re a man down since James broke his arm.” Mike flashed him a grin. “Or do you call it football? You look like you might be one of those people.”
Cameron hesitated but couldn’t help but feel supremely touched. “I’ve never played organized sports before, but I would be honored to try.” Bolstered by this success, he decided to push his luck. “How about that game last night?”
“What game was that?”
The angel froze in a moment of panic before lowering his eyes to the floor. “Checkers.”
Mike let out a howl of laughter as he took the darts from his companion’s hand. For all his earlier suspicion, he was clearly growing to like the dart-wielding angel.
The ladies, meanwhile, were leaning tipsily against one another at the bar, absurdly overdressed for the venue in a tangle of black silk and sapphire satin. After a couple of perilous rounds of darts, in which Sherry very nearly blinded two people and Brie broke a clock, they’d decided this was a game for lesser beings. Instead of attempting it further, they were waiting for their next round and talking conspiratorially about their respective escorts.
“—It wasn’t until he turned around that I developed a full appreciation for the uniform.”
Brie snorted some IPA into her sinuses, trying not to laugh. “I would’ve paid good money to see you shouting at him about your shoes while he tried to give you a ticket,” she said, having no trouble imagining the scenario to perfection. “I can’t believe you never told me he’s a cop! I would’ve… I would’ve checked my brake lights.”
Sherry threw back her head, laughing. “Yeah, I’m super guilty of withholding major life developments, Brie, and I feel horrible about it.”
“Fair enough.”
Brie grinned but felt the sting of truth in Sherry’s words. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Cameron right away.” The two looked over to see the men laughing and talking together like old friends. “I didn’t know what to say. He’s a little hard to explain. The whole thing is hard to explain.”
Sherry shot her an appraising look. “I get that. It’s all happening fast, Brie. Very fast. How are things going with him?”
Brie contemplated with a little frown, swirling her beer in slow circles. “I think things are going well. Honestly, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind, and I haven’t had a chance to slow down and process things, you know?”
Sherry nodded thoughtfully, swirling a drink of her own. “Well, I understand why you’d get swept up in the romance of it all. He’s very dreamy.”
It was a hard point to refute.
The angel stood a head taller than nearly everyone around him, emanating a radiance so out of place in the little dive bar that it was well and truly absurd.
“I mean, it’s like somebody gift-wrapped a fantasy and dropped him right into your lap,” Sherry mused. “But I have to ask — and tell me if I’m out of line here — how much do you actually know about him? He seems nice, don’t get me wrong. But he’s also a little…”
In a rather odd bit of timing, Cameron found himself swept away in the general spirit of the place and started singing a sea shanty that likely hadn’t been heard since the 1800s.
At first, his fellow patrons looked at each other in acute embarrassment, wondering if someone should do the responsible thing and confiscate his keys. Still, by his second time through the chorus, they’d all hoisted their drinks aloft and joined in, stomping their feet on the ground in rhythm and chanting about “bully boys,” whatever those were. The song seemed to speak to some primordial part of Mike’s Irish roots. He was sloshing a tankard of beer around like he was on a pirate ship, singing at the top of his lungs and having the time of his life.
Between the wine at The Grey Duck and the multiple sidecars and beers the bartender had supplied, the girlfriends were in no condition to process the scene. They merely laughed with the rest, holding onto the counter for balance, tears running down the sides of their faces.
When at last they quieted down, Brie turned to Sherry, a flush of color still splashed across her cheeks. “Not enough, Sher. I don’t know him nearly well enough. But I’m working on it.”
Sherry dabbed at her eyeliner, still grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll say this for him, Brie. The man knows how to turn a party. I’m going to find Mike and grab us a seat. Who gave him that glass, anyway? He’s going to put someone’s eye out.”
Sherry went to search for her boyfriend as the bar patrons broke into a round of cheers as the song ended. Many made their way back to the bar, where Brie had climbed precariously onto one of the stools and was spinning herself happily back and forth.
One of the customers jostled against her, nearly tipping her off her seat. “Oops, sorry. Oh, hello there.”
The intoxicated man attempted to right himself, but ended up leaning heavily on the bar, well inside her personal space. He inhaled and ran a hand through his hair, looking at her hungrily. “Hav’ you ever been arrested?”
She blinked in surprise, trying to keep him in focus. “Excuse me?”
“Have you ever been arrested?” he repeated. “Because it must’ve hurt when you fell from the sky.” He stopped and squinted, vaguely aware he’d made a mistake. “From Heaven,” he amended, nodding with satisfaction.
She gave him a pitying look. “Okay, buddy. I think you’ve had a few too many. This?” She drew a circle in the air with her finger, indicating the two of them. “This isn’t going to happen. Go back to your friends.”
She’d already turned her attention to the bar when he grabbed her by the shoulder and tried to spin her around. “Hey, wait a minute. You didn’t tell me your name.”
She wasn’t exactly in fighting form, but she was having none of this. “Don’t touch me.”
He put his hand on her arm again. “I jus’ wanna—”
There was a streak of color, and a chocolate curl blew back from her face.
Just like that, Cameron was standing in between them. His face was calm, but his eyes were all kinds of angry, focusing on the man in a way that suddenly reminded Brie he was able to shoot lightning bolts from his hands. “The lady told you not to touch her.”
The drunk leaned back, half-convinced he must be dreaming. “Whoa, whoa! I was jus’ trying to—”
“Don’t.” Cameron leaned ever so slightly closer, simmering with a quiet rage. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Mr. Pratchett. Mr. Jason Pratchett.”
He leaned closer still and whispered something unintelligible in the man’s ear.
Jason Pratchett started to tremble uncontrollably. He dropped his beer and practically ran to the bathroom, looking like he was going to be sick. In a strange way, it reminded Brie of the way Denise had inexplicably calmed her raging patient, silencing him with a few memorable words.
“What did you say to him?”
Those piercing eyes flashed her way, then gentled immediately upon seeing her. A moment later, they were the same as always, twinkling down at her with a mischievous look. “A gentleman never tells.”
“Oh, come on. Tell me.”
“Guilt is a powerful emotion to prey upon,” he answered vaguely. “And the guy looked like the type to have something on his conscience.”
She considered this a drunken moment, before gazing up at him once more.
“That’s smart,” she mused, trying not to slur. “You’re smart, you know that? And you’re adorable. And… and I liked that song you sang about the fishes.”
He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bottle. “How many of those have you had?”
“Just a few. And a sidecar. Two sidecars. Do two sidecars make a whole car?” Her eyes widened. “Did I drink a car?”
“Okay. Let’s get you home.”
“No, wait! We can’t!”
“Why, what’s happening?”
“The burgers. We can’t just leave them!” She spun her chair around and flung her arm dramatically towards the kitchen, endangering all the glassware in her radius, just as a waiter brought out a tray with four plates heaped with burgers, fries, and onion rings.
The angel watched her for a moment, then spun the barstool back around, so she faced him. Her cheeks were pink with liquor and flushed a shade deeper as he brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.
“You know what, Ms. Weldon? You are utterly ridiculous.”
She grinned and touched her forehead to his. “I know.”
He helped her down from her perch on the barstool, and they made their way over to the booth Mike and Sherry had commandeered. The waiter placed their meals before them, then went back for Cokes.
“And several tall glasses of water,” added Cameron.
“And a root beer,” added Sherry.
Brie whirled around in a sudden panic. “Cam,” she said with hushed urgency, “I didn’t even think to ask. I mean, I had no idea what the food was at the last place anyway, but are you going to be able to eat something like this? Not like… not like a plant eats sunlight?”
Sherry gave him a strange look.
“Honey, are you a vegetarian? Why didn’t you say something?”
“No, I’m not,” he assured everyone quickly. “This looks delicious.” With a discreet squeeze to her palm, he lowered Brie’s blood alcohol level by half. “This has all been a little fast,” he added. “I suppose we forewent some of the more traditional get to know you exchanges. I’m definitely not a vegetarian.”
Mike stared in silence. “Did you just say ‘forewent?’”
Sherry’s moan of pleasure cut through all other conversation. The others looked at her curiously, and she closed her eyes in blithe rapture. “I’m eloping with this burger. Sorry, dear.”
Mike grinned and tucked in himself.
Brie nibbled a fry and watched her angel with intense curiosity, eager to know how the next moments might unfold. With a look that bordered on martyrdom, he picked up his burger as though this was a dreaded test he had to pass and adjusted his posture to resemble Mike’s — elbows just off the table, leaning slightly forward, ignoring the sauce that dripped steadily onto the plate.
There was a suspended moment, and with a scrunched-up nose, he took a tentative bite.
It was like watching a man’s world change from black and white to vivid color. His eyes grew wide as saucers. He took a deep, quaking breath that seemed to shiver its way through him, head to toe and straight to the core of his being. He closed his eyes and chewed in a state of bliss, completely unaware that he was making some truly obscene noises. Sherry stopped in the middle of an anecdote, and the rest of the table paused, looked at each other, and simply lowered their own food to watch as he took another bite, then another. He inhaled the entire thing in about ten seconds, moaning scandalously the entire time, not looking around him for a moment until it was gone. Then he looked up, breathing hard. Without warning, he hit the table with his palm, making everyone jump, and pronounced with a level of gravitas that had no place in Dave’s Bar & Grill, “That was the most gratifying thing I have ever experienced.”
A titter of amusement went through the neighboring tables.
His own companions hadn’t yet recovered enough to do anything but stare.
“Gar?on!” Cameron bellowed, making everyone jump again, including the unsuspecting college student who was waiting their table that night.
The waiter came straight over and pulled out his pen and order pad. If he’d learned anything during his time at Dave’s Bar & Grill, it was to keep the drunks satiated and not be visibly thrown by their theatrics for any reason, no matter how ridiculous. “What can I get you, sir?”
“We require more of these delectable burgers. Mike, will you have another?” Mike opened his mouth, but Cameron didn’t wait for a response. “At least three more. With more of the…” He turned to the table. “What is the orange square?”
Brie was frozen in shock, so Sherry answered with a baffled, “Cheddar?”
“Cheddar!” Cameron’s eyes danced in wild delight. “My good man, if it does not inconvenience the chef, would you please ask him to add extra cheddar to the burgers? And do pass on my compliments. What he has done here,” he gestured to the food as his eyes welled up with unshed tears, “transcends the realm of sustenance. Tell him he is an artist, and the world will surely take note.”
The waiter stared blankly for a moment before deciding that he’d seen worse. “Three burgers, extra cheese.”
“And my most sincere compliments to the—”
“And I’ll tell Frank you’re a fan.” The waiter walked off to the kitchen, shaking his head.
Mike let out a whooping laugh the second he was gone, clapping Cameron on the shoulder. “You are such a weirdo. I love it. Full on When Harry Met Sally , right in the middle of the local dive. Really humanizes you and makes up for the whole Ken doll thing.” He flashed a drunken grin, talking around a French fry as he kicked back and gave Cameron a thoughtful look. “So, I have a guess. Your parents were super religious, right?”
Cameron snapped out of his food frenzy and froze. “How did you…?”
Mike nodded as though this was all the confirmation he needed.
“You wanted to be the archangel Michael when you were a kid, you always talk like you’re in church or an eighteenth-century novel, you’ve clearly never had a beer or a burger before, and the fact that Hollywood hasn’t poached you yet means you must have been hiding out in Amish country because I don’t see how else they might have missed you.”
Brie glanced up in confusion. “Wait, who’s Michael, and why did you want to be him?”
“This isn’t the time, Brie.” Mike grinned. “Cam here needs to try a French fry.”
? ? ?
Cameron spent the next hour indulging in a feast of culinary delights.
Brie spent the time re-upping her blood alcohol level.
After three more burgers for Cameron and another for Mike, a small mountain of fries, some wide-eyed rapture when introduced to the concept of a root beer float, and one trip to the kitchen during which Cameron admiringly shook Frank’s hand and told him that he was “doing God’s work, and I should know,” the friends decided to take a rideshare service home and fetch their cars in the morning.
“Don’t forget, man.” Mike pointed to Cameron as they pulled up to Brie’s new house. “This Sunday. Do not bail on me. And do not be late.”
“This Sunday,” Cameron echoed obediently. “I will play all your sports.”
“Well, that promises to be entertaining.” Sherry giggled in the back seat, scooting aside as Mike climbed back in beside her. “See you tomorrow, love!”
The car shot off down the street, leaving Brie and Cameron on the sidewalk. They started heading slowly toward the house. It was quiet now, much quieter than the constant clamor of the bar. After a few seconds, he cast her a shy look. “What did you think?”
She considered a moment, then beamed at him. “I think it was a massive success.”
He chuckled under his breath as she spun around to face him. “And you . You, my book writing, burger devouring thanatologist,” she giggled at her own cleverness, impressed she’d remembered the word, “ you were wonderful.”
His cheeks colored with a rare blush. “Only because I had an excellent teacher to explain the finer points of human idiosyncrasies before we left.”
She grinned in return. “I am rather splendid, aren’t I?”
“You certainly are.”
She leaned abruptly closer, trying to keep her composure, darting quick glances at his lips. It had been a long time since she’d been in this position. The barrel of alcohol didn’t help. “You really think so?”
He glanced down in surprise, reaching out to steady her. “I really do.”
It was quiet for a moment as she studied him in the moonlight. He was all sunlit haloes in the daytime, but the moon had a different effect, making him quiet and silver, like a shimmering reflection. One that drew her ever closer. One that she was aching to reach out and touch.
“Do you know what else I think?”
He tensed ever so slightly, still holding onto her arms. “What’s that?”
She stretched onto her toes so the warmth of her breath feathered his cheek. A hypnotic spell overcame both of them, vanishing the surrounding scenery, as she whispered into his ear, “I think you’re very… very…”
That’s when she blacked out.