Chapter 9
JACK SEEMED to stare past the dark neon decorations and through bar’s dark wood walls, a thousand yard stare that sent disturbing flutters through my stomach. His vagueness annoyed me, but if I didn’t want to describe Doug’s transformation, how could I blame Jack for not wanting to talk about something? I took a long pull of the beer. “Thank you, sir.”
He nodded, his thoughts apparently still in the church down the road. “Hope you come on back. We all gotta hang together.” He shook his head, drained his bottle, and moved down the bar to the tired man in overalls.
I took a moment, one foot resting on the brass rail beneath the bar, to scribble in my notebook, then tapped the pen against the pad as if thinking. The taste of the beer lingered in my throat, but a fine taint of sco
