Excerpt from Bar Harbor
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I’m flying in a putter over small islands on the Northeast coast of America. The plane, built to seat five or so, sits me and two other white hairs. Our pilot, a sweaty, pot-bellied forty-something-year-old, appears hungover.
One of the white hairs is all smiles and grins. “I’m Sam!” He shouts, the engine roaring in our ears.
“Charlie!”
“Where you from?”
“Texas.”
“Ahh, Texas. Wonderful place. Bad PR. What are you doing out here?”
“Meeting a buddy. He’s a musician. Supposed to have a show.”
“Oh, yeah? Where at?”
“At the house we’re staying at. Private event.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Bar Harbor. Mt. Desert Island.”
“Fancy.”
I could make no more effort to communicate. We looked out the windows and down below at the passing archipelagos. Half an hour later we land at small Bar Harbor airport. A bald man in a t-shirt, plaid shorts and flip flops is standing there looking around. “You Charlie?” He says in a high, raspy Boston accent. “Scatt,” he says. “We betta’ hurry. Yer buddy Kody is landing about an hour away in Bangor in forty five minutes.” Outside a brand new jeep with no roof is still running. We load up and tear off. Scott is the personal chef of our host. Our host, Erek, is responsible for hosting this years backgammon conference. Each year, a group of the best and friendliest players gather to hang out, play, train and talk about who’s up and who’s down. And Scott is busy running around keeping everyones belly full. He’s on a schedule. Breakfast at eight, lunch around noon, dinner seven thirty sharp and snacks in between. “These fucking guys can eat,” he says. At first he’s got this tightness to him that loosens up in a flash when we drive past a casino and I say, “Is that a casino?” “You like the casinos ehh?” “I could play some blackjack.” He becomes electric with excitement. Tells me he gets one day off a week and spends it at the casino. “Maybe if there’s time we can go after we get your buddy?” he says looking over at me to see my reaction. In Bangor we arrive before Kody lands. I have not seen him in a year. We had a falling out over something I cannot recall but picked back up a few months ago. White t-shirt, black jeans, guitar case and a duffle bag, he from California, me from Texas, we hug like brothers and load up. Back in the Jeep Scott is waiting for me to say the word casino. He’s driving slow, scared I’ve forgotten the sworn oath to go to the casino on this day that was supposed to be his day off if it weren’t for him having to play chauffeur. “How about the casino?” I say. We’re both on Kody’s watch now. He’s the guest of the host. We’re just servants and pals. Kody agrees to it. Scott spasms orgasmically and takes the next freeway exit. We park in a garage parking lot and enter through a side door. The hallway is decorated in authentic old black and white movie memorabilia. Scott disappears. “You play?” I ask Kody. “I have one vice. Smoking pot,” he says. I put a hundred dollars down at one of the blackjack tables and double it then spend the rest of the time walking around catching up with Kody. He’s broke. And the original plan to stay at the models after Bar Harbor is not happening. He says, “When I got there there was a large yellow envelope on the table. Full of acid, ecstasy, coke, mushrooms and a fuck ton of weed. I was like well here we go.” He stared off into space. “She was bat shit amigo. Bat shit. Same as the rest” “Who was she?” “Some model. kim k shared one of her stories and she blew up. One night we ate a bunch of acid and laid in bed talking about our fathers. Her’s is locked away in Texas on a trafficking cocaine charge.” “Jesus.” “Yea.” “Well what happened?” “Different people. She wanted to lay in bed all day and watch tiktok videos. That’s how she asked me. ‘You wanna watch tiktok videos?’ Like some fucking kid. It was absurd. Then she just went berserk. Wanted to go ride jet skis in the fucking East River. I’m like what about me makes you think I wanna go ride jet skis in the East River? Then she’s all why are you so difficult? and I’m like can you just walk out the door without googling what to do? I mean where is the serendipity, the flow, the chance of discovery if all you’re doing is planning your direction based on google reviews?” He blew air out his nostrils. “And to think of all those little girls all over the world fantasizing about being these women. Brother you would have been shocked to discover how boring her life was. Looked good from instagram though and I guess that’s all-that-matters.” A few seedy casino guests stared us down. “So we’re not going to Brooklyn?” “Nah. We’ll do one better. I got a buddy in West Village who has a friend whose husband just died and needs some company so we’ll go stay in the spare room. Only thing is I know you’re tight too but can you get me a hundred and twenty bucks for the rooms?” We pass by a blackjack table, I put a hundred twenty down and after a few hands pull two hundred forty off the table and hand Kody his share. “Just like that huh?” “Sometimes.” “Where is this fucking jamoke let’s get out of here.” We find Scott deep into some Chinese game. Kody, with all his ability to command, says, “Let’s go.” And Scott collects his winnings and peels himself off the table. Back in the jeep we’re flying. We pass a few mom and pop outdoor shops and clam chowder joints. Kody sees an old LL Bean shop and almost jumps out of the jeep. "We’ll have to go back there!” he shouts from the shotgun seat.
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