Who Kissed Charlie Fine?

Chapter 13

Martin dove into his breakfast like a rescued castaway.

"I've been dreaming about bacon all night," he said.

"Eat up," Charlie encouraged him. "I'm sure you're starving."

"Got to re-build my protective coating," Martin said, patting his stomach.

"By the way you tackled that coffee I thought you might want to stay dry for the day."

"The day, maybe. But it's almost noon. Noon's almost three o'clock and three's the new five when you're still on vacation."

"Up to you," said Charlie, palms facing out to show he had surrendered judgement.

"What's on for today anyway?" Martin asked.

"I thought we could take it easy and go see a movie. There's a new buddy-cop thing at the theatre that sounds like it might be fun."

Martin looked up from a runny yolk as though he'd forgotten it was his own birthday and Charlie had surprised him with a present, but it was moderate happiness compared to the look of sheer joy on his face when at the theatre they discovered the film they wanted to see was only showing in a VIP room that happened to serve alcohol.

Charlie managed to tip the usher who served them their snack order in their seats while graciously volunteering to hold two giant popcorns so that Martin could balance a large box of nachos on his lap while hogging both cup holders for his two cold beers. The bag of chocolate covered almonds slipped from between Charlie's knees to the floor where it stayed pinched between his feet until he was free enough to bend for it.

After the film, before heading back to Sterling's, they stopped off at a grocery store to pick up some bread and cold cuts to make sandwiches for later.

"Aren't we going out for dinner?" Martin asked, skimming through a gossip rag at the checkout.

"We can," said Charlie breezily, "but it's going to be a late night so I thought I'd get a nap in first and then see what we feel like doing."

"Oh yeah?" Martin said, stuffing the magazine backwards in the wrong rack. "And what exactly will we be up to that keeps us out so late?"

"We're going on a hunt for some controversial scotch," Charlie said archly.

Martin got very excited. "Like at a speakeasy or some underground kitschy joint? I'm down!"

Charlie, as always, spoke as honestly as he could. "We are going to a bar of sorts and there will be some very shady booze there, yes."

"Is this a secret place? Will we need a password to get in?"

"It might be very hard to get in. We'll know when we get there."

"Where is it? No! Don't tell me. I want to be surprised."

"You will definitely be surprised," Charlie confirmed and changed the subject altogether.

Buildings and businesses became sparser as Charlie and Martin rode to the edge of town, past markets, nurseries, a small orchard, and past several pocket-neighbourhoods including one which contained the cul-de-sac that tucked the Dear family home into the south west border of Hawkins' farm. Charlie thought briefly of Pam and Jean spending the evening with Claire, trying to offer her some comfort and a precious moment of normalcy. He would've liked joining them, but even if he'd been invited, his need to prove a hunch correct took precedence over all other desires.

They took a wide right onto a long, minimally populated road until a stretch of clearing finally made their destination visible. The Kiftsgate Inn sat alone on a dark, remote hill, silhouetted from behind by the glow of a low full moon seemingly in danger of being pierced by one of the hotel's several turrets until the motorcycle moved closer and the perspective changed. Arrow-head tops of evergreens, nestled amongst soft, round maples, pointed skyward like turrets of Hawkins' own fortress in the far distance. Charlie brought the bike to rest at the base of inn's front steps feeling a decent man's guilt for what Martin was about to discover after nearly falling out of the sidecar in his amped-up enthusiasm to be the first to read the sign on the chain-locked doors. He must have assumed it was a clue to a speakeasy's admission. It was, in fact, a heartfelt farewell which he read aloud.