The camera lowered slightly, capturing her cleavage. Jaz had loosened her top buttons to expose a dusky swell of breasts. Yeah, she was sexy. Exotic. Apparently worldly. Jaz Gulati was something these rural dudes might not have come across in some time.
“Is the hockey kid the reason for this whole rabid turnout thing?” She waved her finger in a circle, indicating the raucous crowd in the bar. The diamonds on her ring finger glittered in the light.
Angie could almost feel the tension rising off the men—a mix of lust, resentment, anger. She leaned forward with increasing interest.
“Whaddya mean,rabid?” The big toothless man with strawberry-blond hair spat his words at Jaz, getting closer, in her face. He wore what Trish had referred to as a Kamloops tux—a lined plaid shirt-cum-jacket. Angie took another screenshot of him and jotted a note in her book:Toothless male. Strawberry-blond. Shirt matches description of males on ridge. Who is he? Who are other three men with him? Two are identical twins?
Jaz did not back down from Mr.Toothless. Instead, she took a step closer to him, and Angie realized she was actually getting a kick out of turning these guys on while humiliating them at the same time. “Come on, sweethearts, yougottaall be interrelated. Just look atyoutwo guys.” She gestured to the identical-looking men with black hair and green eyes.
“What’re your names, handsomes—you guys twins? You look kinda like our guide, Garrison Tollet. Same eyes and hair and build and”—her gaze brazenly dropped down to their crotches—“size and all.”
Garrison suddenly appeared at her side. He took Jasmine’s arm firmly. “This is Beau and Joey. My cousins,” he said. “Come with me.”
She resisted, trying to shake off Garrison’s hold. “Beau and Joe? No way!” She threw back her head and laughed, showing the smooth column of her throat. “See? I told you!” She wagged her finger between the men. “All related. Do you also live in the woods? Got no dentists out there?” She tilted her chin toward Mr.Toothless. “You guys play banjos, too?”
“Fuck you,” said one of the twins, stepping forward.
“Come. Now,” Garrison growled to Jaz. “See that booth over there? Go wait for me there.”
“Nope, I need to go fetch another a drink.” She slurred the edges of her words as she turned to aim for the bar.
“I’ll bring you a drink. Go wait.”
“Really? You’ll bring me booze? Oh, okay then, yessir, boss guide, sir. I’ll wait for you in the booth.” She wove her way through the crowd toward the booth, calling over her shoulder as she went, “Make mine a dirty martini. Ilikedirty.”
Garrison shot a hot warning glare at the men. “Play nice with the tourists, okay? Port Ferris needs their money.Weneed their money.”
“We don’t need to be fucked over by them for the price,” said the big blond. “What’re you now? A fucking prostitute, Garry Boy? Selling yourself out for some fucking city clitty?”
Garrison lowered his voice, eyes turning cold. “There’s a camera on you right now. This documentary could be real good or real bad for our town. Play nice, and I’ll ask that this footage never sees the screen. Got it?”
“What’reyougoing to do, try to get into her pants?” said Mr.Toothless. A fifth male joined the group. He was older. Smaller. Pale. Freckled complexion. Also fair-haired.Scrawnywas the word that came to Angie’s mind. She grabbed a screenshot of him and printed it.
“Fuck you, Wally,” Garrison said.
Angie scribbled in her book:Mr.Toothless—name is Wally?
“What’s going on?” said the scrawny male.
“Nothing,” Wally muttered as they all watched Garrison head to the booth where Jasmine waited.
One of the twins—Beau—flipped a bird at the booth. “Fuck you, cunt, bitch.”
“Fucking bitch,” repeated his brother, Joey.
The footage ended abruptly. Angie scribbled:Wally who? Who is the older scrawny, freckled guy? Twins—Beau and Joey who? Cousins to Garrison Tollet how?
She sat back a moment, chewing on her pen. Talk about antagonizing the locals—Jaz had been like gasoline to fire. Shit. Angie rewound and watched again, absorbing the nuances and taking more screenshots, which she printed out. She’d use the prints for interview purposes when she drove up to Port Ferris.
After she’d watched the altercation between Jaz and the men one more time, Angie pulled up the final file that Daniel had converted for her. She hit PLAY.
This file showed general footage of the bar, Rachel presumably trying to capture the deteriorating ambience as the night wore on. Angie had to hand it to the filmmaker. She did have a way of putting a camera into people’s faces without inhibiting them. Or perhaps that was the booze. But clearly Rachel had been careful to maintain her role as an objective recorder because at no point had she intervened in Jaz’s altercation with those massive men.
Angie watched the crowd footage carefully, trying to identify faces. The camera lingered slightly on Kathi, her cheeks red as she stood drinking at a high table with Jessie, Irene, and two other guys. Kathi’s gaze shot daggers in Jaz’s direction. Jessie also cast the occasional look over his shoulder at the booth where Jaz and Garrison huddled over drinks. His features showed displeasure. Understandably—Jasmine Gulati was a client of his and of Garrison’s, and this was ground zero for their trip. It did not bode well for the next seven days.
Angie paused the footage in several places and grabbed additional screenshots of faces. She saved them to her hard drive and hit PRINT on several. She paused suddenly as she noticed a woman entering the rear door of the pub. Slight with reddish-blonde hair. Could it be? Angie froze the scene and enlarged the image.
Shelley Tollet.
