The Garneau Block Read Online Free PDF

about the trucks? All the big, shiny, pointless trucks? “Absolutely supportive and gracious,” said Madison.
    The server arrived with his third pint of Honey Brown ale, and Jonas thanked her and called her gorgeous. “Swoon,” she said, and swooned.
    Jonas tinked his glass with Madison’s, and took a great slurp of beer. “I think, after I’m done this, we should go on a little expedition.”
    â€œTonight?”
    â€œYes, tonight.”
    â€œWhat sort of expedition?”
    â€œYou’ll see, sister.”
    A young man, about Madison’s age, approached the table and cleared his throat. He wore khakis and a white T-shirt with a West Coast Choppers logo. On his right arm, just below the hem of the shirtsleeve, a Canadian flag tattoo. Madison expected him to ask for directions to the nearest Bruce Willis film festival.
    â€œHi. Um, I just wanted to, uh, say…”
    Jonas hopped up out of his chair. “Spit it out!”
    Frightened, the young man took a step back. “I, uh, I think you’re real good.”
    â€œReal good, eh?”
    The young man swallowed, and nodded. “I just wanted to say that.”
    â€œWell, thanks. That’s very kind of you.”
    They stood about five feet apart. Madison recognized this as the usual distance between boxers, before they stepped in to wallop one another. The young man was handsome enough, in his way. But next to Jonas’s canary-yellow shirt and tight Diesel jeans, the stranger looked like a soccer referee.
    â€œMy name’s Carlos,” he said, and extended his hand for a shake.
    â€œOh, it is not!”
    Carlos took another step back and turned his head slightly, like a confused cat. “But. It is my name.”
    The oddly tense handshake made Madison feel like a voyeur. Jonas slapped him on the tattoo. “Carlos. I’ve seen you before.”
    â€œWhenever I’m not working I come to your plays, and the soaps.”
    â€œWant to join us for a drink?”
    Carlos looked down at Madison and smiled. “Uh, no. Thanks. I have to split. Bye.” And with that, he snaked around the tables and exited onto the sidewalk.
    â€œThat was bizarre.” Jonas sat down, and took a sip of beer. “Wouldn’t you say?”
    â€œQuite bizarre.”
    â€œSorry, I’m drunk and forgetful. What were we talking about before Carlos came around?”
    â€œAn expedition.”
    â€œYes!” Jonas attempted to finish his beer in one giant gulp. Near the bottom, he took a break to burp and breathe and say, “Whoa, that really burned.” He dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Are you ready?”

 
    8
    fear and scotch whisky
    J onas and Madison began the expedition at the Commercial Hotel liquor store. While Jonas went inside to spend his meagre theatrical earnings for the night on a bottle of twelve-year-old Scotch–the craving had hit him “like a tongue in the ear”–Madison waited on the sidewalk. She watched the bikers and the university students mingle inside Blues on Whyte and felt the bass line in her stomach. Mozart was good for developing babies. How about “Sweet Home Chicago”?
    The father was Québécois, she knew that much. One day in the middle of June, a different sort of craving had hit Jonas. Rocky Mountains! They borrowed David’s Yukon Denali and started out on the Yellowhead Highway. Jonas had never tried camping and he seemed quite eager, but as soon as they reached the site he grew fearful of grizzly bears, mosquitoes,bush people, and needing to pee in the middle of the night. So they booked a room at the Amethyst Lodge in Jasper.
    That evening, in the Downstream bar, they met a group of five unshaven Québécois. Jonas fell for their accents but, unfortunately, they were all straight and none of them was given to experimentation. One of the Québécois, who said his name was Steve, taught