“Do you want to go back with me to the hotel, we’ll get a roadie to drive us.” Johnny said to Gigs. “I’ve got a stocked bar. I have to leave in three hours to catch a plane home.”
Always one to enjoy spending time with a dear friend, Johnny’s curiosity also had been tweaked when Gigs mentioned his encounter with Jamus. He was the second person Johnny had heard talk about a Jamus sighting within the past three months. A women promoter named Autumn had told him she saw a man who looked just like Jamus but much thinner on a train in Toronto’s Union station a little over a year ago. Johnny wanted desperately to enquire about Jamus but was content to drive to the hotel in relative silence, staring out the car’s window. The organic rural landscape of the festival site was giving way to the urban grid pattern of the city with its endless wires and neon lights. The cloak of darkness with all its celestial mystery was slowly dissipating into light, as the cool air blew into the open window of the car. The early morning air was filled with the sounds of birds calling each other, ushering in the new day, feathered ambassadors of the morning.
Once inside his room, Johnny opened the bar and asked Gigs to pick his poison.
“Tequila Sunrise.” Gigs half-jokingly requested. To his surprise and Johnny’s there was an instant Sunrise in a can. Pouring two, Johnny gave one to Gigs while offering him a cigar.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Gigs said relaxing in the chair and putting his feet on the coffee table. Taking a long draw off the cigars, they blew the smoke into the air. They looked at each other and clinked their glasses together, like some kind of toast, unspoken yet both agreeing to its message.
“So, tell me more about your meeting with Jamus,” Johnny said.