Read Online The Video Watcher by Shawn Curtis Stibbards - Free Book Online Page A

license.”
    â€œSo you don’t have it now.”
    He looked at me and grinned.
    Â 
    In a souvenir store on Denman Street Cam searched for a sun hat. A Filipino store clerk watched from the front. I was afraid he’d be suspicious of me if I didn’t do anything, so I studied a revolving rack of postcards. All showed Vancouver as glass towers between violet mountains and white-capped waves.
    â€œSo, are you going to meet this girl?”
    â€œThe Mexican?” Cam said standing in front of a mirror and trying a sun hat. “Is she hot? A good body? Que pedazo de tetas ?”
    â€œSo you want to meet her?”
    He tossed the hat in the bin. “Why are you trying to get me to date these women?” he said trying another sun hat. “Delve in there yourself. Try heterosexuality for a change.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I asked.
    â€œNothing,” he said shaking his head and laughing. “Nothing.” He adjusted the brim of the tennis hat and grinned at his reflection in the mirror. “I think I like this one.”
    The clerk at the counter rang in the hat. “Five forty-five,” he said.
    Cam handed the clerk a ten-dollar bill and said to me, “You should have seen this cop that stopped me. Fuck man, he was such a prick. I wanted to smack him right there.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you?”
    â€œYeah, why didn’t I?” he said taking the change from the clerk. “Thanks—do you think if I found out where he goes and start a fight with him when he’s off-duty, I’d get into trouble because he’s a police officer?”
    Â 
    The conversation continued as we walked through the tree-shaded streets of the West End, toward the beach. First Cam spoke of exacting revenge on the police officer, then about what he should do with the Brazilian girl. As I listened I couldn’t tell if Cam liked the girl or disliked her. One minute he said she was out of control and that he had to stop seeing her. The next, that she was very beautiful and came from a strict Catholic family.
    â€œYou know one thing that’s fucked up? That homestay father. He’s a total fucking pervert, I was talking to the Columbian guy—he’s also staying at the house—and he said that this homestay father, he buys this girl wine. That when his wife was away, he had the girl upstairs and he made dinner for her and they drank wine together, and then danced.”
    â€œWhat does the girl say?”
    â€œThe girl—she’s very innocent. She just thinks he’s being nice.”
    Before we reached English Bay, Cam wanted to stop. We sat at the top of a grass slope that overlooked the water. The weather that afternoon was clear. The harbour dotted with sailboats. Freighters in the distance.
    Cyclists and rollerbladers glided by on the paved walk below us.
    â€œSo…is Damien out yet?”
    The question came out of nowhere, and surprised me—it was the first time he’d mentioned Damien.
    â€œI think they’re still adjusting his medication,” I said.
    There was long pause before he said, “He’d probably never be on drugs in the first place if he hadn’t broken that window.
    â€œAnd we know who told him to do that ,” he added, insinuatingly, “and then ran around outside to get a better look.”
    I didn’t reply.
    â€œCan I ask you something?” His tone was different.
    â€œYeah?” I said.
    He was looking at the ocean. “Have you ever thought you might just lose it ?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œYou know what I mean.”
    I swallowed. Tape was stuck to my shoe, and I pulled it off. I gazed back at the distance. I didn’t know what he meant—or I didn’t want to.
    â€œWhat? Like Damien?”
    He let out a half-laugh. He shook his head and smiled wanly. “No. Farther than that.”
    I studied the sole of my right shoe. A small stone was caught