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手机浏览器扫描二维码访问

第4部分（第1页）

His　white　hair　was　neatly　bed　back　from　a　deeply　tanned；　severely　lined　face。　A　gold　wedding

band　winked　from　his　wrinkled；　leathery　hand。　As　Nate　approached；　the　man　stood　and　gripped

Nate？s　palm。

？Nate　Archibald。　You？re　the　spitting　image　of　your　father；？　Chips　growled　with　a　Scottish　accent。

He　looked　at　Nate　with　crinkly…lidded　blue　eyes　beneath　bushy　white　brows；　and　motioned　to　the

leather…cushioned　chair　across　from　his。　？Sit。　Have　a　drink。？　Chips　sat　back　down　and　gestured　to

the　waiter；　a　man　in　his　forties　with　neatly　bed　sandy　hair　falling　over　a　wide　forehead。　Chips

pointed　at　his　glassful　of　amber…colored　liquid　and　held　up　two　wizened　fingers。　？You　like　scotch？？

He　cocked　an　eyebrow　at　Nate。

？Sure。？　Nate　shuffled　his　legs　under　the　table。　？Anything？s　fine。？　The　waiter　leaned　in；　speaking

softly。　？I？m　sorry；　sir；？　he　whispered　apologetically。　？I？m　going　to　need　to　see　some　ID。？　Nate

paused　for　a　second；　feeling　like　he？d　been　trapped。　He？d　already　agreed　to　have　scotch；　but　now

he？d　have　to　show　his　fake　ID。　Was　Chips　setting　him　up？　He　gulped　and　reached　into　the　back

pocket　of　his　cargo　shorts；　retrieving　the　battered　brown　leather　wallet　his　dad　had　given　him　for

his　sixteenth　birthday。　He　pulled　out　the　fake　ID　he？d　gotten　off　the　Internet。　It　looked　pretty　good；

and　it　usually　worked？except　for　the　fact　they？d　mixed　up　the　hair　and　eyes　categories；　so　if　you

read　it　closely　it　said　？brown　eyes；　green　hair。？　The　waiter　peered　at　the　ID　for　a　long　moment　and

Nate　shifted　in　his　chair　guiltily。　When　the　waiter　looked　up；　he　shot　him　a　wry　smile。　？Very

good；sir　；？　he　added；　handing　Nate　back　the　laminated　card。

？I　always　say；？　Chips　declared；　？that　all　it　takes　to　cure　life？s　woes　is　a　bottle　of　good　scotch　and

the　open　sea。？　He　chuckled　and　slapped　the　tabletop　with　one　hand　as　if　to　punctuate　his　speech。

Nate　nodded　lamely　as　he　leaned　back　in　his　chair；　trying　to　get　fortable。　He　glanced　around

the　room。　He　was　the　youngest　person　there　by　at　least　forty　years？clusters　of　wizened　old　men

were　gathered　at　every　single　oak　table；　each　man　gruffer　and　stonier　than　the　next。　One　of　them

had　an　actual　eye　patch。　The　old　cyclops　squinted　in　Nate？s　direction　with　his　one　good　eye。

Before　Nate　could　start　to　muse　on　what　terrible　sailing　accident　had　caused　him　to　lose　his

eyeball；　the　white…jacketed　waiter　returned　and　placed　a　glass　of　scotch　in　front　of　him。

？Thank　you；？　he　mumbled。

？Cheers；　my　boy。？　Chips　lifted　his　tumbler　and　then　took　a　huge　swig。　Nate　quickly　followed　suit；

gagging　on　the　fiery　amber　liquid。　The　scotch　was　freaking　strong？stronger　than　anything　he？d

ever　had？and　Chips　was　drinking　it　like　lemonade。Whowas　this　guy？

？You？re　nothing　like　what　I　thought；？　Nate　blurted　out；　turning　red　and　taking　another　small；

tentative　nip。　From　everything　his　dad　had　told　him　about　Chips；　Nate　had　thought　he　would　be　a

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