Something about the guy made Ray kind of jumpy - not nervous, or anything, just a little queer – so he tried making conversation. Maybe then the guy would stop staring.
“So how did you become a rock star with a name like Benton?”
“Well,” Fraser began, holding Ray’s gaze as he ran his fingers up the neck of his beer bottle, “it can be shortened quite easily, to say, ‘Bent’.”
Ray swallowed. “Oh.”
Bent- Fraser grinned at him, his lower lip snagging on that twisted tooth of his. “So you’ve really never heard us play before?”
He had to stop staring. “Nah, I don’t listen to much Canadian stuff, unless I have to. Like with Celine Dion and that Bryan Adams guy.”
Fraser grimaced. “I can’t say I blame you, but you really shouldn’t discredit an entire country because of two individuals. I’m certainly not going to judge your country based on the individuals that killed my father.”
“We’re gonna find them, buddy. I’m a cop, it’s what I do.”
Fraser ran a thumb over his eyebrow. “I’m sure you will. Thank you.”
The moment was getting a little heavy, so Ray changed the subject, “So what’s with the wolf?”
“Diefenbaker? He’s only half-wolf, actually. I trust you not to share that with the public, my PR man wouldn’t like that - he thinks owning wild animal is good for the image.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Wasn’t he on one of your album covers?”
“Worst mistake I ever made. He was insufferable for months after that.”
Ray wasn’t feeling as jumpy as before, but there was still a sort of tension in the air, he just wasn’t sure what it meant.