Read Page 126

“Cameron,” Parker says, looking very serious. “You … smoked it!” People go wild.

“Okay, Cam. Getting serious now. Big money time. Two-part question. Part one: Who composed the highly influential ‘Cypress Grove Blues’?”Advertisement

“Junior Webster.”

There’s a murmur of appreciation in the crowd.

“Cam-my-man is on fire. Part numero dos: What does Cypress Grove refer to?”

I am about to hand Parker Day his stylist-assisted ass on a platter. “A cemetery in New Orleans.”

Parker raises that much-photographed eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re ab-so-lutely sure?”

“Well … yeah. I guess so.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

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“No. I mean, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”

He strokes his chin meaningfully. “Oh, Cam-Cam-Cam. I am sorry but that … is incorrect.”

“Incorrect? No way. I’ve been there. I met him …”

“You met Junior Webster. Sure you did, sponge brain. The correct answer is, the town of his birth. See? Town of his birth. Right here. On the card.” He presents the card to the camera for a close-up. “Camtoid, I’m going to have to ask you to take a seat in the …” Parker leans toward the audience, his hand cupping his ear.

“Dunking chamber!” they shout, right on cue.

I climb up the rickety ladder to the platform. As I do, I hear Gonzo’s lone voice. “You da man, Cam!”

My head’s swimming, both from the smell and my thoughts: if Cypress Grove wasn’t the cemetery he meant, then maybe I went to the wrong place, which would mean I got the wrong message, which would mean this whole trip is wrong and I’m doing this for nothing. There’s no way to know for certain. I’m choked by a panic that has nothing to do with the Dunking Chamber.

“Cam, you okay up there? Need some help?”

“Huh?” I realize I’ve stopped at the top of the ladder. I scoot out and take a seat on the platform over the cesspool.

“You comfy up there, Cam-man?” Parker asks. It would be so easy to swing a foot out and kick him in that photogenic head.

“Like a bug in a rug,” I answer. This actually gets a laugh from the crowd.

“Okay. Last question. For all the money. We’re going to play a sound bite from a song. You have to tell me the song and the artist. Get it right, and you win six hundred bucks. Get it wrong, and it is down the flusher with the Cam-a-lama-ding-dong. You ready?”

I nod.

The speakers crackle to life. A song wafts out. A haunting melody on recorder and ukulele. And then that helium-high Portuguese vibrato floats over the crowd. It’s possible I have the biggest shit-eating grin in the history of television.

“Oh, Cam. Do I sense you’re in trouble?” Parker asks, moving toward the HIT ME button. “Time for your answer.”

“Oh, dude,” I say, shaking my head and sighing. They want some good television, I’m happy to oblige. “Gimme a minute.”

“Ten seconds on the clock, Big Cam.”

In the audience, people start counting down, “Ten, nine, eight, seven …” Gonzo’s eyes are huge, his lips barely moving as he counts with them. I let them get to “zero.” The buzzer goes off. The ruffing dog noise spreads through the crowd like a wave.

“Time’s up, Cameron. Have you got an answer?” Parker’s licking his lips. His palm hovers over the button, just itching to dunk me into a nasty pond of muck.

“Yes, Parker. I believe I do. That would be ‘Viver É Amar, Amar É Viver’ by the Great Tremolo.”

Parker’s smug smirk vanishes. He looks back down at his cards as if he can’t believe what’s written there. The crowd goes quiet. They want dunking action, and they don’t know why it’s taking Parker so long to satisfy them.

“Cameron, Cameron, Cameron,” Parker says, shaking his head. The crowd’s on edge. “You. Are.” He sighs, and his hand gets closer to the button before he pulls it away completely. “Absolutely right! Come on down, Cam-my-man.”

An assistant helps me down the ladder to the huge applause from the audience and a few jeers. “You’ve just won six hundred dollars and a case of Rad Mellow—keep it on the chill-low with Rad Mel-low.”

An assistant pulls out a wagon filled with Rad Mellow six-packs, and Parker counts off six hundred dollars, which I immediately stick in my pocket. We’re back in the black. Now all we have to do is find Balder. pqdm.com