2. West
CHAPTER 2
WEST
I tear the board off the deck and curse my rotten luck that this is the boat that Bodie paid me with. I had specifically said I would only accept a fully functioning sailboat from him. Instead, Bodie sent me a fixer-upper—the exact thing I said I didn’t want.
I’ve been slowly replacing these deck boards for the last two hours—since the moment it was light out.
My phone rings with a specific ringtone I have for the devil. I’m tempted not to answer it, but the urge to chew him out for this rotten trick is too strong.
I answer the phone.
I let loose a string of choice words for Bodie King. He deserves every one after sending me this hunk of junk.
Bodie clicks his tongue. “Hey now, you’re on speakerphone. What if your mother had been here?”
It ought to be against the law to be on speakerphone without someone giving you a verbal warning. Wave that flag of warning, people.
“My mother taught me those words.” My dear, sweet mother who raised two boys and was never shocked by anything that came out of our mouths because she could always come up with something worse to say.
Bodie chuckles. “You probably gave her a reason to use those words. What did I do to earn your wrath? Didn’t I send you an amazing sailboat?” He sounds way too gleeful about this whole thing, which means he knows exactly what he sent me.
Some payment . I did a job for Bodie and told him I was willing to accept payment in sailboat form. I should have stuck to cold, hard cash.
“You did not, and you know it. You probably had to take a while to find one that would take this much work.”
“Actually, I wasn’t the one shopping for it, so I don’t know what I sent you. I called a guy that knows boats and owes me a big favor. He said that he’d find the top of the line for you.” Bodie’s tone is all innocent.
A small recreational fishing boat starts making its way out of the dock. The wake is small, but it makes all the moored boats start bumping against the dock.
“I’m pretty sure someone had a bonfire on the deck of this boat and then maybe ran a herd of elephants over the top just for good measure.” I stare at the dent in the wood where I’m standing. I don’t even bother to bring up the work it took to get all the sails repaired.
“How strange. Well, you know how it is. You can never trust anyone on the marketplace anymore. Everyone oversells.”
Typical Bodie. Blaming his troubles on other people. But I know better. He did this on purpose.
“Were you calling to gloat about sending me this crap boat? Even after I saved your ass?”
“Actually, he’s calling to send some business your way,” Gracen, Bodie’s wife, says loud and clear, reminding me about being on speakerphone.
I hear a scuffle in the background. I don’t know what he has going on, but I’m scared to ask—probably stealing someone’s shirt off their back. “I don’t think I can handle any more business from you two,” I grind out as I pull at a particularly stubborn board. One would think since it was burnt through that it would just lift right out in a pile of ash, but it doesn’t.
Bodie isn’t fazed by the grunting and thumping noises. “This should be easy business for you. I’ve worked with a translator who’s really good, and they need help with finding some locations and just some simple computer work.”
“Simple computer work? I know you and your idea of simple.”
“Honest this time. They are on the civilian side of things, if you catch my drift, so there shouldn’t be any complications. Just need someone tech-savvy to help them find something or someone. That part was vague, but I’m assuming she’s looking for a long-lost relative.”
It sounds too good to be true. Finding lost relatives is something I’m incredibly good at, so I’m sure there’s a catch with this job. But I haven’t had much work lately, and if it’s something simple that is actually paying work, I’ll take it.
“I’m not being paid with a sailboat this time.” I’m going to write up an official contract if I ever work for him again. Add that to the fine print: Bodie must pay in cold, hard cash.
“Well, I should hope not. How would you sail two of those at the same time?” I hear a snicker in the background. Gracen is still there with him. What an odd turn of events. They went from competing to married—not that those two things are mutually exclusive.
“Did you give out my number?” I don’t exactly like to be easy to contact, but sometimes it’s a necessary evil.
“No. Sydney will be in Newport. I figured you’d be in port for a couple of days—or a couple of months. Depends on how handy you are.” Bodie chuckles, and I’m pretty sure I hear Gracen laugh as well. I’ve never actually met her in person, but Bodie calls me regularly now—retirement doesn’t agree with him—and I’ve met Gracen over the phone. She’s started to enter in on the conversations lately.
“True. I might never get out of port. I’ll probably sink right here.” I shouldn’t even joke about something like that. It could come true.
“The point is, if someone comes knocking and tells you that they’ve done translating work for Bodie King, then you’ve got a paying customer. I told her you prefer cash but might accept a wire transfer.” Bodie clears his throat, hesitating before he speaks. “But I need you to promise to be nice to her. She’s not like us.”
Ah, so she’s an innocent soul with good morals. She’ll probably pay her bill, then.
I stretch my right arm above my head since there’s a persistent knot in my shoulder that just won’t let up. It always seems worse when I think about having to deal with people. I’m sure it has nothing to do with tearing out the deck of a burnt sailboat… “What does the translator look like?”
“Imagine what someone who fluently speaks four languages looks like. You’ll have her.”
I grunt in response. Because how unhelpful is that? What does somebody who speaks multiple languages fluently look like? Is there a special outfit that sets them apart?
“If this turns out to be another sailboat fixer-upper situation, don’t call again.”
“So touchy these days. You really need to get out more, West,” Bodie chides.
“I’d be fine if people like you left me alone.” That is the biggest lie I have told today.
Bodie has been very sticky. Like a bad flu bug you can’t get rid of. Like allergies in the thick of harvest season. He just doesn’t go away. Ironically, when I first retired, I didn’t know how much I needed that. And I’m not even going to think about why a pseudo-friendship with a con man matters to me right now, but it does, even if he sends me crappy sailboats. “I’ll let you know if I accept her as a client.”
“Don’t call too soon. I’m still on my honeymoon,” he says in a smug tone, as if I need the reminder that he got married almost three months ago. He had me researching marriage licenses in Nevada for that. He wanted to make sure it was all as legal as could be. He wasn’t taking any risks on his bride backing out on him—not that I would blame her with his reputation.
“That’s a long honeymoon. Is it helping you stay retired if you call it a honeymoon?” I can’t help but give him a hard time about his rash promise to retire. I don’t think it will last. Neither does his wife.
“The truth is, I’ve got plans for tonight?—"
I hang up at that. I do not need to know anything else about someone else’s honeymoon. No, thank you.
Some paying work might be nice. I could replace these burnt boards with something decent. I’ve only managed to remove a few square feet. It feels as though I’ve been at this for days. It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
Just me and a fixer-upper sailboat. No people problems, no bureaucracy, no people to protect. Just me and the salty sea air.
I could imagine myself spending the rest of my life this way: with no one needing me except me.