5. West
CHAPTER 5
WEST
Today I’m going to take the boat on a test run. Yesterday afternoon, I did a little more fine tuning on the engine and now everything is humming along nicely. The swell is low today; it’s a good day to cross the bar.
Even though I haven’t finished replacing the deck, that won’t affect the sailing. Only a couple more boards and I’ll be done. My shoulders are definitely ready for the break. I glance at my phone to check the time.
I hope that Bodie’s translator shows up sooner rather than later. I’m stuck waiting in port until she gets here.
I had an up-close-and-personal look at my bank account. Replacing the deck with teak wood seemed like a great idea at the time, but it used up the last of my cash. I need to do some paying work.
An easy job and easy pay. My new life motto. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo of that.
I finish nailing the last step back in place. It looks good. Luckily, the deck fire didn’t affect the steps leading down into the cabin, but whoever had this boat either had a dog with a chewing problem or a feral cat. The steps and railing had been scratched and full of teeth marks.
I’m not one to bother replacing a railing at the slightest scratch, but I’ve already gotten two giant splinters because I’ve forgotten about it. And so here I am, replacing the railing.
A mahogany railing that costs money.
Stretching out on the deck, I lean against the newly replaced post and pull out my phone to fire off a text to Bodie.
Me: When is the translator coming?
When he doesn’t immediately answer, I go back to working on the railing, and a few minutes later, I get a text.
Bodie: Sometime this week. Stop bothering me. I’m retired with my wife.
Me: You said she was coming today.
Bodie: Yes, that’s what she said, but I didn’t ask her to send me an itinerary of her schedule. I didn’t think you were that busy.
Me: You wouldn’t know a schedule if it bit you.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and move to fixing the inside plank next to the cabin door.
It’s a nice quiet morning. An occasional seagull. A splash from the harbor seals. The waves are lapping against the side of the dock every time a big boat travels through the bay.
This. This is exactly what I’ve been needing. Some DIY therapy. Ever since I quit the police force—or retired, as Bodie diplomatically puts it—I’ve been at a loss of what I should do with my time.
I needed to be done. I was starting to get jaded at the force, seeing how much we couldn’t help people. The people I couldn’t help and protect. Then the repeat offenders. I felt like a hamster on a wheel that couldn’t make an overall difference.
But here? All I have to worry about is myself. No one to take care of or protect except me.
I’m pulled out of my deep thoughts by a shout somewhere above me—maybe from the boat ramp. Strange, since it’s a weekday morning, and this side of the port isn’t that busy usually.
I hear a few more yells back and forth. I can’t make out what’s being said, but it doesn’t matter. Probably a couple of retired men out fishing together.
Whoever is out there yelling has nothing to do with me.