Chapter 9
T hinking she needed time to cool off, I waited a day before calling Ellie’s aunt’s house.
Her Aunt Val answered but said Ellie wasn’t available.
I tried again the next day. And the next.
For four torturous days, Ellie refused to take my calls.
Finally Val told me that I’d best stop calling. Ellie wasn’t going to change her mind.
I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I went through the motions with a couple of charters I had booked, but it seemed like my misery was fish repellant. Nothing had been biting worth a damn all week. My luck had run out.
Not knowing what else to do, I drove over to Waylan’s house. His dad was working on the outboard of an old John boat on a trailer in the driveway. “Howdy, Spencer,” he said, looking up from the motor. His smile faded as he took in the sight of me. “Everything okay?”
I looked down at my stained T-shirt and worn out board shorts. “Yeah, everything’s great,” I said as chipper as I could. “Just been fishing a lot. ”
“That why you look so tired?” He asked, concern in his eyes.
“Yeah, early mornings and late nights will do that to you,” I said, shifting nervously while looking into the open garage for any sign of Waylan.
“Fishing is a hard life,” he nodded. “You ever think about going to college to get a degree so you won’t have to fish for a living?”
Oh how I wished my problems could be solved with a college education. I was clearly too stupid for that, though. Or for anything, for that matter. But I couldn’t tell him how badly I’d fucked my life up. “I don’t think college is for me.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he said, taking an even more paternal tone. “The choices you make now will affect the rest of your life.”
Just then, Waylan appeared with two bottles of Budweiser. “Are you lecturing Slick, Pops?”
“I was giving him some friendly advice,” he said, snatching a bottle from his son. “Not that you yahoos listen to anything anyway.”
“Thanks, Mr. Bennett,” I said. “I do appreciate your advice.”
Waylan held out the other bottle of beer. “Want this? You look like you need it.”
“Nah. I was just stopping by to see if you wanted to ride up to the hardware store with me. I need to get some tackle, thought you might wanna tag along.”
Waylan eyed me for a second. “Yeah, I’ll ride along.”
“Pick me up a can of starter fluid while you’re at it,” his dad said before swigging his beer .
Once we were in the truck, I had a hard time keeping myself together. Less than a mile up the road, I was babbling. “What the hell kind of life is this, Waylan? Always looking over our shoulder. I feel like I”m losing my mind.”
“Yeah, it’s getting pretty intense,” he agreed in an even tone.
“Did you hear what your dad was lecturing me?” I asked, my voice rising. “About the choices we make now?”
“Don’t pay him much mind,” Waylan waved his hand. “He’s full of hot air.”
“He’s right, dude!” I said, more than a little exasperated. “But what do you do when you don’t have a choice? I mean, we don’t really have a choice here, do we? Even after the bust, and all the heat, George isn’t backing down.”
“Calm down, Slick. I think George has it under control.”
The increased risk was one thing, but losing Ellie raised the stakes. I was ready to fold my hand and cash in my chips. “Ellie knows. She found my stash of money.”
“Oh fuck,” he said, eyes wide. “Did she tell anyone?”
“Of course not. She hates my guts, but she doesn’t want to send me to prison.”
“Maybe you can talk some sense into her after she cools off a bit,” he said, trying to encourage me. But I knew that Ellie had more sense than both of us put together.
“I don’t know. I think she’s done with me.” And I didn’t blame her. I didn’t deserve her. “She made it pretty clear she wanted no part of any of it. ”
“Ellie’s a nice girl, Slick. But we’re young and there’s other fish in the sea. I don’t need to point out that you are quite the fisherman, so I doubt you’ll have any trouble catching one.”
“Ellie is the one ,” I said, my voice shaking a little. Waylan and I didn’t talk about feelings much, but I could see the concern in his eyes as I struggled to continue without breaking down. “I don’t want another fish. I want Ellie.”
“Well, why don’t you quit?” Waylan asked. “It’s not like this is a career path for either of us.”
Could it possibly be that simple? Waylan was quitting in a few months when he heads off to FSU. Could I just quit now?
I asked Waylan how George took it when he told him he was quitting.
“Well, I haven’t exactly told him myself,” Waylan answered a little sarcastically, which was fair since we never talked to George personally. “I just assumed Mateo told him.”
“But knowing what we know,” I said slowly, “do you think he’s okay with us just walking away?”
“What do you think, he’s going to have us murdered for quitting a job and moving on with our lives?
” Waylan laughed, like it was a truly ridiculous notion.
“Most of Smugglers Cove knows what George is up to, not just us,” he scoffed.
“You’re letting the Cocaine Cartel stories get to you, Slick.
This is Keys reefer, dude. Not Miami snow.
Of course you can quit,” he said, as sure as could be.
“Get Mateo to put you in touch with George.”
For the first time in days, I had a glimmer of hope.
“Hey, Mateo,” I said as I settled into an aluminum folding chair next to him. “I thought I might find you here.”
“Pretty easy guess,” he answered sluggishly. “What’s up?” He was fully installed at the water’s edge at Rusty’s Fish Camp, his tackle box open at his feet, tools and line and bits of feathers and bait spread out. He was tying flies, and judging by the pile of finished ones, he’d been at it awhile.
“I need to talk to George,” I said as confidently as I could.
Mateo looked over lazily. “George doesn’t talk to anybody but me. You know that.”
“Alright. Well, you tell him I can’t go fishing with you guys anymore.”
Mateo looked up from the hook in his hand, the line wrapped around his fingers as he wove an intricate knot. “Ooof,” he said. “No way man, that’s on you.”
I wanted to ask him how to best approach it, but his look was clear. He wanted nothing to do with it. “Which is why I asked for his number in the first place.” I chewed on my bottom lip. “I didn’t think it’d be smart to stop by his house right now,” I added, “with all the heat.”
He dug in his pocket and pulled out an old receipt, and with a stub pencil from his tackle box, he scribbled a number on the back. “Call from a pay phone, not your house. And don’t say anything stupid.” He passed the scrap of paper over to me.
“I won’t. Thanks man.” I scrunched it in one hand and pushed up from the camp chair, the aluminum tubes sinking a little more in the sand. “See you around. ”
“Good luck with that, Slick,” he gave me a cautious look before turning back to knotting the fly in his lap.
I wasn’t looking forward to the call, but there was too much on the line. I had to win Ellie back.
Soft sand filled my flip flops. I left the beach for the crushed coral gravel lot, kicking one foot and then the other to dislodge the clumps caught between my toes. Trotting up to the largest of the rustic old fishing shacks, nervousness stirred in my gut.
An old man sat behind a bare wooden board that served as a counter. Nodding my chin toward the phone on the outside wall of the porch, I asked, “Can I use the pay phone?”
“Costs a quarter,” the man mumbled around a half-smoked cigar, puffs of sweet smoke punctuating every word.
“Do you have change?” I held up a $100 dollar bill, my allowance to myself for the week.
The old man sighed and hit a button on the ancient cash register flanked by an old coffee can filled with individually wrapped jerky, and a torn cardboard box of lead fishing lures. The register dinged and the drawer creaked open. “Here, just take a quarter. Pay me next time you’re here.”
“Thanks, I will, for sure.” As long as I survived the call I was about to make, he had my word.
The bell over the door jingled and I felt the blast of heat as I left the cool shade of the bait shop and stepped back into the thick humid air. We were only a month into spring according to the calendar but it already felt like the middle of summer in the Keys .
Dropping the quarter in the pay phone, I took a deep breath and punched in the number Mateo had written, squinting at the poor handwriting. Is that a 2 or a 7? I made a guess, hoping I wasn’t about to waste a quarter.
“Hello?” A gruff voice answered.
“George?” I asked tentatively.
There was silence on the line before he answered cautiously. “Who is this?”
I was one of a dozen or more local teens who stood lookout for his drops. I wasn’t surprised he didn’t know my voice.
“It’s Slick, Mateo’s buddy.”
“Hang on.” I heard rustling in the background. “Ok, Slick, Mateo’s friend. Why the hell are you calling me at home?”
Holed up in his bunker, I imagined his paranoia was rising as more and more crackdowns were reported in the daily papers. I cleared my throat, gathering courage. “I’ve been fishing for you for a while now, but I can’t do it anymore.”
He didn’t say anything for what felt like a full minute, and my nerves kicked into high gear until he finally spoke. “So you want to quit? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I’m going to get out of town for a while.
” It was a lie I was prepared to follow through on if I had to.
I turned, cupping the phone to shield my voice even though there was no one around to hear.
“People are killing each other, and I don’t want to be next,” I said, trying to keep calm.
“I almost got caught in a drive-by at a club in Miami last month. And things are getting worse by the minute.” I didn’t tell him about Ellie and wanting a clean break so I could start a life with her .
“That’s why you shouldn’t leave the rock, It only snows in Miami. Down here, all we do is fish. Nobody gets hurt. And for that, I pay you very well.”
I tried not to sound as anxious as I felt. “You do, and I appreciate it, but I need out.” I shook my head like he could actually see me. “Johnny B might never come back. It’s not worth the risk. I’m only nineteen.”
“Calm down kid, I still need you. Do what I say and you won’t end up floating without a paddle in the Everglades.”
FUCK! Did he just threaten me? The worst case scenario I didn’t dare to imagine, was a distinct possibility.
I scrambled to figure out what to say. Ellie had no idea what it meant to work for a man like George. He seemed like everyone’s favorite uncle, until you crossed him. “George, I’m loyal to the bone. My lips are sealed. But I can’t keep this up. I need out.”
He huffed out a disgruntled something I didn’t quite catch. “Listen, Slick. There’s a big trip already scheduled for next week. I’m down a man with Johnny B. You help me with this, then we’ll call it even.”
“One last trip?’’ I held my breath. It seemed too easy. There had to be a catch.
“You do this for me, then you’re done. As long those lips stay sealed, you can forget you ever knew me,” he said.
Forgetting what I’d done with George the past two years was a long shot, but I’d keep my mouth shut. “You can count on me.”
“Good. Mateo will get you the details for that trip. ”
“Thanks George.” I let out a relieved sigh, hoping he was a man of his word.
“Don’t mention it, Slick. Ever.” Click.
Ellie was less than thrilled when I walked into the Coral Grill. She barely acknowledged me when she looked up from taking an order. I waited until she left the table to try to catch her.
“Hey,” I said with a nervous croak.
She looked back toward the kitchen, then gave me an irritated glance. “I’m working.”
“I know,” I said, trying to catch her gaze. “I wanted to let you know I’m getting out. I just talked to George.”
She tucked her head and lowered her voice. “I hope for your sake that’s true. Don’t come in here talking about that stuff.” She took off barreling toward the kitchen, stopping to turn before she pushed through the swinging door. “Better yet, don’t come in here. Period.”