Chapter 1 #2
I park in the small, gravel lot behind the main building that houses the office where Captain Mack interviewed me last week, as well as the Minnow Bucket, the bait and tackle shop that doubles as a convenience store.
I smile and feel that rush of first-day anticipation at the sight of boats launching in the water, and early morning fishermen returning to their slips.
As I walk with my coffee drinks through the employee entrance, I expect to see the grizzled but basically friendly Captain Mack.
“Hello?” I say, knocking on the office door inside the dank, tiled hallway. “Captain?”
“He’s in Florida. Can I help you with something?”
With two iced coffees in my hands, I turn to find a chirpy blonde woman in her twenties wearing a uniform of boat shoes, white shorts and a bright blue dry-fit shirt with the marina logo over her left breast. She blinks at me, genuinely not knowing who I am.
“I’m supposed to report to work today,” I say, confused.
Her eyes widen in understanding. “Oh! You’re Quincy! Yeah, Mack mentioned you were coming. I’m Susan.”
She beams a high voltage smile at me and sticks out her hand to shake mine, then notices the two iced coffees I’m carrying. “Oh, got your hands full,” she chuckles.
“Well, since the boss isn’t here, this is for you,” I say, handing her the drink. “Hope you like salted caramel with cold foam.”
She takes it gratefully, her eyes wide. “Wow, thanks, new best friend! Follow me and I’ll get you your shirt.”
I follow her into a back room where she opens a plastic tub overflowing with shirts and pulls one out. “Here,” she says, handing me a medium. “This should fit you. Unless you want it snug.”
If I were still in my twenties, like Susan, I would have picked a size small, to show off my rack.
Now in my early thirties and coming up on my ten-year teaching anniversary, not so much.
Oh, they still look good, but I’d rather be more conservative this summer, in case I run into any school parents out on the lake this summer, which I no doubt will.
“It’s perfect. Thanks, Susan.”
“Go ahead and get changed, and I’ll meet you on the dock and show you where everything is.”
Susan leads me along the weathered planks of the main dock, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she points out the different boats in the slips.
“Pretty soon you’ll know the names associated with all of the regular boats.
” She shows me where the equipment is for filling gas, taking payments, and where the sewage tank pump-outs are located.
“Not my favorite aspect of the job, but it is what it is,” she laughs when she sees me make a face. “I usually wait for one of the college guys to do it. One or more of them are usually caught slacking off, and good ol’ Reef makes ‘em do the dirtiest job as punishment.”
“Reef?”
“The manager. He’s rough around the edges, but as long as you don’t look like you're bored, he’s fair,” she says with a smirk that tells me she’s gotten told off a time or two by this gruff marina manager.
"Captain Mack never mentioned I’d be reporting to someone else besides him,” I say.
Susan shrugs and downs the last of her coffee.
“I guess he didn’t think to mention it; he’s getting older and probably wanted to get the hiring process over and done with before he left for vacation.
Just between you and me, the old man is phoning it in most of the time.
Reef is really the guy who runs the place. ”
I nod. This is mildly annoying, but I’ll cope.
Next, Susan leads me to the covered boat slips that are reserved by the season, walking me past a row of glistening pontoons and speedboats gently rocking in the water.
“A lot of the regulars like to hang around under here in the shade and drink, which is allowed, but don’t let them suck you into partying with them. Reef blows a gasket every time.”
“Oh. Not a problem.”
“Do you work out?”
“Not as much as I’d like to. Why, is that an issue?”
For a moment I worry she’s about to tell me how much weight I’ll have to be able to deadlift to do my job.
But then she says, “Good. No need to pay for a gym membership when you work here. Helping boats dock and hauling stuff around is a workout. You're gonna get some guns,” she says, flexing her arms. “All this from grabbing lines and fending off when these boaters come in too hot or don’t know what they’re doing. ”
“Got it,” I say.
“And be ready to answer a hundred questions a day—over the phone or email. People want to know what bait to buy for what type of fishing they’re doing, and there’s a cheat sheet for that in the bait shop.
Oh, and you’ll need this…” She pulls out a white plastic tube from her pocket and tosses it to me.
“You’re probably thinking you tan easily and don’t burn, but you gotta put this all over your face, and don’t forget your ears.
I know I sound like a mom at the pool, but trust me. ”
I’m not about to disagree, and start to apply the thick white paste onto my face, wishing I hadn’t already put on foundation and concealer today. What was I thinking? It’s all going to melt off.
“If it matters, I also have my second-level search-and-rescue certification,” I tell her.
She smiles. “Impressive. Make sure you let Reef know. But if someone goes missing, he’s such a control freak, he’ll just go into captain mode and completely take over. However, that could get you a pay raise, just saying.”
We head into the Minnow Bucket. I finish applying the sunscreen while Susan shows me the cash register and explains how to take payments for fuel and rentals.
About five minutes into her tutorials, a shadow falls across the doorway. I turn, expecting to meet another coworker, only to lock eyes with the very same bronzed, broad-shouldered man from Cardinal Coffee.
I swallow. Hot, grumpy coffee guy has a boat here? Great. He probably can’t wait to give me shit as a client.
The man’s dark gaze flicks between Susan and me; the barest hint of amusement curves his mouth.
Susan grins. “Quincy, meet Reef. He’s our marina manager.”
I go through three stages of grief over what I thought was going to be the best summer ever. What stage is the “oh shit” stage?
This guy. Again.
I knew this job was promising too much fun.