Tom Lowe - The Black Bullet

Nick reached for a beer. “The TV chick is headin’ our way.”

O’Brien said, “Take the helm, no-wake speed. I’ll go down and bid the lady adieu. If you see me put my hat on, gun Jupiter. ” O’Brien climbed down to the cockpit and stood at the transom door as Susan Schulman and her entourage caught up with them.

“Why’d they search your boat?” she asked with a look of concern on her face.

“Got us mixed up with some other boat,” O’Brien said. “A lot of these Bayliners are still on the water. This particular make was one of Bayliner’s best sellers.”

“Did you buy it after you left Miami PD?”

O’Brien wouldn’t let her see surprise in his face. He smiled. “No, I bought it while I was there. Tell your viewers it’s for hire. We offer some of the best half and full-day fishing rates in Daytona Beach.”

She fired right back. “Did you find a sunken submarine out there today?”

Jason walked the side deck to the cockpit, Max following him, tail wagging. He said nothing as the TV camera was pointed toward O’Brien.

“Now wouldn’t that have been a catch,” O’Brien said. “I’d like to be the first to come across one. I’ve always been fascinated by boats, as you can see, especially boats that can travel underwater. Now if you’ll excuse me.” O’Brien pulled a baseball cap on his head, and Nick dropped the hammer on the twin diesels.

Susan Schulman shouted something, her voice silenced by Jupiter’s diesels. The fisherman held his beer to keep it from spilling in the wake. He grinned and said, “Guess he felt the conservation was over. Can’t say I blame him.”

Schulman ignored the comment. “Get me to shore!” she ordered. “Now!”

O’Brien stepped inside the salon and closed the door, picked up his cell phone and punched the keys. “Dave,” he said over the drone of the engines. “We’ve just been searched by the Coast Guard. Didn’t tell them anything yet.”

“Where are you now?”

“Coming into Halifax River. See what you can find out about Germany’s nuclear efforts toward the end of the war.”

“Okay. How fast can you get here?”

“Not fast enough.”

A pelican sat on the top of a dock piling and watched as O’Brien backed Jupiter into its slip. “That’s good!” shouted Nick. He tossed ropes to Jason who quickly wrapped them around the boat cleats. O’Brien killed the diesels and Jupiter became silent, the only sound now coming from the slap of a small wake against the barnacle-covered pilings.

As O’Brien zipped up the isinglass in the wheelhouse, he could smell the scent of blackened fish coming from the grill at the Tiki Bar, smoke drifting across the marina. The rustic restaurant, a place where customers ate off paper plates, sat on pilings a few feet above the high tide mark. It was adjacent to the marina office near the parking lot. O’Brien’s slip was almost at the end of a long dock, more than two hundred feet from the Tiki Bar.

“Jason, let’s clean these fish,” Nick said.

O’Brien said, “Jason will join you in a minute, Nick. I want to show him something in the salon.”

“Cool, I’ll unload the fish from the ice.”

Jason followed O’Brien into the salon. “Have a seat.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Yes. And you know what it is.”

Jason licked his dry lips, silent.

“You’re nineteen. Legally you can’t drink in a bar, and you can’t drink on this boat. I know you had two beers while Nick and I were underwater. Let me make this very clear to you. Your mom and I go way back. I can see the hurt in her eyes, hurt for you. She’s worried sick about you, your health-”

“I’m leaving. I don’t have to take this-”

“Sit down!” O’Brien’s voice was non-negotiable. “You accepted this job. I expect you to honor your commitment. And I expect you to honor your mother.”

Jason looked down at his hands. “How’d you know I drank the beers?”

“Popping breath mints after we came to the surface.”

“How’d you know I drank two?”

“I guessed. Nick and I were down about the time it takes to polish off two, especially if you’re addicted to alcohol.”

“I’m not a drunk!”

“Maybe. But you drink enough to make your mom sick with worry.”

“Why’d she tell you this?”

“Because she loves you.”

“But why you ?”

“Because, at one time … years before your dad … she loved me.”

Jason looked up at O’Brien as if seeing him for the first time. “So I got the job because you’re doing a favor for my mother, right?”

“Wrong. You got the job because I believe you can do it. All your mom did was let me know you were available. You can walk out of here and quit on the first day. But if you do, you’d better be man enough to tell your mother why you quit … because you’re making a choice to drink rather than help her by helping yourself. Can you do that? Can you be honest with your mother and tell her why you really walked off the job, or are you going to make the choice to do the right thing by her … and by you?”

Jason’s voice was just above a whisper. “My dad taught me never to quit at anything respectable if I made a decision to do it. I made a decision to work here this summer. I’ll stick with that, and I won’t touch alcohol on the boat again.”

O’Brien nodded. “Think about not touching it anywhere if it has become a problem. And if it has, this time quitting would be honorable. I bet your dad would be the first to agree.”

Jason let out a long breath, his cheeks flush with color. “I look at his picture a lot because my memories of him are kind of fading some. That makes it hard, you know?”

“I know. But you still have them, and the good ones will stay with you.”

“I’d better go help Nick with the fish. Gotta earn my money.”

Jason walked out of the salon as Max trotted inside.

O’Brien went in the galley, found the milk carton in the rear of the refrigerator, got his camera, and called to Max. “Let’s go find a patch of grass for you, little lady, okay?” Max looked up at him through excited brown eyes and barked once.

As O’Brien walked by Nick and Jason, he said, “Jason, take some fish home to your mother. I remember her as a gourmet cook.”

Jason grinned and wiped a fish scale off his eyebrow. “Yeah, she is. Thanks, I’ll see you Saturday for our first customers.”

“Sounds good. I’m really glad you’re aboard. We’ll make it a good summer.”

Nick tossed a fish head to a calico cat, big as a raccoon. “Ya’ll got me in the mood for submarine, Greek-style, grouper sandwiches. Stay for dinner, Jason.”

“I appreciate it, but I promised Nicole we’d hang out tonight. My birthday’s tomorrow. I think she wants to do something special.”

“Happy birthday!” O’Brien said.

“Thanks.”

Nick chuckled. “Women like it when their men come back from the sea.”

“We’ve only been gone a day,” Jason said, dimples popping.

Nick raised both eyebrows, his dark eyes catching the late afternoon light. “I understand, but it’s not how long you’re gone. It’s how you greet them on your return. Trust me, I’m an old sailor. The smell of the sea, it’s something women like to taste. Only thing that makes ‘em more passionate is after a good fight when you make up and then make love like you invented it. The meaning of life is to live it.”

Jason laughed and hosed water inside the stomach of a gutted snapper, the dappled setting sunlight breaking through palm fronds.

“Come on, Max,” said O’Brien. “We’re hearing some real fish tales now. I’ll be on Dave’s boat when you’re done, Nick.”