Rick Boyer: Billingsgate Shoal

"Why, since you made such a big stink about being strictly legal?"

"Because I wanted to be legal. But just in case some unforeseen event, like a bunch of Hare Krishnas buying the place right out from under our noses, occurred, I would still have a piece of it."

"Are we going to split this up?'? asked Joe, rubbing his hands.

"No. A big portion of the proceeds is going to Sarah Hart. We're all bitching and moaning because we're not millionaires. Don't forget there's a very nice lady with her only child killed."

Nobody said a word.

"And don't forget poor Katherine Murdock," said Joe softly.

"Uh huh. She's going to get a cut too, at least enough to help pay off Danny's debts. I'm sorry I can't do the same for the Heeney kid. I don't help killers."

"Don't we get anything?" demanded DeGroot.

"Yeah. I figure we all deserve to split the remainder, whatever it is."

But Tom Costello begged off, saying he'd done nothing to earn it.

"You lose any money by putting up your hunk?"

"Yeah some, but-"

"Whatever the loss was, we'll double it… fair enough everybody?"

They all agreed.

"The problem now is that Mary and I have prepared a victory banquet. To wit; roast rack of lamb, prawns in lemon and butter, Caesar salad, asparagus in hollandaise-"

"And so on. Would you care to stay'?"

And so we feasted heartily. Then, during the very middle of the meal, we all started laughing uncontrollably.

"Those goddamn shave heads," giggled DeGroot, "sitting there in that mansion eating raw spinach and chanting all day long… dead set against materialism… strong vows of poverty… poverty. And right below them sits five million bucks!"

He laughed the laugh of a hero in a Jean-Paul Sartre book. ”

Tom Costello rose solemnly and raised his wineglass.

"We must all swear-on our lives-to keep mum. Sooner or later those orange-robed crazies will want to move;.. then we pounce and buy the place…"

"Hear, hear! Here's to the vow of silence, and honor among thieves!"

"Hear, hear!"

In the center of the table sat the golden ingot and the crank key. We were parting with neither.

After the guests all left, at l A.M., I cradled Mary on my lap. We were watching the remains of a late movie. I kissed her.

"How'd you like to slip into something more comfortable?" I asked.

"Like a garter belt?"

I awoke and looked out the window. It was gray and cold out, and would probably rain soon. I heard the pneumatic thump-thump of a basketball being dribbled. Jack and Tony were shooting lay-ups in the turnaround.

"Is Tony clean yet?" I asked Mary, who'd just awakened.

"Don't ask me, I haven't tried him."

"What's for dinner?"

"Don't you ever let up about dinner, Charlie?"

"I just wanna know."

"Tuna Surprise."

"Tuna Surprise? That had better be a joke. And also, it's in extremely poor taste."

She flumped over and began to settle into sleep again. I stroked her a bit.

"Maaaaaa-ry-"

"Oh c'mon, Charlie. I jus' wanna… zzzzz…"

I looked out at the two strapping lads playing ball. They thumped it against the asphalt driveway, leapt and parried, shot and blocked, spun and danced under the hoop.

I was happy.

I wanted to take the instant, the entire situation, and freeze it . I wanted to dip it in liquid nitrogen and put it in Plexiglas, and keep it on my mantel. Only I, and everyone else in the scene, would be inside it, frozen, and we'd never change.

The puppy jumped up at Tony, and he smacked her on the snoot, then petted her. She bowed down in a half-crouch and let out a shrill bark.

But of course you cannot. You cannot stop it. The Great Going On continues, stops for no one. And the Great Going On is what gives life all its terror and sadness, but also all its joy and beauty. It's what makes us enjoy and appreciate now.

Mary stirred and nestled into the crook of my arm.

It began to rain. The boys whooped and ran inside.

And then it poured.