John Casey - Spartina

“Half of them busted loose.”

“And you figure that half must be mine.”

Dick didn’t want to have any more deals with Parker. He could go to the Neptune that very evening, pick up a good hand from a broken boat.

But there was something about the little guy he liked. Dick said, “I could use some pots.”

Parker said, “I’ll sell you a hundred at two bucks over my cost. You can’t get them cheaper.”

“That’s just a couple, three trawls. I got to take that many each time I go out.”

“Okay, I’ll sell you a hundred and fifty. When you come in, we’ll see what else I got on hand for you. I got this family going six days a week. We’ll make some for you this Sunday. I figure for the next month we won’t be able to keep up with demand. All these skippers are fixing their boats, no time to make pots. They’re itching to get out while lobster are sky-high. You ought to be glad you know me well enough so I’ll sell to you on credit. Everybody else is paying cash, and everybody else is happy.”

Dick said, “You put them hundred and fifty pots on board by tonight, I’ll take your boy half-share.”

Tran turned out to be quick with his neat little hands. First haul he emptied and rebaited pots almost as fast as Keith. Next haul he was just as quick. He had good eyes, could spot a buoy between swells at a fair distance. Dick let him take the wheel some. The kid had a feel for it.

He picked up the names for things, a lot of them on the way out. Keith was a better teacher than Dick, and could understand what Tran was saying. And Tran understood what Keith said. Dick had to say everything twice. Dick gave Keith credit, though he still didn’t like him. Dick did like Tran.

Some cold weather moved in, and the little bugger nearly froze. He hadn’t brought but one change of clothes, and the warmest thing he had was his denim jacket. Dick suited him up in old foul-weather gear, rolled up at the cuffs three times. If he kept Tran on into the really cold weather, he’d have to buy him a survival suit. He wondered if the Co-op had one small enough.

Dick had enough pots set to stay out seven days. He sent word through the Co-op to May and Parker that Spartina was coming in. Parker met them at the dock in his huge rented truck. Parker would only sell him another fifty pots. Dick looked at the stacks of pots still on the truck. Parker said, “Those are already bought at a price you wouldn’t want to pay.”

Parker came into the wheelhouse while Keith and Tran unloaded the lobster and stacked the fifty new pots on board.

“How’d my boy work out?”

“Another couple times out, hell do.”

“His brother’s a good boy too. Hard worker.”

“Not on my boat.”

“I’m taking Keith south pretty soon.”

“Fine with me — I need someone with a little more time in. What is this, anyway? Your conscience bothering you about your Vietnamese? Another two months it’ll be winter, a lot of folks’ll have time to make their own pots — you explain that to them?”

“I’ll tell you, Dick, they’re real bright people, real bright — but they can only take in so much at a time. I’m not their employer, you understand. I just set them up. I rented an old barn, sublet it to them. They sleep in the loft, work down below. Their house is gone, they were living at a Catholic church, crammed in with a lot of other folks. Bunch of old Army cots where they used to run the bingo game. They looked a little aimless there. I’m giving a little focus to their energy, is all I’m doing.”

Parker poured himself a mug of coffee. He glanced at the picture on the thermos. “They changed the White Rock girl again. I remember when the White Rock girl and National Geographic and Venus de Milo colored-pencil sets was the only place you could see bare tit. Nowadays …”

Dick found he was furious. Repelled by Parker. At the same time he kept on liking him, kept on knowing that Parker liked him. Parker had told him all along — Parker was a player. What that meant was that Parker could cheerfully cut Dick out of five thousand dollars and keep on liking him. It was a game, nothing more than playing cards. Parker obeyed his own golden rule. He did unto others as he figured they’d do unto him. And he kept on feeling friendly. Feeling just as friendly as when he was doing a favor — taking Dick to see an alligator, swinging the fancy yacht in toward shore so Dick could see pelicans. Parker had no idea that turning on the intercom while he was fooling around with his English girl was anything but a joke. And screwing Schuyler’s wife.

Dick shook his head. “You’ll do anything, you get the chance.”

Parker looked up. “You still want to argue about those Vietnamese? You feel so bad, you pay Tran a full share. As far as I’m concerned, I’m doing the same by them as any businessman would. The only difference between me and a bank — and you know what banks’re like — is I don’t hide behind rules and middlemen. It’s just me. I’m doing it right out front, and in this particular case I’m doing more than a bank would do. And a hell of a lot faster. But maybe it’s not the Vietnamese. Maybe you’re still smarting over your five thousand, now you lost some pots. You think I went out and busted the pots I gave you?”

“No,” Dick said, “I’m not griping about the pots. I’m not griping at all. I hope you get all your insurance money for your sunk boat, and I hope you get your fancy new boat. I’m just seeing what runs you. You could no more keep from working a deal than you could keep from eating. And I got to say, you do keep busy. A nibble here, a nibble there.”

Parker said, “You got something on your mind?”

“Yeah. I was wondering if you screwed Marie on account of Schuyler was greedy about selling your coke.”

Parker looked at him. Parker smiled, and then laughed out loud. Parker shook his head. “I’ll tell you why I’m enjoying that. It’s sort of peculiar.” Parker rubbed his chin with one hand. “How’d you find out? I didn’t figure she’d talk much about it. But maybe she got together with Elsie. That’s okay. So long as she don’t talk about drugs.”

“I saw your car at her cottage.”

“You saw my car.”

“I saw your car and I heard her.”

Parker laughed. “Hearing things again, Dickey-bird? You can’t say I tuned you in on this one.”

Dick didn’t say anything.

Parker said, “What was peculiar was — I’m getting back to your question now — was this: She’d sort of been a bitch all along, you know the way she was with us that morning, all depressed but snotty to everybody. When I ran into her after the hurricane — she and Schuyler moved up to the inn in Wakefield — she was all revved up. She was still being snotty about Schuyler”—Parker mimicked Marie—“ ‘How’d you like the big city with Schuyler? Did he take you out on the town?’ But she was laughing about it. Then she said, ‘Did he treat you fair on your deal?’ I said, ‘He got a little more than his share, but I’m not complaining.’ She looked at me and I just knew. Even if it might take a while, we were on. She was one of them who like to pretend nothing’s going on till it’s too late. So we drove down to look at their cottage. She kept talking the whole time. I was getting interested enough. We’d get going some, and then she’d spin away and go look at something else. It was okay, sort of a tease to keep me on my toes. But when it came right down to it, she shut up. It needed a little something, so I whispered in her ear, ‘I’m only doing this ’cause Schuyler cheated me.’ She loved it. So I said, ‘He didn’t cheat me much. About a thousand.’ She got into it some more. So I said, ‘Maybe less.’ How’d I know that was the stuff? It was just a lucky guess. I mean, the idea had come up. But, to get back to your question, Schuyler gouging me a little or my doing a little rag-doll dance with Mrs. Schuyler Van der Hoevel, neither one has been what you’d call preying on my mind. I’ll tell you what it is — I’ve got lots of energy, I can’t wait around like this without getting up to something, it’s the kind of boy I am.”