by Andrew Grey
“I bet it was.” Arty sat down across from him, and Beck handed him a mug of coffee. “You acted fast.”
“The boots and rain gear were weighing me down,” Reginald said. “I couldn’t get them off.”
“I’m glad everything turned out in the end,” Jamie said, and Arty turned to Beck, who was busy making sandwiches and heating up some soup. That was what they all really needed—something hot in their bellies.
When it was done, Beck filled thermal mugs and passed them out. The tomato soup was canned, but the warmth hit the perfect spot. “We need to be more careful.”
“Yes,” Reginald said. “I feel like an idiot.”
“No. I should have called it because of the weather before then. The deck was wet and slick, with the rain making it worse all the time.” Arty sighed and drank some more, his heart rate finally returning to normal.
“None of us wanted to. We were catching fish, and when they’re biting, we don’t stop,” Beck said as he sat down.
“What was that on the line?” Jamie asked.
“A goliath grouper. It’s rare, but making a comeback, and they’re protected. We couldn’t have kept it, but it had to weigh a couple hundred pounds.” He grew quiet, and Arty finished the soup and ate a sandwich before heading topside to see what was happening.
The rain had let up somewhat, but the clouds reached all the way to the water, and the fog threatened to surround them. Arty checked that the running lights were on and turned on others so they could be seen.
“This isn’t something I expected,” Jamie said as he stepped up on deck.
“Are you warmed up? That water will chill you to the bone.” Arty checked over the deck as well as the engines.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m dry and warm, if a little tired.” Water slid down the front and side windows of the pilot enclosure. At least it wasn’t raining quite as hard now.
“The radar shows that we should be coming out of the worst of it. Hopefully this weather will move on so that we can all dry out a little.”
“Should we be fishing?” Jamie asked. “They aren’t going to jump into the boat.”
“No, they’re not. But I think we can pick up where we left off in the morning. The weather will hopefully have improved by then.” Arty sat in his seat, swiveling it around so he was looking back. A few moments of quiet with Jamie were just what he needed after all the excitement. “I never expected to be here once again. When I left for New York, I thought I had left this life behind.”
“I bet you can’t wait to get back.” Jamie smiled with genuine warmth. “I hear it’s pretty amazing.”
“I like it. There’s an energy there that seems to run through the entire city. Here, it feels quiet, almost sleepy.” Arty sighed. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, just different. Here I can breathe and think, maybe take a rest. There, it’s like everyone is trying to catch you, so you have to run as fast as you can, all the time.” Arty shook his head. “I suppose they both have their place.”
“I think I’d like to go to New York. I want to be on the stage there.” Jamie leaned against the dashboard. “I went to the theater in Iowa when I was a kid, and I always wanted to be one of those people. In high school, I tried out for the plays, but my dad would keep me too busy to rehearse. So I lied and said I had to stay after school and did it anyway. I played Will in Oklahoma! and I even learned to dance.” He did a few steps and sang a little. Arty didn’t want to laugh, but it struck him as funny. Not that Jamie could sing and dance—because he definitely could—but that he was doing it on a boat in the middle of the Gulf. “I was really good. But my favorite part was playing Stanley in A Streetcar Named Desire. It was so intense, and I lived that part for weeks.” The fire in Jamie’s eyes was something Arty could get used to. “That was in the winter, and Dad didn’t mind as much.”
“Why’d you come here?”
Jamie shrugged. “I had an aunt who lives in Sarasota, and I wrote and asked if I could stay. She was my mom’s sister and a really good person. I bought the tickets and told my dad goodbye. That I wanted something different.” He turned away, looking out into the rain, avoiding the drips off the roof. “I was done with school and wanted something more. I hoped I’d find it there. But I didn’t. My aunt has three kids of her own, but she let me stay in the room over the garage. It’s small, but nice. But I didn’t realize that I’d be so far away from everything, and it’s been hard to find a job.”
“I suppose it has.”
“And without a car, I couldn’t go very far….” He continued looking out into the rain, and Arty could pretty much guess the rest. Jamie had seen his flier and jumped at it. “I need to work so I can support myself. Aunt Livvy and Uncle Max are good people, and they wouldn’t leave me out in the cold or anything. But my dad wants me to come back to the farm. He doesn’t get that I don’t want to spend my life farming. I hated it. And it wasn’t as if I could afford to go to college on my own….” As if someone turned off a spigot, the rain let up and reduced quickly to drips and drizzle.
Arty knew that same feeling. Even if he’d had the grades to go to college, he would never have been able to afford it either. Still, with his early theater work, he had gotten quite a number of lessons—not only in acting and being onstage, but also in running the business side of things. Those lessons had paid off in ways Arty never would have imagined. His experiences had helped him develop the discipline to save in good times for when it rained cats and dogs.
“I know my aunt and uncle are trying to help, but after this, I don’t know what I’m going to do for money….” There was a lot left unsaid, and Jamie’s voice tinged with worry.
They still had to catch plenty in order to get into profit territory for this run. Granted, Arty was prepared to walk away from what he’d put into equipping the boat just so he could help make his dad whole again. And he wanted the guys to make some money. They deserved it, with the way they were working. He sighed and closed his eyes, praying to the god of fish, and the fools who tried to catch them, that this trip actually worked out.
Arty was about to tell everyone to come topside to start getting things ready when the rain picked up again. It looked like the rest of the day was going to be a washout.
“I left for many of the same reasons as you. I wanted something different. But I guess I never imagined anyone would be running to this particular life.” He smiled, and thankfully Jamie turned, nodding himself. “You sort of stepped out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
“I guess so. When Aunt Livvy said she lived near Sarasota, I thought it was closer to the city. I figured I could get around pretty easy and find a job. Instead….” He shrugged. “Well, I think that’s enough. I don’t like dumping my crap on other people. I’ll figure something out.” He scratched his head. Arty certainly hoped he’d be okay. “I’m going to check on Beck and Reginald.” Jamie went down into the cabin, but came right back up.
“They’re both asleep.” He closed the cabin door.
Arty couldn’t blame them. On trips like this, it was best to rest while you could, and there wasn’t a great deal to pass the time anyway. Jamie sat down next to him under the protection of the cabin roof. “I have to ask, does your family know…?” He cleared his throat as though he wasn’t sure how to ask the rest of his question.
“You mean that I’m gay? Yeah. Dad knows because I told him, but we never talk about it. Dad doesn’t talk about anything really. We’re a good Catholic family, and nothing unpleasant exists if you don’t talk about it.” Arty rolled his eyes. “At least that’s how it is between the two of us. Does your family know?”
Jamie shook his head. “Dad would have two fits and a hemorrhage. He’d probably send me to one of those places that are supposed to fix me or something. Aunt Livvy knows. She and my dad never got along. Dad says that she’s a bleeding-heart liberal, and Aunt Livvy calls my dad a stubborn old goat who wouldn’t know his butt from a hole in the ground.” He flashed a brilliant smile.
“I wish I could talk to him about stuff like that, but it isn’t possible. That was part of the reason I had to leave. If I wanted to ever be able to be myself, I had to get away.”
“I understand.” There was so much in Jamie that Arty could identify with. “I’m glad you came to live with your aunt.” And he was glad Jamie had answered his ad. “I’m happy for a lot of things.” He held Jamie’s gaze with his own.
“Me too,” Jamie whispered and drew closer as though they were attached by an invisible string. A gust of wind blew across the deck and into the pilot enclosure, but Arty barely felt it as Jamie drew nearer. Heat rose around him, and it felt almost like the sun had come out and the day was brightening. Jamie took a step nearer, closing the distance between them until he was right there, near enough to touch and for Arty to take him in his arms.
Arty hesitated for a second. He and Jamie were on a boat in the Gulf with nowhere to go and absolutely no privacy. Still, Jamie closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a heated, if somewhat awkward kiss, sending a sizzle of excitement racing up Arty’s spine. A heated, if somewhat tentative, kiss, and Jamie pulled back, blushing completely red.
“Have you kissed someone before?” Arty thought of making a snide comment about goats or something, but this wasn’t the time.
“Was it that bad?” Jamie asked, the light dimming in his eyes.
“No.” Arty tilted his head slightly to the side. “But I bet you’re a fast learner.” Jamie drew close once again, and damned if Jamie didn’t prove that he was a quick study indeed. His arms slid around Arty’s neck, and he pressed closer, deepening the kiss. Arty wound his arms around Jamie’s waist, pulling him between his knees, drawing their chests together as he took charge of the kiss, demonstrating what he liked, and Jamie followed suit immediately.
“Arty,” Beck called, and Jamie backed away, rubbing his lips guiltily, and Arty got his mind back where it should be. He had to stop himself from growling. The precious quiet moments alone with Jamie were starting to be very important to him, and he resented the interruption, even though he had no right to. “Do you think there’s any chance this is going to let up?” Beck asked. He gazed at both of them, and Arty met his eyes full-on, not backing down, even when Beck’s lip curled a little. He stepped slightly to the side so Jamie would be behind him and out of Beck’s direct line of vision.
Arty swallowed and got his attention back on the weather rather than Jamie’s sweet lips. “The marine forecast keeps calling for this to end, but it doesn’t look like it.” He moved off to the side. “The radar showed an end, but now it looks like more rain has built in behind, so I think we’re going to be in this for a while. At least it seems to be lightening up.” He turned to Beck. “What are you thinking?”
“There isn’t electrical activity, just rain. We could put on our gear and give it a shot. Sitting around here isn’t doing us any good.” Beck climbed up on deck, joining them under cover.
“How is Reginald?” Arty asked.
“He’s getting up and wanted me to come talk to you. I think he feels a little ridiculous about what happened.” Beck looked out over the water. “God, this is depressing. But we aren’t making any money standing here.” Beck reached for his gear and pulled it on. Arty got out some extra for Jamie, and the two of them got a few lines in the water. Arty found what looked like a good spot, and after an hour, the rain finally stopped. The guys took off their wet gear and hung it up, and Arty found his attention divided between his instruments and Jamie. Though whenever he looked at Beck, it seemed the guy was looking back. Arty needed to figure out how to deal with the distraction that was his young and hot crew member before it got the better of him.
Chapter 6
“THAT BOX is full,” Beck said after four more days. Once the weather finally broke, the sun came out and stayed out. Jamie’s hands were sore, his back ached, and his legs were like mush when he collapsed into bed at night. They had had quite a bit of luck, and with only one more box to go, it looked like their outing was going to be a success… and come to an end toward the earlier part of the estimate. Jamie was both sad and excited. He didn’t know what returning to port was going to mean for things between Arty and him.
The two of them had had no time to themselves except when they fell into bed at night, and even then, with the others only separated by a curtain, it meant there had been no privacy at all. The issue was only exacerbated by the fact that Beck seemed to watch him and Arty like a hawk. Jamie had gotten so much side-eye over the past week that he wondered if Beck was part owl. It gave him the creeps a little, but he did his best to ignore it. He and Arty hadn’t done anything wrong, and if the guy had issues, then they were his and no one else’s. Besides, all he and Arty had been able to do was steal a few kisses. It was supremely frustrating. But those few moments when they had been alone were magical just because everything except Arty seemed to slip away for a few seconds. Under normal circumstances Jamie would have taken things in hand, but even that was denied to him in such close quarters. So desire and heat only built and grew to the point that his imagination took off at a moment’s notice.
“Find us some fish,” Beck called to Arty. So far, the day had been incredibly slow, and everyone was getting antsy. Jamie was ready to set foot back on dry land, and they had already passed the farthest point in their plan and had been heading back toward port.
“I’m trying.” Arty was glued to one of his instruments. “I’m not sure why Dad gave me this location. The bottom seems to be nothing but sand, and that means there aren’t going to be any fish.” He was growing frustrated, and Jamie wanted to go over and soothe him, but didn’t dare. Instead, he busied himself cleaning up some of the work area. He’d already cut bait, and the lines were ready. It was matter of Arty finding what he was looking for.
A whistle rose from the pilothouse, and Arty continued forward. “Drop the anchor, right here,” he called back. Jamie put it in the water. “Let the boat settle and then drop the lines. There’s a rock ridge down there that’s pretty tall. Must be some sort of old upthrust.”
The lines went down and came back up almost immediately. There were fish indeed—lots of them. The first were snapper, which Jamie took off the lines, took care of, then put back in the water. And then the grouper bit. Jamie baited hooks and filled the box with ice.
“Wow,” Jamie called.
“I guess Dad really knew what he was doing. Makes me understand a little more about him, because this is like fish gold,” Arty said, joining them and adding a few more lines as they fished nonstop. It was like they were afraid to quit. No one ate, and Jamie passed out drinks when he got far enough ahead. After an hour, they pulled up the anchor, moving slowly, and then dropped their lines again.
“The box is almost full,” Jamie said as Beck hauled in the biggest grouper of the trip. It must have weighed close to a hundred pounds. They got the beast off the hook, and Beck held it up while Arty took pictures. Then they all took turns posing together with the fish before Beck put it in the box, and they covered it with ice. To be safe, the other boxes were all topped off, and then the anchor called for. It was an amazing end to their trip.
Jamie pulled up the anchor, and Arty hit the throttle, sending them skittering over the waves in a final push for home. “Do we have enough ice made?” Arty asked.
“Yes. The boxes are full to the brim, and the earliest of the six is still super cold. But we need to get back to keep everything as fresh as possible,” Reginald said as a sort of warning.
“I’m on it.” Arty turned away, and Jamie went into cleanup mode while the others stowed all the gear. There was a sense of expectant jubilation as they made their trip back. The fish boxes were full, thankfully shaded, and packed with ice. Everything was looking good.
JAMIE WENT below to get out of the sun and glare for a little while now that the gear was cleaned and stowed. Their trip had been a success, and all they had to do was get back to port and unload their cargo. Th
e hum of the engines formed a comforting backdrop until it was gone, and silence reigned as Jamie lay in his berth. Something was wrong.
He threw his legs over the side of the bed, pulled on his shoes, and climbed on deck.
“I don’t know what’s wrong. I heard something that didn’t sound right and turned them off,” he heard Beck say. Arty hurried back, pulling up the engine cover. Jamie joined them all as heat rose out of the chamber in a wave.
“We need to let it cool before we touch anything,” Reginald offered. “Do you think it was overheating?”
Jamie took a look, but didn’t see anything obvious. Arty pulled out a tool kit and set it on the deck while the boat bobbed in the waves. He leaned over, looking down into the massive black engine, trying to see what was amiss. “Did the power fall off? What sort of sound did you hear?” he asked Beck.
“I’m not sure. It just didn’t sound right, and the boat was dropping speed. I…,” Beck said, and Arty sat back out of his way. “Dad and I have worked on engines together sometimes, but mechanics aren’t my strong suit.”
“I’ve spent—” Jamie was about to volunteer, but Beck grabbed the tool kit, sitting down on the deck so he could get closer.
“It’s probably the turbo charger. Maybe it’s gotten clogged or come loose.” He leaned closer, but Jamie was already shaking his head. He doubted that was the issue.
“It could be the—”
“Let me check it,” Beck plowed on after shooting Jamie a dirty look. Clearly he thought he was the guy in charge, at least for now.
“I don’t think so,” Jamie said, this time a little more loudly, and Beck looked ready for a fight. Jamie ignored him. “The connection is there, and it looks secure.” He pointed, and Arty and Reginald both nodded. “We should look for the most obvious causes and work back from there.”
“Jamie, you take charge of trying to fix it.”
“Him!” Beck howled. “What does he know about marine engines?” Beck slammed the tool kit on the deck.