I’ve cooled off, and what’s left after the anger is me hoping I can do some damage control.
Andy, Tucker and Todd come back to our lodge twenty minutes later. It’s obvious they all were briefed on my outburst. On the occasional times when I’ve lost my temper, Andy usually gives me time to cool down and then comes and lets me know what a douche I’ve been. Then he gives me a chance to apologize, and we’re good.
In this case, I feel the need to up the apology, so I’m cooking dinner when they get back.
A peace offering. I’m a good cook, and I was stupid, and hopefully this will fix it with them.
Andy strolls in first, with Tucker as back up. “Something smells good.”
I hand each of them a piece of warm bread. “Dinner’s a little early, but I thought we might have a chance to fish when it cools off. From the bank, not a boat, but you know.”
Todd walks in, avoids eye contact with me.
“Hey, man.” I wave him over to the table. “I was a dick. I’m sorry. Come eat.”
He nods. “No worries.”
Tucker smiles. “Jeremy’s learning. Just the other day we talked about how to laugh at yourself. Or laugh, in general.”
I give Tucker a nod. “I’m working on it.” I set the bread basket on the table, and Todd helps himself to another piece.
“I get it, though,” he says.
“What?”
“She’s someone you want to impress. I get that.” Todd looks at Andy, not me, maybe worried that the eye contact will provoke me.
I sigh. “She hates me. She’d like me to drown and rot. And before you exchange money on the bets, yes, this may be the speed record for a girl threatening my life.”
Tucker smiles. “There’s a little humor at your own expense. That’s good growth, Jeremy.”
Andy pulls out a five-dollar bill. “Who do I owe?”
“Andy? Really?” I sound hurt. It might be a little true.
He shrugs. “I was rooting for you, really I was.”
We eat dinner together. My stomach settles, knowing that at least the boys have forgiven me. Macy, she’s another matter altogether.
The next day we’re in the drift boats again, and it’s a surprise to no one that I’m in Evan the other guy’s boat with Andy. I feel stupid, and I hope at some point Macy will at least look in my direction so I can try to apologize again.
“Maybe you should make a sign. You know, you could hold it up when she faces our boat. It could say something like, ‘I’m a douche, but I’m a lovable douche.’” Andy enjoys it when I royally screw things up. I tend to be the one in control, so when a situation goes sideways on me, he likes to be sure I’m aware of it.
“I just want to apologize. I get it that I behaved badly.”
“Douche-y. Or like an ass. Ass-ish? Is that a word?”
Evan the other guy has yet to say a word during this entire exchange. He sculls the oars, turns the boat in neat little circles while Andy casts. I’m taking a time out on the casting so that Andy actually has a chance to catch something. My fishing today is so bad, I’m pretty sure the trout two states away are spooked.
Evan chooses now to speak up. “Ass-like. I think that’s the word.”
“Thanks, Evan, for chiming in.”
He nods, continues to row. “Happy to help.”
I reconsider Evan the other guy for a second. “You know, you might actually be able to help. You know Macy, right?”
His face doesn’t change. I can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, so I can’t read his expression at all. “I know Macy. I work with her, as you may have noticed.”
I think Andy might be stifling a laughing fit, but his back is to me, so I press on with Evan the other guy. “Tell me everything you know about Macy.”
“Because why?”
“Because you will get the best tip from a guest who didn’t even fish if you do. And because I’m trying to find a way to apologize to her.”
He raises his chin a little, like he’s trying to defy me or something. He doesn’t know that Jeremy King is tenacious. You can’t defy someone as relentless as me. “I’ll tell you the little that I know about her, but only because you want to say sorry.”
Andy chimes in. “J does have redeemable qualities. You’re helping someone rehabilitate himself. Think of it as charity work.”
“You’re not helping, Andy.” I consider giving up and just lying in the bottom of the boat to nap.
“She’s really good at what she does. She’s a way better fisherman, or fisherwoman, then I’ll ever be. She can cast anywhere in any kind of conditions.”
I urge him on. “Keep going.”
Evan thinks a little. “She loves her dogs. And she’s from around here. A lot of us come from other places, just for the summer. Macy grew up around here.”
“Keep going.”
He shrugs. “That’s about it. Oh, her favorite place to fish besides here is Henry’s Fork. It’s considered one of the best trout streams anywhere. Not just Idaho.”
I feel a migraine coming on. “I appreciate all the intel on her fishing habits, but what about boyfriends, favorite music, kind of coffee she drinks?”
“Macy talks about fishing, she talks about her dogs a little. That’s all.” Evan the other guy points out to the horizon. “We probably need to get off the river before too long. Looks like we might be in for an afternoon thunderstorm.”
I reconsider his tip. Evan the other guy sucks.
Soon enough we’re out of our boat, and I have a chance to at least come within a few feet of Macy. Both boats are beached as our guides decide if the storm is going to amount to enough to put us off the water for the rest of the day.
Todd and Tucker are sitting in the shade of a cottonwood tree. Andy chats with Evan about his roll cast. Evan loves him already, and I want to tell Andy he can stop being so perfectly friendly and likable.
Macy has made a point of working on some project with one of the rods as far away from the rest of us as possible.
I edge over to her. I feel a little like I’m sneaking up on an unsuspecting snow leopard or something.
“Hey.” I stand close enough to her to be heard but not hit.
“Yes, Mr. King?” She doesn’t lift her head to look at me. She’s tying on leader to the line on one of the rods. I watch her deft fingers with the line for a minute.
“Sorry again. Hope there’s a way I can make it up to you at some point.”
“Start by saying, ‘I’m sorry I was an ass and tried to pin it on you.’ I’d like to hear that out of your mouth.”
I don’t hesitate. “I was an ass, and I’m sorry I tried to pin any of that behavior on you. I would very much like to find a way into your good graces so let me know what else I can do.”
She smiles. “What about, ‘Alpha douches are way over-rated.’ Say that.” She still isn’t really looking at me, but I can see she’s watching for my reaction in her peripheral.
“Alpha males are big, huge, over-compensating douches who probably need a good ass-kicking.”
She laughs. She looks up at me and smiles for a second, and then her gaze goes stony again. “That’ll do for now. I’m considering whether to speak to you ever again in the future.”
“Sounds fair. Keep me posted.”
“Will do. Now go away.” She bows her head to her task again, but I can see a smile on her face.
This is progress? I think it’s progress.
The rest of the afternoon is boring. I’m stuck in Evan the other guy’s boat. He asks Andy a million questions about famous people. Andy is so patient I consider pushing Evan in the river to spare him the never-ending barrage of “what about her? Have you ever met her?” questions.
“What about Selena Gomez? What’s she like?” Evan’s more animated than he’s been the whole day on the river.
Andy smiles. “She’s cute. Way young, but cute. Pretty nice, too.”
I cough. “When have you ever met her? You’re full o
f shit.”
Andy points an elbow at me, as he’s too invested in his last cast to mess it up by releasing his rod. “You don’t go to every event with me. She was at the last Red Nose Day thing.”
“Fine. You’re way too old to get with her, regardless.”
Evan sits in awe.
Andy frowns. “I’m way too happily married with children. It is possible for a guy to have a conversation with a girl and not be trying to nail her, J. For crying out loud.”
I feel bad for a second. I know Andy’s way too smitten with Kelly to even look at another woman. Now I worry that our dumbass guide will get the wrong idea and say something stupid to someone in town. “I know, you’re all Kelly all the time. I may have been jealous for a second. Or distracted by the idea of Selena Gomez in the flesh.”
Evan nods. “That one video where she has that black wig on? Damn, son.” He sighs, picturing it in his head. “It’s so cool you’ve met all these people.”
Andy shrugs. “People are people. Except Jack Nicholson. He is a walking and talking legend. Seriously.”
I cut in before Evan goes off again. “What’s tomorrow’s fishing look like?”
Evan squints. “Flows will be lower. We’ll probably be able to wade or use float tubes. Maybe fish from the bank.”
I brighten. Maybe I’ll be un-grounded and back in closer proximity to Macy. “All the group together again, then, huh?”
Andy knows why I care. “If you’re off double secret probation.”
“She spoke to me. She even smiled for a second. I’m close.”
Evan butts in. I’m thinking Todd Ford has a competitor for “most irritable fishing companion” in the form of this dude. He shakes his head. “You know Macy’s never gone out with a guest. Like never. And she especially hates rich dudes from California.”
“Thank you Evan, your input is always appreciated.” I give him a glare that I wish could melt the flesh off of his bones.
He puts his hands up, lets the oars go loose for a moment. “Just sayin’, man.”
“Tip, Evan—just think about your tip and stay quiet.” I point at the bank and the fishing lodge. “And get us back to our home away from home so I can have a shower, a nice meal, and possibly a beer.”
Andy laughs at me the rest of the way.
Later that evening, I’ve accomplished the shower, and the meal (Tucker’s really a great cook, in all seriousness), and I check in with the rest of the guys.
“I’m thinking a cigar, a beer, and maybe put a line in and see if anything’s biting.” I pitch this to Todd, Tucker, and Andy, all of whom are crashed in the living room after dinner.
“You go on. I need to call Kelly. I’m missing my family. And my woman.” Andy stretches and heads toward his room.
Tucker waves me on. “I got too much sun. I think if I had a beer right now I’d fall asleep standing up.”
Now I don’t want Todd to say yes, because the thought of the two of us trying to hang out alone together is painful. He must pick up on the vibe or feel the same way. “Jeremy, I’m hanging it up for the night. I’ve got to see if I can get a hold of a couple people in LA before it’s too late anyway.” He salutes me with his ever-present phone.
With no one taking me up on my offer to fish, I decide to take a walk outside to check out the water, see if the flows are down at all for tomorrow. I’d like an opportunity to be closer to Macy in the morning. I take my fishing rod in case the mood strikes. Maybe Andy will have sucked me completely into another one of his hobbies by the end of this trip.
I slip out the front door and make my way to the back of our lodge on the gravel path. The moon comes up over the foothills to the north east. In the distance the Tetons are tinged with pink and the sky is midnight blue, like the Crayola color. I swallow hard. In LA the moon is usually brownish from the smog.
Here the moon’s bathed in a pearly haze. It’s wider than I’ve ever seen, and quivers as it rises from the green gray hills. This place is coming damn close to taking my breath away.
“Beautiful.”
“You talk to yourself a lot. Isn’t that a sign of crazy?”
Macy’s standing next to me all of a sudden.
“Jesus Christ. Where’d you come from?”
“I materialized out of thin air. Don’t be a dumb ass. I came down from the main lodge.”
She seems a lot less likely to punch me than the last time I saw her. “Watch the mouth.”
She squinches her nose. “Dang. What is it about you that makes me want to cuss a blue streak? Oh, that’s right. You’re a pain.” She lights up a long thin cigarillo. “Want one? I’m going down to the river bank. The big browns like to rise on a full moon evening. You’re sure to score.”
I want to score with her, and I don’t want it to be catching a fucking trout. “I’ll come with you. And I’m sorry again, by the way.”
She side-eyes me. “Yes? For what, again?”
“Everything? My toddler temper-tantrum? My general demeanor? Existence as a hopped-up testosterone-addled stereotype?”
She shrugs. “Fine. I’ve already decided you’re on probation.”
I think I’m wearing her down. She’s just invited me to fish with her. Not long ago she wanted me drowned and decomposing.
This is a huge improvement. Maybe I’ll score yet.
Down at the river, we cast out and let the lines float slowly down the current. She pulls hers first with a deft flick of her wrist, waits for me to pull mine before she flicks the rod in the most graceful ten-to-two cast I’ve ever seen.
I’m not an expert fly-fisherman, but I know when I see an expert. Macy’s gifted. For a split second, I might even be jealous. I know how to do things. I’m Jeremy King. I’m good at everything. That’s my image, and I want to keep it that way. I’m doing a rotten job of it this week, but a man has to cling to some shred of dignity. “You’re an amazing fisherman. We’re lucky to have you as our guide.”
She smiles. “Thanks.”
I cast again. I stand a little behind her and to the left, watching the line of her neck. “How long are we going to do this?”
“We just put our lines in. Please don’t tell me you’re one of those idiots who expects a trout to strike a line in the first twenty minutes. There’s a kiddie pond in West Yellowstone if you want to go do that.”
“I was just wondering how long we were going to pretend like we annoyed each other before we started sleeping together.”
She laughs. Like, a loud, head tilted back, open-mouthed guffaw. “Your mistake there is you think I’m pretending.” She smiles a bit and shakes her head. “You are unbelievable.”
“Yes, I’ve been told that. Which is why I asked the when are we getting together question.”
“You would not even know where to start.”
“I have a lot of ideas. That little spot where your hair curls right above the base of your neck. I could start there.”
“I’m not some empty-headed, silicon-filled, implanted moron. I bet you have some weird Hollywood strain of STD that only movie types get.”
“Are you kidding? Did your high school counselor just give you the scared straight abstinence talk?”
“Are we going to fish or are you going to continue to bark up the wrong tree? Go into town on the weekend, and I’m sure you’ll be able to find some young Barbie girl from Darby who will wrap her legs around you for a story about Andy Pettigrew, in hopes of meeting him while banging you.”
I have no come back. No woman’s ever been that mean, just flat-out, straightforwardly mean to me.
She dips her head for a minute, looks up and down the river and casts again. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. You’ve been an arrogant pest, but you haven’t been mean. That was just mean.”
“Yeah, it was.”
She turns to look at me, all the while gently reeling the line in, threading it through her delicate fingers, an action she does thoughtlessly and gracefully.
“I’ll be ni
ce to you, but this isn’t going to be some dumb Doc Hollywood movie where the small town girl has stars in her eyes and falls for the cynical Hollywood producer.”
“I’m an agent, not a producer. Plus, Michael J. Fox was a plastic surgeon. And it’s nine hundred years old, that movie.”
“Whatever. I’m not falling for you, that’s the point of me referencing that movie.”
“We’ll start with civility. Fine by me.” I stand still for a moment, then cast out. My fly sinks like a stone.
“You’re doing it wrong.” She smiles, slyly, keeps her on eyes on the river in front of us.
“You don’t say.” I pull the line slowly back, give it a jerk, and it skips messily across the surface to me.
“Unless you’re trying to freak out every brown trout in a five-mile vicinity.” She pulls her line in, sets her rod down next to her. “Here.” She’s next to me. “You need to false cast a couple times.”
“And that is what?” I have the line under control again, but I hold the rod still, waiting to see what she’s going to do.
She takes a step slightly behind me and reaches around, puts her hands on my forearms. It’s a bold move. I like it. It’s miles ahead of her punching me in the mouth, I can tell you that.
“You start with your basic overhead cast. Keep an eye on the back cast so you don’t hook me in the eyeball, though. Do you know how to do that?”
I can feel her breath on the back of my neck. She’s shorter than me, but she leans in close.
“Yes.” I’m a little at a loss of words. “I promise not to sink the hook into any part of you.”
“Do that now.” She guides my hands as I back cast. At the pause, when the rod is at the top of its arc, she speaks again. “Power the rod forward but pull it right back.”
Her hands are still on my arms, and she guides me through the motions.
“And I’m doing this because?”
She chuckles and releases me, steps back into my line of sight. “Your fly was water-logged. A false cast dries it out so it’ll float again.”
I’m disappointed that she’s not next to me anymore. I do as I’m told, though; I cast out again and watch the fly as it settles like a feather on the surface. “Thanks.”
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