Mario told him to call him when he got back. He didn’t like going on the boat; it made him seasick. He waved once, then took the cart and wheeled it back to the clubhouse. Chi Xingyou and Salvador began pulling in the lines and anchor chains. When everything was clear, Chi Xingyou went to the bridge, and they began motoring out. Salvador sat on the work deck and watched the view recede behind them. The bay was too shallow for this job, so they motored past the airport and under the Bay Bridge, passing Alcatraz on their right and crossing the Presidio Shoal. After piloting under the Golden Gate Bridge, they headed due west, out into the Pacific Ocean.
After forty-five minutes in open waters, Chi Xingyou killed the engine. The boat drifted and rocked on the little waves. The water, here, was a perfect shade of navy blue. The captain joined Salvador on the deck, and both men looked around. Except for a large tanker some distance west, there were no other ships in sight. Salvador took off his sunglasses and placed them in a cup holder. He moved toward the Christmas tree bag, and the captain joined him. They didn’t speak as they bent and strained and lifted the heavy thing up, rolling it over the back of the boat and into the water. Afterward, the captain went back to the bridge and closed himself in. In the water, the bag—straining between the downward pull of its contents and the upward push of trapped air—looked like it might float. Salvador watched as it slowly began to fill with water, until finally, without spectacle, it sank under the surface of the sea.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
During the writing of this book I was helped in innumerable ways: people fed me, housed me, gave me socks, gave me shoes, took me into the jungle, read my book, answered my questions, told me when I’d gotten off track, encouraged me, gave me ideas, edited the book, designed the cover, and inspired me again and again. I sincerely want to thank my agent Charlotte Sheedy. Thank you to Morgan Entrekin, Allison Malecha, Deb Seager, Charles Rue Woods, Judy Hottensen, Julia Berner-Tobin, Paula Cooper Hughes, and everyone at Grove Atlantic. Thank you to Jordan Bass, Walter Green, Eli Horowitz, Eric Rosenblum, Jason Schwartz, Jason Blaylock, David Hoffman, Jane Rogers, Chesa Boudin, Kent Lam, Amelia Hassani, Jason Richman, Andrew Koltuniak, Barbara Poldino, Uncle Jimmy, Brigid Hoffman, Ali Nelson, Becca Nelson, Nigel Philips, Tim O’Brien, Nate Thayer, Phearith Tit, Mey Sopheakdei, Kris Kelder, Nick Berry, Andrew Tsui, Stacey Crevello, Sarah Lannan, Simon Evans, Bear Korngold, Willow Schraeger, Shem Korngold, Violeta Garcia, Billy McEwan, Megan Winters, Avi Lessing, Dante Ortiz, Ashley Ortiz, Kent Simpson, Ben Roberts, Basho Mosko, Brendan Morse, Nathan Burazer, Gina Macaraeg, Ed Loftus, Stevie Infante, the BMFB’s, Jet Martinez, Kelly Ording, Maggie Otero, Jonathan Holland, Heather Hickman, Dan Johnson Lake, Carlos Garcia, Alexis Georgopoulos, Brendan Francis Newman, Ezra Feinberg, Caroline Paul, Wendy McNaughton, The Center for Fiction, Tomo Yasuda, Pat Harmanci, Cem Harmanci, Kerim Harmanci. Mostly, thank you to Reyhan Harmanci, who helped and inspired me in every way, without her I couldn’t have done it.
RIP to Lucas Goettsche.
Every Man a Menace Page 23