by JA Huss
“Sure. Yeah, I do. I fell for that asshole a long time ago. And I literally had to walk away from him and never look back thanks to all the shit he’s up to with Alonzo.”
“Oh, my God. I forgot! You know! You know them! You have to tell me everything.”
“About what?”
“Belinda! You know their secrets! I need them. You have to tell me.”
“I don’t know their secrets. I’m not even sure what I saw that night. I mean, clearly it wasn’t what I thought it was or they’d be in prison right now.”
“What did you think it was?”
She chews her lip for a moment, then shakes her head. “I had to have gotten it wrong.”
I’m just about to press her for more information when a screen door slaps open two doors down and Luke comes out. He descends his porch steps like he’s in a hurry, then makes a right, jogging down the street towards the ocean.
Is it weird that I know more about my neighbors in Key West after one day than I did my Fort Collins ones after two years?
Anyway. “Belinda. Tell me exactly what happened when you had to leave here eight years ago. I need to know this.”
But then a car pulls up in front of Zach and Luke’s cottage and just sits there, idling. Belinda and I both crane our necks, trying to see who’s inside. It must be an Uber with an out-of-towner, because a guy gets out of the back dressed in dark jeans and a jacket that has no place in Key West, even in the winter.
We both stare as he looks up and down the street, spots us, homes in on us like he’s got some kind of laser sight embedded in his eyeballs, then nods.
We nod back.
He looks down the street again, this time at the Dumas family home, pauses, and then turns back to the Zach and Luke cottage. He goes up the steps with purpose and doesn’t knock before entering.
Belinda and I both lean in that direction, hoping to get an earful when the stranger is greeted.
Nothing.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“I dunno. But he’s in Zach’s cottage and do you think he looked a little bit like Jesse?”
“Come to think of it, yeah.”
“I bet that’s his brother, Johnny. I overheard a conversation last night between Zach and Luke. And Luke specifically said he did not want Johnny coming down here today.”
“Hmm. Boston brothers, right?”
“Yup.”
“You’ve heard of them?”
“You know. Tabloid shit.”
“Tabloids? They’re like… famous?”
“In a too-much-money kind of way.”
“In a mobster kind of way as well?”
Belinda looks at me. “Yeah. Maybe. I could see it. Anyway. I can’t tell you what I saw that night, Tare. Because I don’t really understand what I saw and…” She looks down the street at the Dumas house now too. “And while I do hate Tony’s guts”—she kinda glares at me—“and Alonzo’s too, I really love their mom. I’m not going to spread rumors about them unless I know they’re true. So—”
She stops again because the screen door to Zach’s cottage once again swings open. The dude who may or may not be Johnny Boston exits. Looks at us. Nods. We nod back. And then he gets back in the waiting car and drives off.
Belinda and I look at each other and laugh. “What the fuck was that?” I ask.
“Dude.” Belinda and I both turn to see Vann standing on the porch next door. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“What do you mean?” Belinda asks.
“This whole place feels… shady. I couldn’t sleep last night so I was out here just kicking it on the porch. And the old man”—he juts his chin at the Dumas house—“he comes creeping out of his house at like three AM, rolls his truck down the driveway in neutral without starting it, and then pops the clutch and goes zooming off towards the ocean. I would say the whole Dumas family is weird, but it’s not just them. It’s these Boston dudes too. Doesn’t it seem like everyone’s got a secret, but it’s not the same secret?”
“It does,” I admit. “It really does. And you know what the funny thing is?”
I look at Belinda, but Vann says, “What’s the funny thing?”
“The funny thing is… Lonnie kinda hired me to figure out what the Boston brothers are hiding. He says Jesse told him that Emma found out that Jesse was up to something. And now she’s involved too, and Alonzo needs to know what she knows so he can keep her safe.”
“Bitch,” Belinda says.
“What?”
“You already have a job down here?”
“What?”
She turns to Vann. “What did I tell you?” He shrugs.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him that you were never coming back with us.”
“I can’t go back! I’m on the run, remember? Diablo?”
“Yeah, but Vann’s brothers already ran Diablo out of town. He’s gone, Tara. You can go home. The bitties at the library will take you back and—”
“No. Just… I can’t… I need to figure this shit out with Lonnie first.”
“You love him?” Vann asks.
Belinda shoots him a look. “Vann?”
“What? It’s an honest question.”
Belinda sighs. Then she looks at me and forces a smile. “I’m happy if you’re happy. Forget about home for now. What’s this job about? Maybe I can help?”
“I need to figure out who these Boston men are and what they’re really up to. So how do I make Jesse Boston chatty?”
Belinda chews the side of her cheek for a moment. “Well, if he was sent here to help Alonzo out with love lessons, then wouldn’t he be interested in getting to know you better?”
“Hmm. That just might work.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - ALONZO
There’s not much time to think about your personal problems when your client hooks a three-hundred-pound swordfish two hours into the charter and you spend the next three pulling it in. My day flies by in a way I’m grateful for. Because if I had not been busy, I’d be dwelling on telling Tara so much last night.
Why did I do that? Why didn’t I just… lie to her?
But of course, I know why. I’ve been lying to her this whole time. I catfished this girl. Hooked her mouth, reeled her in, and now I have to choose. Throw her back and keep fishing? Or keep her.
The metaphor breaks down here. Because in the real world of fish and fishermen throwing something back is a good thing. You want it to grow bigger, and stronger, and be a better fish. Keeping it is the bad thing. Because you consume it and it’s gone forever.
Throwing Tara back would be saving her from the secrets the Dumas family has been keeping all these years.
Keeping her would be selfish.
But am I not entitled to happiness? Or, at the very least, am I not entitled to go find it?
I didn’t lie to her because that’s not progress. That’s stagnation. And maybe she’s OK with the part-time almost-relationship we cooked up? Maybe she’s fine with phone-fucks, and sexting, and coming during cam calls.
But I’m done. I’m over it.
And she’s here. So… yeah. I did the right thing.
Maybe she says, “No thanks, Lonnie. I’m out.” But I did the right thing. And every moment we have together from now on is precious. I will make the most of it. Starting right now.
I pull out my phone, bring up her contact, and I’m just about to message her something filthy enough to make her blush when my phone buzzes an incoming call from my father.
I press accept. “What’s up?”
“We need a meeting. Can you come now?”
“Uhh… sure, Dad. I’ll be right there.”
I end the call, put my phone away with a sigh, then wave goodbye to Quint through the window of the office and head towards the fish market where my dad, Tony, and I have all our secret business-y meetings.
It’s not a big market like you’d see in Miami or New Orleans. It’s just a small building adjoin
ing the Lilot Bistro, run by the Locean family, who are cousins on my father’s side.
Tony and my father are sitting at the family table located near the kitchen. It’s a loud spot, which is good for us when we need to have a private conversation. There is no way for anyone to overhear us, and God help anyone who tries to bug this table. They will get nothing on their recordings but the cursing of an ornery French chef called Chief.
I slide into the half-circle booth next to Tony. “What’s up?”
“We have a problem,” Tony says.
“A big problem,” Dad repeats.
“Well? What is it?”
My dad puts his huge hands up, palms out, like he’s already trying to press back my objections. “Tara!”
“Tara? What about fucking Belinda?”
Tony huffs. “I can’t believe you’re calling her that.”
I shrug. “It’s what she wants to be called. I don’t give a fuck what her name is.”
“Tara is the real problem,” my dad says. “I’m not worried about Rosalie. She didn’t see enough to get any facts right even if she were to tell anyone. Who is this Tara girl, Lonz? How did she get here? You didn’t tell us you were dating.”
“Well, up until a few days ago she lived two thousand miles away and she thought I was an accountant called Lonnie.”
Tony guffaws.
My father does not. “Why is she here, Alonzo?”
“Ummm… well… I’m handling that, Dad, don’t worry.”
“Oh, fuck,” Tony says. “She’s connected to it, isn’t she?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“What the fuck?” My father never swears. Well, almost never. “Lonz, this isn’t a joke! We have a job this weekend.”
“I know. I said I’m on it, OK? She’s not going to interfere, I promise.”
“Even if that’s true,” Tony says, “we have a new, potentially bigger problem. Johnny Boston is in town.”
“What? Why?”
“You tell us,” my dad says.
“I don’t know,” I tell my dad. “I tried to talk to him over Christmas and see what kind of shit he thinks he saw last summer, but he wouldn’t take my calls and he spent all of Christmas Day hiding from me in that massive shit-show of an apartment up in the Bossy.”
My dad frowns. “He’s here for a reason. We need to know what it is.”
“Ask your new favorite son, Jesse. I’m sure he’s here because of him.”
“No,” Tony says. He’s really starting to get on my nerves. “Jesse has no idea he’s in town. I talked to him at breakfast and he said he was just gonna hang out at the marina with his stupid client today. But that was before I saw Tara, Rosalie, and that dude they’re with practically jump on him as he was walking past the rental cottage towards the beach. They went with him.”
“Hmm. Well… I might have something to do with that. I kinda hired Tara to… look into the Boston family.”
“Why?”
“Dad, seriously? They’re dirty as fuck. And Jesse admitted that Emma’s now in on it. Have we or have we not been lying to Emma and Mom for eighteen years about what we really do? Now these Boston assholes think they’re gonna just what, drag Emma into their own dirty business after we’ve kept her out of ours all this time? No. I want to know what they’re into, OK?” I point at Tony. “So that’s what you saw today. Tara is on a job for me. And if Belinda—”
“Rosalie.”
“—becomes a problem, well, that’s your mess to clean up. Not mine.”
“It’s not his mess, Lonz. It’s not your mess. It’s our mess. There is way too much action happening on Dumas Street right now. We need Rosalie—”
“Belinda,” I say.
“Whoever! She needs to go. And so does your girl and that boy. Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
Tony points his finger at me. “That’s a problem.”
“Look, we can use the hostel this time. That’s why we bought it, right?”
Tony isn’t convinced. “And what if Rosalie goes back over there asking where her mother went?”
“She won’t. No one over there knows anything anyway. We got rid of all her people when we got rid of her mom. I’ll handle Belinda and her friend, OK? You two just concentrate on the job. Now I gotta go. It’s late and Tara is probably waiting for me at home.”
I don’t wait for the sneer I know is coming from Tony at that statement. Just slide out of the booth and turn my back to them.
But my dad is right about one thing. There’s way too much happening on Dumas Street right now. Because when I get home the first person I see when I walk through my door isn’t Tara, or Belinda, or her friend, Vann.
It’s Johnny Boston. He’s sitting on my fucking couch with his ankle propped up on one knee and a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.
“What the fuck are you doing? And where the hell is Tara?”
Johnny takes a sip of his drink, narrows his eyes at me, and says, “I think we might accidentally have mutual business together.”
“I think you’re mistaken.”
“I think you should sit down.”
“I think you should get the fuck out of my house before I throw you out.”
His eyes narrow down even further. “Is that right?”
I get it. Johnny Boston. His name alone strikes fear into people far and wide. I’ve heard all the rumors. And he sure did turn up with that girl of his, Megan, in dramatic fashion last summer. Not to mention all the other questionable things I’ve been told over the past six months.
But I’m a six-foot-four fucking fisherman who hunts monsters far more terrifying than the likes of him. So I not only stand my ground, I walk right up to him, stare down into his beady blue eyes, and say, “Yeah. That’s right.”
He stands up. And I’m pretty close to him so we’re practically chest to chest when he does this. I’ve got at least two inches of height on him though, so he has to look up. “Alonzo. I’m not fucking around right now. You have no idea how important this job is.”
“Maybe not, but I know how important my job is. And this is Key West. This is our territory. You shouldn’t be doing anything down here without our permission.”
He’s shaking his head. “No. You misunderstand your level of importance. I run the entire Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean. And I’m telling you to stand down.”
“Well, then I guess we have a problem.”
He opens his mouth to say something but the screen door opens with a squeak. We both turn our heads to see Tara standing in the doorway.
“Oh… uh, hey!” She smiles at me. Like she didn’t just stumble into two massive, tatted-up dudes about to throw down. “You must be Johnny! I spent the morning with your brother. He’s so much fun.” Mad props to Tara for being able to read a room.
Johnny looks at her, then at me. “We’re not done.”
“I think we are.”
He turns, pushes past Tara, and leaves without another word.
Tara comes in, closes the front door, and turns to me. “What the hell was that?”
“That was… I don’t really know, actually. But fuck him.” I smile at her. Because I missed her today. And there was this little part of my brain that was afraid I told her way too much last night and today, in the light of a bright sun, she’d see things clearly and be gone by the time I got home.
But she’s not gone. She’s here.
And I’m done thinking about sirens, and curses, and Bostons, and jobs, and Belinda, and Tony and all of it.
I just want to be with her.
“You know what? I have to go.”
“Tara—”
“Lonnie.” She winks at me. “I have to go.” She pulls the door open, walks through, and pulls it closed behind her.
What the fuck just happened?
But then there’s a knock at the door. It takes me a moment to put it all together. And that sucks. Because just a few days ago her little game would’ve been the only thing on
my mind. I’d have been on. I’d have been smiling before it even started.
She knocks again. “Mr. Derringer? Mr. Derringer, it’s me. Miss Sunshine. I have that report you asked for. I do hope I’m not interrupting your…” She pauses, fumbling for words. “Your naked time.”
And now I really do smile. My naked time? But that’s Tara. Cut to the chase, man. Let’s get our sexy on. This is us. We are playful. We are fun. We are spontaneous, and flirty, and silly, to be quite honest.
I’m pretty sure I’ve never used the word silly to describe anything, let alone myself. But that’s how she makes me feel. She makes life special.
I whip my shirt over my head and kick off my shoes in the same two seconds. I’m just reaching for the button on my jeans when she calls, “Mr. Derringer?”
“One moment, Miss Sunshine.” I drop my pants, taking my underwear with them, and thank my lucky stars I showered before I left the dockside office to meet Tony and my dad. Because I smell kinda hot. Little bit of ocean mixed with wind and sun.
The door opens just as I’m kicking my pants across the room.
Tara stops and puts a hand over her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I know how important naked time is for you. Should I leave?” She pouts a little, letting Mr. Derringer know that she’s super sorry about the disturbance.
“No, of course not, Miss Sunshine. You said you have a report for me?”
“Yes, sir.” She thrusts a stack of papers towards me.
The stack of papers is just a handful of junk mail from my porch. But I look them over while I reach down to stroke my cock.
“Oh. I feel terrible now. I see that your naked time just started. And now I’ve ruined it. What can I do to make it up to you, Mr. Derringer?” She looks up at me and licks her lips. “Hmm?”
It’s only now that I notice she’s wearing something more… Tara. Not a pencil skirt and tight blouse, but a pair of wide-legged linen pants and a silky pink camisole. “Well… perhaps you’d like to join me?”
“If that will make up for my indiscretion, I’d be more than happy to.” She lifts her camisole over her head to reveal a cream-colored strapless bra.
“Did you bring these clothes with you?”