Catch of a Lifetime Page 8

  “There’s no need to fight.” Arty’s voice was strained, and Jamie figured it might be best if he backed off. “We’re almost a day from port. If we don’t get this running, then the Coast Guard is going to take that long to get here and even longer to pull us back. There won’t be any fresh ice in that entire period because we have only battery power, and that isn’t going to last that fucking long. We’ll have a hold full of spoiled catch, a fine from the state, and nothing to show for all our work. So back off, work together, and get the engine running.”

  Jamie had never heard Arty speak that way. He was usually so easygoing. But flames nearly shot from his eyes, and he and Beck held this staring contest that Beck was certain to lose. Arty approached, and finally Beck lowered his gaze.

  Jamie wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything at all, but then Arty turned his gaze to him. “Let’s check that the engine is getting enough fuel to rule that out, and then we can go from there.”

  “You do whatever you want,” Beck growled and stalked away. Jamie sighed and lay on his belly on the deck to get a closer look. He checked the fuel lines, but they didn’t seem to be the source of the trouble. Then he pulled off the air filter housing and opened the top.

  The smell that came out was enough to knock him over. The inside was encased in salt and dirt. What a mess. “Is there an extra filter?” Jamie asked.

  Arty went below and shook his head when he returned.

  “Okay.” Jamie pulled the filter out of the housing, got a plastic bag, and knocked off the debris that he could onto the plastic. “The engine was probably starved for air and reached a critical point.” There was canned air in the toolbox, and he sprayed it over the filter, sending a cloud of dirt and dust into the air. Reginald took the housing and worked to clean it while Jamie did what he could for the filter.

  “That can’t be it,” Beck groused.

  “Most of the time it’s the simplest cause.” Jamie finished with the filter and put the cleaned housing back on the engine. He made sure everything was right and then stepped back. “Try starting it.” He hoped to hell that was the only issue and that the thing actually started. It had been giving Arty troubles, but a clogged filter and restricted airflow would do that.

  Arty went to the pilot area. Seconds later the engine turned over and roared to life. “That sounds a lot better. I’m going to increase speed slowly and see what happens.” They began moving closer to home and to the end of the journey.

  Jamie put the toolbox away and glanced at Arty, hoping for some sort of indication as to what was going to happen next. Beck seemed to watch both of them intently, so Jamie simply went about his tasks and continued to wonder.

  JAMIE LAY in bed, staring at the roof of the cabin just above him, wondering if Arty intended to stop, but the engines continued their drone, and he figured he should try to get some sleep. Once they arrived, there was going to be plenty of work. He closed his eyes, but couldn’t sleep.

  Beck and Reginald were in their bunks, snoring in stereo. Jamie slipped out of his bunk and wandered through the cabin, opening the door and climbing on deck, where Arty sat at the controls. He closed the door and joined him, feeling bold, like this was his last chance to make his wishes truly known.

  He stood behind Arty, winding his arms around his waist, making the most of the time they had alone. “How much longer do we have?” That question had so much meaning for him. “This was a good trip… with a few exceptions.”

  “Yeah, and it’s too bad that one of those exceptions had eagle eyes and can’t mind his own damned business.” Arty sighed. “But beggars can’t be choosers, and we got through this trip in pretty good stead.”

  “Will you be going back to New York?” Jamie asked.

  “Eventually, yes. I don’t plan to stay here, but I can’t let my dad flounder. Why?” Arty turned with a half smile in the single light from overhead.

  “I don’t know. I was wondering if I could go to New York with you. I don’t want to stay here, and maybe I could get some work there. I’d like the city, I think, but it would be easier if I knew people there.” Jamie also liked the idea of being around Arty and getting to know him better. They had just met, and he didn’t want them to go their separate ways when Arty returned. The fishing trip had been hard work. On a boat in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico was the last place he’d expected to find someone who made his heart beat faster with just a look or a furtive touch.

  Arty chuckled. “Of course you can come. I’d be happy to introduce you to some people there. I have friends, and you said you wanted to try your hand at acting.” Arty’s smile brightened. “You have a great look, and I think there would be a number of people who might be interested.” Arty placed a hand on top of Jamie’s. “Not that there are any guarantees. But you aren’t afraid of hard work, and my friend Ryan has connections. He’s in fashion, but I bet you’ll really like him. He’s great fun. So, give it some thought. You don’t have to make any decisions right now.” Arty pointed ahead, and sure enough there were lights on the horizon. “That’s our destination.”

  Jamie was glad Arty didn’t call it home. It hadn’t felt that way for Jamie, and he doubted it did for Arty either… not anymore. Arty leaned back against him, and Jamie stayed close. It was nice being here, just the two of them, alone together. Jamie kissed the base of Arty’s neck and closed his eyes, wondering about, and hoping for, what would come next. At least for a few more hours, he could pretend that Arty might be his.

  EVERYONE WAS awake and on guard as they passed under the bridge and into the bay, the lights of the dock and fish plant just ahead in the early morning. It was exciting, and the prospect of being back on land made Jamie impatient. They approached the dock and tied up the boat. It seemed they had someone waiting for them. “Morning, Gerald,” Reginald called as they slipped into their berth and pulled up alongside the dock.

  “Welcome back,” Gerald called as Arty killed the engines. “We got word you were coming and have the plant ready to take your catch.”

  Reginald and Beck both turned to Arty, who had been on the phone constantly as soon as they had come in range of the shore. “That’s good of you, Gerald. Come on board and we’ll talk rates. We are fully loaded with amazing grouper.” Arty seemed happy, but judging by the calls he’d been making, he had something up his sleeve.

  “We’ll pay the usual rates,” Gerald answered, the smile and the welcome in his voice slipping away.

  “That’s the thing, Gerald. We didn’t borrow any money from you for this run, and as such, no agreements were signed. I’ve been on the phone with Sampson and Trident, and they’re willing to pay more… considerably more.” Arty turned to the others who were sitting at the restaurant and some who had come to check on their harvest. A boat coming in was always welcomed home. It was tradition. “Twenty percent more.”

  Jamie wasn’t privy to exactly what was going on, but they had all agreed that Arty was going to be responsible for selling the catch and getting the best price.

  “Everyone here sells to us. We’re part of the community.”

  “Yes. And you’re such a good corporate citizen.” Disdain dripped from Arty’s voice. “I’ve been calling around, and the other plants regularly pay quite a bit more.” A crowd was gathering, and Arty spoke more loudly. “It comes down to this. Since you’ve been loaning all the fishermen here money, you’ve controlled their catches and they have to sell to you. We don’t. So I did my homework and learned you’ve been underpaying.” Now everyone on the dock was interested.

  Gerald stepped right to the edge of the dock, eye to eye with Arty. “So help me, I’ll….” Jamie moved through the crowd and into position right behind Arty, gently touching his shoulder just to let him know that he was there and had his support. He just felt that Arty might need it, and he didn’t want him standing alone.

  “What? Threaten never to buy my catch again? You need us, Gerald. Trident and Sampson are willing to deal with us fairly, all the time. They wa
nt our business, and they don’t see us as their captive audience.” The tension between the two spilled over across the dock and onto the boat. Jamie wasn’t sure who would back down, but Gerald flinched and stepped back.

  “All right. Let’s go to the office and strike a deal,” Gerald said.

  “You know I’m going to share the deal I get with everyone else. So you may as well say what you’re offering so they all know.” Arty stepped into the gunwale. “We deserve a fair price for our catch—all of us do. You all know me, and I’m doing this for you as well as for the four of us.”

  “But who will finance our trips?” one man asked.

  “Sampson and Trident have similar arrangements, and their contracts don’t discount what we bring in as additional interest.” Arty turned back to Gerald, who was grinding his teeth. “I want to be fair to everyone, Gerald. You get good, fresh fish, and we get a fair amount for our work. That way, we all win.” The aggression had already slipped away as he handed Gerald the details of the other offers.

  Gerald’s lips pursed, and then his face relaxed a little as he looked over the offer. “Fair enough. If our pay scales are out of date, we will make them current. And we’ll meet this price and do right by our fishermen,” Gerald vowed.

  Damned if Arty hadn’t done it. He was quite the dealmaker. Granted, a lot of this was Gerald trying to save face, and Arty let him have that. Arty had what he really wanted, a good price for the catch. He extended his hand, and Gerald shook it. The other men looked at each other, smiling, and Arty patted Gerald’s back as he strode back down the dock.

  “Take the boat to the loading chute and we’ll get to work.” Gerald continued on his way, and they cast off the lines while Arty backed the boat out of the slip.

  “That took brass balls,” Reginald said.

  “Yeah, but we made a lot of friends, and Gerald needed to come down a peg or two. He’s been using his position to push people around here for long enough. He needs to be fair, and now that folks know he hasn’t been, they’ll keep an eye on him or do business with someone else.”

  Jamie thought it was damned heroic what Arty had done. Yes, he’d gotten a better deal for them and their shares would be more, but he’d also helped everyone else in the process. Pride…. He was proud of Arty for standing up to Gerald. Anyone who would take care of others that way might have his back too. “Would he really take you on in front of everyone else?”

  “That was part of the plan. I had to have witnesses and support. Gerald thought he was the king of the hill, but he needs the fishermen or he doesn’t have a business.” Arty maneuvered the boat up alongside the plant to the chutes, which were extended on board. Then he killed the engine.

  “Bart,” Arty said as a huge man came on board. They shook hands. “Are you ready for a great catch?”

  “You bet.” They started unloading the boxes, sliding the fish and ice down the chute and right into the plant, where it would be weighed and processed immediately. There was no waiting or their catch would lose its freshness. Unloading took a surprisingly short amount of time.

  “Those are some beautiful fish. Let me get you a receipt for the weight and type, and we’ll get to work.” Bart hurried inside. In the meantime, they cleaned out the boxes. Bart returned with a detailed sheet of every fish, its weight and type, and a net amount that Arty shared with all of them. “One of the best runs of the year. You staying with your dad?”

  Arty nodded.

  “Then go ahead and get some rest, all of you. I’ll call over when the check is ready, and you can come pick it up.” Bart smiled and left the boat. Once the chutes were returned to the plant, they pulled away and returned to their berth.

  “Go on, guys, head on home. We can clean up the rest of this tomorrow morning.” Arty yawned and shook his head, silencing the engines. He shook hands with Reginald and Beck, then watched as they left the boat, heading out down the dock and across the parking lot.

  “You going to your aunt’s?” Arty asked, and Jamie shrugged. “Then come on. You can shower and rest at the house.”

  Jamie followed Arty down the road to the small white house. “Dad, I’m back,” Arty called once they were inside. Arty set down his bag and peered around the corner into the living room. “Did you sleep in the chair?”

  “How did it go?” He seemed to ignore Arty’s question.

  Arty handed his father the sheet he’d been given, and while Jamie had never seen Arty’s dad before, he knew surprise when he saw it. “What do you think?”

  “You did well, boy.” He turned and must have caught sight of him. Jamie stepped forward.

  “This is Jamie. He went out with us. Jamie, my father, Byron.” Jamie extended his hand, and the older man shook it. “He’s going to stay a little to rest up.” Arty didn’t waste time. “The bath is down the hall on the left, and you can take my bed. It’s just across the hall. Go get cleaned up and get some rest.”

  Jamie wasn’t going to argue. He was too tired to put up a fight, so he retrieved his bag and trudged down the hall.

  The shower was hot, and it felt darned good to get the dirt and stink off him. He smelled like fish and sweat, and God knew what else. But all that went down the drain. And once he was done, he put on comfortable clothes, hung up the towels, and padded across the hall, doing his best not to listen to Arty and his dad. Though there wasn’t all that much to hear—just Arty talking and his dad grunting. He closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if what Arty offered was a real chance at something, or just another disappointment.

  The pillow and blanket called to him, as did the fact that the world wasn’t rocking and swaying. He lay down with a sigh, pulled up the blanket, and was asleep in seconds. His hopes would wait. They had long enough already.

  Chapter 7

  ARTY QUIETLY went into the bedroom and closed the door. He was clean and felt human again after his shower. The amount of dirt that went down the drain must have been enough to make one hell of a mud puddle.

  Arty wished he understood his father. They had done well, very well. The catch had been excellent; the result of the trip was more money than they’d made in a long time. Arty got a better price for his fish, but all his father did was humph and sulk. Maybe his father was jealous of the fact that Arty had had some success. Though he doubted that. His dad wasn’t the jealous type. Still, he would like to have heard something positive about the fact that Arty had earned enough money to get his dad’s bills current, and pay off some of the past debt. Yeah, it was a single run, and in the end, their luck had been good, but it was a big start to digging them out of the hole they were in.

  Taking a few minutes to think, Arty realized he had been here about three weeks, which meant he had another three weeks to go. And if the fishing remained good, he could return to his own life again and leave his dad on a sound financial footing.

  He stifled a sigh and turned to Jamie, who was curled under the blanket on the far side of the bed. Now that was a gorgeous sight. Arty sat on the edge of the bed as gently as he could, the lure of sleep calling to him like a siren song. He pulled up the spread and climbed under it, separating him from Jamie. That was the safest course of action. Sure, the two of them had kissed and danced their way around each other while at sea, but they were back now, and things were different on land. Jamie had options, and Arty wasn’t going to force himself on him like some letch. He lay on his back, his eyes heavy, breathing deeply. There were plenty of things he needed to do, but right now, none of them mattered. Rest, he needed rest.

  Arty woke some time later to light peering in from behind the curtains. He wondered what time it was. Jamie had shifted and pressed right behind him, an arm over Arty’s shoulder. It seemed as though he was still asleep from his breathing. Arty didn’t want to disturb him, but he desperately needed to get up. He carefully unwound himself from the blankets and Jamie.

  “Where are you going?” Jamie asked groggily.

  “I’ll be back. There’s no
need to get up.” Arty’s legs were unsteady, but that was just from being on the boat for so long, and the fact that he was still half asleep. He went across the hall to the bathroom, peed, and got a drink of water before returning to the room. Jamie stood next to the bed and shuffled past him and out of the room to the bathroom. Arty got back into bed, closing his eyes, listening for Jamie.

  Arty wasn’t a smooth operator when it came to other guys. He didn’t have a way of asking a guy back to his place without actually saying what he wanted. Arty had never understood that subtle language. He was just a kid from the coast of Florida who lived and worked on the water. But he was keenly aware of Jamie and listened for his return, wondering what he should do when the bedroom door opened. He thought of pretending to be asleep, but that was childish. Instead, he lay still, awake, and when the door opened, the covers he’d been using suddenly seemed too warm.

  The shorts Jamie wore hung low on his hips, and his T-shirt clung to his chest just enough to entice. Arty watched as Jamie walked around to the other side of the bed. The mattress shook as Jamie got back on, and then Jamie pressed right to him, with warmth and a sizzle of energy when his hand slid around Arty’s waist. “That boat was way too small,” Jamie whispered, holding Arty a little tighter.

  He slowly rolled over, and Jamie closed the gap between them with a kiss that rocked Arty’s world. Arty hugged Jamie tightly, his hands roaming as his willpower crumbled to a pile of dust. He had wanted this since first seeing Jamie on the dock, crushing his hat in his hands. Now he got to know what those lips really tasted like and what Jamie’s skin, smooth and warm, felt like under his hands.

  For a second Arty wondered where his father was, but after two seconds, he no longer cared. All that mattered was Jamie, right here and now. Arty tugged at the bottom of Jamie’s shirt, getting it over his head, followed by his own. Chest to chest, heat to heat, he sighed as they pressed together. This was what he needed, what his spirit wanted, and he wasn’t going to be denied any longer.