Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Anyway, better get moving.” I glance toward the warehouses, then back to him. “Hey, Cap. Why do you think he left me his boat?”
“He told me once after all that went down that he thinks you’ll miss the water,” he says, and I feel a wistfulness in my gut. He was right. “He said you were most peaceful when you were fishing.”
Right then, a group of fishers walk by, one of them asking Cap a question about worms and lures. I walk toward a post and stare out at the water, mulling over what my grandfather said. This ocean looks different from the one in LA, but I don’t know why. Maybe because I don’t use it much. Here, it’s practically all you have.
Well, that and the mountains. My gaze flicks over my shoulder toward the foothills. It’s a damned pretty place, I’ll give it that.
I inhale salty sea air as I make my way to the storage units.
My grandfather tried to get my dad to settle in Aqua Vista when my grandmother was alive, but he refused. Thought it might calm him like it did me. But by then, he was already partying hard. My mother was a one-night stand who left town after I was born.
I walk up to a man wearing the Sleepy Slip storage facility logo on his shirt and old dusty jeans. He’s chewing on a toothpick and eyes me up and down. “I’m looking for the boat that belongs to Griggs Malone.”
“Who’s asking?”
“I’m his grandson. He passed away and left me the boat.”
He stares at me before recognition gleams in his eyes. “Probably got some algae on the hull. Rust too.”
I nod as I follow him into the warehouse, though I highly doubt my grandfather would’ve let the saltwater rust his boat. He was meticulous about cleaning it. But what do I know? No way he could keep up with it as he aged.
He leads me to a dry stack in the seventh slot, and there she is. A twenty-six-foot bay boat with a casting deck on the bow and stern. I smile at the name. Vitamin Sea. He truly believed that.
“Doesn’t look so bad after all,” the man says. “Name is Bert, by the way.”
“Micah.” I reach out to shake his hand. “Do you think it can be put in the water?”
“Definitely. Just needs some tending to.”
I wonder when she was last waxed. “Do you think she might sell?”
“That what you want to do with ’er?”
“Maybe,” I reply, even as my stomach feels uneasy over the idea. “But I’ll get back to you on that. Want to check her out first.”
“Let me pull the paperwork, see how much time is left on the storage lease, and then we can put her in the water for you.”
“Thanks.”
I pull out my cell as I wait and text John: Busy morning?
Yes and no. What’s up?
Meet me at the Sleepy Slip? I’ll explain when you get here.
On my way.
13
JOHN
I drive down the beach side of the highway and take the Sleepy Slip exit. I park, then walk toward the main pier and past the bait-and-tackle shop. At the end of this row, I turn right, looking for where Micah has planted himself.
Memories flood me of Micah sitting on the dock or in a fishing boat with his grandfather. One of the only times Micah seemed truly at peace. Well, that and after an orgasm, which is why I enjoyed giving them so much.
But then there was sophomore year when Micah made a grave mistake during a fishing competition his grandfather had entered. The winning catch was determined by weight. For some reason, Micah thought it would be a good idea to insert a weighted ball inside one of the bass his grandfather caught that day, hoping it would help him win the money. It was a huge ordeal when the cheating was discovered, causing the competition to be suspended while they investigated. Because Micah fessed up immediately, he was banned from the docks instead of the authorities pressing charges.
His grandfather didn’t speak to him for days, only giving him a look that was a mix of disappointment and sadness. That was a hard time for Micah, his light dimmer than usual. I stood by him as a friend, though I couldn’t quite understand why he did it other than wanting to help his grandfather. He was lost that year, and I encouraged him to join the drama club after taking a random theater class. I don’t know what he would’ve turned to if he hadn’t found that spark again. That’s part of the reason I knew he had to leave.
I spot Micah at the end of this row, and it feels surreal that we’re even here. He’s lost in thought, staring at a once-familiar boat docked in slip number eighteen. After years of completely avoiding the area, he seems pretty comfortable leaning against a wooden post, and it takes my breath away. As I near, the expression on his face makes a lump form in my throat. Nothing is better than that look. Not even when he comes. That look means the storm inside him is momentarily settled. I never thought it was right for the fishers to banish him indefinitely. He was only a kid and made a mistake he regretted immediately.