by Andrew Grey
Lunch was sandwiches, eaten quickly because the fish continued to favor them. Even Jamie, with his limited experience, knew that you made the most of good fortune when you got it.
“This box is full,” Reginald declared as he added a thick layer of ice on top. “We’ll start the second one and leave this closed. Don’t open it except to add more ice each day, and it will be good until we get back to port.”
“I wish we had full refrigeration,” Arty said, but then shrugged. “Well, the faster we fill them all, the quicker we go back.” He turned back to the wheel, and the three of them returned to the lines, hoping their luck held.
AFTER TWO more locations, not to mention a number of repositionings, Jamie was exhausted. His arms ached from the repetitive movements, but they had filled a second cooler box and had started a third. Arty, Reginald, and Beck were all thrilled and damned near celebrating by the time the light faded away and they were once again in darkness. The waves had thankfully diminished throughout the day, and now that night had fallen, the water was nearly calm once again.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Jamie asked as they sat around the table, Beck frying up a filleted fish that they had caught. It was simple and delicious, and they all tucked in. “Do we stay here?”
“No. We’ve taken a lot from this location, so we need to move on and let the fish move back in,” Reginald explained. “Just like on land, the fish we took will create a gap that will get filled in by the surrounding areas, and the smaller fish will have a chance now at the food so they can get bigger. This is a good location and one we can come back to, but we need to give it a little time.” Reginald lifted his gaze, and Arty nodded.
“I have the next location all planned, and it’s only half an hour away.” That meant that, hopefully, they could all sleep in. There were already bags under Arty’s eyes, and Jamie worried that he was overdoing it. After dinner, Arty drank a beer and went topside for a few minutes, then returned and pulled the curtain to their bunk area. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”
Beck got a deck of cards and put out all the lights except the one at the table, then shuffled and dealt himself a game of solitaire. Jamie went into his things for a book and sat quietly reading. There wasn’t a great deal to do other than be quiet. Reginald left the cabin to go up on deck, but returned a short while later, reporting that it had started to rain.
“I pulled all of the cushions and things into the cabin so they would stay dry, and battened everything down. We should be fine as long as it doesn’t get too windy. Mostly it looks like a good rain, and the water is draining out of the boat the way it should.” He closed the cabin door most of the way.
“Is this how things usually go?” Jamie asked, setting his book down.
“Yes and no. Most of the time, we would drink some and talk, maybe play cards or cribbage during the night. But Arty is getting up early so we have more fishing time, and that means we need to be quiet when he goes to bed early. If it wasn’t raining, we’d play up on deck.” Reginald grabbed the cards when Beck was done and dealt a hand for each of them, then pulled out a cribbage board. The two of them played in near silence, and Jamie returned to his reading, glancing at the curtain every now and again before finally closing the book and climbing into his bed.
The soft sound of card playing receded, and Jamie lay in bed as the boat rocked slowly back and forth. “Not sleepy?” Arty asked really quietly, and Jamie rolled onto his side and found Arty looking at him.
“I should be,” Jamie answered as Arty breathed deeply. It was warm, so they both lay in T-shirts and shorts on top of the covers. Jamie had hoped that with the sun going down, it would cool off, but he supposed they were fighting humidity more than anything else.
A breath of air reached them, filled with the scent of the ocean. One of the guys had probably opened the cabin door, because more fresh air washed over him. “Are you doing okay?”
“Yes.” Jamie had heard of people going a little stir-crazy in the confined space, but he was all right. “I suppose it will get different in a few days.”
“It always does,” Arty explained. “Just keep your spirits up as best you can.” He caught and held Jamie’s gaze. God, Arty had amazing eyes and a long, sleek body. Jamie couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to run his hands over him, to have free rein to explore. His skin grew warmer even as the cabin cooled a little. He licked his lips, and Arty did the same, sending the temperature even higher. Jamie stretched, his arms hanging over the edge of the bed, and Arty’s fingers slid lightly along his palm.
The touch sent a ripple of excitement running through him, and Jamie lifted his head, not daring to move, in case something happened to break the spell he was under. Only a curtain separated them from the other two men, and he swallowed the moan that threatened, yet he couldn’t pull away from the simple touch. Arty slid his fingers over Jamie’s, and he wriggled them in return. He didn’t dare move closer because he wasn’t sure what would happen if he did. There was nothing they could do in the confined space with the others outside.
Jamie was on fire, his body in overdrive, and he didn’t really know why. His belly fluttered, and he grew hotter by the second, even as the fresh air cooled the cabin. Finally, as the others moved through the cabin, Arty slowly pulled his hand back. The single light switched off, and everyone settled in to sleep.
Jamie watched Arty watch him for a while in their own private cocoon and he wished these moments would last, but then his eyelids grew heavy and he closed them, as the work and effort of the day caught up to him. Oh, but his dreams….
Chapter 5
THE CHILL from the night really settled over the entire boat. Arty slid out of bed as quietly as he could and dressed in the small triangle of space made by the beds and the curtain. Jamie was still asleep, his face relaxed in rest, and it was all Arty could do not to lean forward and taste his lips. He shook his head at the notion. A tingle-inducing touch in the darkness did not give him the right to something like that.
He pulled on warmer clothes and left the cabin. He grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler on deck and checked everything topside. The rain had continued for a while, and everything exposed was wet. Water had collected in a few spots, but starting the engine and getting the boat moving would force it all back and out of the boat.
He sipped the water and climbed into his captain’s chair, chilled by the wind. “Okay, baby, now I need you to start and not give me trouble like you did yesterday.” He made sure everything was set and then pressed the button. The engine rolled, but didn’t start. Arty groaned and tried again. It turned over this time and rumbled before catching fully. Damn, he hated going through this every morning.
Arty was instantly aware of Jamie behind him, and a bubble of warmth built where he stood as Jamie came closer and stood next to his chair. “It’s cold this morning.”
Not that he felt the chill at the moment. Arty turned on the radio to the AM marine channel and got the forecast. “Cold, cloudy with patches of rain for much of the eastern Gulf.”
“Looks like it’s going to be a fun one today,” Arty groused a little. “There’s rain gear under that seat.” Arty pointed. “You may as well get it out. We’re going to need it at some point.” He let Jamie get to work and went in back, pulling up the anchor. Then he returned to the cabin and got the boat moving forward.
“What do we do on a day like this?” Jamie asked.
“The same as any other day.” Arty turned on the lights in the back in a feeble attempt to stave off the growing gloom. “We work pretty much whatever the weather is. Hopefully this won’t last too much longer, and we can get into some sunny weather again. Still, it’s going to be chilly.” He yawned, and Jamie approached with the gear. Arty took his, and Jamie laid out the rest of the gear for the other guys.
“Will the weather affect the fishing?” Jamie asked.
“No. The grouper are deep enough that the weather up here has no effect, unless it’s a
hurricane or something strong enough to disrupt the water so far down.” Arty pulled on the raincoat over his clothes and felt better. The chill was starting to get deeper into him.
“Arty… I….” Jamie drew closer, and Arty turned to meet his gaze. The intensity Arty found there threatened to bore a hole into him. Jamie placed a hand on his shoulder, and Arty leaned into the touch. It had been some time since he’d felt the gentle, caring caress of someone else, and he longed for it. He was afraid to move in case it ended and he was alone with his thoughts and worries once again. “Is this…?” Jamie asked but pulled away. Arty immediately missed the heat.
“God,” Beck mumbled, and Jamie turned away, walking toward the back of the boat. Arty turned forward, looking out at nothing but water ahead. He needed a few minutes to clear his head and to think about something, anything other than Jamie. Sometimes other boats would appear on the horizon, and he prayed for something else to look at, something that would allow him to clear his head and think about anything other than Jamie. But no other vessel came close to them. So he found his thoughts constantly gravitating toward Jamie. He wanted this, but on a small boat with no privacy, it was out of the question. He needed to remember what he was here for.
“Dolphins,” Jamie called, and Arty turned to look as a pod jumped and ran in their wake. He smiled as they skimmed along for a while.
“That’s good luck,” Beck said, and Arty smiled and nodded. He wasn’t sure of that, but sometimes you could make your own luck, if you believed in it. Beck wandered back toward Jamie, and Arty wished he could go back as well, to watch the dolphins play. Hell, he was tempted to ask Beck to steer the boat so he could stand in the back with Jamie, maybe put his arm around him and just watch for a while.
Instead, he called out, “We should be ready in fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Reginald is getting the food together.” Beck came over. “I don’t think he’s feeling very well. The cold is getting to him and he’s stiff this morning.” Arty nodded and didn’t say anything more. Even he was feeling the cold. “He says he’ll be okay in a little while. He just needs to warm up and get moving.”
Beck got to work, and Jamie approached to peer out through the windows. “I think I’m plenty warm this morning,” he whispered, and Arty shared a grin with him.
“Go get the bait ready.” God, who knew that Jamie could be such a tease? Not that he minded. The last thing he’d expected on this trip was for Jamie to show interest in him. Arty glanced at Beck, who curled his upper lip for a second and then went back to getting the rods ready. For some reason, Arty hadn’t pegged Beck as intolerant, but then again, he didn’t know him that well. Still, it sent a chill up his back, and Arty remembered that on a boat this small, there was no room for discord. Everyone had to pull their weight and do their jobs, or they would all fail. Arty took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was the captain and needed to be the leader…. And that didn’t include being interested in one of the men on his team.
Reginald came on deck with food. Arty ate while he maneuvered the boat and got them to their destination. “Let’s get our lines in the water as quickly as we can.” The weather really sucked, and the only thing that was going to improve the day was catching some fish and making progress on their goals, so they could all go back home.
“This has to be better than New York,” Reginald said as he finished baiting one of the lines and got it in the water. “I don’t know if I could stand snow.”
“It took some getting used to,” Arty said, glancing at Jamie and trying not to look like he was watching him too much. “The wind will go right through you sometimes.”
“I hated New York. Everyone there was in such a hurry and they were rude—pushing, shoving, trying to get ahead of everyone else.” Beck lowered his lines, barely turning back to the others.
“It was different. But I had some success there. I did some commercials and started to build a life.” Arty liked New York. It was his kind of place.
Jamie gasped and then laughed. “Oh my God, that’s where I’ve seen you before. You’re the ‘smooth as a baby’s bottom’ guy.” Jamie grinned, and Arty rolled his eyes.
“Yes, that was one of the commercials I did. I’d hoped they’d want to do a follow-up, because it was really popular.” Arty had kept his hopes up for the last year, but nothing had come of it. The ad had been great and ran for months. The razor company said it was their best campaign, but there had been nothing afterward. At least, not for him.
“Yeah, it was, and you looked really good. Did you guys see it?” Jamie asked as one of the lines clicked, and Beck hurried over, took off the fish, slid it into the box, and added ice. Then Jamie stood in the center of the boat, a wicked expression on his face, and pantomimed through the commercial, hitting each line spot-on and sending a wave of heat rushing through him. Damn, Arty was glad that Jamie hadn’t shown up at the auditions—he’d probably have swiped the job out from under him.
“I think I might have. I don’t tend to remember that sort of thing.” Beck stiffened, and Arty kept the boat on spot, watching to make sure the others were safe. He didn’t like the sneer in Beck’s voice, but what could he do about it? Intolerance was something that took everyone by surprise at some time.
“Beck, watch your lines,” Reginald snapped, and Beck paid attention to what he was supposed to be doing.
It started to rain as they moved to a new location. Arty found what appeared to be some real interesting bottom, and they got lines in the water as it started to pour. They all pulled their coats closer, heads down against the rain, and kept working. Arty was at least under cover, but the rain continued to build, coming down harder and harder. Arty was about to call it when Reginald and Beck brought in their lines at nearly the same time, each holding a huge, beautiful grouper. Jamie was under cover as well, rebaiting the hooks, and they dropped the lines, reeling in more.
The fish continued biting, so they kept fishing for the next half hour until the lines grew quiet. “That’s enough. We’re going to move, and everyone needs to get out of the rain,” Arty called.
Jamie put the bait away and cleaned up the area in record time. Reginald got the lines brought up on his side, and Beck worked the other. “Holy shit,” Beck called as the reel raced out. He locked the reel, but the automatic stop broke and the reel continued to spin. Beck held the reel, stopping the line, and slowly reeled it in. Arty watched, holding the boat steady. It was obvious that this was no grouper.
“Crap,” Beck called, and Reginald raced over to help. The deck was wet, soaked from the rain, and Reginald didn’t stop. He slid right into the side of the boat and tumbled overboard.
“Cut the line!” Arty cried, and Jamie grabbed the bait knife and snapped the fishing line. “Throw the ring. I’ll bring the boat around.” Beck tossed the ring from overhead into the water, pulling on the line.
“He’s too heavy,” Beck called, and Arty brought the boat in as tight a circle as he could. “He’s got the ring,” Beck added. “That’s it, just a little to port. Perfect. He’s right alongside.” Arty cut the engine and hurried back, lowered the ladder, and helped Beck bring Reginald to it. The older man tossed up his raincoat and slowly tried to get out of the water.
“He can’t climb out,” Beck called. Jamie stopped at the cabin door and yanked off his boots, raincoat, and rain pants, his shirt hitting the deck as he dove into the water. Arty’s level of anxiety spiked as soon as Jamie disappeared over the side. His entire body itched to help, but he had to keep the boat steady.
“Just hold on,” Jamie yelled above the roar of the rain as the sky opened. One after the other, boots thunked up onto the deck, and then Reginald appeared over the back of the boat. He climbed onto the deck, and Beck got Reginald into the pilot area and out of the rain. Damn, Jamie was impressive. Arty was proud of how Jamie had taken action. Maybe he didn’t have a right to feel that way, but he did anyway. Jamie was proving to be one hell of a man… and that was exciting a
nd attractive as anything.
Wet clothes formed a pile, and once they were off, Beck got Reginald wrapped in a blanket and helped him down into the cabin. Jamie came up behind, gathering his sodden clothes, his jeans plastered to his body, water sluicing over him. He really did look like a drowned rat.
“Get your wet things off and go below to get dry and warm.” Arty held the boat steady, and Beck returned to the deck. “How is he?”
“Wiped out. I have him resting and I’m going to get him fed.” Beck pulled on his rain gear and went to the back, brought in the gear, and stowed it away. He got some ice to add to the lockers. “I guess that’s pretty much it for the day.”
“Unless the weather breaks.”
“Do you want me to drop the anchor?” Beck seemed to look everywhere but at him. What did Beck think was going on? Whatever it was, Arty hated the distrust that was building, but he didn’t know how to nip it in the bud without making it worse. Not that there was actually any reason for it in the first place.
“Yeah. The waves aren’t too bad. It’s just the rain. We’ll hold here for a while and see if we can wait out this mess. Thank you.”
Beck dropped the anchor, and Arty set the engines to idle. That would continue to provide power, but use a minimum of fuel. With that set and everything as closed up as they could get, Arty followed Beck down into the cabin. Reginald was in bed under the covers, drinking from a thermal mug. Jamie had changed and sat at the table reading, and Beck had gotten out of his wet gear.
“I shook out everything I could, and I’ll hang the gear up on deck as soon as it stops pouring.”
“Thanks.” The entire place smelled like salt water, and there was little to take away the dampness. What they needed was for the rain to stop and the sun to come out. “Jamie, that was quick thinking.”
Jamie sneezed and grabbed a tissue. “Man, that water was cold.”
