by Stephen John
At the end, Gertie decided to burn a CD to capture the moment for all time. Ida Belle told her to do it; she said she needed something to chase the squirrels in her attic away.
“How did I do?” Gertie asked Walter.
“After that beating, I think the drum set will now have to be humanely euthanized,” he replied. Ida Belle cackled.
“Hardy-Har-Har,” Gertie scoffed.
“Have we had enough fun here, yet?” I asked.
“Oh. Can we go to Pike Place Market?” Walter said.
“Is that where they filmed the scene where Rob Reiner checks out Tom Hanks’ butt in Sleepless in Seattle?” Gertie asked.
Ida Belle rolled her eyes.
“That’s the one,” Walter said, snapping his fingers. “Can we go?”
“Sure,” I said. “What’s there?”
“I want to see the fish tossing,” he said.
“You want to what?” I asked.
“Fish tossing,” Walter repeated. “It’s a—a thing they do in Seattle.”
“What kind of thing?” I asked.
“Don’t ask,” Ida Belle said. “He’s been talking about those stupid fish since we boarded the plane. Let’s go, or we’ll never hear the end.”
“We’ll walk,” Gertie asked. “Do you have any idea what they charge to park in this town? You could finance a third world country with their parking fees alone.”
“How did you get here?” I asked.
“We took a bloo-ber,” Gertie said.
I chuckled, “It’s called Uber, not bloo-ber.”
“Whatever,” she said. “It was just some gal with purple hair and tattoos driving a Nissan. I don’t think she liked my tip.”
“She was nice,” Walter said.
“They have decent public transportation here,” I said. “I don’t think you guys want to walk much in this town, especially near the water. Seattle makes most of San Francisco look like the Great Plains. I don’t even want to think of you three climbing those hills on foot.”
Thirty minutes later, the four of us were walking along Pike Place Market. I’d seen the famous large sign, Public Market Center, many times in pictures, on television and in the movies, but until now I knew little about the market itself.
Pike Place Market is right on the waterfront, overlooking Elliot Bay. It opened in 1907 making it the oldest operating Farmer’s Market in the nation. Over ten million visitors shop each year for seafood and produce and visit the arts and crafts shops, merchants and cafes. The first Starbucks coffee ever is in Pike Place Market, along with over two hundred other small businesses.
It was easy to find the fish tossing, and when we did, we discovered how it got its name.
It was people—
tossing fish—
...to other people.
That’s it.
Even Walter was underwhelmed. Fish sellers would toss fish across the counter to other employees, who were putting said fish on ice. Sometimes the sellers would toss fish to the customers when their order was ready. Like I said—people tossing fish to other people.
Okay, there’s that. It killed a grand total of four minutes before we moved on.
Not that Pike Place Market was a bust—it was anything but. It is a delightful place to enjoy a day—perhaps even two or three. There were incredible places to shop and eat. Ida Belle and I were fond of ArtasUsuwil, a gold and silver jewelry shop where all the jewelry is designed and sculpted in the Northwestern style. Laid out were elegant rings, pendants and earrings of trees, sailboats, waves, Orcas, Dolphins, and Whales.
Gertie spent a large amount of time at Hot Flashes, a glass studio specializing in original light catchers with Northwest nature images and Dicrochic glass jewelry. Walter’s favorite place was Another Happy Hooker, which is nothing like the name might imply. They made beautiful dolls, wood painted signs, and component bird houses. Walter found an exquisite hand-carved birdhouse decorated with buttons and knobs. He bought it and paid to have it shipped to Sinful.
On the side streets, artists and musicians lined the roads. I sipped a vanilla latte and enjoyed a group of Native American musicians singing and dancing to a wonderful beat. Two blocks away there were four young men dressed in overalls, playing bluegrass music. Across the street, a young guitar player played Cat Stevens songs, and well, I might add.
After three hours of traversing Pike Place Market, Walter and the ladies were a little tired and we were all ready to eat. We ended up at Emmett Watson’s Oyster Bar, with its large selection of local microbrews.
Walter and I ordered fresh oysters while Gertie and Ida Belle both ordered fish and chips. I’d give the food a B-minus. Good, not great.
“Tell me, Fortune,” Gertie said. “When do you plan to see Carter again?”
“Tonight, at dinner,” I replied. “It’s the one time each day I’ve seen him.”
“And he’s telling you nothing about what kind of trouble Paul Pride is in?” Walter asked.
“Pretty much nothing, yes,” I replied. “He’s just been saying he’s working on things and he needs me to stay low and out of the way. He’s just asking me to trust him, saying he’ll bring me in to help when the time is right.”
“And you don’t know when that is?” Gertie said.
I shook my head.
Walter was shaking his head too, “That boy has peculiar ways, I’ll give you that, but he’s a good man. He cares about you and would do anything to protect you. I suspect that’s what he’s doing here.”
“But I didn’t come here to remain in the shadows,” I said. “I came here to help him.”
“And he knows it,” Walter insisted. “Fortune, you’ve known him long enough now to know he’s set in his ways. He will not change. I’d hang in there for a while longer. He’s a grown man and knows how to handle himself. He was a member of Force Recon, you know.”
I nodded. I knew.
“Where are you going to dinner tonight?” Ida Belle asked.
“He’s taking me to a restaurant called Ray’s Boathouse. It’s right on the water on Shilshoe Bay. I looked it up. They have a reputation for great food and fantastic sunsets.”
“Sounds romantic,” Gertie said.
“The forecast is clear as a bell, and it’s nice and warm,” Walter added. “It should make for a wonderful, romantic evening.”
“I doubt that romance is on his mind,” I said. “I understand that. He’s here on a mission. Tonight’s the night I get more information out of him—I hope. How long do you all plan to stay?”
“I head back out tomorrow,” Walter said. “Can’t leave Scooter alone for too long back at the store.”
“Understandable,” I said, and I did. Scooter worked for Walter at the general store in Sinful. Nice kid. Not too bright. Skinniest legs ever—has a huge crush on me.
“We’re here for a while,” Ida Belle said. “But I want you to know, Gertie and I made a promise we would be low key. We know this is a thing for you and Carter. We will keep our noses out of things.”
Gertie nodded, “Unless you need us.”
Chapter 2
I pulled into the parking lot at Ray’s Boathouse about ten minutes before 7:00 p.m. Carter had not arrived but the waiter was nice enough to seat me ahead of time. The table Carter reserved was outside. I carried a sweater for when the sun slipped low in the sky. The temperature was only about seventy-three degrees. downright chilly for Louisiana this time of year. The wind coming off the water, made it seem even colder. The employees were just firing up the outside heaters expecting temperatures to drop even further. A large canopy overhead was there to keep in much of the heat.
I ordered a glass of the house white and wrapped my sweater around me when I felt a mild breeze. The expensive boats docked nearby tossed ever so slightly.
The view of the water, nearby Bainbridge Island, the Olympic Mountains, and the low sun splashing the sky with color made for a positively stunning visual experience. I could understand why Seattle was
such a popular place to live, despite its reputation for rain.
I saw Carter walk out onto the patio. He was looking around for me. Rather than waving my hand, I sat back to just take him in for a moment. At six-foot-two, he stood a half head taller than most of the surrounding men. I could see his green eyes and three-day scruff from a distance. The breeze coming off the water jostled his hair into a sexy mop. The tight jeans he wore with his casual white cotton shirt, opened to the center of his chest, made him look hunkier than ever.
He made eye contact with me and smiled. Suddenly, all the stewing I’d been doing all day about him not telling me what was going on had evaporated.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” he said, lifting his sunglasses and positioning them on top of his head. He gave me a smile that was both warm and sad at the same time. His face looked slightly careworn. His expression was that of a man who carried a great burden.
“No, I haven’t,” I said. “I’ve just been enjoying the scenery.”
I stood and held my arms out, silently asking for a hug. He smiled and hugged me warmly, giving me a gentle kiss on the lips.
He looked down at my feet, “Nice shoes,” he said.
“They’re John Fluevog,” I said. “I bought them downtown. Nicest girly shoes I’ve ever owned, not that I’ve owned that many.”
“They suit you,” he said. “Those flat wooden heels look dangerous.”
“Be careful, Mister. I can use them to keep you in line,” I said, offering a wink.
He sat at the chair next to mine. Carter glanced at the view I had been taking in earlier, giving me a wonderful angle of his profile. He had beautiful facial features. I yearned to be with him tonight, and who knows, perhaps every night. The sky had exploded in red, yellow, and orange. And the wine was kicking in.
“It’s a gorgeous area of the world,” he said. “Mountains, lakes, forests, oceans. Mild climate, light humidity.”
“And there are no gators—and the bugs here are too small to carry away small children,” I added.
He chuckled.
“True. Still, it’s not home,” Carter said, wistfully. “It’s not Sinful.”
“I agree,” I said.
“How is your friend, Paul?” I asked.
Carter paused, almost as if shocked by the question.
“I haven’t found him yet,” he said. “He’s dug in someplace—I don’t know where yet. Hopefully soon.”
“Really?” I replied. “How can I help?”
He recovered quickly, “I don’t know fully yet. I’m still working on it. I don’t sense he’s in immediate danger—not this second, anyway. Knowing him, he’s probably sitting back, drinking a beer and listening to AC/DC while I’m working my butt off trying to find him.”
I smiled, “Why AC/DC?”
He chuckled, “As long as I’ve known Paul, he always loved AC/DC. Before he was in the service, he’d travel two or three hundred miles to see them if they were playing in the area. He used to have the AC/DC Live Album on his mp3 player. He’d play that damn thing in the barracks over and over and over. I was so sick of AC/DC by the time our tour ended.”
“I love AC/DC. I listened to them myself a lot as a teenager,” I said.
I paused. Carter looked at me. I thought I detected a tinge of disappointment.
“But I eventually got over it,” I added.
Carter and I both laughed together.
“Well, the day is over. Can we maybe relax and just enjoy each other’s company?” Carter asked. “I hear the Alaskan King Crab Legs are the best in town here.”
“Certainly,” I said, picking up the menu. “I was thinking about the Grilled Wild King Salmon.”
“That would be a superb choice,” said our waiter, a slender young thirty-ish Asian man. “My name is Riku. I’ll be taking care of you tonight. The salmon comes with smashed Yukon Gold potatoes, black kale, roasted red peppers, malt aioli, and horseradish.”
“Sounds wonderful. Can you hold the kale?” I asked.
“Hold the kale?” he replied. “You know this is Seattle, right?”
“I know, but all the same...”
He smiled, revealing a perfect set of white teeth, “I’m just kidding. Many people hold the kale.”
He turned to Carter, “And for the gentleman?”
“King Crab.”
“Another superb choice,” he said. “May I bring a starter?”
“Perhaps the Rosemary Gougères?” Carter said.
“Superb, sir. Something for the gentleman to drink?” he asked.
“Do you have beer?” Carter asked.
“We do.”
Riku handed Carter a menu of beers. Carter looked at it, confused, “There are over thirty different beers here.”
“Yes sir. We are famous for our selection of local microbrews.”
He handed Riku the menu back, “Why don’t you surprise me? Get me some local flavor.”
“Fantastic sir,” Riku said, and was off. “You won’t be disappointed.”
I pulled out my phone.
“What are you doing?” Carter asked.
“I’m looking up Goo Geers,” I replied.
Carter laughed, “Gougères. They’re French cheese puffs. They’re airy with Gruyere cheese and nutmeg.”
My jaw dropped, “How in the world did you know that?”
Carter grinned, seeming more relaxed than a moment ago, “I am a man of the world, you know.”
“You looked it up online before you got here, didn’t you?”
He laughed. His soft laugh warmed my heart. I so wish I would hear him laugh more often.
“Busted,” he said. “I was trying to pick out a nice place for us to have dinner, so I did a little web surfing, yes.”
Riku brought us a basket of bread and Carter’s beer. He smiled and whisked away again.
Carter took a sip of his beer and inspected the label, “Damn, that’s good. It’s called Dubble Entendre, spelled D-u-b-b-l-e, brewed in Paulsbo, Washington, wherever the hell that is. It’s good. The waiter did well.”
“Riku is nice,” I said. “It’s kind of refreshing to have a waiter who is not a middle-aged woman with hair piled to the ceiling and calling us darlin’ or hon.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Carter said, chuckling. “I plan to be back in Sinful as soon as possible.”
“Really?” I said. “How can that be if you haven’t even found Paul yet?”
The smile disappeared from his face as quickly as it came. His mood ticked down a notch. He let out a breath and looked off to the mountain range again. He turned back reached across the table and placed his hand on top of mine. I nearly fell over at the display of affection.
“Fortune, I was thinking about the time you saved me,” he said. “I was shot and left underwater to drown. Remember?”
“How could I forget?” I said. “I was so worried.”
“You were,” he said. “But still you risked your own life to save me from certain death. It was not a light decision, I realize. You knew it was possible you’d drown yourself. There was not another person in Sinful that could have pulled that off and if the truth be known, it was a miracle you saved me.”
I wasn’t sure I liked where this was heading.
“I’d do it again,” I said. “You know that.”
The warm smile returned, “I know, but why?”
“Because I... I care about you,” I replied. “That’s why, whatever it is you have going on, and I assume it’s dangerous, I want to be there with you, for you.”
Riku interrupted our conversation with our Gougères. Carter took his hand off mine as he placed the appetizer on the table. I wanted to kick Riku for his unfortunate timing.
“So, what have you been doing with yourself during the day?” Carter asked, changing the subject.
Sensing that Carter needed some space, I resisted the urge to push him.
“Well,” I began, “have you ever been to the Museum of Pop Cultur
e?”
“No, I haven’t,” Carter replied, and leaned back in his chair, seeming to relax again. He took a sip of beer as I waxed eloquent about the tower of guitars and the hat of the wicked witch. At a certain point, I felt myself rambling, but Carter smiled softly and seem content to listen.
Dinner arrived, and the conversation remained light. The food was incredible. We offered each other bites of our dishes. We both raised our eyebrows and nodded in appreciation of each other’s selection. We chatted for a long while, replaying the mess with Celia and the election back in Sinful. I told him all about my day with Walter, Ida Belle and Gertie at Pike Place Market. Carter remained relaxed and seemed attentive through most of dinner. He even laughed at some of my stupid jokes.
The sun had fully set. The patio was bathed in the soft glow of candles and hanging amber lights. Shilshole Bay reflected the light of a nearly full moon, which also cast a glow on the Olympic Mountains. The food was magnificent; the atmosphere was romantic, and the conversation was comfortable, albeit a little one-sided on my part. After my second glass of wine I caught Carter staring into my eyes. He did not turn away when our eyes met. It made me want to ravage him. It would have been a perfect ending to this wonderful evening—minus the part about being arrested for having sex in a public place.
I took another sip of wine, building myself up to ask him to come to my hotel.
But it was not meant to be.
“Fortune, I need you to hear me tonight,” he said.
My wine buzz instantly fizzled and my bubble popped, “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“What I have going on here is—complicated,” he said. “It’s dangerous, and I can’t put you in the crosshairs.”
I tossed a half-eaten portion of bread onto my plate in protest.
“Carter, that’s why I came here,” I insisted. “We agreed on that before I came.”
“Let’s be honest, Fortune,” he objected. “You agreed to it for both of us. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
