Piece of My Heart

by Layce Gardner

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Dale said.

  Cindy ran to the edge of the water and looked forlornly out over the lake.

  “Simple is best,” Mickey said. She hooked her thumbs in her front jeans pockets. “We’re going catch us some fish today. I can feel it. And I ain’t talking the kind with scales.”

  “What kind of fish don’t have scales?” Jenna asked.

  Mickey looked at her and waggled her eyebrows up and down.

  “Oh. That kind.” Jenna didn’t know whether she liked Mickey’s metaphor or not. On the one hand Mickey seemed really crass, and on the other hand Mickey had really nice biceps. Jenna decided to err on the side of the biceps.

  Dale interrupted her thoughts by asking Mickey, “What happened to Agnes?”

  “I sent her and her gray uniform bye-bye. You know, one time I changed out her gray panties for hot pink ones and about gave her a heart attack. She cut them into tiny pink strips, put them in a plastic baggie, and threw them in the trash. I’m betting when she got the credit card bill she wished she hadn’t done that. Vic’s Secret ain’t cheap, you know.”

  Jenna couldn’t resist. “I didn’t even know there was such a thing as gray panties.”

  “There isn’t. She washes her tighty-whities with a brand new, dye-leaking black T-shirt—I get the shirt when’s she’s done—and voilà! You got gray undies,” Mickey said.

  Taylor walked up and said, “I’m going to go check with Val and see if she needs any help getting the gear set up.”

  Mickey gave Taylor the once-over and seemed to approve—one butch to another. “Say, how about I give you a hand. I’m good with a rod. At least that’s what the ladies tell me.” She winked at Cindy. “You look damn tasty. And you,” she pointed at Liz-Melody, “look like you’re going horseback riding. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that fish don’t come with saddles?” She chuckled and strode off a couple of paces behind Taylor.

  Liz-Melody’s bottom lip quivered. She looked as if she might burst into tears any second. Cindy patted her arm. “Don’t listen to her. You look gorgeous.”

  Liz-Melody sniffled. “I won’t cry. It’ll mess up my makeup. She pulled a tissue from somewhere and blotted under her eyes where the mascara had yet to run. It was like she was blotting in preparation.

  “Okay, then, we’ve got everyone in our group,” Jenna said. “Let’s get on the boat and try to look relaxed and like we’re having a good time for when the other fishing guests arrive.”

  “Which do you want? Relaxed or like we’re having a good time?” Cindy asked.

  “Either. Just choose one and do it,” Jenna said. Damn, this was going to be a long day.

  Jenna and Dale herded the two women on board and to the far side of the boat. “Look like you know what you’re doing,” Jenna advised. “But remember, your main mission is to check out the others as they come on board. See which women you think you might be attracted to.”

  “I need a life jacket,” Cindy said.

  “The boat is safe and the staff is trained in lifesaving. I don’t think you’ll need the life jacket.”

  “I know, but I feel more secure with it on. You don’t want to see me insecure. Believe me,” Cindy said.

  “Right,” Dale said with a tight smile. She fetched Cindy an orange life jacket and watched her strap it on.

  Liz-Melody said wistfully, “I think boats are so romantic, don’t you? All that water, moonlight, and the tinkling sounds of champagne in cut glass flutes.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble,” Jenna said, “but there’s no moonlight and the only sound you’ll hear is the tinkling of beer cans.”

  “Oh.”

  Taylor came over. “The fishing is best off the starboard side. Catching fish always gets the ladies’ attention.”

  Her arms full of fishing poles, Mickey smiled, and handed out the rods. All of them looked out of place holding a fishing rod, including Dale and Jenna. Mickey laughed. “You all look like fish out of water holding those rods. Just kind of set them beside you and look chill,” she said. She tried to position them, but the women still looked goofy. She looked over at Taylor for help.

  Taylor shook her head. “Well, just set the poles in the corner there. We don’t want anyone poking out any eyes. I’ll be back as soon as we get the boat off. Can you get them some bait?” she asked Mickey.

  “I’m on it,” Mickey quickly replied. She strode off.

  In what seemed like only a few minutes, the dock began to fill up with women. Taylor guided the women onto the boat and got them equipped. There were all kinds—experienced, newbies, and all those in between. They all had one thing in common: they were single and ready to become fishers of women.

  “At least we’re not alone,” Liz-Melody said, indicating the others wearing life jackets.

  “Yes, that’s a relief. But I don’t see anyone dressed for horseback riding,” Cindy said.

  “I don’t either, but maybe I can find someone who thinks I resemble Elizabeth Taylor and we can talk about her old movies. Except Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. I don’t think that’s a good film when it comes to dating and potential marriage.”

  “True,” Cindy said.

  “You’ve seen it?”

  “Sure,” Cindy said. “I’ve seen all her movies.”

  Jenna leaned over. “Do you see any potentials? If you do, tell me. Then maybe I can put you next to them when we’re all fishing.”

  Mickey came back with a bucket. “I got us the bait.” She set it down and water sloshed out.

  “Yuck,” Jenna said. She pinched her nose. “That smells like...”

  “Bait?” Mickey quipped.

  Liz-Melody took a step around the bucket, not noticing that she was stepping directly in the puddle of splashed water. Her riding boot’s slick soles slid out from under her. One moment Liz-Melody’s head was over her feet and the next her feet were over her head. She landed on her butt with a vicious-sounding thud. The bucket turned over and black, squishy, smelly things splashed over everything in the near vicinity. That included Jenna, Dale, and Cindy.

  There was one long moment of silence as everyone digested what just happened. Finally, Mickey reached over and plucked a black squishy thing off Jenna’s boob. “It’s okay. It won’t hurt the bait.”

  “I’m not worried about the bait,” Jenna said.

  “Can somebody help me?” Liz-Melody said from the floor.

  Mickey reached down, grabbed Liz-Melody’s hand, and heaved her to her feet. Mickey began to pluck the bait off Liz-Melody.

  Jenna turned around. Cindy and Dale were giggling and picking bait off each other. Damn, Jenna thought, here I am again. All alone. Having to pick off my own bait.

  Taylor rushed over. “Oh, crap,” she said. “What happened?”

  “Just a little spillage,” Mickey said.

  Dale dumped a handful of the squishy things back into the bucket.

  “What are these things?” Jenna asked as she stared at the black things that were glued to her legs.

  “Leeches. Best kind of bait for catching walleye,” Mickey said.

  “As in the blood sucking kind of leeches?” Jenna asked.

  “Is there another kind?”

  Jenna clamped her mouth shut. She felt a scream coming on. This was not a good start. “Do you think you can pick them off me?” she asked Mickey.

  “My pleasure,” Mickey said.

  As Mickey plucked leeches off, Jenna noticed Cindy was now juggling. How? Hadn’t Mickey thrown the balls into the lake? Omigod! Cindy was juggling leeches.

  “Stop juggling!” Jenna growled.

  Cindy dropped the leeches into the bucket. “I can’t help it,” she said. “I have to juggle when I get nervous. It’s a compulsion. Besides, I don’t think we’re making a good impression anyhow.” She looked at the crowd of women who milled around them, staring, obviously avoiding the weirdoes who smelled like fish bait.

  Jenna muttered to Dale, “Great. Now we’re social pariahs.
”

  “Look at it this way, at least our girls are getting noticed,” Dale said.

  “There’s no way to put a good spin on this,” Jenna said. “But thanks for trying.”

  Taylor came over carrying a mop. “Someone reported a spill in aisle five.” She smiled sardonically. “Nothing like making a good first impression.”

  “We still have a couple of hours to remedy the situation,” Dale said.

  Jenna rubbed her legs were the leeches had been. “Do they leave any kind of residue?”

  “You mean like leech juice?” Taylor asked.

  “Yes. Like leech saliva? Or leech pee?” Jenna said. She bent over and scratched her shin. “I’m itchy. I think I’m allergic to leech urine.”

  Taylor pulled out a packet of wet wipes. She handed them to Jenna. “Here you go. Pass them out.”

  Jenna took one wipe and passed them on. Everyone wiped down every square inch of bare skin. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one concerned with the ick-factor.

  After the wipedown, Taylor called out that the boat was leaving. Cindy clutched Jenna’s arm. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

  “Too late now,” Jenna said. Truth be told, she felt the same way as the boat pulled away from the dock and she watched the land get farther and farther away.

  ***

  The evening was warm and the surface of Lake Wannabe was smooth and glass-like. The sun was on the verge of setting, and the western horizon looked like God had been painting with a new watercolor set. Everyone that wasn’t checking out their fellow fisherwoman was gazing at the wash of pinks and oranges.

  After studying the women on board, Jenna realized there were three different types: women who loved to fish, women who loved to get laid, and women who just hoped to find somebody to talk to. Jenna belonged to the last group.

  That was one good thing about belonging to a group—you didn’t look like a loser begging for human contact. She studied her clients. Mickey was supercharged and emanating happy vibes. She was checking out a lithe brunette wearing a camouflage mini skirt and a black halter top. Jenna wondered if Agnes ever let Mickey have amorous relations or if she stepped in at the last possible moment and ruined it.

  Val, the captain, slowed the boat and brought it to a stop. Val was short and had gray, choppy hair. She looked like Kathy Bates in every lesbian role she’d ever portrayed.

  As Taylor put down the anchor, Val clapped her hands for attention. “Listen up, ladies! Now, we’ll be handing out rods and bait. I’ve got gloves available for those who are squeamish about baiting your own hooks. My assistant here is Taylor and she’ll be passing out rods and generally helping out. She’s got a partner who’s on board, so despite this being a singles cruise she is not available. All hands off. I, however, am single.” She tugged up her pants. “So, come and get it. Don’t push, there’s enough of me to go around.” She laughed uproariously at her own joke.

  Everyone laughed lightly. Val continued, “Just kidding, but not really. Your goal tonight is to catch a lot of fish and,” she inserted a wink, “that one special woman.”

  There was a general, “Ah.”

  “I’m fishing with the wrong bait,” Liz-Melody said. “I don’t think there’s any film buffs here.”

  “You never know,” Cindy said. “I mean you have a right to your own doubt. I wasn’t negating that in any way. I was just trying to reassure you. I hope you don’t take offence.”

  “That’s so sweet,” Liz-Melody said. She lightly touched Cindy’s arm.

  That was when Jenna noticed the sippy cup full of grape juice in Cindy’s other hand. Where the hell had she been she keeping that?

  “What now?” Jenna whispered to Dale.

  “We should fish,” Dale said.

  Mickey appeared behind them. “You bet we should.” She grabbed rods and thrust them at the group. “I’ll bait you all up.”

  ***

  Jenna and Dale stood shoulder to shoulder at the boat railing, pretending to be fishing. Jenna offered up a silent prayer that she didn’t accidentally catch a fish. She didn’t think she could handle those big fishy eyes blinking at her as the poor thing slowly died with her hook in its mouth.

  “How do you think it’s going?” Jenna asked.

  “Not bad. Look at Mickey,” Dale said, cocking her head in Mickey’s direction. Jenna discreetly looked over her shoulder.

  Mickey had her arms around an attractive, demure woman and was evidently showing her how to fish… and perhaps other things.

  Jenna turned her attention to Liz-Melody. She was frowning. Or maybe she had one of those resting bitch faces. Nope, she was frowning. She looked unapproachable and morose. She needed to loosen up.

  “Should I go get Liz-Melody a drink?” Jenna asked Dale.

  “No, let one of the crew. People might think you’re moving in on her and that will spoil her chances,” Dale said. She flagged down one of the crew—identifiable by their red polo shirts. The crew woman came over.

  “Can you take that woman in the funny pants a cocktail? I’m sure she could use one,” Dale said.

  “Should I tell her it’s from you?” the crew woman asked.

  “No, tell her...” Dale looked around until she saw an oddly dressed woman who looked more like she was going to play tennis than catch fish, “It’s from the woman in the tennis whites.”

  “Playing matchmaker are you?” the woman said with a wink. She left to get the drink.

  Jenna thought winking was so 1950s that it should stay there. “Is that a good idea?”

  “Sure,” Dale said. “It’ll at least get them talking, and then they can go on to talk about their absurd choice of clothing. Certainly horseback riding and tennis go together in that high society kind of way.”

  Jenna looked over at Cindy. She was sucking on her sippy cup and staring at the water.

  “What does Cindy do again?” Jenna asked. “For a living, I mean?”

  “She’s a software programmer,” Dale said.

  “Damn. One of those jobs nobody ever understands.”

  They watched the crew member deliver the mostly alcoholic punch to Liz-Melody. A discussion ensued and the crew member pointed at Tennis-Whites Lady. Liz-Melody nodded. She set her fishing rod against the deck rail and accepted the drink. She whispered to the crew woman.

  Jenna and Dale waited. Sure enough, a few minutes passed and a drink was delivered to Tennis-Whites Lady. More chatting. Then Tennis-Whites Lady looked at Liz-Melody and smiled.

  “Great, that’s all she gets? A smile?” Jenna said.

  “A lot can be said with a smile,” Dale said.

  “Yeah, but a whole lot more can be said with actual words.”

  Taylor came over and leaned against the rail with them and took in the sights. “I’d say you’ve got the ladies off to a good start.”

  “Tell that to her,” Jenna said. She cocked her head in the direction of Cindy who was standing alone, disconsolately bobbing her fishing pole up and down.

  “At least she’s not juggling,” Taylor said.

  There was a group huzzah as a woman caught a big walleye. The crew rang a bell. They tagged the fish and threw it in the big white cooler that sat in the center of the boat. After that, several more women caught fish.

  Taylor fist pumped. “We’ve hit the sweet spot. Catching fish always improves the launch party. I better go help Val. Catch you later.” She chuckled. “See what I did there? Catch you later?”

  Jenna groaned, but couldn’t help smiling anyway. Dale pecked Taylor on the cheek and said, “I’ll let you off the hook on that one. Get it? Hook?”

  Taylor laughed and walked away, looking like she was having a great time. In fact, everyone looked like they were having a great time. Everyone, that is, except for Cindy.

  “We have to do something with Cindy,” Jenna said. “She’s depressing to look at.”

  “Two out of three isn’t bad. Check out Mickey and Liz-Melody. Mickey was running her hand along the a
ss of a different woman whom she was showing how to fish, and Liz-Melody and Tennis-Whites Lady were still sending drinks to each other.

  “I wouldn’t call that a success. They need to go talk to each other before they’re too drunk to stand,” Jenna said.

  “It’s start.”

  “True,” Jenna said. She smiled. Maybe this wasn’t all bad. At least her girls, as she’d taken to thinking of them, were out here and trying. She felt her fishing rod slam against her thigh. “What on earth?”

  “Oh! You have a fish!” Dale said excitedly.

  Before Jenna could say anything the pole jerked again. Jenna put both hands on it and jerked it back her way. Suddenly, the rod twisted and pulled. Not to be outdone, Jenna pulled back. The next thing she knew, she was knocked off her feet and pulled halfway over the railing. Before she could grab hold of anything, she somersaulted over the railing and splashed into the lake.

  Underwater, in the murky silence, Jenna had time to think. Her job wasn’t working out. She didn’t have a girlfriend. She was middle-aged and her boobs were sagging. She didn’t have children. She didn’t even have a cat. Maybe she should just stay underwater.

  Jenna’s head popped up and for one brief moment she was above water. She gulped air then was thrust back under. She still had a death grip on the fishing pole and the huge fish was towing her around and around in a circle.

  When the big fish swam by the boat, Taylor reached over the railing, and grabbed Jenna by the back of hershirt. Mickey jerked the pole out of Jenna’s hands and began to reel in the fish. “This has got to be one hell of a fish you got here.”

  “Help,” Jenna said. She tried to scamper up the side of the boat, but couldn’t make it.

  “That’s why I wore a life jacket,” Liz-Melody said.

  “Here you go,” Taylor said. She lowered down a metal boat ladder. “Climb up on this.”

  Jenna tried to step on the first rung, but she couldn’t get her foot up that high.

  “You can do it,” Taylor said. “Just tread water, do a crunch, and stick your foot in the first rung. Then grab the next rung and pull yourself up and out of the water.”

  “Is this some kind of water torture?” Jenna mumbled.