Randolph’s eyes squinted in Peg’s direction.
“How do you know Pierre?” Peg hoped her open-ended question would give her a reprieve from:
EVER TALKING AGAIN.
“Pierre is quite famous on the island actually. He is an excellent fisherman and has won lots of tournaments. Didn’t you win with that 800-pound swordfish last year? I would sell my soul for that boat of yours. She’s a real beauty,” Randolph gushed.
Pierre flashed a huge boyish grin. “Yes, she’s a good boat. I have three new four-fifty Yamahas for her zees year. So fast.”
“Oh my. I’d love to have that wind beneath my wings,” Randolph tittered.
Hmmm… now who’s attracted to whom?
“Lobster mini-season eez soon. Eets my favoreet time of year.”
“What’s lobster mini-season?” Peg asked, already forgetting her vow of silence.
“Eets only for two days, but I love to have zee freedom to catch zee lobsters before zee commercial fishermen do. Eets magical. Zey taste so delicious.”
Randolph nodded in agreement. “I absolutely love, love, love mini-season. I can grill a mean lobster. Hate to brag, but it’s true.”
Pierre beamed. “Why don’t you come as my guests? Both of you. We can spend zee day catching lobsters and you can cook zem for us.” He grabbed both Randolph and Peg’s forearms as he spoke. Peg felt a zing. She thought she saw Randolph swoon.
“Shut the front door. This cannot be true. An invitation to go out on the ocean with you, a Key West icon, and in that boat, the most gorgeous girl on the sea? During mini-season? Shut UP.” Randolph spun around, waving his arms and stomping his feet. Lulu started to bark. “Count me IN.”
“Zat is great. Peg, what about you?”
Peg felt queasy under Pierre’s azure gaze. Before she could say no, Randolph added, “Peg’s in too.”
“Oh… I don’t know. Honestly, I’m not that good at ocean stuff.” She big-eyed Randolph. “I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t want to be a problem.”
“Zere will be no problem. Eet eez easy and you will love eet.”
“We’ll have bottled water on the boat and lots of sunscreen, honey. It’s a Key West must-do.” Randolph put Lulu on the ground so that she could lovefest with Nipper.
Nipper and Lulu found a shady spot and settled down facing each other. The big dog’s tongue drooped out of the side of his mouth as the small dog licked the drool drops before they hit the sidewalk.
Randolph seems really excited about this. He must want me to go for some reason. He’s the one who volunteered me. I do owe him. It’s not like I have to check my busy schedule.
“Oh, why not?” Peg assumed a casual manner as her armpit sweat and muffin top sweat hula-hooped around her waist.
“Zat is great. I will let you know when we will go. I haf to go now. Charles eez waiting.” Pierre’s carved calves about-faced and led him down the street.
Peg looked over at the truck in the hope of thanking Charles, but he was nowhere to be seen. She waved in the general direction anyway.
Peg turned to Randolph and said, “Why did you insist that I come too? You know what an ocean wreck I am. You have experienced that first hand.”
“Listen, doll, this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Pierre invited both of us to go,” Randolph said as he pointed at Peg and then back to himself. “And I want to go. It was a package deal and you are part of the package – like it or not. Lobster mini-season is only once a year. It is like a national holiday. And, the chance to go with Pierre? On his boat? Sister, I have dreamed of that. This is bigger than front-row tickets to Cher, or Barbra Streisand, or Bette Midler or – ALL THREE.”
Taking a step back from his dramatic gesticulations, Peg held up her hands in defense. “Okay. Okay. Fine. I said I’ll go. I just don’t want any surprises. I’d really like to know what’s in store for me so that I can be prepared. When is this holy day?”
Randolph pursed his lips. “It just so happens I have that information.” He cleared his throat, newscaster-like. “The two-day spiny lobster sport season is always the last consecutive Wednesday and Thursday in July. It begins at one minute past midnight on the last Wednesday in July and ends at midnight on the last Thursday in July.”
Peg laughed. “Exactly 47 hours and 59 minutes. That is very precise. Who has the job policing this? Lobster cops? What if you start a minute earlier?”
“Not funny, Peg. It is a punishable offense. The rules are very specific. I don’t want to have to fish you out of the pokey for not following the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission laws. It’s a federal crime.” Randolph’s voice was stern.
Peg giggled, then realized he was being serious. She covered her mouth and nodded her head. “Right.”
“Only last week a guy was sentenced to prison for catching an undersized, pinched, out-of-season spiny lobster.”
“Prison? I’m all for conservation but it’s kind of like catching a fish, right? Not like drug running or armed robbery for heaven’s sake.” Peg could not suppress the grin this time.
Randolph gasped. “Every fish has its own season. It’s not a joke. My husband is on the FWC and, believe you me, this is no laughing matter. He carries a gun.” His shoulders shook as he quivered. “The stories he tells about the abuse of the sea creatures. Horrific.” He placed his hands on his hips.
“Oh. You’re married?” Peg asked, grateful to change the subject and also curious. “What’s your hus– What’s his name?”
He nodded. “One of the first gay couples to get hitched on the island. Bernie and I have been together for 18 years. It was a joyous occasion.”
“I’m glad for you. Well, I mean I’m not GLAAD… of course I support GLAAD… but I’m not a lesbian… obviously ’cause I’m married to a man… I mean he’s not here… but he’s coming back. I mean I’m happy for you. I’ve never known…”
“Thanks, honey.” Randolph saved her from drowning in awkwardness. “Bernie travels a lot with his job. I’m the stay-at-home dad.” He pointed to Lulu, who, in perfect teenage-girl form, ignored him completely.
“I guess you could say that I’m a stay-at-home mom now too.” She thought of Clark and felt the sad pit in the middle of her stomach. “I don’t know what I’d do without Nipper.” Peg crouched down to pet the dog. He blinked his dreamy eyes and licked the salty perspiration off her hand. Her heart melted. “I’m still not sure about this lobster hunting, but it seems like I’m going. I’ll do some research so that I’m not altogether clueless.”
“It’s called lobster mini-season and it’s next week. And yes, you are going. Put your number in my phone so I can text you with the details.” Randolph handed the phone to Peg.
She took off her sunglasses, held the phone at different angles, and squinted, but the sun’s reflection made it impossible for her to see anything on the smudgy screen. Noticing that Randolph was giving her a “you can’t even do this simple task” look, she said, “My fingers are too slippery. I have your number. I’ll text you.” Peg handed the phone back.
“Okay. Don’t forget.” Randolph picked up Lulu. “Too hot to be a bitch?” He kissed her on the nose as they walked away. The little dog hung limp in his hand, uttering only the most imperceptible of growls.
“See ya.” Peg shaded her head from the sun. “Ugh. I’m fried. Let’s go Nip. That’s enough excitement for one afternoon.”
The dog slowly got to his feet. His tongue made a clicking noise as it motored up and down.
“The good news is that it is definitely five o’clock somewhere.”
Important Research
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Peg sprung upright in her bed. Rays of sunlight made a checkerboard pattern on the rumpled covers over the sleeping dog.
Noon? What?
Text from Trudy
Why aren’t u answering my chat request?
Frazzled and disoriented, Peg plopped her feet on the floor an
d found her phone on the dresser. The mirror reflected a mountain of disheveled hair that went to sleep damp and woke up the same way.
At least I showered. It had been a couple of days… or maybe more…
She observed her orange fingertips as she swept the Cheetos crumbs off of the sheets.
Next time I’ll shower after the midnight snack. Thank God Trudy can’t see me. She’s probably already accomplished a million things today.
Text back to Trudy
Internet is out. Don’t know why. Repair guy coming later.
Text to Peg
What about ur phone? What r u doing now?
Text to Trudy
Phone is buggy too. Signal here is weak. Getting ready to go to library to use internet. Researching lobster catching. Regular day in Key West. Ha ha.
Peg dragged herself to the bathroom.
Ha ha… more like ho-hum.
After staring at her toothbrush for 73 seconds, she brushed her teeth through cheesy lips while her hair flopped into the spit as she rinsed. Gathering the minty hair strands, she tied them into a scrunchy knot at the top of her head.
Text to Peg
Gonna get my ticket today. You heard from Clark?
Text to Trudy
YAY and NO : ( I’ll call u later.
Text to Peg
A-hole
She hadn’t told Trudy, or anybody else for that matter, about the visits from the haints. She didn’t want Trudy to have additional ammunition against Clark, even if it was provided by the undead. Also – she wanted to avoid getting thrown into the local insane asylum.
She thought about how her life had changed in the last few months. She had been a valued partner in the marriage before. This wasn’t a part of the drunken-napkin agreement.
Bouncing up and down to physically shake off the emotion, Peg shoved the phone in her bag then removed it a second later.
I forgot to text Randolph. He’ll be freaking out by now.
She texted while walking to the treat cupboard to remove the bag of pig ears. Hearing the crinkle sound of the plastic, the thrilled dog leapt in the air, tail wagging furiously.
“I’m going out for a while, Nipper. Okay, calm down. Sit.” The dog quieted and sat at attention. “Good boy. Here you go.” She held out the flattened triangular remnant of pig, the coarse hair petrified to the sticky dead skin.
“These are disgusting.”
The dog disagreed. He trotted across the room with the crusty carcass in his mouth. Placing it down, he licked it smooth and slimy.
“That should keep you occupied.”
Peg stepped out of the house with her sunglasses in her right hand. She took one step then hesitated, looked down at her glasses, waited a minute until full fog had taken effect, then used her not-yet-soaking-wet tee shirt and wiped off the lenses. Holding her head high, she saw the world clearly.
Learning curve kicking in.
Fifteen seconds later, complete blindness. She cleaned them off again, this time with the now-sweaty shirt.
My God. Even the humidity is humid.
She longed to get in her car and crank the air conditioning, but didn’t want to unpark only to get into a street fight for accessible library parking with future “Silver Alerts” in their Impala sedans. She walked by her dusty car on the street and noticed it had a flat tire.
Ugh… such a sad neglected car… you miss your garage, poor thing. Clark used to take care of you too.
The poinciana trees mushroomed flame-colored flowers above her head. Turbulent gray thunderheads threatened a summer squall from all directions. Peg figured out two umbrellas ago that the wind and the rain dumps were too powerful for even the hardiest of Midwestern-made protection. Keeping a plastic garbage bag in her backpack, she felt fully prepared for any sudden storm.
Walking along White Street, she saw the line forming at Sandy’s Cafe, the local Cuban establishment famous for their Cuban coffee and sandwiches.
I could use a cup of coffee.
Peg ambled over to the disorganized crowd at the front walk-up window. Tourists spoke in many different languages, English not being one of them. She noticed the line was significantly smaller next to the tiny unobtrusive window at the other side of the cafe – the one inside the laundromat.
This is actually a genius business plan… make laundry a social event and sell coffee and food.
She walked around the street corner and into the laundromat. The rows of washers and dryers were spinning while clusters of people chatted in small groups around the machines. Several young military personnel called out their con leche orders into the window, while the Sandy’s staff handled an impossible amount of multitasking behind the scenes.
Peg tapped the shoulder of a tall female navy officer, who, based on the uniform decorations, looked like she was in charge. “Excuse me, Officer…” Peg read the name tag. “… Trindl, is it? Is this window reserved for military? Can civilians order here too?”
Officer Trindl’s chin jutted out – the brim of her hat pulled low. Her piercing brown eyes deliberately descended to Peg’s level. “You can call me Patty.” She tilted her head forward. “This window is a best-kept secret – locals only.”
Peg straightened her posture. “I’m Peg. I just moved here.”
The officer drilled. “You a snowbird?”
Peg shook her head. “No… umm… full time. All the time. I can’t… I mean… I don’t leave.”
With great authority the imposing officer motioned a hand sweep. “Step aside, sailors, this woman needs to place an order.”
Peg marched up to the window.
If it’s good enough for the United States Navy, then it’s good enough for me.
“Con leche, please.” She spoke with confidence, like she’d done this hundreds of times before.
“Con azucar?” the man behind the counter asked.
“Excuse me?” Peg shrank.
Ugh, not again.
Officer Trindl rescued her. “He wants to know if you want sugar in your coffee. I highly recommend it for plebes.”
“Oh, yes please, con azucar then.” Peg mouthed thank you to her rescuer.
She gave Peg a thumbs up with one hand as she sipped the hot liquid in the styrofoam cup with the other.
Waiting for her coffee, Peg couldn’t help but overhear the conversation of a couple of teenagers in the laundromat. They were saying things like – debit and credit. It made her spreadsheet senses tingle.
Ahhh, words I understand.
The teens leaned over their finance books with yellow markers in hand.
“So is a debit like a debit card?” The teen’s tattooed hand scratched his shaved head.
“I don’ know, bro, and is a credit like a credit card?” The friend twirled his eyebrow ring and leaned back in exasperation.
“We’re not gonna pass this final, bro. This sucks.”
Peg moved in closer. “Hello, gentlemen. I’m sorry to eavesdrop, but maybe I can help. Can I see the question in your school book?”
The first teen said, “Sure, lady.” He handed Peg the book.
Peg studied the page. “Okay, so all of your asset accounts will be debit balances, while all of your liabilities will be credit balances. There are exceptions of course, but I won’t get into them here.”
Blank stares.
“Okay. Let’s look at it this way, think of debit and credit as yin and yang. For every debit there must be an equal credit amount. For example, when you take a hundred-dollar loan, you record the hundred dollars to debit – right? But what else would happen?” Peg pointed to the numbers on the page.
“You keep the cash and run?” The boys elbowed each other and chuckled.
“If you want to go to prison, sure. But if you are an upstanding fiduciary, you record that hundred dollars as a credit balance to Note Payable in your Liabilities.”
“Like an IOU?”
“Exactly. Well done.” Peg handed the book back. The boys smiled.
A voice called out from behind the counter, “Con leche for Peg.”
“Oh, that’s me.” Peg waved in the direction of the window. “I’m headed to the library now.” She took out a pen and yanked a napkin out of the holder. “Anyway, here’s my cell phone number. Feel free to text me if you have any other questions about the material. My name is Peg Savage, by the way. I’m from… well… I live down the street.”
“Uhh. Thanks Peg, I’m Tom and this is my buddy Steven. We gotta pass this class.”
She shook both of their hands and handed Tom the napkin. “You can do it. Finance is fun once you get the hang of it.”
Peg gave the teens a thumbs up with one hand as she sipped the hot liquid in the styrofoam cup with the other.
Continuing on her way, Peg circumvented a family of Asian tourists who blocked the sidewalk while taking pictures of the chickens that gathered by the side of the road. The dappled rooster crowed and put on a show. Two rowdy toddlers chased a pack of peeping baby chicks under a bench while both species of mothers clucked corrections to their offspring.
Approaching the stucco library building, Peg recognized the Florsheim and the Nike next to the bike rack. Abandoned by the shrubbery squatter, the shoes sat empty, without their original partners – without a job to do – forsaken. Peg felt a sudden somber kinship for these faithful, hardworking shoes, so callously cast aside. A giant, mildewy, stuffed ostrich occupied the back seat of a tandem bike. The big bird’s feet were duct-taped to the pedals, forcing its long legs to splay awkwardly. The front bike seat sat empty – only a beer can in a coconut cup holder as proof of a prior resident. The double-seated bike leaned precariously against a towering banyan tree, whose roots hung down over the ostrich in long tendrils, giving the wide-eyed bird a surprised inmate look.
Peg stared at the imprisoned ostrich.
I’d like to set you free… then you’d be Free Bird…
Island Life Sentence Page 10
