Swim That Rock (13 page)

We both watch as they drag him past us, out the front door. The curtain in the back of the bar is thrown open again, and out walks one of the largest men I have ever seen. I don’t mean fat, although he doesn’t look like he skips any meals. I mean big, like polar-bear big. He has thin, sandy-blond hair raked across his tanned forehead and eyes that sparkle like blue chips of ice in the bright light of the bar. His sweat-stained tropical shirt is unbuttoned to his belly, revealing a large gold anchor hanging from a chain around his neck.

“George Hassard!” the guy says, slapping a hairy arm on Captain. “How’s it hangin’?”

George Hassard? Hassard?
I look at Captain and my mouth falls open. I can’t believe it. Gene’s brother or cousin or whatever; this guy I’ve been working for is somehow related to Gene.
That’s how he knows my dad.
Captain’s eyes dart over to me for an instant.

“King.” He nods cautiously at the man and hands him a key, the same key I used to lock the storage compartment that holds the quahogs we pulled off the stringer. King juggles the key in his hand for a second, and suddenly there is a loud scream followed by a splash that brings a smile to his face, revealing several gold fillings.

“I have a terrible feeling they just threw that guy off the dock, and he was in no shape to swim anywhere. Good thing it’s low tide.” King laughs. “The little bastard thought he could steal from me.” King waves a dismissive hand. “What can I get you? Jamaican coffee? Nick! Two Jamaican coffees,” King barks over his shoulder at the bartender, without waiting for Captain’s answer. “And get the kid whatever he wants.” King studies me for a second before looking at Captain. “What, are you coaching basketball now, George?”

“He’s tall, but he works hard and keeps his mouth shut.” Captain gives me a hard stare.

Then King looks at me and says, “Get yourself a burger or something, on me, and I’ll put in a good word for you with the Celtics.” He laughs heartily and puts one arm around George, leading him to a small table in the back corner.

I watch as King tosses the key over to the corner of the bar. A thin, bearded man with dark circles under his eyes steps out of the shadows just in time to catch it.

“Unload ’em fast,” King barks at him. The skinny guy nods and slips out the front door like an eel.

Looking around, I notice this isn’t just a regular bar like Muldoon’s in Warren. There is a small circular stage a few feet high with a chrome pole in the center that’s bolted to the ceiling. I’ve heard about places like this. I can’t believe I am actually in one. Tommy would flip out if he knew I was in a strip club! I walk over to the bar, and before I am halfway there, the bartender, Nick, presses both hands down on the bar and says, “Kitchen’s closed.”

I look over at Captain and he is already behind me, staring hard at this guy Nick. “Look, just get the kid a burger or something. He’s starving.”

“I said the kitchen’s closed.” Nick sneers and resumes polishing the beer taps with his rag.

King steps between Captain and the bar and says, “I’ll take care of this. Nick’s new here.” King reaches into his pocket and pulls out a round metal token about the size of a quarter, snapping it down on the bar in front of Nick.

Nick picks it up nervously. “What’s this?” He studies the token. “What
is
this?”

King pauses and then says, “That’s your first-strike token.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Nick asks.

“Save ’em up and see what happens when you get three.” King heads back to his table and Captain follows.

Nick continues staring at King as he walks away and asks, “What’d ya say you wanted, kid?”

“A burger.”

“No problem.” Nick draws it out between clenched teeth as he gives King and Captain one last look. “You want fries with that?”

“Sure.”

I pull out one of the heavy oak stools and sit down. There is a long mirror behind the bar, and I notice how tired I look. My slouch is getting worse too. I try to straighten up, but it just shoots pain through my lower back. Bending over the side of that boat and lifting those bags from the water really did me in. I give in to the pain and rest my head on my arm, hoping to get a little sleep before the food comes. My eyes slowly close and I am gone.

“You okay, honey?” A raspy voice pulls me from sleep.

I look up and feel drool sliding down the side of my face. I wipe my mouth of spit, and coming out of my fog, I see a lady standing next to me. She’s tall. No, wait; I look down and she’s wearing these bright-red shoes with heels as long as screwdrivers. She looks about my mom’s age, but it’s hard to tell because she’s wearing loads of makeup. Her eyes are surrounded by smoky blackness, making the blue centers shine like beacons. Long, black waves of hair cascade over her shoulders and down her back. She must work here because Nick is setting a drink down without even asking her what she wants.

She mixes the amber liquid around the glass with her middle finger. Her painted nails are chipped and cracked, but the color that remains matches her shoes.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just tired.” I look around and see Captain is still sitting with King. King is talking in small bursts while Captain looks bored. I think they are almost done, so we can go home.

“How old are you?” she asks, taking her whiskey fingers and pushing back the hair out of my face. I wonder if I’ll smell like booze when I get home. “Yeah, you’re just a kid, aren’t you? What are you doing out so late? This ain’t a regular stop for you, is it, honey?”

I shoot another glance over to Captain, and he takes his eyes off King for a second to look back. I think he sees me with this lady, but I don’t know.

“Is that your dad?” she asks.

“No. No, I just work for him. Just here on business, that’s all.” I finally notice that my food has been sitting in front of me. I start to fidget with my silverware.

“Yeah, I’m just here on business too,” she says, grabbing a fry and slowly angling it toward her mouth.
Does she work here? Are the fries cold?
I try focusing on my food, but I’m seriously nervous, and waves of tension roll through me.

“Roxy!” King barks out. “Take care of the kid, will ya? Give him whatever he wants.”

I lean back and point to my plate to show him that I already have food.

“I don’t think that’s what he means.” Roxy laughs. “Don’t worry about it. His name may be King, but mainly he’s just a joker.” She pats me on the back and adds, “Enjoy your burger, sweetie. And get some sleep when you get home.”

I’m relieved as she walks away, and I dig into my burger. Captain clamps his hand down on my shoulder and says, “Meet me out at the boat in five minutes.” He and King slip behind the faded purple curtain next to the stage. I feel for the knife in my pocket.

What a night.

We make the trip back to Warren in silence. I don’t know what to call him.
Captain? George?
I steal glances at him as he steers the boat. I can see it now, the strong cheekbones, the chiseled nose and piercing eyes. I don’t know why I’ve never noticed before.
Captain is Gene’s brother. Gene’s brother is a pirate, and he knows my dad.

“Where have you been going at night?” My mom is standing in my bedroom doorway in her white dress, arms crossed tightly, a dishtowel hanging from her shoulder.

“What?” I sit up, my mind racing for excuses. I glance at the clock — 5:43 p.m.

“Every night you’ve been coming home late, and you sleep all day; what’s going on, Jake? I deserve to know.”

“Nothing. Nothing’s going on . . . I’ve been hanging out with Tommy. We’ve been night fishing, honest.” The lie spills from my lips easily and seems to work as my mom uncrosses her arms and turns to leave.
It’s almost the truth.

“I’m going to visit Gene tonight. You should come with me. You haven’t seen him in days.” She says this over her shoulder, and a stab of guilt burns in my stomach.
I want to see him, but I can’t look him in the eye. Not while I’m pirating with his brother. He’ll know.

“I can’t go.”

“And why not?” She swings around, eyes burning.

“I just can’t. I can’t see him like that. I hate hospitals. I’ll see him when he gets out. Honest. He’s getting out soon, right?”

“Well, he was, Jake. But he got this infection, so they are keeping him until it clears up. I know he’d love to see you.”

“No!” I turn and stare out my window until she leaves, and I can hear her sounds of exasperation. I imagine her eyes rolling with disgust as she heads downstairs.

I feel torn into all these little pieces right now. I’m carrying them around, trying to figure out how they’ll fit back together. I remember what Gene said about just dealing with what’s in front of you at the time.
Just save the diner. That’s what’s in front of me right now.

I lock the door to my room, pull out the cigar box, and open it. Captain finally paid me last night. I pull the wad of twenties from my jeans and toss it on the bed, emptying the rest of the money from the cigar box on top of that. Methodically I arrange the bills in four piles; twenties, tens, fives, and ones.

$2,368.

It’s more money than I’ve ever had in my life, and still it’s not even a quarter of what I need to earn in the next ten days. I do the math in my head and realize that even if I keep working with Captain, I will only make another three thousand by the end of the month. That’s about half of what we owe. I wonder if it will be enough.

Keep at it, Jakeman; good things will come.
My father’s words echo in my head.

Four and a half hours later, I’m sitting on the seawall down by Kenyon’s Dock, waiting for Captain to pick me up. It’s quiet, except for a few clangs of the buoys echoing across the water.

Suddenly, I feel a giant hand pressing down on my shoulder.

“What the hell!” I try to get up, but whoever it is has me pinned down, and I can’t even turn my head to see who it is.

“Don’t worry,” the voice says. “I just want to talk, that’s all.”

He slowly releases his death grip on my shoulder but leaves his hand there, warning me not to run. After a few seconds he lets go and sits down next to me on the seawall with a groan. Delvecchio laughs in a sick and twisted way as he settles in. I’m shaking like a leaf.

“What do you want?” My voice cracks.

“Just curious, that’s all. I’m wondering what a kid your age is doing sitting out by the water this late at night.”

“Me? I . . . uh . . . I just come out here listening for the fish, that’s all. See if they’re jumping. Maybe I’ll go get my fishing rod.”

“Fishing, huh?” Delvecchio looks out over the water, working the toothpick around his mouth. “What if I was to say that I thought you were out here waiting for somebody?”

How does he know?

“Me?” I say, searching for words.

Delvecchio tosses his toothpick toward the water. “Yes. I think you’re waiting for somebody to come pick you up, and you and that person are gonna go out, under the cover of darkness, and you’re gonna dig quahogs. Polluted quahogs. That’s what I think.”

“I’m not waiting for anybody . . . I swear.” I’m freaking out because any second now Captain is going to pull up in his big gray boat, and I’ll be sitting here on the seawall with Delvecchio. I pull my digital watch out and press the button a few times, sending a blue-green warning into the blackness. I hope he sees it. “It’s late,” I say. “I gotta go home.”

“Look, Jake, I know you’re not a pirate. Hell, you’re not even in high school. I’m after the guy you work for. He’s a bad man, Jake, and I need your help to bring him down.” Delvecchio looks at his own watch. 10:35.

“How do you know my name?”

“It’s a small town, Jake. I know everybody. Now, tell me where George is working. Where are you selling the stuff ?”

I feel like saying,
Same place as you, you bald-headed jerk.
But I know that he’ll probably shoot me and dump my body in the river. “I really just came down here to listen for the fish, I swear. I don’t know any George.”

Delvecchio pulls a card out of his shirt pocket, writes a number down on the back, and hands it to me. “You give that number a call when you’re ready to talk.” I take the card, but he doesn’t let go, and our eyes meet. “Just remember, Jake, this here is a courtesy visit. If I catch you doing bad things out there on the water, I might not remember that you’re just a kid.” He pats his gun in the holster at his belt.

He lets go of the card, and I jump up from where I’m sitting and take off down the street. When I am far enough away, I look back and Delvecchio is still sitting there, looking out over the water, waiting.

The first night, Captain told me about the alternate pickup spot. It was for emergencies only, and I figure this is about as good an emergency as any. I hop the fence and jog through the sewer plant toward the end of the pier.

Before I can even catch my breath, I can see Captain’s boat pulling up. I jump aboard and we slip quietly out of the river.

As we make the turn past Rumstick Rock, I’m waiting for Captain to duck under the black shroud, but instead he kills the engines and turns to face me. “I thought I told you never to bring that watch?”