end of chapter 1

“What if it’s storming? You still going do it?”

Jerry nodded to show him he was without doubt. “We could lay over in the Bahamas if it gets bad.”

“But what if you’ve already left the islands—what would you do then?”

“You want to play a game of ifs—what if you shut your whining and start thinking about all the money we’ll make. That’s why we’re here, not to play a stupid game.”

“You can get an attitude, you know that,” Jones said. “Anybody ever tell you it gets old.”

“If they want to, they know where I live. As for you, I’m right here.” Jerry was thinking he was getting tired of Jones’ whining. He wasn’t always that way but since he’d gotten busted for selling stolen car parts that last time—even though he’d gotten off something had changed with him.

“I always wondered if I could take you,” Jones said. “Maybe I’ll have to find out.”

Jerry reached over and grabbed him by the arm, pinning it to the table. “You don’t want to do this, Larry.”

Jones forced a laugh. “What the hell we doing? Let’s go somewhere and get a real drink.”

When they left the restaurant, Jerry walked back to the boat and saw the big man on the dock. He walked up to him and hit him flush in the mouth. He looked down at him struggling in the water and decided there was no need to do anything else. Didn’t say one word to him.

“What was that about?” Jones said.

“I don’t like Yankees.”

“You not afraid he’ll come after you?”

Jerry shrugged. Some things you couldn’t prevent but he had a feeling the man understood that it was better to leave things alone. He’d be gone by morning and never see him again. Anyway, the next time the 9mm would be under his shirt. That would appeal to the man’s limited intelligence.

“How many people you killed?” Jones said.

“Killed or tried to kill?”

“Either one.”

“Not enough,” Jerry said. “I’m not a good shot. Why? You worried I might kill you? Don’t worry, I promised Laverne I’d look after you.” The last time he’d shot at anyone was when a buddy got pissed because Jerry had slept with his girlfriend, except she wasn’t his girlfriend when Jerry had lived with her, and didn’t like that she had done things to Jerry she wouldn’t do to him. So he came after Jerry with a gun, him and a couple of friends. Jerry shot him in the shoulder and someone shot Jerry in the leg. When the police came to the hospital they were so pissed because no one would talk they just left. Let the bastards kill each other, I don’t give a shit, the detective said.

“I guess I could if I didn’t have a choice,” Jones said.

Jerry thought about this for the first time. Jones was the type to get even in a devious way, instead of walking up to man and looking him in the eye.

After the shooting incident, Jerry rarely went anywhere without a gun. When he managed the honkytonk, where people were routinely shot or stabbed, his reputation helped him keep a semblance of peace in the bar. Women liked his bad boy image so there was a steady stream of them. He took out women who were professionals, waitresses, lonely housewives—he wasn’t particular as

long as they weren’t stupid.

“You’re going to try to screw me one day, aren’t you?”

Jones said, “What the fuck you talking about?”

“Just something that came over me,” Jerry said.

The next day, Jerry was feeling better after a good night of sleep. Then, pleased with his decision to continue on regardless, he untied the boat and headed out to sea. This was going to be the first boat trip of his life and what better place to do than the Caribbean.

It was clear to Jerry that Jones wouldn’t make it past the Bahamas, and he doubted the other man would either. He had thought about this during the night and planned out in his mind how he could handle the trip alone. All he needed was some good luck with the weather and from the forecast, he might

just get it.

But as they neared the islands the swells began to increase and the boat was bobbing like a cork. There was nothing threatening about the waves but Jerry could see that the other two were getting concerned. Oddly, he had gained confidence on the trip. He was learning how to handle the boat and the freedom of being on the ocean was exciting.

As expected, both men announced their intentions to leave the trip in the Bahamas, with one man getting off at the nearest island and Jones agreeing to travel to the southernmost island, Great Inagua, where he promised to wait for Jerry’s return and help with the refueling.

Left alone, Jerry considered the rest of the trip and wondered if his idea was sound. He could make a lot of money from the marijuana but if he was going to continue he needed another form of transportation. He had a friend who smuggled by flying so maybe he could learn to fly and do it that way. He just knew that using a small boat wasn’t what he wanted to do again.

But he was here and that’s all he had. He noticed that there seemed to be few whites on Great Inagua and Jones didn’t like blacks.

He went over the route once again. From Great Inagua he would travel to Haiti. From Haiti he would go directly to Jamaica, maybe do a little scuba diving while he was there before loading the marijuana. If all went well he would be able to pay back the man who had purchased the boat and have enough left over to maybe leverage it into something else. He needed money and he needed it soon.

He sat back in the boat and stared at the stars. The sky was clear now and the wind was blowing gently from the southeast. It was peaceful. But he felt no peace. He was suddenly angry that he was alone, even though he had known it was going to happen. He resented Jones, supposedly a friend, deserting him. He knew that he could no longer depend on him. This was a hard thing to accept. He would rather have a man steal from him that break his word.

He knew Jones wouldn’t wait for him, though he admitted to a faint hope he was wrong. He considered how he would treat Jones once this was over. He supposed he would still be friendly with him; any other man would probably feel the weight of his gun. But he had promised Jones’ wife to look after him. She was a nice woman.

Later that night, as Jerry was dozing, a clap of lightning flashed across the western sky. The sound was like a rifle shot and made him bolt upright. Christ! he thought. He could barely get his breath because his heart was pounding so hard. What answer could he possibly have if a bad storm hit him tomorrow?

He felt the ocean coming up to him, warm and dark, bucking him up and down, whispering something to him. “To hell with you all!” he cried out.