Deadout (6 page)

“Great,” she replied, sliding in front of me and wrapping my arms around her so her back was pressing against me. “Teddy said it was a good place, with room for the whole crowd.”

Moose smiled at our embrace; then he looked at his watch. “Okay, well, it's just a few blocks from here, but how about I come by at seven and we can walk over together? That way you two can get some quiet time first.”

“Sounds good,” Nola said, leaning back a little more.

 

8

Quiet time was great, although not particularly quiet, especially when I kicked over the bedside lamp. We made fast work of each other's clothes and fell onto the bed, trying not to laugh as we almost bounced off it and onto the floor.

It had been a week, and a lot longer since we had done it in the daytime. I felt sneaky and young, and we fought off a conspiratorial laugh, until I was inside her. Nothing funny about that. We were both worked up, and it was frantic at first, but then we slowed down, taking our time, kissing and running our fingers through each other's hair. Looking into each other's eyes and smiling. Then smiling time was over for a while.

We finished just before the sun did, dropping onto our backs, sweaty and heaving, as a final sliver of bronze light slid up the wall and narrowed to nothing. I felt the tiniest flicker of regret at having missed what looked to have been a spectacular sunset. Then I looked down at Nola and smiled, because it couldn't have been as spectacular as she was. She looked up at me and smiled, and I held out my arm, curling it around her as she scooted up close.

We lay like that for a while, holding on to each other, holding on to the moment, watching the room slowly go dark.

When Nola's phone lit up the room, the gentle acoustic guitar ringtone sent us scrambling like a blaring trumpet. I landed on my feet in a combat stance, still half asleep. By the time I was fully awake, Nola had turned on the bedside lamp, squinting at me as she held her phone to her ear.

“Hi, Moose,” she said, looking at her watch. “No, of course not … Ten minutes, that's fine.”

One of the many things I liked about Nola was that she could get ready in a hurry, and I especially liked the way she got ready in a hurry and still looked great. We shared a purely utilitarian shower that was over before the water had fully heated up, and Moose texted us that he was outside on the porch a leisurely fifteen minutes later. The stiff breeze coming off the harbor was bracing, especially with my hair still wet from the shower.

It was a five-minute walk to the Alehouse, and after the first minute, conversation was replaced with hunched shoulders and hurrying. By the time we got there I was grateful to be enveloped in the boozy swell of warmth and loud conversation that greeted us. The place had a vaulted wood ceiling, and walls decked with oars and boats and flags and stuffed fish. At the far end was a massive fireplace made of the ubiquitous fieldstone.

Moose waved toward the back, where Teddy was standing in a little nook by the bar, giving him a semi-friendly smile and cool-guy tilt of his head. I told myself that maybe I had misjudged the guy, but then his eyes moved from Moose to Nola and his smile moved from fifty percent friendly to one hundred percent wolfish.

As we filed between the tightly packed tables, our feet crunching peanut shells on the floor, an older couple made their way past us toward the door. Their strained smiles faltered as one of the larger tables erupted in laughter. They'd probably had the place to themselves when they got there for the early bird special, and stayed just a little too long.

The crowd was an odd mix: a big table of rowdy college kids, a couple of booths of older working men with lined faces, and a few middle-aged couples. I recognized a face at one of the other large tables, a thin guy in an oversized hoodie sitting with two oversized friends wearing regular-sized clothes.

In the back corner, two beefy guys sitting at a booth were taking turns drinking their beers without smiling or talking. The younger one had a buzz cut and the older one had hair just long enough that you could see he'd lost most of it. They were wearing cheap suits—not that I'm judging—and looked like they maybe weren't as solid as they used to be. They were still on top of it enough that they each gave me exactly two seconds of eye-work before looking away and never once looking back. If I wasn't a cop, I might have thought they were cops. But I am, and they weren't. Maybe at one point, but not for a while.

I couldn't help wondering if the ex-cops and the oversized friends were there to keep an eye on each other. But what did I care? I was on vacation.

As we reached the end of the bar, I saw Benjy and Pete sitting on stools, tucked away behind Teddy. We all shook hands and Teddy gave that phony smile, but between each handshake his eyes flickered back toward Nola.

He leaned his head close to mine and said something I couldn't hear.

I said, “Milk comes from cows.”

He scrunched up his face like he couldn't hear me.

I gave him a wink. “I know. Crazy, right?”

He shook his head and said, “What?”

I was about to repeat it when the waitress came to lead us to our table, next to the rowdy college kids.

Being a gentleman, I stood back to let Nola go first. Being a douchebag, Teddy went first. To be fair, though, he didn't sit next to Nola but took the far seat, with his back to the rear of the dining room. Nola ended up between Moose and me, and I ended up between Nola and an empty chair.

She turned to me and smiled, said something about how great the place was. I looked up to admire the impressive collection of nautical tchotchkes on the wall and nodded my agreement. When I looked back, she was talking to Moose and Teddy.

As the waitress brought our beers and we ordered our pizzas, my eyes made another appreciative sweep of the décor. I noticed Annalisa, sitting alone in the front booth with her back to the door and a sweep of dark hair obscuring her face. Perhaps she felt my eyes, because she turned and met my gaze for a second. Then she looked away and her face disappeared once again behind that curtain of hair. I looked away, too, and found Nola looking up at me, waiting.

“Did you hear me?” she asked. I shook my head and pointed to my ears. She cupped her mouth. “Do you see the guy in the hoodie over there?” I nodded. “I think that's Johnny Blue.”

“How do you know what he looks like?”

Her cheeks colored slightly. “Well, I don't, really,” she stammered. “I mean, I've seen pictures. And I watch TV sometimes. I'm home a lot, you know?”

She patted my knee under the table, then took her hand away as she dove back into the conversation. But I kept staring at her. I would never have pegged her as the reality TV type.

Our pizzas arrived on metal trays. After the first piece, Moose and Teddy switched seats so Moose could talk to Benjy. As Teddy took Moose's place next to Nola, he gave me a look over her shoulder, almost like he was challenging me. Then he turned his attention to Nola, flashing a smile that dripped with charm. He tilted his head close and said something frightfully witty.

He had green eyes. I wanted to hit him just for that.

 

9

I ate three slices of pizza and concentrated on my beer. Then I concentrated on another. I was contemplating a trip to the restroom just to escape the table, when a flash of dark hair caught my attention. Annalisa was getting up to leave.

Moose said something to Benjy, who turned in his chair and called out to her. Moose shook his head and slid down in his seat while Benjy beckoned her over, insisting over her protests. Her shoulders slumped, and as she gathered her things, Benjy beckoned the waitress, pointed at Annalisa, and ordered another of whatever she had been drinking.

She came over and stood next to Benjy, waving to each of us and looking around the table, maybe smiling when she got to me. I smiled tightly back at her, not in the best mood at the way dinner had turned out.

Nola and Teddy looked up at her, then returned to their conversation. Benjy said something to Annalisa, and she bent over to speak to him. By the time she straightened back up, the waitress had returned with a half pint of stout. Annalisa rolled her eyes but took the glass, thanking Benjy but adding a good-natured scolding. Moose rolled his eyes in an entirely different way, but Benjy smiled and gestured toward the empty chair. The one next to me.

She looked over at me and smiled, then shrugged.

By the time she had made her way to my side of the table, everyone else had returned to their conversations. She slid into the chair next to me and put a stack of folders on the table, raising her glass in my direction.

I raised mine back. “Dining alone?”

She indicated the pile of folders on the table. “Working dinner.”

“This a good place for that?”

“It was a lot quieter two hours ago.” As she said it, the table next to us erupted in laughter and cheers.

“I hate loud restaurants,” I said, because I had to say something.

She leaned closer, smelling sweet and unfamiliar. “I don't know,” she said, her breath on my ear. “They can be surprisingly intimate.” She blushed and laughed. Just as she did, the room went quiet. The guys at the next table were getting up to leave, their raucous laughter replaced by the sound of chairs scraping the wood floor and Annalisa's laughter dying out.

There was a slight hint of menace in the air, like that whole table's collective drunk had suddenly turned belligerent. I watched them leave, wondering if there was going to be trouble. Then I noticed the bodyguards watching the same way I was, and the two guys in suits from the booth in the back, too.

The hum of conversation was just returning when the bartender started flicking through the channels on the TV over the bar, and someone called out, “Hey, look! It's Benjy!” The bartender flicked back and turned up the volume. Sure enough, there he was.

“We don't really have any idea what's going on,” televised Benjy said, scratching the back of his head in a good imitation of bewilderment. “We're just trying to figure it out.” The place erupted in cheers and laughter, drowning out whatever he said next.

“There are plenty of guesses as to what's going on,” said the reporter, “but nobody really knows for sure. With me now is Mr. Teddy Renfrew, with the Native Grown Coalition.”

The camera cut to Teddy, looking like he was made for TV. “We know what's causing these problems—pesticides, herbicides, genetically modified crops—those are the problems, not the solutions. The farmers on this island have been using natural farming techniques, native pollinators, and until now we've been spared these problems that have been plaguing the mainland. That means we'll continue to rely on our native pollinators, and we will not bring in industrial-scale pollinators that will make our bees sick with whatever is making the other bees sick.” A few people in the bar hooted and clapped. A couple of hands reached out and patted Teddy on the back.

“Thank you, Mr. Renfrew,” the reporter said. Then the camera cut to an extreme close-up of a tiny flower. “While everyone agrees the situation is serious, not everyone agrees on what to do about it. With us now is Johnny Blue, reality TV star and, if I understand correctly, now a farmer on Martha's Vineyard?” The camera panned to Johnny Blue, dressed in the same clothes he was wearing now. Sitting at the table, he raised his fists and his bodyguards bumped him.

“That's right,” he said on TV. “I'm the proud proprietor of Johnny Blue's Berry Farm.” He held up a silver and blue foil packet and mugged for the camera. “Home of Johnny Blue's Berry Jamz.”

“And what do you think of the bee situation?”

“Well, you're absolutely right, the situation
bees
serious,” he said, emphasizing the pun. “And they tell me if my blueberries aren't pollinated in time, I'm going to get
stung
right in my wallet.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” she asked, pushing the microphone back into his face.

“Well, I'm not too worried. If the local bees don't show up soon, I have a guy, Jack O'Callaghan, who can bring bees to the island that are, like, trained or whatever.” He held up the package again, and shook it in front of the camera. “So never fear, all you Johnny Blue fans out there, your Berry Jamz are coming.”

“There you have it, Jim. Back to you.” The bartender turned off the TV, and for a moment, everyone was quiet except for Johnny Blue, who was repeating his lines, and his bodyguards, who were pretending to laugh at them again.

Teddy stood up and walked over to Blue's table. “You're an idiot, Blue.”

Blue shot to his feet, sending his chair sliding out behind him. He looked down at his pals, who slowly got up as well. They were huge. Both had shiny bald heads, one with a goatee. Once they were standing, Blue walked around the table, standing in front of Teddy but making sure his pals were right behind him.

“Nobody asked you, hippie,” he said, his head bent to the side, like maybe someone had told him that looked tough. The two suits in the back booth slid their beers off to the side, the younger one glancing at the older one, looking for a cue. I wondered how they figured into all this.

“Nobody had to ask me, idiot. It's a fact. You're an idiot, and if you bring O'Callahan and those factory bees of his to this island, you're going to ruin something you're too stupid to even understand.”

Blue was shaking his head and laughing, waiting for Teddy to finish. “Well, there's something you don't understand, motherfucker. I'm sick of your shit and I ain't going to let some punk-ass hippie disrespect me or my boys Dawson and Tyrique, bitch.”

He tilted his head to one side, then the other as he said their names. Tyrique had the goatee.

 

10

I got to my feet and started working my way around the table. “Let's calm down here,” I said. But as Blue said “bitch,” he swung his open hand at Teddy's face. It was probably intended to be a surprise, a cheap shot, but long before he pursed his lips on the “b,” his body was twisting and his arm tensing. I don't think there was a person in the place who hadn't known it was coming. Hell, I think the old couple who left when we got there knew it was coming.