Page 41 of Flyboy

“Opa! Watch out.” Tiago backed away.

“What are you going to do with this?” Ivy’s mouth was wide open.

It jumped, totally getting air above the deck, flipping around all over the place.

She screamed and jumped back.

“I say . . . we take a picture and either let it go or donate it to Tiago here?” Colton pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Say cheese, you big old grandpa tuna!”

“Here, you get in.” Tiago reached for the phone. Colton smiled. The fish was almost as long as his six-foot-four height.

Tiago grinned. “We want this fish. But I’ll throw it back and drag it behind us until we get back to shore.”

“You sure?” Colton gripped the man’s shoulder.

“Yes. Thank you. We will eat fish for many days.”

“I’m happy you’ll have a use for it.”

“And you and your girlfriend, you come for dinner. We cook your fresh fish.”

“That would be amazing.” Colton’s mouth watered thinking about it. There was nothing as good as fresh-caught fish, not when it was cooked right.

Ivy was half-heartedly tugging on her own line while watching the fish. She shook her head. “I cannot believe it.” She peered over the edge. “Do you think mine is that big?”

Colton reached for her rod and tugged on it. “No. Yours is smaller . . . or less of a fighter.”

The line went slack, and she reeled it in like crazy. At last, the sound of a fish bumping the side of the boat seemed to give her a new burst of energy. “Yeah! Okay, let’s get this guy up here.” She pulled and stepped back. “I think I’m gonna need some extra muscle.”

He jumped to her back again and then pulled the fish up and out of the water. As soon as its long, wide head came into view, he almost stepped back in surprise. “A hammerhead.” He reached for it. It was a smaller size, still hefty, but nothing like his big monster tuna. “Would you look at that.”

They flopped it up on deck, and to his surprise, Ivy reached a hand out to touch its back. “This is a beautiful fish. Hammerheads are supposed to be the good sharks, right?”

“Good, as in . . .”

“Good as in, they don’t eat people.” She shook her head. “Let’s toss this one back.”

“I agree. But not without a picture. Say cheese!” He held up his phone and clicked a few of Ivy with her fish, which was legitimately at least half her height and possibly her weight. Then he removed the hook, and they both slid it over to the edge. “Goodbye, Hammy!” Ivy waved as it swam away.

He laughed. “Hammy?”

She wiped her hands down the front of her and then rubbed her face with her forearm.

“Feeling a little fishy?”

“Uh.” She looked over the edge. “Ordinarily I might say, let’s go for a swim but . . .”

“You worried about Hammy? He’s long gone, and my fish, he’s stuck at the back of the boat.”

She shook her head. Then her face brightened. “Unless we snorkel?”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. They’ve got fins and gear in a box on deck.” He dug through the equipment, puzzling over what was bugging Ivy. “You feel more comfortable if you can see?”

She nodded. “Oh yeah. I don’t think I can float there on top, knowing that somewhere below me are thousands of feet of living creatures that I can’t see.”

“And if you can see and there’s nothing, you know that too.”

“Exactly.” She nodded. She stepped back inside the cabin, presumably to change into a bathing suit. He shook his head. “What a woman.”

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