Page 25 of Too Close To Call

Rod steps aboard. “Your mom called when she saw you down here looking like a mopey puppy. She thinks you and Tori are having problems and wants us to fix them. You know, since we did so incredible with our own lives.”

“How the hell did she even know about Tori being here?” I grumble.

Bode slaps me on the back. “Come on, man. You know island news. Nothing is private around here. Kimberly took the SUV for an oil change last week and met her. And heads up, Tori’s coming to the next Book Chicks meeting. You’ve never had a pony in that shit show, but I’m warning you now. Be prepared for anything.”

“I know you always say that, but I see you guys the next morning and the shit-eating grins on your faces tell me you benefitted from whatever happened at their meetings.”

The three men look at each other, smirk, and collectively nod in agreement. “Yeah, he’s right,” David says.

I don’t even bother to argue anymore. “Untie the line and let’s get going before it gets crazy busy around here.”

Since the island promotions have been in place, our sleepy town has turned into a roaring lion, especially in the summer. I realize it’s good for progress and for the whole well-being of the island natives, but it can be frustrating having to deal with crowds.

The marina is one such area of concern. My mom and dad are third generation owners of the only marina on the island. They’ve already had to hire on staff and now Dad’s talking about expanding the docks to berth more boats.

Once we clear the marina traffic, I point us towards open water and let ‘er rip. I love the adrenaline rush. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a car or a boat, anything fast feeds my need for speed. It’s always been that way. It started out with bicycles, then jet skis, dirt bikes, motorcycles, and ultimately boats and cars.

I needed racing as much as I loved it. Being without that rush for so many years has been a void in my life. That’s why going out on my boat is my place to reconnect. I glance back at the three amigos, who now each have one of my beers in hand. Grumbling under my breath, I slow the boat down enough to let my voice be heard. “What the hell? Who invited you to help yourselves to my beer?”

All three men shrug innocently. Bode speaks for the group. “You were busy and we knew you’d want us to have one.”

“No. No, I wouldn’t,” I mutter and glare as I head into a cove, cut the engine, and drop anchor.

When I turn back around to the guys, I growl, “I know I didn’t invite you to raid my food. It’s not even lunchtime.”

Rod has one of the sub sandwiches I brought. The turkey one, I think. Bode has the roast beef, and David has the pepperoni and salami. I sigh. That leaves me with the chicken salad sub that I didn’t really want, but stuck in at the last minute.

“You didn’t, but we rushed out so early this morning we skipped breakfast and we’re hungry,” Bode says and takes a big bite. A piece of roast beef hangs from his lips for a minute before he slurps it in and chews, giving off a satisfied groan.

I roll my eyes and grab a fishing pole. “Why are you here? Again, I didn’t invite you.”

Rod points out, “But you should have. Between the three of us, we have some really good shit to share about relationships. This sub is delicious, by the way. My compliments to the chef.”

David chuckles and talks aroundmyfood inhismouth. “At least that’s what our wives say. Well, they don’t actually say that specifically, it’s more like we’re works in progress. But we’ve learned a lot of shit.”

I shake my head in disgust and try not to laugh as I tie on a lure and cast into the water.

“Isn’t that fly lure for trout?” Rod asks.

I shrug to answer. I don’t know and I don’t really care. I’ve never fished to actually catch anything. It’s more the process than the challenge for me. Plus, I’m not sure the bait enjoys being eaten by a fish and those hooks are sharp. I don’t want to hurt the fish.

Bode pops in to add, “Yeah, wouldn’t you do better with shrimp or bloodworms?”

Slowly I turn my head and make each word count. “Listen. I didn’t invite you, so keep your fishing opinions to yourselves.”

The three glance at each other and giggle like schoolgirls. Bode risks his neck by saying, “Gee, you sure are pissy today. Mom was right. You do need help.”

My brows butt together in an angry scowl. “No, I don’t. I just need…” I pull up short because Tori’s name almost shot from my mouth.

I just need Tori.

No. I don’t. That’s the last thing I need.

Wisely, they keep any comments or replies to themselves and let me fish. They’re probably eating all the food I brought with me. I grab two beers from my quickly depleting cooler and sit down, letting my legs hang over the side as I stare at the fishing line where it disappears beneath the water.

After an hour, I’m still in the same spot without a nibble and haven’t been able to form a single coherent thought or reflection.

The peanut gallery has, however, carried on a muted conversation. I turn and find them sharing pictures on their phones. I can only assume they are pictures of their kids. The kiddosarecute. I grab my phone and start to pull up the pictures I took yesterday at the beach with Daisy before I realize what the hell I’m doing.

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