Page 14 of On the Line

“Hopefully it’ll be a story you tell your kids someday.” The thought of that made my chest tingle so much that even my feet felt half-numb as they carried me back to the truck.

Duval Street was blocked off, full of people. We didn’t know what had happened exactly until a salty character in Sloppy Joe’s filled us in. The mayor had kept his word and created a new nation, which lasted exactly one minute. After Mayor Wardlow declared himself Prime Minister of the newly-founded Conch Republic, he declared war on the U.S. by breaking a loaf of stale Cuban bread over the head of a man dressed in a Navy uniform (which the old man figured probably belonged to a cousin). The mayor then promptly surrendered to the acting enlistee, and applied for a billion dollars in financial relief for the hardships caused from the war.

It was a publicity stunt on the grandest scale. And everyone loved it.

A street party was the surest way to get a bunch of small business owners, displaced employees, fishermen, and drunks to band together. My plan to stay a couple of hours then head north to set up camp before sunset, was waylaid by the celebration. We drank beers in the street until the wee hours, without a care in the world. It was long after midnight when I caught Ellie yawning.

“We might have to sleep in the bed of the truck,” I told her, rubbing her back. “That old tent isn’t easy to set up in the dark.”

“I don’t care where I sleep as long as I’m with you.” Her eyes sparkled softly, her voice holding a hint of promise.

Walking back to the truck on Simonton, I heard “Slick Fucking Rodman,” from across the street. Mateo was swaying under a streetlight across from us, his arm clumsily around a girl that looked young enough to still be in high school. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he called.

I gave Ellie, who had never met Mateo, an assuring glance before shouting back. “Just heading home. You alright?”

“I’m better than alright. We just won the war on drugs against our own government,” Mateo yelled, dragging the poor girl on his arm across the street toward us.

Fuck!My two worlds could not collide.

“Yeah, let’s tone it down a little, buddy,” I said, nodding toward his wide-eyed companion as they approached. “Are you guys staying nearby?”

“Where are we partying, dude? That is the question,” Mateo said, grabbing my elbow and slapping me hard on the shoulder.

Ellie looked at me, a big fake smile on her lips. Before I could speak, Mateo did.

“I’m Mateo, Slick’s friend.” He stuck out his hand awkwardly.

“Mateo,” Ellie said, cutting her gaze my way. “That’s right, Slick told me all about you. How was the charter he did for your family last week? So nice that they gave him some business with no tourists in town.”

“Uh,” Mateo said, eyes scanning, panicked.

“We had to reschedule,” I said quickly.

“Oh that’s too bad,” Ellie said, apparently buying the story.

“Yeah,” Mateo said, finally catching up to the lie he was supposed to be participating in. “My uncle had some business troubles and had to rearrange some things. They’re really looking forward to it as soon as they can. You know how tough it is right now.”

Jesus. Mateo’s lies hadwaytoo much honestly woven in. I needed to nip this in the bud. “All good. We’ll do it next month when he’s back in the Keys.” I laced my finger’s through Ellie’s hand. “We should get going to the campground.”

“Yeah, it’s late,” Ellie quickly agreed. “Nice meeting you, Mateo. And…” She looked at the silent companion. Mateo spoke for her.

“Tracy,” he said, patting the freckled blonde on the ass.

“That was weird,” I said, as we approached the truck.

“Very,” Ellie concurred. But she didn’t speak another word about it as we drove north. I gave myself a silent pat on the back for somehow managing to talk myself out of that dumpster fire.

We had to drive around the barricade at the empty entrance booth to the Bahia Honda State Park. An old Airstream was the only camper we passed on our way to the end of the short road, a point with ocean on three sides, the old railroad bridge in the distance. We pulled into a spot, surrounded by emptiness.

Ellie walked to the water’s edge while I moved unused gear from the bed to the cab of the truck. I unrolled the sleeping bags, fully aware the metal ridges of the truck bed would be digging into our backs. But morning was only a few hours away.

“I guess we can try to get some shut eye. I can’t promise it will be comfortable.”

Ellie grinned with mischievous eyes. “I vote we go for a swim.”

“Did you bring a suit?” I asked as I situated the sleeping bags.

“I did. But I don’t think I need one,” she said, looking around the darkness. “There’s no one around.”

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