cute, like prying off the ankle bracelet.
We played lots of video games and watched fishing shows on ESPN and didn’t talk at all about Dusty’s casino boat. Abbey’s new project was building an Olympic village for hermit crabs, and Dad really got into it. Abbey and I collected the crabs (there were scads of them in the woods along the Old Highway) while my father sat at the kitchen table working with his tools. Before long he’d put together a miniature track, a lap pool, a pole vault, even a hurdle run.
Unfortunately, the average hermit crab isn’t particularly athletic, having to haul a clunky seashell around on its back, so the sports competition part of Abbey’s project sort of fizzled. Most of the crabs hunkered down and refused to budge. Still, it gave Dad something to do that kept his mind off the Coral Queen.
Until Shelly showed up late one afternoon.
Abbey watched her get out of the Jeep and said,
This oughta be good.
Shelly was dressed in her casino-boat bartender’s outfit, which was loud and skimpy. She wore high heels and stockings that looked like they were made from a mullet net. As I opened the door to let her in, I decided it was probably a good thing that Mom wasn’t home.
Long time no see,
Shelly said to my father, and gave him a brisk, businesslike hug. Then she introduced herself to Abbey, who was gawking at the barbed-wire tattoo on Shelly’s bare arm.
How about something cold to drink?
Dad offered.
Iced tea would be super. I can’t stay long,
Shelly said.
We all sat down in the living room, Shelly crossing her legs and sipping her tea. My father was on the edge of his seat, looking like he was dying to pepper her with questions.
How you doin’, Noah?
Shelly said to me.
Great.
Feelin’ okay?
She gave me a narrow look to let me know that she knew I wasn’t telling the truth. It was creepy how sharp her radar was.
So, how’s work?
I said, eager to change the subject.
Work is work,
Shelly replied. Then, turning to Dad:
Paine, what’s that thing on your leg?
My father explained about the electronic bracelet.
I’m on house arrest. You believe it?
Boy, that really sucks,
Shelly said.
Out of nowhere Abbey asked about the tattoo. That’s one thing about my sister, she’s not afraid to say anything.
Shelly smiled and traced one finger along the dark blue links.
That’s a story for when you’re older,
she said.
It was a long night and a bad party.
But why barb wire?
Abbey always called it
barb
wire.
To show the world how rough and tough I was,
said Shelly.
To be honest, I wish it was daisies instead. This thing’s gonna look mighty stupid when I’m eighty years old and my grandkids are askin’ how come I got a cow fence painted on my arm. Hey, Paine, can you take a bath with that ankle gizmo, or would you get all electrocuted?
Dad laughed.
Naw, it’s waterproof.
Amazing,
Shelly said.
Any word from Lice?
I asked hopefully.
She shook her head.
But I got some other news. That’s why I stopped over.
We waited as she glugged a long drink from her glass.
They’re at it again,
she said.
Dumpin’ the toilet tanks into the water. Last night I stayed late to restock the bar, and I saw it for myself. Dusty was already gone with the money, and I guess the crew didn’t know I was still there.
I noticed that my father’s fists were clenched on the arms of his chair. Abbey saw it, too.
They just hung the hose off the side of the boat,
Shelly went on,
like it was business as usual.
What time was this?
Dad asked.
Between one and one-thirty. The marina was empty,
Shelly said.
Abbey spoke up again.
That man is major scum.
No doubt,
said Shelly.
And here’s what else. The big bald guy with the Z-shaped nose? The one who came to see Lice that night before he went missing? His name’s Luno, and he’s Dusty’s main muscle. I think he’s from Morocco or someplace like that.
I purposely didn’t look at Abbey. Neither
We played lots of video games and watched fishing shows on ESPN and didn’t talk at all about Dusty’s casino boat. Abbey’s new project was building an Olympic village for hermit crabs, and Dad really got into it. Abbey and I collected the crabs (there were scads of them in the woods along the Old Highway) while my father sat at the kitchen table working with his tools. Before long he’d put together a miniature track, a lap pool, a pole vault, even a hurdle run.
Unfortunately, the average hermit crab isn’t particularly athletic, having to haul a clunky seashell around on its back, so the sports competition part of Abbey’s project sort of fizzled. Most of the crabs hunkered down and refused to budge. Still, it gave Dad something to do that kept his mind off the Coral Queen.
Until Shelly showed up late one afternoon.
Abbey watched her get out of the Jeep and said,
This oughta be good.
Shelly was dressed in her casino-boat bartender’s outfit, which was loud and skimpy. She wore high heels and stockings that looked like they were made from a mullet net. As I opened the door to let her in, I decided it was probably a good thing that Mom wasn’t home.
Long time no see,
Shelly said to my father, and gave him a brisk, businesslike hug. Then she introduced herself to Abbey, who was gawking at the barbed-wire tattoo on Shelly’s bare arm.
How about something cold to drink?
Dad offered.
Iced tea would be super. I can’t stay long,
Shelly said.
We all sat down in the living room, Shelly crossing her legs and sipping her tea. My father was on the edge of his seat, looking like he was dying to pepper her with questions.
How you doin’, Noah?
Shelly said to me.
Great.
Feelin’ okay?
She gave me a narrow look to let me know that she knew I wasn’t telling the truth. It was creepy how sharp her radar was.
So, how’s work?
I said, eager to change the subject.
Work is work,
Shelly replied. Then, turning to Dad:
Paine, what’s that thing on your leg?
My father explained about the electronic bracelet.
I’m on house arrest. You believe it?
Boy, that really sucks,
Shelly said.
Out of nowhere Abbey asked about the tattoo. That’s one thing about my sister, she’s not afraid to say anything.
Shelly smiled and traced one finger along the dark blue links.
That’s a story for when you’re older,
she said.
It was a long night and a bad party.
But why barb wire?
Abbey always called it
barb
wire.
To show the world how rough and tough I was,
said Shelly.
To be honest, I wish it was daisies instead. This thing’s gonna look mighty stupid when I’m eighty years old and my grandkids are askin’ how come I got a cow fence painted on my arm. Hey, Paine, can you take a bath with that ankle gizmo, or would you get all electrocuted?
Dad laughed.
Naw, it’s waterproof.
Amazing,
Shelly said.
Any word from Lice?
I asked hopefully.
She shook her head.
But I got some other news. That’s why I stopped over.
We waited as she glugged a long drink from her glass.
They’re at it again,
she said.
Dumpin’ the toilet tanks into the water. Last night I stayed late to restock the bar, and I saw it for myself. Dusty was already gone with the money, and I guess the crew didn’t know I was still there.
I noticed that my father’s fists were clenched on the arms of his chair. Abbey saw it, too.
They just hung the hose off the side of the boat,
Shelly went on,
like it was business as usual.
What time was this?
Dad asked.
Between one and one-thirty. The marina was empty,
Shelly said.
Abbey spoke up again.
That man is major scum.
No doubt,
said Shelly.
And here’s what else. The big bald guy with the Z-shaped nose? The one who came to see Lice that night before he went missing? His name’s Luno, and he’s Dusty’s main muscle. I think he’s from Morocco or someplace like that.
I purposely didn’t look at Abbey. Neither
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