putting up his hands.
“No need to go in that direction. How about we just throw in some extra cash? Say we triple the full three-day fee? Make the payoff worth the risk, so to speak? I mean, this could make all of us famous, not just me. What do you say, Billyboy?”
Mikey looked at Bill.
Bill glared harder. He clenched a fist and turned away, ever so slightly, his eyes burning holes in everything they rested on.
Mikey stopped breathing.
“A triple fee,” Ernie said again. “Ain’t nothing to spit at.”
Bill started to say something, then mashed his lips into a tight, thin line and turned away.
“Not to mention how much business we could throw your way,” Ernie added. “And look what it would do to your reputation, huh?”
Bill put his hand over the bandage on his arm and shifted in the seat. He looked out the window at the sea.
A long, silent moment passed.
“All right,” he whispered.
Mikey’s jaw dropped.
Something lurched in his stomach, some weird, awful new thing.
No, Bill—
Wait, Mikey thought. Don’t jump to conclusions.
Just wait.
Bill has something up his sleeve.
Ernie smiled, cold and flat. “Deal,” he said, wagging his eyebrows.
Cal
humphed
.
Bill turned his back on them.
Mikey waited a moment longer, as long as he could stand it. Staring at Bill.
Finally, he got up and went out into the sun. He didn’t look at Cal or Ernie or even Alison. He felt dizzy. Stunned. These were idiots on this boat. He hoped the fish wasn’t a record at all. But what if it was? Would Bill
really
keep silent? Had he meant what he’d said,
really
meant it? If he had, and if Mikey didn’t go along with it, then Bill would be caught in an unforgivable lie and he could kiss his charter boat business goodbye.
Mikey would
have
to go along, he’d have no choice.
He wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts. A triple fee was good money, but . . .
Bill had to have something up his sleeve.
Of course he did.
Of course.
CHAPTER 1
BILL THROTTLED BACK as they approached the harbor.
Mikey stood on the bow with the mooring line coiled in his hands. There was a big crowd on the pier, and more people were streaming over from the village, heading out toward where the Crystal-C would dock.
Bill circled into the bay. Two fish flags fluttered high on the outriggers—orange and white for ono, yellow and blue for mahimahi.
The sky was a shield of high white clouds, and the water reflected a grayish green in the shallows, the sandy bottom clearly visible twenty feet below.
The slow, smooth motion of the boat easing up to the pier felt right in Mikey’s body, in his legs and knees. As it always did.
But that was all that felt right.
His spirits brightened some when he saw his mom and Billy-Jay on the pier. Mom waved, then leaned down and spoke to Billy-Jay, and he, too, waved.
Mikey lifted his chin.
Bill reversed the engines just as the bow was about to touch the truck-tire bumpers on the pier. Mikey jumped off the boat and secured the bow line.
Perfect.
Another small, right-feeling thing, a knot so clean and tight. He ran back along the pier.
Bill, with his bandaged arm, made his way aft and tossed up the stern line and Mikey hitched that off, too.
“Mikey!”
He turned.
Mom struggled through the milling mass of chatting, rubbernecking people, Billy-Jay in tow. “Wow,” she said. “Can you believe this crowd? What’d you bring home, Moby Dick?” She hugged him, then waved a hand in front of her face. “
Eew,
you smell like fish.”
“Yeah.”
She stood back, squinted at him. “What’s wrong? You should be leaping with excitement.”
Mikey shrugged.
Mom frowned.
Mikey squatted down in front of Billy-Jay. “Hey, bud. We brought you a really, really big mahimahi today.”
Billy-Jay grinned and reached out to find Mikey.
Mikey took his hand and held it. He seemed fine now. Not coughing or breathing funny. “Yeah,” Mikey said. “A giant. Want to touch it?”
“Uh-huh. Where is
“No need to go in that direction. How about we just throw in some extra cash? Say we triple the full three-day fee? Make the payoff worth the risk, so to speak? I mean, this could make all of us famous, not just me. What do you say, Billyboy?”
Mikey looked at Bill.
Bill glared harder. He clenched a fist and turned away, ever so slightly, his eyes burning holes in everything they rested on.
Mikey stopped breathing.
“A triple fee,” Ernie said again. “Ain’t nothing to spit at.”
Bill started to say something, then mashed his lips into a tight, thin line and turned away.
“Not to mention how much business we could throw your way,” Ernie added. “And look what it would do to your reputation, huh?”
Bill put his hand over the bandage on his arm and shifted in the seat. He looked out the window at the sea.
A long, silent moment passed.
“All right,” he whispered.
Mikey’s jaw dropped.
Something lurched in his stomach, some weird, awful new thing.
No, Bill—
Wait, Mikey thought. Don’t jump to conclusions.
Just wait.
Bill has something up his sleeve.
Ernie smiled, cold and flat. “Deal,” he said, wagging his eyebrows.
Cal
humphed
.
Bill turned his back on them.
Mikey waited a moment longer, as long as he could stand it. Staring at Bill.
Finally, he got up and went out into the sun. He didn’t look at Cal or Ernie or even Alison. He felt dizzy. Stunned. These were idiots on this boat. He hoped the fish wasn’t a record at all. But what if it was? Would Bill
really
keep silent? Had he meant what he’d said,
really
meant it? If he had, and if Mikey didn’t go along with it, then Bill would be caught in an unforgivable lie and he could kiss his charter boat business goodbye.
Mikey would
have
to go along, he’d have no choice.
He wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts. A triple fee was good money, but . . .
Bill had to have something up his sleeve.
Of course he did.
Of course.
CHAPTER 1
BILL THROTTLED BACK as they approached the harbor.
Mikey stood on the bow with the mooring line coiled in his hands. There was a big crowd on the pier, and more people were streaming over from the village, heading out toward where the Crystal-C would dock.
Bill circled into the bay. Two fish flags fluttered high on the outriggers—orange and white for ono, yellow and blue for mahimahi.
The sky was a shield of high white clouds, and the water reflected a grayish green in the shallows, the sandy bottom clearly visible twenty feet below.
The slow, smooth motion of the boat easing up to the pier felt right in Mikey’s body, in his legs and knees. As it always did.
But that was all that felt right.
His spirits brightened some when he saw his mom and Billy-Jay on the pier. Mom waved, then leaned down and spoke to Billy-Jay, and he, too, waved.
Mikey lifted his chin.
Bill reversed the engines just as the bow was about to touch the truck-tire bumpers on the pier. Mikey jumped off the boat and secured the bow line.
Perfect.
Another small, right-feeling thing, a knot so clean and tight. He ran back along the pier.
Bill, with his bandaged arm, made his way aft and tossed up the stern line and Mikey hitched that off, too.
“Mikey!”
He turned.
Mom struggled through the milling mass of chatting, rubbernecking people, Billy-Jay in tow. “Wow,” she said. “Can you believe this crowd? What’d you bring home, Moby Dick?” She hugged him, then waved a hand in front of her face. “
Eew,
you smell like fish.”
“Yeah.”
She stood back, squinted at him. “What’s wrong? You should be leaping with excitement.”
Mikey shrugged.
Mom frowned.
Mikey squatted down in front of Billy-Jay. “Hey, bud. We brought you a really, really big mahimahi today.”
Billy-Jay grinned and reached out to find Mikey.
Mikey took his hand and held it. He seemed fine now. Not coughing or breathing funny. “Yeah,” Mikey said. “A giant. Want to touch it?”
“Uh-huh. Where is
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