shut down by Sandra. I thought we could take our relationship to the next level…”
“Dad, let me stop you right there. I almost forgot to tell you. Guess who I saw waiting outside of Petey Porter’s crappy apartment building last night?”
Jason pulled back from Aaron and frowning, looked up at him. “Who? The cops?”
“No. Sandra Benson. I almost stopped to ask what the hell she was doing in that neighborhood after dark, but I was with a group and I wasn’t driving.”
“I feel like someone just threw a bucket of hot shit at me,” Jason said.
“Yeah, well I’m sorry it was me,” Aaron replied. “I’ve got to run. But I’d look into it if I were you.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m going to.” Jason got up from the stool after Aaron left, running the water to make more coffee. Several things came into his head that may have been unrelated, but now that he had Aaron’s latest information, he could see he’d ignored some incidents. About two weeks after they’d started going out on the boat every weekend, Sandra made the excuse to leave after breakfast on Sunday, saying she needed to get home to Brent. But when Jason tried to call her later in the day, her phone was always shut off. At the same time, Pete asked for Sunday afternoon off. The community dock had to give it to him; he was available to them twenty-four/seven.
Just then, Pete came into view, dragging a hose behind him. He was going to scrub down Emily’s Paycheck. Jason watched him work the way he watched Sandra pose, with the eye of an artist. There was no mistake that Pete a specimen. He was young; who didn’t look great in their youth? Without provocation, the image of Pete naked, on top of Sandra popped into his head. Slowly, rage burned inside his brain. The physical rush was complete, heat through his body, sweat on his upper lip, finally his bowels rumbling so that he’d have to run to the toilet. Little Pete’s ass was just saved by my stomach, he thought.
Pete was standing on the swim platform, scrubbing the port side of the boat when Jason came out to find him. Watching for a few moments, Jason weighed the options between getting revenge on Pete if what Aaron said was true, or letting it go because he was the best dock boy they’d had in all the years he lived in Philadelphia.
“Hey, Pete,” Jason called. Pulling the long handled brush back on the platform, Pete unhesitantly hopped up on the dock and skipped over to Jason with his hand extended.
“Taking her out today, sir? It’s swift, but the reports are good from here to the Chesapeake.”
“No, not today, Pete. Maybe Wednesday. I’ll let you know, I could use a deck hand if I do.”
“Okay, sir, I’d be delighted.” He stood close, smiling, not a hint of deceit. He was an adroit liar, and although Jason bristled that Pete couldn’t be trusted, it was a small black mark against an excellent boatman.”
“Great,” Jason replied, turning back to the house. “Oh Pete, by the way.”
“Yes sir?” They faced each other friendly, nothing at all adversarial about the confrontation.
“Sandra has HIV. I’d get yourself tested if I were you.” Jason stood close by, watching the color drain from Pete’s face. Later, Jason had to hand it to him; he never flinched, never got defensive, but there were definitely fear there, whether from AIDS or losing his job, Jason would never know because they never mentioned it again.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, waiting for Jason to leave again before he got back on board. Drinking coffee at the riverside window all morning, Jason watched Pete finish the best wash job Emily’s Paycheck ever got.
Chapter 8
The week after Jason left Pam standing at the altar was one of new beginnings for many people. On Thursday, John Zapelli picked Pam up at her beach house in his shiny new truck and drove her around to all the great kitchen showrooms on the island. Since no one was waiting at home, she didn’t worry about how long she
“Dad, let me stop you right there. I almost forgot to tell you. Guess who I saw waiting outside of Petey Porter’s crappy apartment building last night?”
Jason pulled back from Aaron and frowning, looked up at him. “Who? The cops?”
“No. Sandra Benson. I almost stopped to ask what the hell she was doing in that neighborhood after dark, but I was with a group and I wasn’t driving.”
“I feel like someone just threw a bucket of hot shit at me,” Jason said.
“Yeah, well I’m sorry it was me,” Aaron replied. “I’ve got to run. But I’d look into it if I were you.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m going to.” Jason got up from the stool after Aaron left, running the water to make more coffee. Several things came into his head that may have been unrelated, but now that he had Aaron’s latest information, he could see he’d ignored some incidents. About two weeks after they’d started going out on the boat every weekend, Sandra made the excuse to leave after breakfast on Sunday, saying she needed to get home to Brent. But when Jason tried to call her later in the day, her phone was always shut off. At the same time, Pete asked for Sunday afternoon off. The community dock had to give it to him; he was available to them twenty-four/seven.
Just then, Pete came into view, dragging a hose behind him. He was going to scrub down Emily’s Paycheck. Jason watched him work the way he watched Sandra pose, with the eye of an artist. There was no mistake that Pete a specimen. He was young; who didn’t look great in their youth? Without provocation, the image of Pete naked, on top of Sandra popped into his head. Slowly, rage burned inside his brain. The physical rush was complete, heat through his body, sweat on his upper lip, finally his bowels rumbling so that he’d have to run to the toilet. Little Pete’s ass was just saved by my stomach, he thought.
Pete was standing on the swim platform, scrubbing the port side of the boat when Jason came out to find him. Watching for a few moments, Jason weighed the options between getting revenge on Pete if what Aaron said was true, or letting it go because he was the best dock boy they’d had in all the years he lived in Philadelphia.
“Hey, Pete,” Jason called. Pulling the long handled brush back on the platform, Pete unhesitantly hopped up on the dock and skipped over to Jason with his hand extended.
“Taking her out today, sir? It’s swift, but the reports are good from here to the Chesapeake.”
“No, not today, Pete. Maybe Wednesday. I’ll let you know, I could use a deck hand if I do.”
“Okay, sir, I’d be delighted.” He stood close, smiling, not a hint of deceit. He was an adroit liar, and although Jason bristled that Pete couldn’t be trusted, it was a small black mark against an excellent boatman.”
“Great,” Jason replied, turning back to the house. “Oh Pete, by the way.”
“Yes sir?” They faced each other friendly, nothing at all adversarial about the confrontation.
“Sandra has HIV. I’d get yourself tested if I were you.” Jason stood close by, watching the color drain from Pete’s face. Later, Jason had to hand it to him; he never flinched, never got defensive, but there were definitely fear there, whether from AIDS or losing his job, Jason would never know because they never mentioned it again.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, waiting for Jason to leave again before he got back on board. Drinking coffee at the riverside window all morning, Jason watched Pete finish the best wash job Emily’s Paycheck ever got.
Chapter 8
The week after Jason left Pam standing at the altar was one of new beginnings for many people. On Thursday, John Zapelli picked Pam up at her beach house in his shiny new truck and drove her around to all the great kitchen showrooms on the island. Since no one was waiting at home, she didn’t worry about how long she
Similar Books
