Off the Chart

He checked in with his boss, broke the bad news about Thorn, and his boss was pissed at the pigheaded asshole, but he wasn’t surprised.

Marty’s boss thought about it for a minute, humming to himself the whole time like he might be shaving or some damn thing; then he came back on and told Marty he could redeem himself by doing another job for him, one he could probably manage on the telephone. Marty got the details and hung up and about then the hostess came back, tapped on his shoulder again, but Marty ignored her and dialed the next number, hoping he’d catch the guy before he knocked off for the day, then had to wait another five minutes while the secretary who answered carried the phone outside to the guy on his forklift.

Marty didn’t even have to bully the forklift guy. Just used his boss’s name and offered him a foreman’s job at another marina, double what he was making, and the guy said hell, yes, he’d do fucking backflips for that kind of money. And after two more minutes on hold, listening to the background music at Morada Bay Marina, with the Tarpon’s hostess coming and going, pecking him on the shoulder to get the phone back, the forklift guy came back and said he had it. Five pages, the complete May calendar, the float plans for every boat in the marina. Marty gave him his boss’s fax number and the guy said he’d send it right over.

‘Fine,’ Marty said. ‘Come by on Monday morning, Paradise Boatyard, there’ll be a job with your name on it.’

‘Hey, thanks,’ the guy said.

Marty said, ‘Go fax the thing. And don’t go telling anybody what the fuck you’re doing, either, or your ass is chum.’

Two minutes later he called his boss again and the guy right away said, ‘Finally you did something right, Marty, I was beginning to wonder.’

‘You see anything there you can use?’ Marty ignored the put-down. He’d had enough of those for one day from Thorn.

‘Thursday night coming up. It’s perfect. Two birds, one stone. Thorn’s ass is mine.’

‘The guy’s a hardhead. I don’t know.’

‘I know all about this guy, Marty. I been making a little study of the asshole. And what I’ve decided, once I take this guy’s land, I’m going to cut off his balls and pickle them.’

‘I want to see that.’

His boss said, ‘The guy’s got a friend, Sugarman.’

‘Yeah,’ Marty said. ‘Used to be a cop, now he’s some kind of half-assed private eye.’

‘Way I hear it, these two guys are joined at the hip. Tickle Sugarman’s nose, Thorn sneezes.’

‘That’s about right.’

‘Well, I got a way to tickle the ever-loving shit out of Sugarman’s nose.’

‘So Thorn sneezes.’

‘That’s right, Marty. So Thorn sneezes his fucking brains out.’

A minute later when they were done Marty hung up and took the phone back over to the podium and set it down.

‘I believe this is yours.’

The old lady hostess blasted him with a glare, then turned and smiled at her next party and led them to their table.

6 (#ulink_d89c63aa-802d-5b9b-9f87-3ebf30aa65c1)

By late afternoon Thorn was almost finished with the bench. Out in the western sky a few wispy cirrus clouds sprang from the horizon like the fine sprigs of hair curling off the neck of an elegant woman. The sun was brassy red and poised only minutes from another fiery crash into the Gulf. Already the western clouds were rimmed with gold and a gloss of crimson spread across the bay as if somewhere deep below the water’s surface the Earth had opened a vein.

While he rested his eyes on the showy sky, out of the dense woods that bordered his land a yellow Labrador puppy stumbled into the open lawn and halted beside the trunk of a giant sea grape tree. A mockingbird in the sea grape shrieked at the pup, then fluttered down and dive-bombed his head, but the Lab seemed oblivious.

After scanning the yard, the puppy spotted Lawton sleeping with one leg looped over the edge of the hammock. He ambled over and stopped below Lawton’s bare foot, cocked his head up, eyed the pale flesh, then washed his tongue across the old man’s sole. With a whoop, Lawton jerked awake.

Thorn smiled and picked up the handsaw and finished cutting the final slat of pine. While Lawton spoke to the puppy, Thorn carried the slat over to the bench and lined it up. When he was satisfied it was parallel, he screwed it into place and ran his eye along each of the slats to check its spacing. Then he turned and settled his rump on it and leaned back. Solid and secure. Maybe not the most comfortable bench, but good enough for what he had in mind.

Across the yard, Lawton rolled out of the hammock and tumbled into the tall grass and giggled like a child. The puppy staggered out of his way, then charged in to lap at the white grizzle on Lawton’s cheeks.

Thorn called over to see if Lawton was okay, and the old man gave a just-fine wave while the dog snuffled in close.

Thorn brushed some sawdust off the bench, then walked over for a better view of the wrestling match. He squatted in the grass as the puppy drew out of Lawton’s grasp, shook himself hard, then marched over to one of the old man’s leather sandals that lay in the grass. He plopped down and began to gnaw on his tail. His fur was matted and there were dark greasy streaks across his golden back. His ribs were showing through his scruffy coat.

‘Kind of mangy,’ said Thorn. ‘Looks like he’s been sleeping in a tar pit.’

‘He’s a survivor,’ Lawton said. ‘Been living off the fat of the land.’

‘And how do you know that?’

‘He just told me.’

Lawton wriggled his finger in a patch of grass and the dog paused midmunch and peered at this new quarry. Lawton wagged his finger again and the puppy dropped his tail, rose to a crouch, lowered his head an inch, focusing like a well-schooled bird dog. Lawton wiggled his finger again and the puppy leaped a few inches in the air and pounced on Lawton’s hand.

The old man laughed, turning his gray eyes on Thorn.

‘Goddamn it, I want this dog, and I’m going to have it, so don’t fuck with me, mister.’

Thorn drew a breath. In the last few months Lawton’s condition had suffered a series of small and quirky downturns. For one thing, there were these new flashes of irritability. Curses flared to the old man’s lips without warning or cause.

‘This puppy and me,’ Lawton said, ‘we’ve bonded. It’d be a goddamn criminal travesty to separate us.’

‘We’ll talk to Alex when she gets home. See what she says.’

‘I don’t give a shit what she says. If I want a dog, by God, I’ll have a dog. I’m too goddamn old to take orders anymore.’

The puppy fastened his teeth onto the tip of Lawton’s finger. But as Lawton stroked the Lab’s throat, the spiky puppy’s eyes closed and with a quiet groan he began to nurse on the old man’s crinkled fingertip.

‘I need a dog, goddamn it,’ Lawton said. ‘I need somebody to talk to.’

‘You can talk to me,’ said Thorn. ‘Anytime you want.’

‘You know what I mean,’ Lawton said. ‘Somebody on my own level.’

Thorn smiled.

‘How old am I anyway?’ Lawton said.

‘Not all that old.’

‘Am I still a boy?’

Thorn shook his head.