Page 11 of On the Line

We’d gotten so comfortable with one another that it shouldn’t have been a surprise when Ellie showed up unannounced late one night, on her way home from a closing shift at the restaurant. I was about to take off in the Whaler to stand lookout for a drop when Ellie appeared on the dock, eyeing the Gale motor already running. “Where are you going at this hour?”

My mind conjured the first lie I could think. “I need to get bait for tomorrow.”

She narrowed her eyes, hands planted on her hips. “What kind of bait are you catching at midnight?”

“You’d be surprised,” I answered. “Ballyhoo wake up before the sun.”

Ellie tilted her head with a look of disbelief, but then she sighed. “That’s a shame. I don’t have class until ten tomorrow. I was hoping we could hang out.”

My heart sank. Of all the nights. And I was already a few minutes behind schedule. “I’d love to,” I said, hustling to the shed to grab a cast net to make my story believable. “But I’ve got to get bait for my charter tomorrow.”

Ellie batted her eyes. “I might be persuaded to stay out late and go with you.”

Even if it wasn’t a real possibility since it was a lie, having to turn down a moonlit night bait fishing with Ellie pained me like a sucker-punch to the gut. I didn’t have to pretend to be disappointed.

“That would probably end very late and not be good for either of us,” I said, running my hand down her arm. “How about I come by after I finish tomorrow?”

She looked over the boat, eyes settling on the lone net I’d grabbed as an afterthought. “You’re probably right. Wouldn't want to be up all night.” She twisted her long blonde ponytail around her finger. “Be careful out there. I worry about you alone in the dark.”

Showing me she cared made me feel closer to winning her heart, which made it sting that much more that I had to turn her away.

“I’m always careful,” I said, planting a peck on her lips.

She held my elbows, slowing looking over the boat again, and then back to me, skeptical to say the least. “You better be.”

The doubt in her eyes cut me to my core. I hated having to lie to her, but I couldn’t exactly tell the truth either. If she knew what I was up to with George, she’d leave me for sure. Lying was the only way I still had a chance.

Ellie forgave me for not including her in the late night fishing trip. After a couple of ice cream dates and moonlight strolls, she let me back in. I was determined not to fuck it up.

One Friday in mid-March, Waylan showed up at my house while I was cleaning the boat after a charter. He stepped out of his Bronco and rushed over with wild eyes.

“Hey, Waylan. Everything alright?” It was a redundant question since there was clearly something wrong.

“Haven’t you heard?” He said, exasperated. “The border patrol set up a blockade in front of the Last Chance Saloon at the top of the Stretch. The road’s closed in both directions, and they’re searching every car.”

“Border patrol?” I asked, confused. “There’s no border there. What the hell are they doing that for?”

“The Feds just got serious about their War on Drugs, but it feels like a War on the Keys,” he said, chest heaving. “Traffic is backed up for thirty miles.”

“Damn,” I said, feeling dejected. “What do you think that means for us?”

Waylan looked white as a ghost. “Well it sure as hell can’t be good.”

He was right. The Keys were shut down. Right in the middle of spring break high season.

Word spread fast. The national news featured interviews with angry visitors trapped in the Keys, unable to get out, and others trapped in their cars trying to get in. Tourism came to a screeching halt, and fishing along with it.

Local morale plummeted as the crisis dragged on for days. Over supper one night, probably a week into the blockade, Ellie declared that she was getting the hell out of the Keys for her spring break the following week.

“I don’t care if it takes a whole day to drive it, I’m going to Naples. I don’t have class. The restaurant is dead. And everyone’s acting like it’s the end of the world here.” Her blue eyes were wide, her voice anxious.

I understood where she was coming from, but I didn’t want her to go, and I was still in no position to leave. George had finally started to get skittish and spaced out the runs to reduce exposure. But we had a drop scheduled for next Wednesday. So I tried to soothe her with the same words they’d used on me. “It’ll settle down. We just have to be patient.”

“Patient for what? Until they win the War on Drugs?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest while she huffed. “Pff. Or ’til pigs fly? That might come quicker.”

I had to laugh, partially because she looked cute when she was worked up, but mostly because she was right.

“C’mon Ellie. It’s not so bad. We can enjoy your week off here at home, without the tourists to muck it up.”

---