Page 10 of I'll Catch You
7
Claire
I slept betterthan I have in six months. I guess I happened to get up on the right side of the bed. Having already dropped Brynn off at her friend’s house for a playdate, I feel the wind under my feet as I step onto the dock at the market. My phone startles me and I reach into my purse to grab it. I guess I was a little too distracted with…nothing. I was distracted with nothing. My mind and body were in sync and they were just kind of here, in the moment. The air feels thin out here today, as though I’m at a higher elevation instead of at ocean level. It’sodd.
Maybe I’m still feeling woozy from last night. It was touch and go there for a while. Maybe I didn’t lose a lot of blood, but I feel like I definitely lostsomethinglast night when Peter put his hands on me and then refused to throw me over his shoulder like I wanted him to. Is it possible to be dick drunk without having sex? Because that’s how I feel right now. Dick drunk. I mean, not exactly. All of the dicks I’ve ever come into contact with until now have been body-safesilicone.
“Hey Cassie,” I say into my phone. I wave hello to the fishermen as I make my way down the dock to my regular guy. “I have to admit that I’m slightly disappointed that you left me alone with Peter without anysupervision.”
“But that’s where you’re wrong,” Cassie says. “I had Brent’s telescope propped up on the edge of his balcony and I watchedeverything.”
“You did not,” I argue. A little pang of curiosity punches me. “Didyou?”
“Yes,” she says. “Peter also gave me a check for fifty grand dated with today’s date and he wrote a note and his phone number on the back to say that if anything were to happen to you he’s the man toinvestigate.”
I stop in my tracks and look out over the water. It’s sunny today. The weather is almost tooperfect.
“This is a tall tale,” I reply. I get to my usual fish guy and wave hello to him. He’s busy sorting the day’s catch. At seven in the morning this is later than I’m usually here. Maybe getting up on the right side of the bed was a result of slipping into a deeper sleep thannormal.
“No, this is the honest truth,” she replies. I can feel her holding the check at arm’s-length through the phone, cocking her head to the side and putting one of those peppermint sticks between her teeth. “He’s coming by today to pick it up from me. I guess he doesn’t trust me to rip it up like I promised I’d do once I talked to you and confirmed you hadn’t been abducted oranything.”
“But Mike…” I look down at mysneakers.
“I know Mike picked you up last night, but I told Peter I wanted to get the proof formyself.”
“So you think your husband iscorruptible?”
“Yes,” she replies, deadly serious. “Mike would sell us both out for a hot plate of surf and turf. Throw in a wet nap at the end of the meal and one of those cute lobster bibs and he’d turn in his ownmother.”
“Nothing is adding up right now,” I say, taking a perch on the edge of the dock. If I’m not careful I’ll get splinters in the backs of my thighs but I need to take a load off my feet for a minute. “Did I hear you say Peter is coming bytoday?”
“Yep, he needs to get to me before the bank opens and I can cash this check and then run away with a bag full of hismoney.”
I guess I should have assumed Peter would come by the restaurant today. He did say last night that he’d see metomorrow.
“It’s Sunday. Are the banks even open?” I know theyare.
“Just get here as soon as you can. You don’t want to missPeter.”
“I don’t care if I get to see him today ornot.”
“Just get overhere.”
She hangs up before I have a chance to say anything else. I do care if I get to see Peter today or not. I would strongly prefer not to see him. I should call in sick and take the day off. I think I have a migraine coming on. I get those sometimes. The kind where it isn’t just a headache - the partial vision loss and the hammer in the side of my head and behind my left eye is a real thing. I can’t be working around knives and stoves with a migraine. I slip my phone back into my bag and take a deep breath of the fishy ocean air. I like it. It feels familiar. I get up from where I’m sitting and make my way over to my fish guy,Walter.
“Hey,” I say to him as he approaches me. At over sixty and with a big white beard, tanned skin and etchings of wisdom on his face, he looks just like a fisherman should, mixed with a healthy dose of hippy-dippy tie-dyed everything. I don’t know if he smokes pot, but I bet hedoes.
“Morning, Claire,” he says, putting a foot up on the dock. “Good catchtoday.”
It’s Sunday, which is the busiest day of the week aside from the Fridays during Lent, though what counts as busy now isn’t what busy used to mean. Walter shields his eyes from the veil of the sun behind me and smiles before going to pack up my usual order. It’s also payday so I go into my bag to grab the cash I owe him for theweek.
“Not necessary,” he says, putting a hand out and handing me the cooler with my parcel of catch. Before I have a chance to ask why he’s turning down money he’s owed, he says, “someone named Peter was here this morning and paid for last and next week’ssupply."
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, stashing my cash back in mywallet.
“He also paid for a couple of lobsters and said that if you wanted to pay him back you can let him cook for youtonight.”
I say nothing, hitching the cooler on my hip. I’m not letting him cook for me. I consider calling Cassie back and telling her to cash that check right away before Peter has a chance to intercept it. If Peter thinks he can buy my affections he is sorely mistaken. They say possession is nine-tenths of the law, and with that check in Cassie’s custody, as far as I’m concerned the fifty grand is a small tax for Peter to pay for taking up so much of myheadspace.
