Tuna Tango by Steven Becker Read Free Book Online Page B

truck. 
    Feeling euphoric after the boat purchase, he went toward her. “Can we talk?” he asked as he approached.
    She turned to look at him, dropped the box she was carrying, and went toward him. 
    This was not the greeting he had hoped for, the look on her face telling him it had been a mistake to confront her. “I can explain.”
    Her eyes bored into him. “I had to plead for my job after what you did. I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to hang out there while I was working.”
    “Please listen for just a minute, then you can go. I just turned around and the guy next to me knocked the beer into the girl. That’s all. It was like dominos after that.” 
    “Will, you don’t get it. If you weren’t there it couldn’t have happened. Can’t you understand that?”
    “I understand that you want me to do whatever you say to do. I can’t have my life run like that. Maybe I should just stay here for a while.”
    “Where are you going to stay?”
    “I got that boat over there.” He pointed to the slip.
    “You got a boat. Of all the irresponsible things you could do. Will, you can’t be thinking about yourself all the time. The money you spent on that could have bought another car. Now what am I supposed to do?”
    He hadn’t thought about that. If this was what getting divorced was like, he wanted nothing to do with marriage. The remaining cash was still in his pocket. Out of guilt or some obligation—he wasn’t sure—he pulled out the cash, took a couple of hundreds off the top and handed the rest to her. “This is all I have. Take it.”
    She didn’t hesitate.
    He took one last look at her, wondering if he was doing the right thing. It wasn’t her fault things had imploded in the Keys. Her green eyes stared blankly at him; their previous fire having died out. Would life be better without her? He didn’t know, but the way things were, he couldn’t continue. 
    “Goodbye,” he said as he walked away. He felt her there, even without looking, and knew exactly the pose she would be in. When he reached the seawall and set foot on the dock, he heard a car door slam. Seconds later, he turned around and the lot was empty. 
    He breathed a sigh of relief, went back to the building to pick up his belongings, and took them to the boat.
     
    ***
     
    The sun was high in the sky and a glance at his phone confirmed it was just past noon when he decided to take the boat out. By the way the palm trees swayed in the breeze, he judged the wind to be about 10 knots. Just right for an easy sail to check things out. He boarded the boat and started the mental checklist of the tasks he needed to perform. The five-gallon gas tank was full, and he figured with the small 20hp outboard, that would last about five hours if he needed it. He topped off the fresh water tank and checked the bilge. The engine started on its first pull, and he let it idle while he readied the dock lines. 
    The large marina building shielded the boats from the sea breeze, allowing him to let the lines go and put the engine in reverse without taking extra precautions. The boat slid out of the slip and turned as he moved the tiller toward the open water of the intracoastal waterway. Once clear of the marina, he followed the navigation aids out Pass-A-Grille channel. The wind was directly in his face as he ran parallel to the white sands of Shell Key and the boats anchored there. The only access to the pristine sand was by boat, making it a more exclusive spot than the crowded public beaches around the point. 
    Clear of the last marker, he steered into the wind, let out the main sheet, and pulled on the main halyard to raise the mainsail. The sail luffed as the boat was pointed directly into the wind, and he made his way back to the cockpit, shut the engine off, and changed course to 270 degrees—a bearing that would put him on a close haul. The boat took the wind and heeled slightly as he released the jib furling line and pulled out the