CTAS 7: Sailors & Fishermen
Cycling Through a Storm
Previously, in Cycling Through a Storm One: Cycling Through a Storm Two: A House a Boy a Girl a Car a Dock, a Boat, a Hug Three: Starting Sequence Four: Yacht Race Five: Save the Hat! Six: Squid's Bar
After Vic and Lark finished talking about that, Gust burst into the room, dragged along by his Rhodesian Ridgeback. Maasai loved people and even people who said they didn’t like dogs loved Maasai. Lisa followed close behind.
Lark skipped over to Gust, pulled him into a hug, draped her arms across his shoulders.
Gust handed Maasai’s leash to Lisa, lifted Lark and spun her, feet from the floor ‘til she squealed, and then he landed her again, both of them laughing.
“What was that for?” Gust asked.
“Does it matter? It was a really fun race tonight and you give the best hugs! Hi Lisa!”
The waitress also greeted Gust with a hug, then she and Lark knelt together to greet Maasai and let him lick their cheeks. The waitress blew into his nose for some reason, and Maasai tolerated even that.
Gust worked his way to the table where most of the Corvus crew was seated, high-fiving and hugging as he went. There was a whiff of weed as Gust swung a leg over the bench beside Vic. Maasai found a spot to rest on his belly just behind Gust and somehow out of the way.
“Ragnar?” Vic asked.
“He said something came up,” Gust said, shaking his head and smiling to gesture, you know, with Ragnar you never know. Vic did know—Ragnar and Gust had been best buddies since T-ball.
All the crew from both Corvus and Blow were at the table now and talking about the night’s race. Some of the crew on Blow felt like it was “really kind of a dick move,” as Blow’s bowman put it—Corvus screening Blow’s view of that fishing boat at the finish—but he laughed just enough to smooth the edge off the comment.
Wally explained at length that the fishing boat was an obstacle, part of the race course. “Everyone should have assumed it was still there. It was a sailboat-racing-for-dummies situation!”
“Were you trying to lead us into that obstacle?” the Blow bowman asked, stabbing a finger at Wally over his pint glass.
“Well, why not?
There was laughter at that.
Wally kept talking. “The racing rules of sailing are clear, and very old. You race the course as it is. There’s no point not following the rules as written, and to your boat’s advantage.”
Vic doubted anyone from Blow heard any of Wally’s comments after the Why not? part.
“Gotta admit, that was one badass maneuver,” the Blow bowman said.
Although Bones, the principal race officer, avoided most post-race gatherings in an effort to maintain an appearance of objectivity, Lisa—Bones’s assistant and Gust’s girlfriend—was not similarly concerned. Lisa was a photographer and juggled gigs to keep things going while she pursued a career in journalism. One of her gigs was volunteering on the committee boat. What Bones needed was another pair of hands to help set courses, raise flags, and time races. Whether Lisa was actually good at that was of little importance, as far as everyone but Bones was concerned: The action shots Lisa posted to the club’s web site kept the site’s click rate high and her position, though unpaid, secure.
Lisa sat at the far end of the table with the Blow crew. Vic couldn’t make out all the conversation over there, but he had a clear view of Lisa. She was smiling and nodding along with someone to her left. Though she was maintaining an appearance of attentiveness, Lisa’s gaze was pulled by something or someone to her right. Was she trying to keep one ear on a different conversation? Or was something or someone to her right just catching her eye? Both?
Lisa may have been looking at Lark, or maybe Lark thought she was. “What did you think of that fishing boat, Lisa?” Lark asked. “Did Bones tell the guy his boat was right in our way?”
“Actually, yeah,” Lisa said. “We motored over by him after the start. The guy was super nice, and we laughed about how there are only so many good places for fishing and sailing on this great big river, ha ha, but the guy was catching fish, and he didn’t want to move.”
“Understandable,” Stewie said. “Was he fishing with the league?”
“Yeah he was!” Lisa nodded.
Stewie nodded. “They’re a competitive club, just like we are. If he was catching fish, well, they’ve only got until the sun sets or whatever, and if he moved, that’s basically throwing in the towel for the night. I wouldn’t waste time finding a different spot if I were him.”
“They have as much right to be on the river as we do,” Roger nodded.
“What did you and Bones think of the way the race ended,” Lark asked, “with a bunch of boats going so close to the fisherman?”
“Bones said he thought that might happen, and when he was talkin’ with the guy he said it could get crowded. The guy said he’d move if the fish stopped biting, but if he kept on catching them, he’d take his chances with the sailboats.”
“Do you think we got too close to him at the finish?” Stewie asked.
“No, you guys tacked away before you got too close. But some of the other boats that didn’t see him, ‘cause they were behind other boats or forgot or whatever, they got pretty close.”
“Did you get good pictures?” Lark leaned forward and wiggled her eyebrows a little like she could do, and that made Vic and Gust and Lisa laugh.
“I think I did, actually!”
After most of the sailors had finished their burgers and the plates were cleared away, Stewie asked “Who’s sailing in the makeup race Thursday?”
“I’m in!” Lark chirped.
“Me too,” Vic didn’t chirp.
“Sorry, gotta work at the bike shop,” Gust said. “Unless someone wants to take my shift,” he added, nodding almost imperceptibly at Vic.
“Still in!” Vic chirped.
Stewie looked at Wally. “We could use a fourth—there’s wind in the forecast.”
Wally shook his head. “Sorry—birthday dinner for my granddaughter.”
“No worries,” Stewie said. “I’ll find someone.”
Vic saw Lisa whisper into Gust’s ear. Gust nodded, finished his beer.
“I’m gonna take Maasai outside a bit for a little walk,” Gust said to Vic. He stood and put his hands on his dad’s shoulders, gave them a squeeze.
“Coming back?” Vic asked.
“I think so, but if I don’t, cover my tab for me? I’ll get ya back later.”
“Of course. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks Pops. See ya in a while though.”
Vic doubted Gust would be back that night. A moment later, Lisa passed by. Vic walked behind her to the bar. While he waited for the bartender to tap his beer, he watched Lisa step outside. On the sidewalk she looked each way, appeared to see what she was looking for, and then walked up the hill, away from the river.
“Thanks Steve-O,” Vic said. He took the beer, left an extra dollar on the bar.
Back near the picnic table, Roger and Stewie were standing, talking with someone Vic didn’t recognize. The guy was upset. Vic joined the three to make a foursome. “Roger,” he said, nodding deferentially, then “Skipper.” He waited a beat for them to acknowledge his mock-formal greeting, then turned to the fisherman—as Vic was sure he was, judging from the Bass Pro truckers cap. “I’m Vic, starboard trimmer on this guy’s boat.”
The man reached to shake Vic’s hand. “I’m Vern, walleye fisherman.”
“Splendid!” Vic said, catching himself acting like the snobbish sort Sequoia may have expected to find at the local yacht club. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting, please continue your discussion—it appeared from across the room to be about something urgent.”
“I don’t know ‘bout that,” Vern said. “We was just talkin’ ‘bout how sometimes when the fishin’ and sailin’ leagues both have events on the river, well, sometimes I guess we kinda get in each others’ way.”
Vic nodded. “Could you clear something up for me?”
“Go for it.”
“I’ve heard stories about fishermen mistaking racecourse buoys for fishing markers and anchoring near them during races.”
“Nah, I never heard of anyone doin’ anythin’ like that, ‘least nobody I know. Your buoys are too big for fishing. Maybe one of them Asians or Mexicans that’s moved in, but they don’t normally even have boats, so—”
“So,” Roger interrupted, “I think that’s just an urban legend or something, don’t you, Stu?”
“I think so,” Stewie said.
“Vern was talking with us about a complaint that one of the fishing league members has, and about his maybe calling the sheriff’s office,” Roger said.
“That’s right, Brian was talkin’ about it tonight over at the Legion. We talked him out of it for now, and I said I thought I knew where I could find some of you guys since I seen y’all over here sometimes after we been out. Just thought I could let ya know.”
“Thank you, Vern. We’re glad you did,” Stewie said.
“Yes, thank you!” Roger pointed at Vern’s near-empty cocktail. “Looks like your ice cubes have run aground. Can I get you another?”
Vern lifted his glass. “They are lookin’ a little dry.”
Later, Vic spotted Stewie by the taps, talking with Steve-O the bartender.
Vic took the stool next to Stewie’s. “Hey,” he said when Steve-O went to the other end of the bar to take an order from a waitress.
“Hey.”
“Where’d Roger and Vern go?”
Stewie nodded toward a table near the pull tabs. “Vern’s a supporter of charitable gambling, I guess.”
“Maybe he’ll catch the big one there tonight.”
“I hope he does. He’s a nice guy.”
“It was nice he came here. You think that Brian guy’s the one who was on the course tonight?”
“I’m guessing.” Stewie leaned back on his stool, trying to look around the other people on barstools to see the far end of the bar. “Steve-O must have gone to change a keg.”
“Getting thirsty?”
“Parched. I’ll last another minute.”
Vic put his empty pint glass on the inside ledge of the bar. “I was going to ask Roger for a ride home tonight, but—”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“—he’s pretty wasted already.”
“You can stay at my place.“
“Sure it’s okay?”
“Yeah, Bev would rather have you stay with us than worry about you riding with Roger.”
“Even if I drove? That might be a win-win, actually.”
Stewie shook his head. “Nobody can tell Roger he’s had too much. Last time I gave him a ride home, he took a swing at me.”
“And you still gave him the ride?”
“That was after the ride. I was trying to get him inside his house.”
“Oh yeah—forgot about that one.”
“Can’t make it too late tonight, though. I’ve got an early morning.”
“Works for me. I have to work tomorrow, too.”
Stewie nodded. “Bells?”
“Sure.”
“Yo Steve-O! Make it two!”
“Thanks, Stewie,” Vic said.
Stewie nodded.
“Stewie, I need to tell you something.”
“About the race tonight?”
“No, not that.”
“You want a raise?”
“Well, you’re buyin’ this round, right?”
Stewie nodded.
“Okay, good. It’s about the appointment I had today with my oncologist.”
“Shit.” Stewie took his cap off, smacked it lightly on the bar, shook his head a little, put the cap back on.
“Yeah,” Vic said, and then told Stewie what he’d told the others.
“Sorry guys—I had to go tap the keg, and then the boss got talking with me about the new guy.” Steve-O put two pints in front of Vic and Stewie.
“No worries,” Stewie said.
“New guy?” Vic asked.
“Yeah, I was supposed to be training him in tonight, but he didn’t show.”
“Maybe his second first impression will be better,” Stewie said.
“Beer me?” Gust slid in, took the stool beside Vic.
Vic nodded to Steve-O, who produced a bottle, uncapped it and put it down in front of Gust.
“I didn’t expect you back,” Vic said.
“I just had to take Maasai out for a bit. I took him straight home and tucked him in—he was tired after all the extra love here!”
“What time are you working at the shop tomorrow?” Vic asked.
“Waiting for Uncle Bob to let me know.” Gust pulled his phone from his pocket.
Vic nodded. “If they don’t need either of us for the evening shift, maybe get some dinner together at the Pirate Bar?”
“That should work. You know I can always use some din-din.”
Vic nodded. Then, “Any sign of Ragnar?”
“Yeah, he’s chillin’ back at the house. Pretty tired after work.”
“Lisa tucked in for the night, too?”
“What? No—she’s still here, I think.”
“I thought she left with you.”
“No, she was here when I left, said she’d wait for me.”
“Okay.”
“The way you say that,” Gust said.
Vic shrugged.
“Fine, fine.” Gust took his beer, went to look for his girlfriend.
“She’s not here anymore, is she.” Stewie was staring straight ahead, dealing the words from the side of his mouth.
“Nope.”
Sue arrived, took the stool Gust had been using. “Buy a girl a drink?”
“Sure, if you’ll go get some popcorn.”
“Fly!”
“Steve-O—” Vic started.
“I heard her,” Steve-O said. “On yours?”
Vic nodded, sipped his beer.
Sue returned with two bowls of popcorn.
“Thanks!” Stewie reached for a handful.
“Have you seen Lisa around?” Vic asked Sue.
“Not since she left earlier.”
Vic nodded.
“So, have you told everyone now?” Sue asked.
“Why—you need a license to gossip?”
“First commandment rights!” Sue protested. “No license required!”
Vic smiled. “First Amendment, you mean.”
“Whatever—yeah. Anyhow, is it still a secret?”
Steve-O delivered Sue’s drink.
“Thanks Hun,” Sue said to Steve-O. “And thanks, Hun,” she said to Vic, clinking her lowball glass on his beer glass.
“The secret’s out,” Vic said.
“You gonna be okay?”
Vic sipped his beer. “What stage should I be in by now?”
“Still denial, probably.”
“I’m okay then.”
You’ve got me. Where’d Lisa go?
Hanging on for the next chapter!
Great piece love Grammy entrance