Chapter 1

Two young men are in one’s backyard in heated discussion. Their exact ages, and precise occupations aren’t relevant. Both are well paid, upwardly mobile, and disgustingly healthy.

Warren scolded his friend, “Cal you’re not a kid anymore. It’s time you stopped frittering your life away and found a woman and settled down.”

Cal, whose full name is Caleb Burkheim, answered, “Cut it out Warren, I’m happy the way things are. I don’t need any woman around telling me how to live my life. It’s the solitary life for me.”

Warren, that was Warren Kaminski, Cal’s lifelong friend, wouldn’t let up, “You better start thinking about your future. No man is happy living alone. You need a good woman, a warm body beside you at night, someone to help with the cleaning, cooking, and the wash.”

“Look I have a maid. She comes in twice a week, cleans, and does the wash, and I like to do my own cooking thank you.”

Warren retorted, “Yeah, but what about that warm body at night.”

Laughing Cal snapped back, “I have Maggie.” He leaned down and patted the head of his six year old black lab retriever. “I have Maggie here. She sleeps in the bed sometimes, and she never nags except to go out and when it’s time to eat.”

Warren gave Maggie a scratch, “You’re hopeless buddy. Isn’t there any way I can get you meet a girl.”

Cal who was working on his lawnmower, answered, “I’d be interested if I could find a girl who wouldn’t end up being a warden.” He tightened a bolt on the belt that held the lawnmower blades in place, “You know anybody like that?”

Warren, squatting on his haunches next to his friend answered, “As a matter of fact I think there might be just such a girl.”

After tightening another bolt Cal tossed the wrench in the toolbox, he responded, “And she’s not somebody’s pet dog?”

“I wouldn’t kid Cal.” Scratching Maggie again, “You’ve got a dog. You need a babe.”

Cal, “And you think you’ve got one.”

“I do.”

“She weighs less than two hundred pounds?”

“A slight, slim young thing with a delicious figure,”

Cal inquired, “She doesn’t have one of those high pitched screechy voices?”

“This girl’s a perfect soprano.”

“No diseases?”

“Clean as a whistle.”

Cal stood up, having given up on any chance at fixing his lawnmower as long as his friend was around, “So you’ve found me a girl. She’s pretty, smart, well-shaped, and she doesn’t shed.”

Warren laughed, “And she’s dying to meet you.”

Cal laughed too, “That I doubt. OK, you want me to meet a girl. I’ll meet a girl. When and where?

Warren grabbed his friend by the shoulders, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at 7:00. We’re headed for the tavern.”

Cal answered, “No, I’ll meet you there at 7:00. I prefer to have my own transportation on the offhand chance you’re playing a joke.”

Warren answered, “OK, fair enough. Tomorrow night, 7:00 o’clock, at the tavern.”

The next evening Cal was predictably late. He’d never been very adept at dating; always finding a way to slide his foot in his mouth at the most awkward moment. A healthy happy guy, just a loser with girls, he only went this evening to appease his best friend.

Cal walked in. The tavern was reasonably well lighted by bar scene standards. He was able to see most of the way across the room.

The front of the tavern was home to a nice respectable restaurant. Here one could get a pretty decent home cooked meal at a halfway decent price. Sure it wasn’t a Denny’s with all you can eat pancakes, but they made good eggs in the morning, pretty good club sandwiches at noon, and great steaks to order at night.

The restaurant waitresses were mostly old timers; the kind who knew everyone’s parents, and weren’t reluctant to drop the, ‘hey you should have seen your kid the other night, yeah drunk as a skunk.’ Every small town has the type; home grown, honest, hardworking busy bodies who did their damnedest to keep everybody’s children off the streets when they were young and out of the calaboose when they were older. Cal had to admit he loved them.

Cal went through the restaurant and on back to the bar. The bar had a name. It was called ‘Aunt Sal’s Saloon’, after the owner. She’d even had a sign made up so everyone would know. As bars and restaurants went, it was a great place to hang around, lose at pool, foul up at darts, and stay unlucky with girls, at least that was the case if you had a name like Cal. He walked on in. The place hadn’t changed much. Hell, he’d only been away about three days.

At the far end there were two pool tables. He’d played on them once in a while. They were too close to the walls, and neither was correctly balanced; one good shot usually got most of the balls in one of the corner pockets. Even so, Cal wasn’t very good. He had a slight stance in one eye, and was a little bit myopic. That meant glasses and reliable inaccuracy. His pool playing was always good for a laugh, or as was the case with Warren, he was a good set up man to draw in some fish. Warren was a real ‘Minnesota Fats’ when it came to pool.

Warren was good at darts too, and at baseball, and football, and at just about anything that required anything approaching athleticism. Cal, well Cal was Warren’s unofficial cheer leader. Ever since they were in grade school the dialogue had stayed pretty much the same; ‘How did we do Cal, Way to go Warren.’

Cal didn’t care. Warren was his best friend. No the saloon never changed.

A teak wood bar extended the length of the back room on the south side, not that anyone else knew it was on the southern side. Two women, both middle aged, usually tended the drinks. A person was able to buy most anything; a simple domestic beer or almost any of the more exotic hard drinks.

Cal wasn’t much of a drinker. He had a weak stomach when it came to alcohol; two or three drinks in, be it beer or something hard, and he was ready for the porcelain throne. He liked the taste of whiskey; it just didn’t like him, so he and it agreed to stay mostly apart.

It was a clean place, at least clean for a tavern. There were numerous tables, most of which had at least one, maybe two legs a little off center, meaning they were easy to rock. Cal thought, ‘nothing like a table that turns over drinks.’

All the tables were covered with some kind of cloth, red and white checkers mostly but some were more simple. It was a good idea to keep the table tops covered. There were so many sets of initials, drawings, and phone numbers scratched in them Sally wouldn’t make any money. Everybody would spend all night reading.

Most of the tables had five or six chairs. But that more often depended on how many people were at a particular spot. One or two really popular people could draw twelve or fourteen chairs, while a nearby table might by the habitué of a single lonely seat. Regardless, one could rest assured at least some of the chairs were wobbly; always a scenario for an accident.

Cal liked people. In fact he’d always liked going to the bar. The only problem he had was he’d probably be at the table where the chairs disappeared to other places. It wasn’t that he was a stick in the mud, it was just that he was a stick in the mud; a great listener but a noncontributory block of wood when it came to conversation, and he thought he had about as much sex appeal as a slab of bacon, not that he was fat.

Cal wasn’t a fatso. He wasn’t especially skinny either; at least he didn’t think so. At six feet and one hundred seventy pounds, he thought he was pretty OK. That was Cal, pretty OK.

He looked around and spotted Warren. He thought, time to go get overlooked. Cal liked girls, he liked them a lot. He was just that perennial second place kind of guy. He couldn’t count how many times he’d heard the fabled phrase, “If I didn’t like so and so more, I’d want you to be my boyfriend.”

Well he considered, ‘time to go lose another round.’ He sidled over to Warren’s table.

Warren had his arm around his girlfriend Annie, “Hey Cal, I was getting worried.”

“I was a little late getting started, couldn’t decide what to wear.”

Warren looked over what Cal had on. He was wearing pretty much what he wore all the time, a pair of faded jeans, gray T-shirt, and tennis shoes, not exactly the debonair cavalier.

“You look good.” Warren kissed his girl on the cheek, “When are the girls coming?”

Cal looked confused, “Girls? I thought you said a girl.”

“Oh I did, but the girl we want you to meet has a friend staying with her, so we had to ask both.” Warren smiled, “Hey, you get a choice.”

Cal sat down. Laughing he said, “You mean I get to be told no twice.”

“That’s what I love about you buddy, always the optimist.”

Annie looked up, “There they are!” She waved at two girls who’d just come in the bar, “Over here!”

Cal had his back to the girls. He peered around, ‘Holy shit!’ One was drop dead gorgeous, and other was no loser. He figured he might as well pack up and go home now.

The girls sauntered over and sat down.

Cal and Warren looked the girls over. The girls looked Cal and Warren over too.

Annie broke the ice, “Sandy you know Warren. This other one is Cal. Cal this is Sandy.”

Sandy put her arm on her girlfriend’s shoulder, “This is Maureen.”

Maureen looked from Warren to Cal and back. She had that look on her face like she was wondering why she’d bothered to show up. She said, “Hi.”

Cal answered, “Hi.”

Warren gave the girls a generous smile, “Sandy you look terrific, and so do you Maureen.”

Cal thought, ‘They did look terrific.’

Sandy was clearly the extrovert. She looked it. Bright smile, clear complexion enhanced by a bucketful of freckles. She had beautiful blue eyes. She had on just enough eye make up to make her look really fresh and clean. She was wearing a snow white blouse, peter-pan collar he thought with dark blue piping around the collar and short sleeves.

She was wearing a short, and he thought really sexy, plaid mini skirt. It was pleated, and looked really hot, like in extra hot. She was wearing white tennis shoes and white socks.

She had small hands, smallish breasts; Cal guessed maybe a B cup, and the whitest straightest damned teeth he’d seen.

She had honey colored blond hair. He could tell it had a rinse or something in it. It looked great. It was combed out straight, and hung invitingly down around her shoulders. This was some high school’s prom queen once. He knew he’d never strike out, because he’d never get to bat.

Cal checked out Maureen too. Right away he knew she knew what he was doing, and he could tell she was put off by it. This one didn’t like male scrutiny. Maybe she didn’t like men? She still looked damn good.

Maureen had dark hair, dark brown, almost black. No rinse there. She had it in a kind of sloppy looking; I don’t care what I look like, bun. He bet she didn’t care what she looked like too.

She was wearing glasses, black horned rimmed glassed. Normally that would have been a turn off, but they looked good on her. She looked smart. He guessed between the two girls, Maureen was the brain.

She had a white blouse on too. Hers was a more a classic V-necked collar. The top three buttons weren’t buttoned, and he could see she had a nice pair. Her boobs were bigger than Sandy’s; maybe a C cup. ‘Nice set, ‘ he thought.

She had a kind of a short sleeved vest coat thing over her blouse. It looked good on her.

She was wearing a pair of loose fitting black knee length slacks. They matched her vest, and a pair of black leather lace up shoes with a slightly elevated heel, and black knee length socks.

Cal thought he liked them both. He was supposed to be with Sandy.

Maureen gave Cal a tired, slightly irritated look, “Seen enough?”

Cal was flustered. He knew he’d been looking. Wasn’t that what he was supposed to do? He didn’t know what to say, “Well I guess so.”

Maureen exuded a minimalist grimace. Looking at Sandy, “Not exactly a barracuda, huh.” She looked at Cal, “I bet you drive a pick up.”

“As a matter of fact I do,” responded Cal.

Sandy slid over close to Cal. Cozening up she looked at Maureen, “He’s my date. You go get your own.”

Maureen looked askance at Sandy and with undisguised contempt at Cal, “Think I will.” She got up and walked toward the bar.

Cal knew he’d been put down. He was used to it, but he didn’t like where Maureen was headed. All saloons had bars, and all bars had their hierarchical placements. Maureen was headed straight toward the lowest end of the tavern food chain, “Someone should warn her, not all the guys here are the greatest.”

Sandy had her arm on Cal’s wrist, “Maureen’s a big girl. She’ll be all right.”

Cal blushed when Sandy touched him. He wasn’t the type that got touched much. He watched Maureen walk off. He recognized the guys she was headed for, and didn’t like them. It concerned him a little.

Sandy took his chin and turned his head, “Hey, you’re with me.”

Cal blushed some more and smiled, “Oh yeah.” He still had Maureen positioned out of the corner of his eye. He thought, ‘I hope she knows what she’s doing?’

Sandy watched the expression on Cal’s face. She considered, ‘This one’s really backward. Not her type at all.’ She smiled inwardly, ‘Maybe she’d have some fun. It was late in the summer, nothing much going on. Her boyfriend wouldn’t be back for several weeks anyway.’

She discreetly looked him up and down. ‘Not bad looking for a dope. Brown eyes, thick brown hair, messy though. Probably doesn’t own a comb. Calloused hands, nice tan, really works for a living she guessed. Sort of muscular in a skinny kind of way; not the greatest build, not the best looking either, but for an August tryst he’d do.

“So what do you do Cal?”

Cal looked back from the bar. He still didn’t like Maureen’s choice of new friends, “Oh I work for the government.”

“Really like what, you a carpenter or something?”

“No, actually I’m a researcher for the Federal government.”

“What do you research?”

“Ideas mostly, they pay me to study new ways to do things. I scour the Internet for inventions and inventors, and then I track them down and see if they need any help.”

Sandy was bored already, “Really, I thought by your tan and your muscles, you’d be someone who spent a lot of time outside.”

He liked the flattery, “I do try to get out when I can. I like to build things.”

“Like what?” She thought this wasn’t a guy; this was a nerd.

“Oh I try to build things out of wood. I built a boat this summer, a runabout, twenty-footer, hybrid style, but it’s my design. I like to build furniture too, built a rocker this summer.”

Sandy realized they’d found her a turkey, “Oh how interesting. Do you like to go swimming?”

“I love the water. That’s why I built the boat. I go fishing and swimming all the time.”

‘Crap, ‘ she conjured ‘worms and shit like that, ‘ “Oh how interesting. Would you take me out on your boat?”

Cal perked up. She liked him, “Sure I’d love to. You name the time.”

Sandy responded, “How about the day after tomorrow?” She looked around the tavern. The bar had a band; it had shown up, and they were about to play, “Do you like to dance?”

Christ thought Cal. He never danced, two left feet, “Gee Sandy, I’m not sure.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

They both got up. The band had started to play an old Robert Palmer song. Cal liked Robert Palmer, but had no idea what the beat was.

They got on the floor and started to dance, or at least Sandy started to dance. Cal stood there stiffly and tried to pretend he knew what he was doing. Sandy had some moves. She danced all around him. She slid in real close, then slid away. She liked to dance, and she liked what she was doing. She was teasing the shit out of him.

Maureen was talking to two biker types at the end of the bar, but she was watching ‘Stupid’ out of the corner of her eye. She decided ‘Stupid’ was a good cognomen for Cal whatever his name was. He was out there making a fool of himself, or more accurately Sandy was making him look like a fool.

While Maureen spied on Cal one of the greasy bike guys grabbed her arm, “Hey pay attention to us.”

Maureen yanked her arm away, “Back off Jack!” She was surprised by the guy’s audacity. She didn’t like being touched, and especially not by guys like him.

The biker guy got off his stool and reached for her arm again.

Maureen backed away, “Get off.”

The two guys and Maureen were causing a small scene, not much of a scene, but enough to start to attract some attention.

Cal saw the guy grab her. He knew someone should have warned her. He smiled at Sandy, “Excuse me a moment.”

Cal was no hero, and when it came to any kind of fighting he was the last man anyone would want on his side, but he was still a gentleman, and Maureen looked like a damsel in distress. He slowly walked toward the two guys, “Hey let her go.”

Across the room Warren saw the scene develop. Cal wasn’t a fighter, never had been. That was Warren’s specialty. Everyone in the bar knew it too. Watching his buddy Cal, he knew he was in way over his head. Those biker dudes were tough hombres. Warren stood up; making certain the biker guys saw him.

The bikers weren’t impressed at all by Cal, but they saw Warren. It wasn’t worth risking a black eye over some girl. The first biker put up his hands, “Hey, we were just kidding.” Turning to his friend, “Come on, let’s head up the road.” They got up to go. On the way out one looked at Warren, “See ya.”

Everyone in the tavern knew why they’d backed down. That was everybody but Cal. He thought he’d done something special. He looked at Maureen, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your fun, but those two aren’t the greatest. I guess someone should have warned you about which end of the bar was best.”

Maureen had watched the whole thing. She, like everyone else, had seen Warren stand up. She knew what was what and who was who. She could have said something but didn’t, “Thanks Cal.” She walked away toward the more respectable end of the bar.

Cal strutted back to Sandy, “Sorry for the interruption. Where were we?”

Sandy put her arms around Cal’s neck, “My hero.” She kissed him on the cheek.

There was a smattering of laughter around the bar, but Warren was still watching out for his buddy. The laughter quickly died, and everybody went back to doing what they’d been doing before.

Cal hadn’t noticed the laughter. He’d been kissed. He was a hero. He felt like George Clooney.

For the next several minutes he and Sandy danced, or at least she danced while he mimicked what he thought was dancing. They did their routines through three more tunes; until at last, flushed and a little excited Cal assisted the cool and confident Sandy back to their table.

For another forty minutes or so Cal rambled on and on about boat building, rocking chairs, and miniature wooden windmills. Sandy gushed and simpered.

Meanwhile Maureen had had just about enough of the pigeons at the bar. She wanted to do something a little more entertaining. Slipping back to where Sandy, Warren, Annie, and Cal were she asked, “Does anybody shoot pool here?”

Cal laughed, “At those tables?”

Warren chided, “Oh come on Cal, there no that bad.”

Cal looked at Maureen, “The tables are a little shop worn; not exactly true.”

Maureen pinched Cal’s arm, “Come on show me.”

Cal wasn’t much at pool, but agreed to at least get Maureen started. Sandy and Annie tagged along. Warren wandered off in the direction of the men’s room.

One of the tables was in use, but the other one, the older less stable one, was vacant. Cal asked Maureen, “What do you want to play; some eight ball?”

She answered, “Sure why not.”

Cal set the balls up, and Maureen broke. The first game they played went to Cal. He was a little surprised. Maureen wasn’t very good, and he’d made some shots he never ordinarily made. He got the second and third games too.

After three games Maureen asked, “Want to make this a little more interesting?”

Cal knew he was a lousy pool player, but Maureen was worse. It wasn’t in his nature to take advantage of any one, especially a girl. He wasn’t built that way, “No. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Maureen insisted, “Oh come on, just a dollar a ball.”

Cal was not only poor at pool, he wasn’t a gambler. He’d have felt funny playing for a nickel a ball, “No Maureen let’s just play for fun.”

Maureen answered, “OK.”

Cal and Maureen knocked off two more games. Cal won both of them.

All the while Warren, Sandy, and Annie were partly watching, partly talking and arguing, and partly listening to the band.

Maureen asked again, “Let’s play a buck a ball.”

“Cut it out Maureen. I feel like I’d be cheating or something.”

Maureen contributed a different idea, “Look, you get a ball I’ll pay you a buck. If I get a ball you pay me two. That’s more than fair.”

Cal hesitated. It sounded better, but he’d won every game, and the last game he’d won by five balls. He wanted to be fair, “Look let’s make it one for me and three for you. That’s fairer maybe.”

Maureen answered, “Sure, I get a ball you pay three dollars, you get a ball I pay one.”

Cal kept trying to offer Maureen a chance to back out, “Well maybe, but that’s the only way I’ll play you for money, but I’d really rather not try to take advantage of you.” He didn’t want to do it; he sort of liked Maureen. It wasn’t fair to her.

Maureen laughed, “Don’t worry, it’s only money. How I piss it away is my business.”

They played another game and Call won by four balls. He was deeply chagrined having to take Maureen’s money, but she insisted.

They played another game and he won again.

Maureen volunteered to up the ante, “Look let’s make $5.00 a ball, even Steven.”

Cal answered, “Certainly not, but I will agree to pay out $5.00 for every ball you get, but I’ll only take $1.00 for mine, regardless of the difference.” Then he added, “Look Maureen, I’m not very good at this, but you’re worse. I don’t want to cheat you. Come on, let’s just play for fun.”

Sandy, Warren, and Annie had been watching a little more closely. Warren was a little worried about the direction of the betting, but Sandy thought it was fun.

In fact Sandy offered to change the stakes again, “Why don’t you make it $10.00 a ball Cal?”

Cal listened. This was Sandy, the girl who’d been his date. She’d kissed him when he’d protected Maureen her friend. He thought if he let the stakes go to $10.00 for each of Maureen’s balls, that would really impress her, “OK,” he said, “Maureen, for every ball you make I’ll pay out $10.00.”

Maureen giggled, “OK Fast Eddie, rack the balls.”

Cal, gentleman extraordinaire, racked the balls. He insisted that he break so Maureen would get the second shot. He even made it a loose rack so the balls would spread around more easily. He racked and took his first shot. The balls, just as he hoped, rolled all over the table. None went in.

Cal looked the table over. Maureen would have a clear field. He felt a keen sense of true nobility.

Maureen looked the table over too, “I think I’ll try the low balls.” She started shooting. It didn’t take long before a pretty nice crowd was around the table. Maureen wasn’t a lousy pool player, she was a pro. It took her about five minutes to clean the table; all seven low balls, plus the eight ball. She didn’t miss a shot.

Maureen smiled at Cal, “Let’s see that’s eight balls, at ten dollars a ball, I think that comes to eighty dollars.”

Cal was stricken. He’d been hustled! He’d seen it happen to others, but never to him. He looked around the tavern. People were all laughing, laughing at him. He reached in his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and counted out the money. He handed it to Maureen, “Here you go. You won it fair and square.”

Maureen took the money, “Thanks Cal, want to play again?”

He answered, “No, that’s all right.”

Everybody in the bar had a good laugh. Call looked around. Maureen had made a fool of him. No, actually, he’d made a fool of himself. This was his fault. He’d remember in the future to trust his initial instincts, “I think I’ll go have a beer.”

Sandy sidled up and put her arm around him, “She took advantage of you. I’m sorry.”

Cal looked down at her. She was so gosh darn pretty, and so sincere, “That’s all right. That’s how we learn. It was only money after all.”

Warren didn’t think it was so funny. He watched Sandy and Maureen. They were both in on it. He was sure.

They retreated to their table, all five of them. Maureen used Cal’s money and bought everyone a round of drinks.

Everyone at the table was having a good time, everyone but Cal. He knew he’d been swindled, and he knew he was made to look like a fool, by a girl even. After a polite interlude he quietly announced it had been a long day, he was tired, and needed to get to bed.

Maureen watched Cal leave the tavern. She thought of the Broadway play Chicago and one of its better songs, ‘He had it coming’.

Sandy walked him to his truck. When they got there she handed him a piece of paper, “Here’s my number. Don’t forget you promised me a boat ride.”

He was surprised she remembered. He figured she’d had enough of him, and would want to find another guy, a winner. He answered, “Sure, I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll set up a time.”

Sandy reached up, put her hand on the back of his neck, and kissed him, “Don’t forget.” She turned and skipped away.

Cal got in his truck, a dark blue Dodge diesel, started the engine and pulled away. He thought, he’d lost a lot of money, but things hadn’t turned out too bad. He’d met a nice girl and her shitty friend. Maybe something will come of it? He drove home, a little depressed but hopeful.

Later that evening after Annie and Warren left, Sandy and Maureen got in Sandy’s car and drove off.

Sandy said, “That guy Cal is a real fool isn’t he?”

Maureen answered, “Why do you say that?”

“Look Maureen you got him for nearly $100.00.”

Maureen answered, “No you got him for nearly $100.00. He wanted to be a gentleman, but he wanted to impress you with what a nice person he was. He knew he was lousy at pool; he just thought I was worse. I may have set him up, but you lowered the boom. He didn’t want to bet.”

Sandy replied defensively, “That makes him a real asshole doesn’t it. Any normal man would have seen the chance to make a quick dollar, but he was too sappy to see the chance.”

Maureen rebutted, “Oh he saw the chance. He was just too nice a guy, at least until you backed him into a corner. He only did it to impress you.”

Sandy changed the topic, “Did you know I made another date with him?”

Maureen responded, “Really?”

Sandy, “Yeah, he has this homemade boat. He wants to take me out on the water.”

Maureen chided, “You better watch it. He probably likes to fish.”

Sandy laughed, “Don’t worry; we know who the fish is.”

The two girls drove off into the night.

Chapter One, Part Two

Cal had everything planned for their first real date. They’d use his boat and go fishing. He called her up, and the first thing she said was, no fishing. Well OK, they could just go out for a boat ride, he’d pack a lunch, and they could pull in at a spot he knew. She said that was great, but she’d meet him at the public put in. They set a time, and Cal was on his way; a date with a great girl, a girl who really liked him.

Around mid-morning Sandy called Maureen, and told her where she’d be, and who she’d be with.

Maureen asked, “Are you sure he’s ready for you?”

Sandy laughed, “Is he ready for prime time? No I don’t think so, but I’ll have some fun.”

Maureen admonished, “OK, just remember he’s Annie’s and Warren’s friend. Have fun, but don’t let him down too hard.”

Sandy giggled, “Don’t worry, this one’s too stupid.”

Maureen wasn’t so sure. She thought ‘Stupid’, her name for Cal, was too much of a gentleman, too much of a romantic, for the likes of Sandy.

Sandy found the boat put in. Cal was already there, and he had his ‘vessel’ already in the water. He looked good, she thought. Better than she had a right to expect. He was pretty muscular, no Adonis, but pretty well built. He still hadn’t found a comb for his hair, but out in the sunny sky it didn’t look half bad. He had on a wrinkled white T-shirt, a pair of equally wrinkled up khaki shorts, and of all things a pair of work boots, at least they were low cut; a real Beau Brummel.

She took one look at the boat and nearly gave up. He’d said it was homemade and a hybrid and he wasn’t kidding. It was a very homely looking glorified rowboat with an outboard motor strapped to the rear, or aft, or whatever they called the back end of a boat. It did have a small windshield, and he’d fashioned some sort of stupid looking umbrella thing to the middle, but otherwise it had more the look of a miniature Titanic, something ready to sink.