Chapter 26a: A Fire is Sparked

They were pretty drunk when they staggered back to the ship.

Chrissy said, "Wha's this?" and tore the bag off the big shipping crate blocking the gangway. She spotted the check, and smirked as she pocketed it. She began reading the letter. She could not control her anger. She was furious and her face was fully red as she tore the message in two and cast it to the dock. She stomped up the ramp to the ship in a full-blown snit.

Angie slowly picked up the pieces of paper and held them together. She read the note.

"Oh my God! He was here!"

She looked at the ship with new eyes. She saw the salt encrustations covering her, the line of brown, black and green scum completely obscuring the waterline. She had not been away from the dock for over a year, and it showed. She cried. She cried for the shape her beautiful ship had fallen into. She cried for helself as to what she had allowed herself to become. She cried at what Tony must have felt, seeing his ship like this, after all the care and love he had put into her construction; bringing her from a beautiful vision to a vibrant, capable vessel. It truly was his Italian Dream, and she had been treated like a piece of toilet paper. No more.

She dragged the M2 and the ammo cases onto the rear deck. It was too dangerous for her to attempt to hoist them up the ladder to the weapons mount while she was drunk, as well as it being dark. She went inside to the master's cabin to find Chrissy passed out on the bed. The place reeked of sour sweat and old beer cans. Angie turned and went to the engineering space off the salon. She picked up a brass drift punch and slapped it against her other hand. Yep, just the equalizer that she needed. She went back to the lower berth and jumped on the bed, capturing Chrissy's arms under her thighs then lifted up and whacked her across the forehead with the brass machinist's punch.

"Yaah! You bitch! When I get loose I'm gonna beat you bloody!"

"No you won't."

"Bullshit. Who's gonna stop me, your old cap? The chickenshit blew out of here. You? Fuck, you can't even cold-cock someone without fucking it up..."

She realized what she'd said as Angie wound up for a good one.

"Oh, fuck!"

This time, Angie put everything into it, actually lifting herself a bit off the bunk with the power of her strike. This gave Chrissy a little room to turn and she fought to get free. All it did was turn her head so that Angie's blow came down over the top of her ear rather than across her eyebrow. Angie heard a pecuilar 'crunch' mixed in with the slap of the blow. Chrissy's eyes rolled up in her head. It was a wonder that she was still breathing. Her temple was shattered.

Angie sat back and stared. She rose, wiped down the punch and replaced it in ship's tools, heaved Chrissy over her shoulder and walked her half-way down the gangway, where the waterline hit the beach. There she put the redhead partially on her feet, dragged her bottoms down to her knees, pulled off her blouse and let her fall backwards down to the beach some eight feet below. There were a few large rocks down there. She nodded as she looked down, just making out Chrissy's head amid the rocks. She'd had a habit of pissing off the pier. Angie checked. Yep, the check was still in the blouse pocket. It was tme for a shower and bed. Tomorrow would bring its own problems. Today's were done.