Bonefish Blues (10 page)

“We ‘bout there yet?” one of the men asked with a deep southern drawl.

“Shortly,” Will responded.

“You know there ain’t no fish on these flats. I been looking and ain’t seen nothing but grass for ten minutes.”

“Just about there,” Will ignored the comment as he pulled the pole from the water, lifted it high, and set it into the socket to anchor the boat. The water was clear enough to see the bottom from the poling platform and a smile crossed his face as it reminded him of Sheryl’s eyes. A jagged edge of grey fell into a darker abyss, indicating depth. Any kind of hole or ledge in the desert of turtle grass and sand held fish. This time of year, as the water cooled, the larger game fish, groupers and snapper, came into the flats and parked themselves in holes and under ledges, where they waited to ambush prey. They’d find fish here, he was sure of it.

The morning had started early. Having to gear up for meat fishing meant entirely different gear. He had pulled all but one of the fly rods he normally used from the built-in rod holders under the gunwales of the boat, and replaced them with spinning rods, freshly installed line shining in the light. A quick inventory had revealed that he needed a stop at the bait store to pick up leader, hooks, and sinkers. The woman at the counter was surprised when he asked for four dozen shrimp. 

The pole stuck in the water acted as an anchor. A standard anchor was not much use in these shallow waters. There were power sticks for anchors and electric trolling motors that replaced the pole but the pole was simple and he preferred simple. He had anchored up current of the hole, and now set a chum bag from the stern of the boat. His position would allow the chum slick to drift over the ten-foot-wide hole, tempting the fish to start feeding. Spinning rods were handed to the anglers, shrimp nestled on the hooks. The anglers followed his directions and cast toward the hole, allowing the small split-shot sinkers to submerge the bait. Then they waited. 

He mechanically unhooked fish and rebated hooks as the anglers worked quickly toward their limit. They quickly fell into a routine and he started to think about last night. Sheryl - her eyes, her body as her wet clothes clung to it, as well as her personality had captivated him and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. A quick look assured him the anglers were all good and he picked up his phone and went to the recent call screen. He copied her number into the message app and texted her. 

***

Sheryl glanced around the waiting room. Concentrating on the customer in front of her was impossible when she expected Braken and Scarface to enter at any time. She was sure he was the same man that had come into the building department the other day asking for the Flamingo Key file. What if he came in and asked again?The chances that anyone would ask for the missing files were remote, but still weighed on her mind, the messenger bag with the file was somewhere on Will’s boat. 

Tapping her pen on the desk, she tried to guide the couple in front of her through the tenuous procedure for a permit. Thankfully, she did this many times a day, and could operate on auto-pilot. They were just wrapping up when her phone buzzed with a text. Her heart started racing, and she grabbed the phone.

Can you meet later? On a charter now.
The sender was Will, and she smiled. After too many cocky, arrogant men, she kind of liked his cool, laid-back style. He had handled what could have turned out to be a deadly situation last night with confidence - something she really liked in a man. It felt like they had known each other longer than a day after sharing the experience. She answered,
Need my bag - it’s got the file. Yes, let me know when you get back.
Relieved that he had contacted her she turned back to the application and couple in front of her.

***

Matt sat in front of the monitor in the school library, a group gathered around him. His YouTube account stared back at them, the reflection in the screen showed his jaw drop and the startled look on his face. He had overheard his mom and Will talking the other night, and, unable to sleep, had started researching Flamingo Key. Although not in the conservation club at school, he had strong feelings about the preservation of the Keys. He did his best to hide his disgust for his father’s meat fishing business, especially when he brought in undersized fish. Like many teenagers brought up in the Keys, he knew fishing was a way of life, and conservation rather than preservation was the more practical way to save the fishery. 

Then there was his grandfather. He knew his mom put up with him because she needed the work, but he was seriously creepy. His permanent distaste for the man was cemented by the offhand comments he overheard from strangers, not intended for his ears, about
that
man being his grandfather. Often embarrassed he wished he was not related to him. A favorite fantasy was that one of the nylon leisure suits he wore would auto-ignite from the sun. Now that would be a cool YouTube video.

Will had taken him to fish Flamingo Key before, taught him to tie his own flies there, and how to fish them. He couldn’t see himself fishing that same flat with the artist’s rendering of a village on the island. Green, sustainable or not, he had decided that Flamingo Key should stay as it was, and his tool was the Internet. It had only taken a few hours to put together a video, cutting and pasting the images from the web site, showing the way the island was now, and what was proposed, and with an artistic flair, he showed fish dancing on the pristine water surrounding the island with a time lapse of the development; one by one, the fish keeled over and disappeared. A few keywords and social media posts later, and the video started getting hits. 

Now, a day and a half later, it was in seven figures. Over a million hits and growing. 

***

Braken stared at the video playing on the screen of his computer. 

“One of my people saw this. Look at this shit, over a million views already. This Internet is crazy,” Pagliano said.

“And, not good for business,” Braken responded. “We need to get this thing removed.”

“It’s not so easy. I’ve got a hacker buddy I know working on it, but it may take some time. We’ve got to either break into the account of whoever posted this or find them and have them take it off for us. I’m more for the personal option, myself.”

Braken looked away from the screen. “I can’t watch it anymore. You know what’s going to happen if one of those do-gooder groups gets a hold of this? They’ll start a protest or something, right out there. Alert the media and all that. Then somebody’s going to take a nature hike out there and discover the tanks - we’re done. It won’t take them long to put our names to it and we’ll be in jail. We can’t allow that to happen.” He picked up his phone. “I’m going to set up some security out there. Make sure no one sets foot on that sand pile.”

“Good idea. I’ll keep working my end.”

Braken pushed a button on the phone. “Nicole, could you come in here?”

She entered a minute later, steering to the opposite side of the desk from the leering Pagliano. 

“We get any inquiries on the Flamingo Key site?” Braken asked.

“Got a couple the other day,” she said.

He looked over at Pagliano staring at her, watching her face as she focussed on the screen. “What do you have Matt’s YouTube page up for?”

They both stared at her. Pagliano was about to rise, but Braken held a hand out. “What did you say?”

“That’s Matt’s page you’re looking at. MattyB97, that’s his username.”

“Don’t you monitor what your son does?” Pagliano yelled. This is a direct attack on our business venture!” 

Braken looked at Nicole, deciding on a softer approach. “You have any idea what Matt’s done? Here, look at this.” He faced the screen toward her and pushed play, then watched her face as the video played. “You need to get him to pull this, or whatever they do.”

She wasn’t sure what they were so upset about. “I’ll talk to him after school. I don’t see what the big deal is, though. It’s kind of funny.”

Braken sat back in his chair and looked at his partner. Pagliano would show no quarter to his family. The best way to protect Matt was to be hard on Nicole. She wouldn’t understand but it didn’t matter. “This can have serious repercussions on our business, Nicole, and that means your job. Do I make myself clear? It needs to go
now
. Not after school. Go find him and take care of it,” he said looking at Pagliano for approval.

Red-faced, she left the room. “Well that was a lucky break. I’m going to keep an eye on her just in case.” Pagliano said as he got up.

“Yeah, well just an eye. Lay off her, she’s family.”

Chapter 13

Pagliano followed Nicole from the office to the high school. He wasn’t so much following her as just keeping an eye on her. Never one to skimp on homework, he’d accumulated enough information on everyone associated with Braken and his family to know everywhere she and Matt went. He and Braken had been involved in several deals since the early 1990’s but if his partners weren’t from his neighborhood in Jersey, he didn’t trust them. He stayed at least a block or two back and slowed further as she approached the high school. She must have texted the kid to let him know she was coming, because he was standing outside the school, pacing back and forth. He knew the look of someone who knew he was in trouble, and smirked.

He watched as Matt got into the car. They sat there, the discussion clearly getting more agitated as the minutes passed. Joey knew from personal experience how obstinate teenage boys could be, and wasn’t surprised when Matt got out of the car and slammed the door. Before he could walk away, though, Nicole got out and went toward him. She tried to grab him, but he easily shrugged her off. They stood there arguing, and Joey knew from Matt’s body language that he was not going to give in. He needed to add his presence to the situation, both to calm things down and to enforce his will.

He parked behind Nicole, leaving the engine running and door open as he got out and went toward them. Both turned in recognition, and Nicole’s maternal instincts must have overridden her anger, because she moved to protect Matt. He almost laughed at the gesture. 

Too bad it was the tropics, or he would have had a gun in his jacket pocket. He wouldn’t even need to draw it, just show the outline of cold steel behind the cloth of the jacket, but in eighty degrees you looked pretty stupid wearing a jacket. And drawing the small 22 caliber from its holster against his calf would be too visible to any onlookers. Instead, he casually walked toward them, both hands in his pants pockets, trying not to appear threatening. 

“Maybe we should take a ride, you know, the three of us,” he said to Nicole.

She shied away and Matt puffed up like only a teenage boy can do. “What do you want with us?”

“That’d be none of your business, junior. We just need to have a talk, is all. Make sure you all have your priorities straight.”

“And what if we refuse?” she asked.

“You won’t. Nobody ever does - and you know it.” he said as he put a hand on her shoulder.

She pushed back setting him slightly off balance, “Run!”

Matt took the opportunity and ran towards the protection of the school.

“Damn kid,” He pushed her, “Now, let’s take a walk back to my car, nice and quiet. Nobody gets hurt.” She went to the passenger side, but he motioned for her to drive. 

Joey looked at the school and then at Nicole. Matt may be gone, but he still had plenty of leverage. He watched the rise and fall of her low cut blouse, her breath coming in big gulps and started to get excited.

***

“
Sheryl, got a minute?” 

She looked up anxiously as her boss hovered over her. “Sure. You’re place or mine?” she countered with their usual line. Usually she got a grin, but his face remained neutral. 

“Let’s go back to my office. There’s something you need to see.” 

She followed him past several work stations to a glass-fronted office. Even the big dogs got no privacy here. 

He went to the desk and hit several keys on his computer. “Come around here and watch this.” 

She moved around the desk and watched the screen. The dancing fish made her smile, but only until she saw the banner on the bottom of the screen. “Yeah?”

“It’s Flamingo Key. This thing got on YouTube yesterday, and now it’s gone viral. There’s almost 1.2 million hits now.”

Her breath caught and she tried to remain calm, “Okay, but what’s that got to do with us?” 

“I went to pull the file, you know, just out of curiosity about where this kid might have got this, and it’s not there.” He looked at her, waiting, “You were the last one to check it out. Twice this week.”

She looked up at the ceiling, and then down at her hands as she told him about the inquiries from the scar-faced man and then Will. “It must still be at my desk,” she got up, “Gimme a few. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for a response she took off out of his office. It took all the willpower she had not to run out of the building, but she controlled herself. At her desk she moved some files around while she thought. There was no way she could have told him where the file was. That at the least would have landed a black mark on her record and possibly cost her job. But now, caught in a lie, she told the clerk at the next desk that she was going to lunch, got up and went for the door. She had to think.