amichan | Entries tagged with evi ryan

"That is an interesting...woman," Julia says, as I climb back aboard. She takes the bag from me and I pop my back.

"Oh?" I say, "and no one else has shown up looking for me? Of the female persuasion?"

"Should they?" she asks, with an inquiring eyebrow raised.

"No. God no! I just...I half keep hoping she's some Trouble manifestation...I guess not though. I guess she's the real thing."

"Your real wife?" Julia looks amused, walking ahead of me to stash the money.

I almost fall over, "My...wife?" the word catches and I choke-laugh, "Oh, wow. No, I just meant really here in person making things difficult."

Julia has a bemused look, "No, I mean, she actually tried to tell me she was your wife and so I should let her aboard."

"Maybe a couple of times to pull jobs as cover. I don't think we ever, that I was ever drunk enough to sign anything..." I genuinely have to think, "besides if something like that had ever come up in anything. Nathan would have been blasting my ass with it long before now." I scratch both sides of my head, "If she has something to do with this box bullshit."

"She does know some things about the Cape." Julia teases.

"Well, she would," I admit, "We were together for a few years, Evi and I. You know how long the old girl and I have been together."

"You shouldn't call her old," Julia says, "She's just seasoned, well-traveled."

"And soon to be good as new." I check over the sheeting that I was cutting earlier. There's probably not going to be enough daylight to finish up with everything else that's gone on today, "Though this is going to have to wait until tomorrow to finish up."

"I'll check the patch," Julia offers, "But I should say it's got a good four days left in it," she disappears further below.

I'm startled by my phone ringing.

Karl agitated on the other line, "You're a slimy one."

"That's not very creative of you. I'm disappointed."

( Make it so )

The Cape's almost entirely dried out below decks and things are coming together. The sheet metal is nearly trimmed to the right size when I get the sinking feeling that something else is going wrong. I stop the torch. Someone is walking up the dock but it's not anyone who should be.

Haven't seen her in years, and she shouldn't be here in Haven. She looks so very pleased with herself when she stops and looks down at me.

"She looks in good shape!" she calls as I pull the goggles up and survey her. What are the odds some sort of Trouble is summoning ghosts of girlfriends past? Because that would be extensive, brutal and very damaging for me.

"What are you doing here?" I walk to the edge of the boat and put my hands on the rail after putting down all the tools.

"Wow!" she puts a hand to her chest and rocks back on her heels a little, "Most people return a compliment with a compliment, you know? What happened to your manners?"

I tip an imaginary hat, "My apologies. What are you doing here, Evi? And how soon will you be gone?"

"After all this time that's all I get?"

"You think you deserve more?"

"Anyone would think you were mad at me."

I just level her a look.

She says nothing for a moment but surveys me too, "I didn't expect to track you down here. What kind of game are you playing?"

"One that doesn't involve you." I climb back to land. She looks solid enough from here, but there's no one around paying enough attention to see if it's only me who can see her or not.

"It's got to be something for you to not only come to a small town, but your home town. You lead me to believe you wanted nothing to do with this place."

"What business is it of yours to be in my life?" I ask her, once I'm on the dock, "I have things to do. Go pester someone in Derry." This is the perfect time for her to show up, really, if this is really her. All this bullshit with the box.

"I owe you. That's why you're pissed isn't it? Still. Even now."

I snort and shake my head, "As much as I'm sure you'd like me to give you the satisfaction that you matter in my life..." I tell her climbing back on to the dock. I do link arms with her though to turn her away from the boat, and make sure she's physically there, which she is but with Troubles that doesn't always mean anything. She leans her head on my shoulder, trying to sucker up.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Not even for a score better than Macau."

I'm about to say something when my phone rings, and I check it. Of course it's business. I put a finger towards her and answer the phone, "Yes?"

"They're not going for it," he tells me.

"Uh-huh," I answer.

"For some reason they don't believe your story."

"Uh-huh," I repeat, "For some reason I don't believe you tried your hardest. I'm going to text you a location. You're going to meet me there."

"It's not--it's not convenient."

"Convenient? Oh, come on. Like you've got other things to do."

"Duke--" I hang up and look towards The Gull.

I can see in the windows from here, so they can see out.

Contact: Julia

Can u see n describe chick standing w/me?

>>Black chick in dark jeans, jacket and white shirt? Looking like she wants to mount you?

Damn it Ok In in a few

Evi follows me towards The Gull as I text the address to both, Karl, the contact and Julia. There's buzz throughout the bar that a boat's been pulled up and I feel a slight chill when I hear the name Fisherman's Honor.

"Is Tracy on today?" I ask Julia as soon as I see her.

"Not 'til later," she says.

"Her husband was on The Honor. Call and see if she's okay. If she still wants to come in. I have a meeting to go to. I sent you the address. You know who's allowed to know where I'll be at."

She nods, "Sure thing, Boss," she winks.

"I need you to guard the Cape too."

"No problem," she flashes me one of those brilliant smiles and I salute her before heading out the back door so I can slip back on to the Cape stash tools and supplies and retrieve Business money before heading off. I'm sure Julia can deal with Evi. More than deal with.

$$$$

The way Karl's acting you'd think there were snipers in the area somewhere ready to knock us off just for being there, but the place is clear I checked before pulling up.

“I don't know what you expect me to do,” he says, “I've already told you...”

“I expect you to take the money and arrange the meeting.”

“You do understand who you stole from, right? How pissed Stoney is?”

“I didn't take anything. That is why I need this meeting sorted out. To get to the bottom of this whole mess...”

Vehicle tires. It's a distraction which is good because it means I can grab him because he was trying to run away. It's Nathan's truck. Nathan who cannot open his mouth and screw this up. He opens the truck door.

“Hey!” I yell towards Nathan, “When I tell you to be somewhere—you need to be there on time!”

“Sorry!” Nathan answers.

“Who's that?” Karl asks as he cranes to try and see Nathan I'm able to hook him more tightly, around the neck and draw him close.

“Don't worry about him. Worry about doing what I've asked you!” I slip the money into his shirt, “Make it happen and there'll be more for you. Go!” I release him and he scrambles off.

“What was that about?” Nathan asks.

“Asks me no questions. I'll tell you no lies,” I answer, walking towards him.

He cocks his head on the side for a moment, “I doubt that somehow.”

“Well, then, let's call it charitable work and leave it at that.”

Nathan's scowl is returning.

“What did you need that you sought me out down here?” I ask.

“You know The Honor was found?”

“I am aware of this, yes.” I answer, leaning against my own truck and waiting for the accusation.

“And you sold her parts.”

“Non-essential parts.”

Nathan levels the cop gaze that would probably be intimidating if I wasn't me and he wasn't him, “Non-essential parts?”

“Yes. You know things that if they break people aren't going to die.”

There's that the scowl, “I know what non-essential parts means.”

“Then why did you ask it with a question mark?”

“Do you know who might have sold them essential parts?”

“I do.”

“And?” he raises his eyebrows and nods a few times, expecting me to fill in the blank.

“And I will tell if you do something for me first.”

"You're going to hold the information hostage?" Nathan demands.

"Yes," I tell him, seriously, "Why are you looking so surprised? I thought I was an untrustworthy...fill in whatever adjective you want I'm not in the mood."

Nathan gives me an angry look.

"Besides if I'm dead you can't call on me to help whenever it's convenient for you so I'd think it's in your best interest to help out. Plus you get a fancy arrest. Added bonus for you. Look how charitable I'm being."

"Oh, yes. You're a charity now."

"I don't bill you every time you and Audrey call on me at a moment's notice, but then I like Audrey. I'll give you a stack of paper's to sign come tax time."

"Do you even do taxes?" Nathan asks.

"Are you developing a sense of humor?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Seriously, Nathan. This is some deep shit. I happen to like living."

He sighs, "What exactly...?" he waves a hand.

"The guys who took over the Cape you will recall, I presume?"

He rolls his eyes, "The small-time poker crooks? I assume you're now going to explain to me what they actually were doing."

"They were after a box I was...transporting."

"Smuggling?"

"Conveying."

"Smuggling."

"Whatever you want to call it."

"We arrested them, so, obviously they didn't get it. I'm not understanding how this is a problem?"

"I'm illustrating the apparent interest in said box."

"What's in it?"

"Hell if I know. Apparently nothing."

"And they think you stole it."

"He gets it."

"Did you steal it?"

"Nathan!" I do my best affronted.

"Did you?"

"No. That's why I'm trying to get a meeting with Stoney. I think their crew stole it before it was even handed off to me for transportation."

"Smuggling."

"Are we on this again?"

"Fine. Transportation." He looks away.

"Plus, as I was saying, fancy arrest." I pull the bag out from the back of the truck, "because this is what I was paid with."

He looks through the bag, "Everything under the top layer here is counterfeit."

"Bingo."

"Hm," Nathan says.

"So? Do you want to catch a counterfeiter? It's a good plan. Trust me."

"Do you remember 3rd Grade?" he asks me.

"What?" That's left field. What could he? "What are we talking about? You really liking the Pet Shop Boys?"

He shakes his head, "When you and a bunch of your friends were waiting for me after gym class..."

Oh. Shit. I know when he looks back at me he knows that I know what he's talking about.

"You're all smiling and congratulating me," he carries on.

"Do we have to get into this right now?"

"I think we do," he says.

"Alright."

"Okay."

"I--I told you Carla Rose had a crush on you."

"I felt like I'd won the lottery," he says.

Really? It was third grade, "Nathan it was 25 years ago..."

"You guys were all smiling and slapping me on the back. You slapped me on the back, remember? 'Go on, man. Go talk to her.' I went down the hall, heart beating out of my chest, and when I opened my mouth to say something."

"She screamed..."

He nods, "She screamed, because there was blood dripping down my back," he looks at me with a piercing stare, "From?"

I sigh, but I manage to meet his gaze, "The tacks we stuck in it."

"When you were 'congratulating' me. You had a pool going about how many you could stick in my back before I noticed!"

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen? Wow."

"Yeah. It was sh--"

"I didn't talk to another girl for two years after that."

Do not point out the Troubles were well over by then, "Nathan..."

"I was eight years old, Duke!"

"So, was I--and I was a shithead. You're going to hold that against me? I'm sure there are tons of other..." I shake my head, "I am sorry I did that, Nathan, and that I roiled up a bunch of other asshole eight year olds to participate in it."

He doesn't say anything, just stares out over the water.

"Are you going to seriously leave me hanging out to die over something that happened in 3rd Grade?" With everything I've done to bail you guys out since then...

"When's the meet?"

"As soon as I hear from Karl I'll let you know."

I'm up a ladder in The Gull, with a flashlight in my mouth, stripping wires inside a disconnected light fixture. The light is on one of the tables. I see a shadow of movement behind one of the windows, footsteps on the dock outside and then she appears in front of the patio doors.

Shit, and my hands are all tangled up inside the wires.

Of course she opens up the patio door and invites herself in.

"There you are!" she says, brightly, "I didn't find you on the boat. What are you doing?"

I start to answer, remember the flashlight, pull my right hand out, remove it and, "I'm dancing on the ceiling. What's it look like?"

"Don't you have people you can pay to do that? You have people for so many other things."

"Why would I pay someone when I can do it so much better myself for the cost of parts?" I climb down the ladder. Nothing will get done right while she's here, "Was there a point to your visit, Evi? Please say that came to say goodbye? Or did you just come to try and ruin my mood?"

She tuts at me, "Why would I be leaving?"

"No, of course. Why would you? That would only be the sane thing to do." I cross the bar floor to keep an eye on her, picking up a stack of towels that were left on one of the tables and bring them behind the bar.

She sets her purse down on the bar, "I was thinking about your problem."

"Which problem is this that you're assuming I have?"

"The tattoo man. I know your lady crush isn't helping you."

"My who?" I was starting to count the glasses under the bar but this brings me back up to look at her, which I'm sure she was hoping for.

"The FBI lady."

"You mean the one who had to leave the town because it ate her brain? Because for one that's a perfectly acceptable reason to stop helping someone and two I resent the implication..."

She rolls her eyes at me, "You know who I was talking about."

"I really don't, because I don't have a crush on Audrey. Wait, do you think she has a crush on me? I thought she had a thing for Nathan. Maybe I'm misreading the whole situation." I look off thoughtfully because I know that will make her more annoyed.

She smacks her hand on the top of the bar, "Stop it."

"You're the one who brought up this line of conversation. You really think she has a thing for me?"

"No."

"Then what were you talking about?"

"You don't have any help with the tattooed man."

"Who says I don't have any help?" I sit on a stool behind the bar and spread my hands before her.

"Well, you have me now, always."

"I've said it many times, Evi. I don't need your help. If you really want to help me you can swan off and find someone else to pester. Didn't you say you had some score bigger than Macau?"

"I don't want to see you wasting away here, that's true; but if helping you with this will give you some answers and help you put Haven behind you..."

I snort, "That's what you think I'm trying to do?"

"Isn't it?"

"I'm not talking about this with you. It's not your business. No matter what you're trying to do. We're not a part of each others' lives any more. Is someone else paying you to stay in town?"

"I resent the implication," she throws back at me.

"Can I pay you to leave?"

She toys with the strap of her bag for a moment, something brewing behind her eyes, “You can thank me,” she says.

“Really?” Somehow I doubt that.

“I got something for you.” She opens the purse and slides out a very familiar folder. The last time I saw it a certain actual Special Agent Audrey Parker was using it to bribe me into taking her on a boat trip that would eat her memory. I'd told Evi it was evidence that could get me in trouble—now she's bound to know that's not the case.

“I see...”

“Strange,” she says, “How this isn't photos or video captures but...a map,” she flips the folder open, revealing the yellow hand-drawn page with that telling maze tattoo in the top corner.

“Yeah. Weird,” I remark, casually, “Almost as if I didn't want to tell you the truth about something. Imagine that.”

“Why would you be so interested in this?” she asks.

“Why would I give you an answer to that?” I respond, closing the folder over her hand.

“What is it worth to you?” she remarks, with a sly smile.

“I seem to recall that you owe me, and that's why you were after getting me on whatever job that supposedly was...so you leave this,” I pull carefully twist the folder away from her, “and we'll call it even.”

She grimaces, “I was right though,” she retorts, “You have settled down. All the talk about the evils of this town and running off to Canada and you're right back here! I can't believe you—it's so damned disappointing. All those dreams you had—all that stuff we talked about and you're rooting yourself to this—this--” she waves her hands about as though The Gull is some muddy hole that she's just climbed out of and she's trying to shake herself off.

“We talked about a lot of things, Evi—but that was years ago. That's not where I'm at any more. Thank you very much for the folder. Get your ass out of my bar. We're closed.”

“You--” she starts.

“Get out, Evi,” I can feel the anger rising and remember one of the many reasons why our relationship was not a good one. The many times I had to walk out on arguments to stop myself from hitting her.

She stalks out of the glass door and onto the dock, once she's actually retreated out of sight I exhale slowly and I lean my head down on the bar.

Julia appears out of the kitchen, “Coast clear, Boss?”

I nod, but I'm not sure she can tell, so I stand back up, “The evil has gone.”

“Good,” she pulls something out of an apron pocket and begins spraying a can of air freshener in the general direction that Evi had been standing before sliding it back away again with a smirk.

I shake my head at her and laugh, “She did at least bring me something useful for once, but I won't dare say hopefully she'll leave town now.”

Julia nods, “Yeah, that doesn't seem likely.”

“What do you make of it?” I push the folder across the top of the bar towards Julia. She comes around in front of me to where Evi was standing a few moments earlier and opens it. The map laid out before her, and puts her hand towards the maze symbol at the top pensively.

“Where did Evi get this?” she asks.

“Audrey Two had it. It was supposed to be my payment for taking her to what wound up being mind-wipe island; so, well, of course she forgot. I may have told Evi the only reason I was talking to and doing anything for the FBI was because they were blackmailing me with something that could put me in jail—she assumed this was it, and took it.”

“Ah,” Julia nods, “And the FBI had this...why?”

“According to the file someone who was killing tattooed people drew it out while being interrogated, but half the info is redacted, something about marks out where he hid something that helped him, or the path to something. The person documenting wasn't sure if the guy was nuts or...on drugs; but Evi's seen this so she's bound to be going out there, probably now thinks I'm only staying here because there's buried treasure, so I best check it out too...even if it is following crazy tattooed people leads. If there is something out there--”

“She doesn't need to be getting her grubby mitts on it,” Julia agrees.

Evi is particularly bitchy this morning. A combo of the route change and the fact my mood is foul too so I'm' not putting up with her bullshit. Stretching out my fixes might better wait until I kick her after this job but I'm ever the masochist. It should, in theory, make quitting easier. I don't have a Julia for cold turkey support like I did before but I'm older. I'm, in theory, wiser, have more willpower, right? Right?

“I still can't believe you've turned us around!” Evi says.

I haven't, but I tried explaining that earlier and it didn't work.

“If you're going to come yell again at least make it a different tune.”

“You don't need to do this!”

“Says who?”

“You're being such a fucking bitch this morning.” She folds her arms as if that makes her point more accurate.

“Takes one to know one.” What am I five?

“Doesn't mean you need to put my reputation at stake.”

“What reputation?”

“You--” she starts to move towards me, almost sputtering, “I--”

“Just fucking go--” I wave towards the stern, “you don't have anything constructive to say and I'm not changing course.”

She slams the door as she stalks out. I hear the wood on the door frame splinter a little bit and pat the console next to the steering column, “Don't worry, old girl. I promise we're getting rid of her.”

After I hear the door to the bedroom close a little less roughly, I reach under the console for the stash there. It's clipped in the usual spot. I'm going to throw it out. I'm going to throw it out. I open the box; everything is all there. Throw it out. I can taste it. Our heading should be fine for a few minutes. I manage to drag myself out of my chair and set the container down on top of the console. I take the three baggies out and go onto the deck.

My arms are starting to itch, and my hip is throbbing where the bullet is lodged, but I know it's just a trick. I take the packets and start shaking them out over the side and crumpling them into my pocket. I'm trying to ignore the pulsing and thrumming building and building inside my head and I'm almost through but then I find myself snorting the dregs of the third bag. Willpower for fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck a duck.

Once back inside crumpled backs and tin contents all go in the trash, and I throw the needles on the floor and stomp them under my heel before I remember that I don't remember where the broom is, and I'll be damned as much as my willpower is if I go ask Evi where she put it. I scrape the broken bits of syringe towards the back wall. She's stayed fairly well on course, and we're still far enough away that there's no one else about right now. I put a CD on, set an alarm in case I really nod off given I'm not sure how much I really got. I didn't even realize I was shoving it up my nose until it was half gone. Anyway, then I lock the wheel and sit back down to watch the waves.

$$$$

I'm talking on the radio to port at Senegal and Evi has been wandering around the state room for probably a half an hour not actually doing anything. Now she hears me on the radio, though, she's come towards the door, but because of her earlier bullshit it won't open. She hammers on it instead.

I give her the “wait” sign because as much as I want to give her the finger, she'd probably break a window and that's worse. I finish finding out where I'm going to berth the Cape and how much it'll cost me to stay there.

I step up and yank the door open and then throw myself back in my seat, “Now what?”

“Who were you talking to?”

“Not your business.”

“It's my business if it affects my business.”

“It doesn't.”

“Duke Horatio Crocker.” She snaps.

“Stop making up random middle names for me.”

She leans against the door frame and then jolts up cursing, “I'll stop when you tell me your real one,” she continues pulling broken pieces of wood from her arm.

“Of all the bullshit things for you to get hung up on.”

She's dropping the pieces of wood in the trash can though and distracted, “No wonder you've been in such a pissy mood. Why have you thrown all this away? How much pain are you in?” She waves down at the contents of the can and the broken needles, “If you dropped everything you could have just come gotten something I'm not that much of a bitch I'd keep you from your meds.”

Meds. Right. Like it's fucking antibiotics.

“That happened after,” I tell her, “I'm allowed to just be 'pissed' with you being ridiculous.”

“How am I being ridiculous?”

“Just listen to yourself.”

“You changed course! We have an appointment to keep!”

“We can't keep any kind of appointment if. we. Sink. In. a. storm!” I turn as much as I can when we're getting closer and closer to harbor. I can see lines of ships and boats, and even a few dinghies in the distance now and don't want to risk anything, “and it's thrown us of course by half a day.” Depending on what happens with the storm. Not that she's staying on board any fucking longer. Finishing this job be damned.

“You've said yourself storms are fickle.”

Did I? Damned if I remember.

“If it goes on longer.”

I turn don't look back at her because

“You think they want their cargo at the bottom of the ocean or a little bit late?”

She doesn't say anything because at this point she's lost the argument.

I get back on the radio because we're approaching what appears to be our berth, and I need to signal arrival, so we get assistance from the dock, because Evi isn't likely to help just to prove how pissed off she is. There's some blessed silence for a moment, at least in the cabin, as I slow everything down. I feel the engine groan a little but no sounds of anything that is worth worrying about.

Now we're coasting and I go out to throw the bumpers over the sides as quickly as possible. Evi watches from the helm. As I expected she just stands there. I leave the front door open so I can hear as well as see when to drop the anchor and have to push Evi out of the way so I can get back to the console and the wheel to make sure we don't bump to hard even with the cushions.

“If you're going to be like that--” she says.

“What?” I demand, “You'll get off.”

She takes that as invitation more than the hint I meant it as, moving behind me, and nibbling my ear, “I can get us both off.”

She is more than a little pissed when I push her away but is quick to put a mask on the indignation and go back to pleading and coy again.

“Duke--”

“No.”

“You're being—I can't—this is the—the--” she flails at me with her arms and then punches my back as it's all she can get to, as the anchor clangs into position and we jerk to a stop.

I pull away from her to stick my head out and wave to the people on the dock. I point out to her that if I don't nip down and pay them, they'll be throwing themselves up here looking for coin and that could lead to attention we don't need.

“Fine.”

I had seen them the last time I was out on the deck, but I really take the clouds in this time as they're a deep gray brooding shroud hanging in the air on the port side and getting wider and blacker. We made it just in time. The dockworkers and harbormaster both make similar sentiments about the weather to me when I pay them and quiz them about the forecast because I need to know how long I might be stuck here.

Evi is sprawled on the couch when I come back in trying to look seductive and maybe if I wasn't so pissed about everything it would hook me in. It has before. All it does right now is make me more annoyed and more determined to go to Ju—the spare room and get something to put Evi's stuff in and get her off—overboard if I have to.

“I believe we were talking about getting off,” she purrs.

“No, Evi. I meant you getting off the damn boat.”

“This is my--” she stands up.

“I'll pay you what you'd get from your damn precious drop—get your shit and go.”

“But--” she reaches for me again, catching up and putting one hand the same place it went when she was talking about the other type of getting off when I was at helm.

“I said stop.”

I remove her hand. She starts punching at my chest.

“You're an asshole, Duke Madrigal Crocker,” that one's a bit more inventive. Another few thumps, “a fucking asshole! After everything we've been through.”

I pick her up and move her to the side and walk back to the bedroom to gather her things.

She starts to follow but then I hear clattering from the kitchen, nothing actually breaking. I'm half-surprised. I find the collapsible suitcase under the bed in the other room. Evi's curiosity is piqued given she doesn't have access to this room, and she runs over too late to get in, and I just manage to block a cast iron skillet from hitting me. It doesn't hit the wall because it deflects off the suitcase and instead slides down it and hits the floor after bouncing off my toes.

I curse her.

“If anything, that's your fault.”

“Really? Where were you aiming in the first place?'

She picks up the pan before following me to the master bedroom and watches me fold out the suitcase and then blocks me from the closet.

“You were serious?”

“Yes. Why would you think I wasn't?”

She snorts, “How many times have we broken up before?”

Three. She has a point.

“You're getting off the boat.” I dump her drawers into the case before she can block me from those as well. I'll have to roll the jeans and few shirts that were in there later. There're other things which are very lacy and don't take much room.

When I forcefully move her from in front of the closet, she starts taking things out of the suitcase which I should have expected. I pull her away and that leads to me getting hit on the back and about the face instead.

“This isn't you. This is that junk you're putting in your body!”

“And whose fault is that?”

The hesitation in her tirade of fists that causes is long enough for me to shove her in one of the empty storage contraband cubbies that lock from the outside.

“Duke Crocker!” she is apparently too incensed to come up with a fake middle name for me, “Let me out right now!”

Her shouts, begging and screaming become the backdrop to me finishing rolling up her clothes and toiletries and getting them in her suitcase. Then I go to one of the stashes of cash and find also the box with her passports and things in it and get them all together as well as a receipt book. Damned if I'm falling into that trap. Hopefully my brain will stay focused enough to write out a legit seeming receipt for work that will cover the correct amount of funds for this.

The rain had started by this point, and it had changed Evi's tune to, “Duke, honey, please. At least let me stay until the weather's calmed down. Surely you won't kick me out in the rain.”

“I'm sure you can find somewhere to stay. You're good at that.” I push the receipt book under the door, “I know you have a pen on you. Sign that.”

“I haven't seen the money.”

There's that greed.

“Think of me as the bank. You're signing to approve the withdrawal. Sign it and I'll let you out.”

I hear the scratching but I'm still cautious. I don't think she's going to actually try to stab me with the pen but there's that still that 5% chance. Evi slowly pushes the piece of paper back out under the door. I half expect it to have “fuck you” scrawled on it, but she has signed it. She does want her money and she knows I'm enough of an asshole this is the only way she'll get it even if she somehow stays on board which she is not.

I put the paper in my pocket—she has kept her side—and open the door slowly. She's standing where she doesn't have to bend or crouch in the small room.

“We're really done this time?”

“Yes.”

“I don't want that.” She moves towards me out of the room, and I back up.

“And?”

“Please don't make me leave, especially in this weather.”

“Like I said before I'm sure you'll find somewhere to stay. You always land on your feet.” I open the top drawer of the dresser and grab a few condoms to put into the go-bag of hers I'd also pulled out of the closet.

“Really?” she narrows her eyes at me, “That's just--”

“For when you find somewhere.”

“I don't need those,” she says with forced urgency, “I'm pregnant. I didn't know how to tell you—you've been so apathetic with that junk in your system.”

“Right.” MY tone is as dry as her lie, “So you pick now. Very convenient and very no.” I grab the Ziploc bag that has the paper bag of cash inside it and hand it to her.

She blinks for a second having still been focused on a comeback.

I'm picking up her other things.

“What?” she asks, and thankfully appears to have dropped the baby bullshit.

“Your wages. Don't forget them. For being the most useless boatswain ever.”

She sputters at that.

“Count it if you want but then you're leaving.”

“If there's anything I trust you about,” she sighs, as we get to the cabin door and with apologies to Cape I kick it open, “It's money.”

“Fair enough,” she comes towards me again and I start to move away again.

“I just want to put in the bag,” she says, “I promise. I'm not carrying this into Senegal. Bad enough I have luggage.” I get a pointed look, but I don't do anything. I have to admit I do feel guilty to a certain degree, but she needs to be gone. I don't want to keep this downward spiral continuing.

“Good. Bye. Evi.” I tell her, “Don't make me throw your shit overboard.”

She hastily takes the suitcase and go-bag from me, whining that it's heavy. I remind her that it has wheels and back away further towards the Cape's cabin and shoo her towards the gang plank.

“You're the best thing that's ever happened to me,” she tries.

“We're the worst things to each other.” I point out, moving towards the shade of the canopy and out of some of the heavier rain, “I mean, we bring out the worst in each other, even if we have good times. Get off my boat.”

“How dare you?!” she starts shouting, “Help!”

“There's no audience, Evi. Just go.”