Of Sea and Cloud (21 page)

Jason laughed and his laugh was a boom like a backfire that filled the empty room. Easy, Tiger, he said.

Easy? Turtle said. Easy? You bring me to a fucking strip joint and tell me to be easy?

This isn't a strip joint.

Turtle turned and looked at the mermaid. She held her hand out with the palm up and the wrist arched and the bracelets dangling. What the hell is that then, a fucking dolphin? Fucking Flipper with tits?

Osmond wrapped both hands around his drink and glanced at Renee. Her face looked to be smiling but her lips were set. She lifted one eyebrow at him. She picked at the tilefish.

Jason reached into the air and waved once and the bartender came over. He motioned for her to come closer and he said, Get that girl out of the water and give her some clothes.

The bartender looked around the room as if confused. Turtle pushed her chair back. Get that skinny bitch out of there or I'll get her myself.

The bartender grinned. Will you need a swimsuit?

Jason grunted. Here. Give her this and tell her to go home. He handed the bartender some bills. She nodded at Turtle and took the money. She went behind the bar and through a doorway and Osmond watched as the mermaid surfaced and climbed from his field of vision.

There, Jason said. How's that?

It's still a fucking strip joint, Turtle said.

Jason waited.

Osmond lifted a taquito between two fingers and ate it in a single bite. The fried fish shell crunched then dissolved in his mouth. Who sets the price? he said.

I do, Jason said.

Osmond leaned back in his chair and put his hand on Renee's leg and pulled the hem of her dress up so his hand was on bare skin. He felt the muscle twitch. I don't believe that, he said to Jason.

Jason laughed again. Good, he said. We'd be fools if we did. But I will tell you this. My price doesn't come from Tsukiji. It comes from my man. Japan buys one in every ten fish caught in the world. In the whole world, Osmond. You catch ten goldfish in your granddad's pond, you have to sell one of them to a Jap. The fish at the Tsukiji market are some of the best in the world, but that don't mean shit to a lobster. You know why? Because lobsters are alive, Osmond. Those haiku cocksuckers don't understand a living thing.

I'm not interested, Osmond said.

You will be. Jason ate three taquitos in a row then licked his fingers. China is emerging as a major lobster buyer. They think they want the same quality as Japan, but they're still in the dark in a lot of ways. They might have developed infrastructure, but they haven't developed taste. So we'll deal with Japan and China. The top goes to Japan, the second run goes to China. We go from there.

It's my pound, Jason, and I have no intention of giving it to you.

I don't want it. If I wanted a pound I'd buy a pound. Hell, I'd buy yours. What I want is you.

Those who conquer, Osmond said.

Yes, Jason said. They eat from the tree of life. But we aren't out to conquer, only to eat.

The bartender brought another bottle of sake and two plates of Arctic char crudo. The Arctic char came folded in layers of bright orange atop beds of shining green sea lettuce. Brown dots of miso and strips of shaved radish circled the plates. The bartender left and returned with a plate of steamed buns. In the center of each was a deep-fried lobster the size of a thumb. Jason tugged his sleeve up so his hairy wrist was exposed. He reached for a bun and packed the spilling pickled red onions and cabbage back into it. He ate it in two bites and the entire table heard his chewing.

Osmond eyed Jason. He lifted a bun and peered at the baby lobster and said, Any fisherman back home would cut your hands off for this.

The lobster? Don't eat it then, Jason said.

Osmond glanced at Jason then put the lobster bun in his mouth and chewed and swallowed. He sipped the sake and all of it was good but he had no appetite for it. He watched as Turtle ate down the lobster then the pickled vegetables then the bun.

Renee pushed the baby lobster aside and ate the bun together with a slice of the char.

Tell me this, friend, Jason said. He sipped his sake. Why haven't you discussed the situation with Nicolas's son? I am confused.

Don't worry about it.

I'm not worried, Jason said. I'm confused.

Osmond pushed his chair back. He looked at the hoops that Turtle wore in her ears and the red lipstick. How old are you? he asked her.

Jason grinned big at Osmond.

Guess, Turtle said.

I don't guess.

I don't tell.

Osmond's jaw clenched then relaxed and he squeezed Renee's thigh.

Turtle ran a finger over the corner of her mouth as if to wipe away a crumb or hide a smile. The bartender returned and Turtle said, Can I get a cheeseburger and fries? Rare.

A cheeseburger and fries, the bartender said. She looked at Jason then to Turtle.

Yeah, a cheeseburger and fries.

The bartender nodded but didn't move.

Jason pushed his chair back as if to stand but stayed seated. I should have introduced you, he said. This is Turtle. She used to manage the fish exchange in Honolulu. Now she's with me. She gets whatever she wants. Turtle, this is Kate. She's the best bartender in the city so don't give her any of your pidgin bullshit.

There was a moment of silence before Kate said, A cheeseburger?

Rare. With fries.

Kate nodded and left.

Jason cleared his throat and turned to Osmond. He fingered several pieces of Arctic char into his mouth followed by a pinch of sea lettuce. Nicolas's son, Osmond?

Osmond folded his hands in his lap. Nicolas was my friend, he began. I have not discussed things with William because I initially thought we were on the same page. Now I understand that we are not, and I will talk to him.

Why wouldn't Nicolas tell him you were insured?

Osmond looked over his shoulder at the vacant tank as if searching for solace in water then said, So you buy the bugs from me same as ever?

Same as ever.

And you pay for the facility.

Yes.

Who runs the wharf? And the tank house? Who runs the trucks and pays the maintenance? Who gets fucked when the power goes out?

We'll have a manager that works for me but answers to you.

I don't believe you, Jason, Osmond said.

I don't expect you to. That's why you are here.

Osmond blinked.
That's why I am here
, he thought and once again he saw his friend Nicolas Graves alive in the sea and he felt suddenly that he would lose his bowels. He clenched every muscle in his body to keep hold of whatever remained within him. He stood. He saw Nicolas's eyes ready to go down. He excused himself and hurried to the restroom and into a stall where he braced both hands flat on the wall and saw Nicolas later only a skull flung to the sea. Osmond's hair hung beyond his cheeks. He stared at the water in the porcelain bowl. A bead of sweat fell and landed in the toilet and he closed his eyes.

Goddamn you, Osmond whispered. Goddamn you.

The next evening. Osmond sat at the end of the bar in his house. Rhonda and Dolly were in their bedroom and he could hear Dolly's constant chatter. He held a glass of scotch in his hand. An open bible lay on the bar and there had been a time when the men in those pages were the men in his life and miracles were commonplace and belief and truth were one but belief was no longer truth and the time of miracles was over. Faith was forever and Osmond's faith was in his ability to navigate a world as empty and chaotic as the whirlwind but now suddenly he felt that faith cracking.

He sipped his scotch. The south wall of his house was built of floor-to-ceiling picture windows that framed his wharf and boat and beyond that the reach and the bridge that arched across to Mason's Island. To the southwest an archipelago stretched offshore to Spencer Ledges and the sea-swell rolled and heaved against the outside ledges. White spray hung in the air.

On the wall opposite Osmond stood an eight-foot-long saltwater fish tank with a lobster the size of his leg lying motionless in it. Osmond drank his scotch and looked to the lobster. There you are, he whispered. I see you waiting.

He went back to his reading and read several verses and as he read his lips mouthed the words and his right hand slid a check in circles on the bar top. The check was for $35,000. Ten thousand pounds of lobster at three fifty a pound. Osmond pressed it into the bar top to still it. If Nicolas were alive he would deposit the check into the business account and split it down the middle. Any expenses incurred throughout the year would be likewise split.

But Osmond's world had shifted.

Chimney was in prison and Nicolas was dead and Julius had bought a new boat and moved out. Whether Julius was to be trusted or not Osmond had no idea. Osmond had simultaneously abandoned his brother and his beliefs for a woman and he'd lost both her and their child. And he'd later sacrificed Nicolas his only friend with his own hands. Osmond understood these three deaths to be elements of providence and he understood that fear and fragility came in apocalyptic waves which rose and fell with the corrosive power of tides and what remained when fear finished was love and faith and love and faith together meant blood.

But I have this against you, Osmond whispered as if speaking to the lobster. That you, you have abandoned love.

And here he sat about to abandon Nicolas's son William. But that was not a choice of his. That was a choice he and Nicolas made together and they had never once doubted that decision but neither Nicolas nor Osmond had ever doubted who would die first. Nicolas had not been the sort of man to die. But Osmond was not the sort of man to abandon his family. Not again. After Laura died he'd spent years believing her death to be his punishment for abandoning the church and the only way he'd survived was to accept his punishment and accept life as a consciousness dissolved within predestination like salt within water. There existed a God who was neither good nor evil and that God saved those souls chosen regardless of sin or sacrifice. A man must walk this earth with steps true and sure but now and always now was Nicolas Graves.

Osmond wished briefly that he had been the one to drown. To feel the cold waves. But even as the wish formed he threw it away like a coin down a well and focused instead on the question, How the hell had Nicolas Graves ended up a skeleton within the pound?

There was no explanation. None save for a man's hands but whose hands and how?

Julius's truck tore through his thoughts and down the driveway and soon Julius came into the house. He went first to the girls' room and Osmond heard him talk to his sisters and ten minutes later he sat on a stool at the bar and faced the lobster tank. Behind him the sea rose and fell in smooth gun-gray swell. Osmond watched the boy as if seeking evidence of his own blood.

Osmond didn't speak. He sipped his drink and spun the melting ice cubes around the glass. He stood and took a piece of salt cod from a glass jar and dropped it into the fish tank. The lobster backed into its cave with its two claws sticking out and waited as the fish settled to the bottom.

We have to make some decisions, Julius. About our future.

I got my future decided. I got my boat and that's it.

Osmond reached his long arm slowly across the bar and gripped Julius's hand and squeezed it until he saw the muscles work in Julius's face. The blood rushed up Julius's neck and pulsed in a lightning bolt vein across his temple and forehead and beneath his ear. Osmond relaxed his grip. No, that is not it. Nicolas is gone. What happens from this point on is our decision. You have a long way to go. You have been spoiled, Julius.

I earned every cent I got.

Osmond put his hand back on his own drink. How have you earned it?

Working for the old man. Hell I know his operation in and out and ran half of it myself.

So why aren't you in prison as well?

I'm careful.

You're careful? A careful man considers his future. The pound has a lot of potential, but it is a lot of work, Julius. It will take commitment and perseverance.

I ain't a pound man. I'm a fisherman, plain and simple. You can do whatever you want.

Osmond stood fast from his seat. His hair swung in a swish like a cape as he grabbed Julius by the back of the neck and squeezed. He bent over and the heat and moisture of Osmond's mouth shot into Julius's ear.

This pound is not for me, Julius. This pound is for this family. It is for you. It is for your future and that of your family, and it is for your sisters' future, and I have sacrificed myself for those futures. I have sacrificed myself, he repeated slowly as his free hand landed first on Julius's chest then moved to his throat where the fingers wrapped the tender skin.

Do you understand?

Julius didn't answer. Osmond pinched the neck harder and Julius's back arched scorpion-like and his feet kicked and air escaped his mouth and he gagged. Osmond released him and sat on the barstool beside him then reached over and pushed gently on Julius's lips as if to silence the boy. Julius's breath evened and Osmond ran his hand through Julius's hair.

That pound ain't shit, Julius said.

Osmond gripped the jugular in his fingers. He saw Nicolas in the water and he squeezed and the jugular was a grape in his grip as Nicolas thrashed and Julius squirmed. Nicolas went under for this boy who did not even care. Osmond ground his teeth and squeezed harder and tears spilled from the sides of each man's eyes and Julius dug his fingernails into his palms and his mouth flattened into a line. His back arched again.

Osmond released him and slowly nodded. He finished his drink and placed the glass upside down in Julius's palm as if marking the boy. He looked out the window at his boat on the mooring and the gray ripples on the ocean. He ran a finger over his mustache and said, The question now is what changes will be made at the pound.

Julius gripped the glass. He closed his eyes. I'd say it's going to need quite a few changes, he said.