Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
“Which lakes?” I asked him, sucking up his information.
He rattled off the names of a handful of lakes and reservoirs in the area. “What are they stocked with?”
“Large-mouth bass, trout. You can find perch….” Mr. Rhodes named a few other different kinds of fish I’d never heard of, and I asked him how to spell them. He did, leaning back against the chair and crossing his arms over his chest, the raccoon-watching face back on his features.
I smiled, feeling a little too pleased with myself for making him wary, even though I didn’t want him to think I was some weirdo creeper. But the truth was, it was good when people didn’t know what to expect from you. They can’t creep up behind you if they don’t know what way you’re going to look.
I asked him if there was still good bass fishing and got a lengthy answer that was way more complicated than I’d anticipated. His eyeballs were lasers aimed on my face the entire time. His shade of gray was pretty incredible. The color looked almost lavender sometimes.
“How much are licenses and how can people buy them?” I asked.
I ignored the way his eyes widened like this was common sense. “Online, and it depends on if they’re out of state or residents.” He then told me the prices of the licenses… and how much the fines were if someone was caught without one.
“Do you bust a lot of people for not having licenses?”
“Do you really want to waste this time asking me about work?” he asked slowly and seriously.
It was my turn to blink. Rude. What was that? Three for four times now? “Yeah, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked,” I muttered. I really did have better things to ask but fucking attitude. Jeez.
One of those dark eyebrows rose, and he kept his response simple. “Yes” was his informative answer.
Well, this was going well. Mr. Friendly and all that.
Too bad for him I was friendly enough for both of us.
“What are the different kinds of line you use for fishing?”
He instantly shook his head. “That’s too hard to explain without showing you.”
My shoulders dropped, but I nodded. “Which of those lakes would you still recommend?”
“Depends,” he started as I jotted down all the information I could handle. He was in the middle of telling me what places he didn’t recommend when we heard, “Hey, Dad—oh.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the same time Mr. Rhodes looked in the same direction to find Amos standing halfway into the living area, holding a bag of chips in one hand.
“Hi,” I greeted the kid.
His face turned red, but he still managed to say, “Hi.” His hand slid out of the bag and hung at his side. “Uh, I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“Your dad is helping me with some fishing questions,” I tried to explain. “For work.”
The boy wandered closer, rolling the top of the bag up to close it. He looked really good. He seemed to be walking just fine, and his color was back to normal.
“How’s your missing appendix?”
“Fine.” He came to stand beside us, eyes going straight for the notebook I’d been in the middle of writing in.
I angled it toward him so he could see what I’d written. “I meant to tell you that you could play... music… in the garage any time you want. It won’t bother me at all,” I said.
The teenager’s gaze flicked toward the man sitting there. “I’m grounded,” the teenager admitted. “Dad said I can start going into the garage again soon if it’s okay with you.”
“It’s totally okay.” I smiled. “I brought some muffins if you want one.” I gestured to the container in the center of the table.
“You got five minutes left,” Mr. Rhodes interjected suddenly.
Shit. He was right. “Well… just finish telling me what you don’t recommend then.”
He did.
And I wrote down just about everything he said. Only when he’d stopped talking did I set my pen down, close my notebook, and smile at both of them. “Well, thank you for helping me. I really appreciate it.” I pushed back from the chair and stood up.
Both of them just kept on watching me silently. Like father, like son, I guess. Except Mr. Rhodes didn’t seem shy—just grumpy or guarded, I couldn’t tell yet—and Amos did.
“Bye, Amos. Hope you keep feeling better,” I said as I backed away from the table. “Thank you again, Mr. Rhodes.”
The stern man undid his arms, and I was pretty positive he sighed again before muttering, sounding so reluctant his next words surprised the shit out of me. “Tomorrow, same time. Thirty minutes.”
What!
“You’ll answer more questions?”
He dipped his chin, but his mouth was pressed down on the sides in a way that said he was already second-guessing himself.
I backed up some more, ready to run before he changed his mind. “You’re the best, thank you! I don’t want to wear out my welcome but thank you, thank you! Have a good night! Bye!” I shouted before basically running toward the door and closing it behind me.