Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
He walks across the tiny living room of our two-bedroom apartment that has a glimpse of the bay between two ugly buildings. His shoulders are tense and I can almost hear the wheels turning in his head. Aaron’s usually the responsible one—the one charged with looking after his two dipshit brothers, so I know whatever he decides will be the right choice.
Try telling my gut that.
My stomach is in knots for unknown reasons and I hate the feeling.
Is that how Aaron feels whenever me or Jesse do something reckless?
“The sun is shining,” Aaron says, gesturing at the glass. “It’s just a half-day booking. I’ll be in and out within a few hours. You don’t have to worry.”
What he doesn’t mention is how much he needs this booking. How even though San Francisco is thriving compared to other parts of the country, he’s seen a significant drop in bookings in the past six months or so. We don’t know if it’s because people are holding onto their money and filling their Doomsday coffers as extreme weather happenings become more common or if the flooding and oceanic events along the Gulf of Mexico and eastern seaboard causing fear in would-be passengers are to blame.
“We need this,” Aaron says softly, pulling my attention back to him. “It’s only one of two this entire month we have booked and you know that’s barely enough to cover payroll.”
The storm clouds I’d seen earlier have since dissipated. Maybe I’m worrying over nothing.
Like your parents did…
Mom and Dad were fanatics about the moon’s deterioration and its effect on the Earth. The pure definition of moon maniacs. What killed them in the end was their obsession, not an actual catastrophe.
I will not be like them.
“I know,” I relent with a sigh. “You’re a damn good captain. Plus, someone has to earn more than my measly seventeen bucks an hour. We won’t be able to keep Jesse out of jail on my salary alone.”
Aaron winces and shakes his head in frustration. “Jesse is not going to jail. I don’t care if I have to chain his ass to that sofa to keep him out of trouble.”
“He’s suspended for a week. There’s no telling what kind of shit he’s going to get himself into with all that downtime.”
“That’s why he’s going with me,” Aaron grumbles. “Wayne can keep him busy cleaning and filleting any fish the clients catch.”
Jesse is going to love that. Giddiness rises up inside me. He’s a cocky, rude sixteen-year-old who lives on his phone. Knee-deep in fish guts will do well to knock him down a few pegs.
“Shall I share the good news?” I ask, grinning. “Please, please, please.”
Aaron smirks. “Good luck getting him out of bed.”
Eager to torment my baby brother, I saunter back into the room we share. He’s sprawled out on the twin bed on his side of our bedroom, tangled up in his covers and softly snoring. I walk over to his end table, stepping over discarded boots and clothes to pick up a half-empty bottle of water. After unscrewing the cap, I take great joy in dumping it out on the back of his head.
“What the f—” he roars, jerking upright.
“Wake up, princess,” I say, cutting him off. “The captain requires your services.”
He shoots me the bird before flopping onto his side, avoiding the wet spot on the bed. “Go away. I’m on vacation.”
I start rummaging through his pile of random junk on his messy dresser, knowing it will piss him off. “You’re suspended for shoving your art teacher. It’s called punishment, not vacation, dumbass.”
“Mr. Davis called me trash,” Jesse snaps, lip curling up. “I’m not trash.”
Lifting a brow, I gesture at his clutter everywhere. “Nope. Not you,” I deadpan. “How could he ever think such a horrible thing?”
He flips me off again, but I’m immune to his bratty outbursts. Been dealing with them ever since Dad shot our mother in the head before turning the gun on himself. I’m not Mr. Davis. He can’t shove me away like he’s always trying to shove away his issues. I’m his brother and I’ll shove back.
“Get dressed and be ready to go out the door in ten. Aaron has a deep-sea private charter today. It’s big money. Earn your keep today and he might pay you.”
Jesse groans. “Bruh. Seriously? I hate the Angler-traz. It’s a disgusting excuse for a boat, Ty.”
I smirk at the name Aaron chose for his environmentally green, thirty-two-foot Wegley fishing boat. It’s a play on fishing and the Alcatraz. His clients love the connection and even buy Angler-traz merch from his website.
“The disgusting Angler-traz is what keeps Nikes on your feet and an iPhone in your pocket.”
There’s no use bringing up the fact that the Angler-traz is what keeps Aaron sinking and barely making ends meet. That boat loan has his company, Walsh at the Wharf, in debt up to its eyeballs.