“Gimme a minute with this rifle.”
“No. Right now.”
She took his hand—the claw-hobbled hand!—and led him into the shadows of the mangroves. Shiner was dumbfounded. Was the girl crazy?
Bode Gazzer didn’t like it, either. He caught himself grinding his molars; the only thing that could make him do that was a woman. Don’t get stupid, he warned himself. It’s no time to grow horns. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about her; about what the Mossy Oak jumpsuit would smell like after she removed it. Or after Chub tore it off, in which case Bode might have to blow the man’s brains out. Purely for the sake of maintaining discipline.
Twenty yards into the woods, Amber turned and put the flashlight on Chub’s face. She said, “I know what you want.”
“It don’t take a genius.”
“Well, this can go two ways,” she told him. “You can be a pig and rape me, and I’ll hate your guts forever. Or we can get to know each other and see what happens.”
With his good eye Chub squinted against the spear of light, trying to read Amber’s expression. He said, “I thought you already liked me jest fine. Seemed that way at the resty-rant.”
“Let me explain something: Just because I smile at a customer doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.”
The word rocked Chub on his heels.
“And if you rape me,” Amber said, “it will be the worst time you ever had with a woman. The worst.”
“Wh-why?”
“Because I’m not moving a muscle, I’m not making a sound. I’m going to lie there like a cold sack of mud, bored out of my mind. I might even time you.” She held up her wrist, so he could get a glimpse of her watch.
Chub said, “Jesus Willy.” Feeling himself wither, he now wished he’d put on some pants.
“Or we can try to be friends,” Amber said. “Think you can handle that?”
“Sure.” His ears were buzzing. He slapped at them.
“Bugs,” Amber said. She shooed them away.
“Thanks.”
“We got a deal?” She held out her hand. Chub took it. Briefly he considered throwing her down and sticking it to her right there, but he decided against it. Fucking a cold sack of mud didn’t sound like much fun, even if the sack looked like a movie star. He thought: Hell, at least hookers acted like they were having a good time.
“What kinda guys you go for?” he asked. “Your boyfriend don’t seem all too polite, neither.”
Amber said, “Sometimes he’s not.”
“Then how come you stay with him? He rich?”
“He does all right.” A big fat lie.
“I bet I’m richer,” Chub said.
“Oh, sure.”
“How does fourteen million damn dollars sound?”
The flashlight clicked off. In the shadows he heard Amber say, “You’re kidding.” The smell of perfume was stronger than before, as if she’d moved closer.
“No, I ain’t kidding. Fourteen million.”
Amber said, “I want to hear all about it.”
There was a break in the rolling clouds, and for a few moments Chub could see her eyes by the light of the stars. He felt himself twitching back to life; inadvertently his claw hand went to his groin.
She said, “Maybe tomorrow we can go for a walk. Just the two of us.”
“Fine by me.” The excitement made him light-headed.
The next time Amber spoke, it was a whisper: “Oh, I’ve got something for you.” She took his unwounded hand—the one clenched at his side—opened it gently and pressed something soft into the palm.
Even in the blackness Chub knew what it was.
Her orange Hooters shorts.
“A little token of our friendship,” she said.
21
Cold rain fell after midnight, slapping at the leaves. Bodean Gazzer was curled up beside the hissing embers, where he’d passed out from exhaustion. Chub was splayed in the cockpit of the Reel Luv. To his chest he clutched Amber’s waitress shorts, a beer bottle and a tube of poly-urethane marine adhesive he’d come across while rifling a hatch. He had gnawed off the plastic nipple and placed the glue inside a paper grocery bag, leaving space for his head. Amber doubted if the storm would rouse him; his snoring sounded like a locomotive.