Trap Line - Carl Hiaasen [59]
Laurie could control herself no longer.
“Bobby is right. Listen to him,” she begged. “Use your brains.”
“There is strength in numbers,” Freed said. “There are thousands around here who feel the same way we do about life. Thousands who resent living like second-class citizens because of what they believe. Collectively, we know a lot, and there are many things we can do. We need to pool our talents, band together.”
“That’s an interesting proposition, Bobby,” said a Miami lawyer who had just moved his practice to Key West. “Exactly what do you have in mind?”
Freed told them.
“We aren’t vigilantes,” the lawyer objected.
“No, that’s the beauty of it. We don’t have to be. We can make the circumstance speak for itself.”
“It has possibilities,” the lawyer observed.
“I like it,” said a teacher.
“So do I,” said a bridge tender from Marathon.
“Do it, do it!” Laurie clapped her hands in excitement. “Make a list of all the assholes. Get them one at a time. It’s great!”
“A list,” someone cried in a room suddenly alive with righteous enthusiasm. “A hit list.”
“Can we agree on who is to head the list?” Freed asked.
“Fatso Barnett,” came the unanimous shouted reply.
When the last of the men filed out of the Cowrie near midnight, Laurie leaned against the door with a contented sigh. Bobby Freed sat alone, staring vacantly at a yellow pad.
“Bobby, you’re wonderful. I’m so proud.” Impetuously, Laurie leaned over the table and planted a kiss on Freed’s lips.
“Why, uh, thanks, Laurie. I hope … I hope it works.”
“Work? Sure it will work. Let’s celebrate. I’m going to open a bottle of champagne, OK?”
“Sure.”
Their glasses clinked.
“To justice,” said Laurie.
“Amen,” said Freed.
They drank in companionable silence for a time, until Freed spoke at last.
“Laurie, I don’t think I could have done it without your help and …”
“Of course you could.”
Freed seemed suddenly unsure of himself, perplexed. He drank deeply.
“Look, Laurie, I meant what I said about Neal. He’s not coming back. I bought him out. And I wondered, you know, I thought you might be interested in becoming my partner. You know, a business like this is easier with two people….”
“Oh, Bobby, you are sweet. I’d love it. But you know I’m broke.”
“Oh, the money wouldn’t matter,” Freed said quickly. “It’s just that … well, I like having you around. I mean, you already make a lot of the decisions. Besides, I …”
“Besides what?”
“Well, Laurie, I’ve never related to women well, but, what I mean is … I find you tremendously attractive.”
“Bobby, you’re blushing.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything.” He looked away.
“Bobby, I think you are one of the sweetest and most gentle and strongest men I have ever met.”
He looked back. “It’s more than that, Laurie. It’s not that I find you attractive as a person—I mean, I do, of course—but you’re attractive to me as …” He took a breath. “Jesus, this is funny to say. As a woman.”
He leaned over then and hesitantly, awkwardly, kissed her on the lips.
Laurie sat back, startled.
“Oh, Bob.”
“Did you like that?”
“Well, yes. You surprised me, that’s all.”
“I’m surprising myself, too, Laurie.”
She smiled.
“Then do it again.”
They kissed then, in earnest, and embraced with a heat that eventually carried them off the table onto the floor, where Laurie led Bobby Freed through quick pathfinder’s love.
Chapter 17
THE MUTED THUMPS of bare feet on the deck aroused Breeze Albury from sleep. Jimmy stood in the doorway to the cabin, a lean silhouette in the twilight.
“Breeze,” he whispered. “Breeze, you awake?”
Albury propped himself up on the bunk and massaged the fatigue from his forehead. “Yeah, I’m up. What’s going on? Everything OK with the other boat?”
Jimmy nodded. “Augie flicked the lights about an hour ago. He’s fine. Someone just came on the radio for you.”
“By name?”
“No. Lucky Seven. Same as before.”
Crystal, Albury thought. Winnebago Tom is ready to talk. He’s sending his answer through Crystal.
“I’ll go call him back,” Albury said, rising.
“He doesn’t want you to, Breeze. The message