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I know that behind me, Tillie is inhaling deeply and tasting the air. We have to cut through a neighborhood to get to the docks, and I sense her interest in the everyday life of regular residents as she turns her head back and forth, the butt of the helmet rubbing across my spine.
La Jarra, like most islands, has its rich and its poor, its professionals and its laborers. This neighborhood is upper class, the houses painted in pastels with tidy yards filled with plants and palm trees. Mom lives in one like these on the opposite side of the island, long paid for by her career as a conservationist specializing in native wildlife. I had the best of everything growing up. I don’t take a moment of it for granted.
Then we turn down the road to the dock, and the white boats line up in a row.
She squeezes my waist, and I swear I hear an excited shriek almost lost in the wind.
I pull up behind Mendo’s Jeep and park against his bumper.
Tillie hops off the bike and jerks her helmet from her head. “There are so many boats!” She rises up on her toes to see more.
I spot Mendo on the dock, checking in his passengers. His brother, Zeke, waves from the rooftop over the deck. He’s coiling a red line.
Tillie waves back. “He has to be related to Mendo. They have the same posture.”
“It’s his brother.”
“They work together? Like Bodeen and Pete?”
“Lots of families have small businesses here.”
We wait until the regular passengers have all loaded to approach the boat. Mendo extends a hand to Tillie. When she gives it to him, he kisses the back of it. “I’m here to steal you away from this lug,” he says. “If it can be done, I’m gonna do it.”
“You’ll give him a run for his money,” Tillie says.
Mendo releases her and turns to me. “I heard the bar was crazy again yesterday. You should skip your days off until it dies down. Unless there’s something better than money.” He flashes his eyes at Tillie.
I’m not even touching that. “I appreciate you fitting us in.” I clap him on the back.
“It’s restitution for the crime of my word choice.” He puts his arms around both of us, taking up the middle. “Even though I’m pretty sure it was my flyers that got you all the biz.”
“You’re right,” Tillie says. “Gabe owes you. I’d make him pay.”
Mendo releases me and whirls Tillie away. “I’ll take the hottie.”
Tillie ducks under his arm and slides up next to me, wrapping her arm around my waist. “Gabe’s done got me hooked, Mendo. You snooze, you lose.”
I feel pulled in five directions at once. One, Tillie’s closeness. We’ve only held hands before, and now she’s connected to me without the rumble of the motorcycle and the necessity of her hanging on.
And the familiarity of all this talk. It’s like we’ve been dating for years, and this is the same ol’ shtick she and Mendo always play out.
For a moment I think,This is what my dating life could have been like all this time.
But that isn’t true. I shed the women before because I had to. I was compelled to shake them loose. With Tillie, I won’t have to. She has an expiration date.
“Had to take my shot,” Mendo says.
We follow him down the dock, and he extends a hand to lead Tillie onto the boat.
“I’ve got this,” I tell him.
Mendo jerks his hand back. “I see how it is.” He grins. “You two are already a thing.”
He’s thrilled I’m seeing her. It’s as plain as his foolishly happy expression.
The boat is cleaner than I remember, everything bright white. Zeke has climbed down and waits in the cabin for when we take off. Behind him is a door that leads to an open deck with seats on both sides.
We join a group of six tourists. I recognize two of them from the night of the wedding, the honeymooners who asked for Mendo’s card.
