The First Step, page 4
Reed pulled his notebook out of his inner jacket pocket and scribbled something down. What the hell was so interesting about working as a pilot for eight years? His life wasn’t exactly exciting.
“That makes you relatively new to this, then,” Reed said after a moment.
So the guy had actually done his homework. Well good for him. “Yes.”
Reed smiled, but this time Justin saw irritation flicker in his gaze. “Do you enjoy the work?”
“Yes.” Of course he did.
“What about it do you enjoy?”
Justin shrugged.
“The money’s really good, right?”
Yes/no questions were easier to dodge, except when they led you by the nose to the wrong answer. “That has nothing to do with it.” The generous salary went a long way to making up for years spent apprenticing and the long shifts, but it wasn’t the reason he did his job.
“So why do you do it, then?”
“I don’t know.” Justin never really thought about why he liked the job. “I just do.”
“Is it about being on the water?”
“Yes. I guess.”
The hint of a sigh escaped Reed’s lips. “Mr. Vance. Justin—can I call you Justin?” Before Justin could object, Reed continued, “Justin, we’d be able to get this over with a lot faster if you’d answer my questions fully.”
“What? I am answering your questions.” No way in hell was he going to make Reed’s job easier. Reed sure hadn’t made things easy for him.
Reed set his notebook down and met Justin’s gaze. “How about a change of scenery?”
“What’s wrong with the room?” Justin had always found it comfortable.
“Nothing. I was thinking more about dinner.” Reed looked hopeful.
“Dinner? What for?” Justin glanced at his watch.
“I figured you might be hungry.” Reed smiled once more, and Justin’s hackles rose. This man was supremely irritating, not only because he was wasting time, but—“My treat.”
“You want to take me out to dinner?”
Reed chuckled and seemed to relax a bit more. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I’m going to eat dinner even if you don’t join me.”
“I…. Okay.” He could work with that.
“Great.” Reed stood and stretched long arms over his head, revealing an inch or so of pale skin on his abdomen. “So where to?”
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, Justin sat across a table from Reed at the Shuckin’ Shack in Wilmington, sipping a beer. He’d suggested the place when Reed mentioned seafood. The cheap beers were a plus. He’d need a few to get through the interview.
“You live around here?” Reed picked up an oyster and eyed it greedily before sucking it down. The way he wrapped his lips around the shell made Justin squirm a little.
“Yep.” Focus on the conversation, not his mouth.
Reed raised his eyebrows, a gesture Justin was quickly learning meant he’d expected Justin to say more on the topic. Justin didn’t take the bait. He wasn’t one to offer up details, especially to people he didn’t know.
“You know—” Reed leaned across the table and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “—I don’t bite.”
Justin laughed in spite of himself. “That remains to be seen.”
“Hah! You do have a sense of humor. And here I thought there was nothing I could do to break through that tough skin of yours.”
Justin snagged an oyster and pointed it at Reed. “Carolina Beach.”
“Carolina Beach?”
“You asked where I live.” Justin was enjoying the banter. Still, Reed was dangerous in so many ways, not the least of which because he was so damn charming.
“Oh.”
“You’re thinkin’ I’m not the surfer type.”
“Are you?” Reed appeared genuinely interested.
“I’d rather be on the water than in it.” One of Kerry’s kids tried to teach him to surf a few years back. He preferred to forget the moment of insanity when he’d agreed to make a complete fool of himself. Not to mention the swim trunks filled with sand and the gallon of saltwater he’d swallowed in the process.
“Powerboat?”
“Sailboat.”
Reed’s expression changed noticeably. “A monohull?” He seemed genuinely eager to know. What’s more, he seemed to know something about boats.
“Yep. A Beneteau Oceanus.”
“Beautiful boats. The thirty-five footer?”
“Forty-one.” Justin narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you actually knew something about boats?”
“If I had, would you have been nicer?” Reed grinned.
“You’re pushing your luck.” Justin wished Reed wouldn’t run his hand over his lips like that. It was way too distracting.
“Can’t blame a man for trying.” Reed waved the waitress over and ordered them another round of drinks. “So does this mean you’ll answer my questions with more than a single syllable?”
“Still pushing your luck.” Justin swallowed another oyster. “But if you’ll answer one for me….”
“Go for it.” Reed slipped off his jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. “I’m ready for anything.”
Way too tempting. Justin went with the safest and most obvious. “How do you know so much about boats?”
“My folks sent me to sailing camp in the summers. My dad had a little trailerable we’d drag to Lake Lure near Charlotte on long weekends. Mom never came, but we’d sleep aboard.” For an instant Reed looked a lot like the kid he must have been, as if the memory had opened a door into a happy time in his life. “I don’t know how to sail boats like yours, though. Mostly I read sailing magazines and dream about learning to sail the bigger boats.”
Justin banished the thought of inviting Reed aboard The First Step and reminded himself he was only here tonight because Greg told him to play nice. Best to change the topic. “So you’re from Charlotte?”
“That’s two questions,” Reed pointed out, “and I haven’t gotten to ask mine.”
Reed was definitely irritating, but in a cute sort of way. And now that Justin knew he could push back a little…. “Maybe you’ll get more than you bargained for in return.” Justin grinned, then took another sip of beer.
Reed mumbled something under his breath, interrupted when the waitress brought their beers and a plate piled high with steamed crab legs, peel-and-eat shrimp, and clams.
“What was that?” He picked up a crab leg and pointed it at Reed.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but Reed’s cheeks pinked. “Nothing. Where were we?”
“You know damn well where we were.” Justin cracked the leg and began to work on it, all the while keeping half an eye on Reed, who looked embarrassed. Good. Serves him right.
“I grew up in the mountains, outside Hendersonville,” Reed said after a long swallow of his beer. He spoke the words as though he was reciting his bio, as if he didn’t care, but the slight hint of tension in his jaw made Justin want to know more.
“Your family still there?”
“I agreed to one more question.” Reed took another swig of beer. Judging by the pain reflected in Reed’s eyes, maybe they had more than just a love of sailboats in common. “What about you? Where’re you from?”
Justin’s shoulders tensed even though he’d expected the question. “Down East. Harker’s Island.”
“Folks still there?”
Too close for comfort. “Next question.” Justin peeled a shrimp, dipped it in butter, then downed it with a swig of beer. Some questions were permanently off-limits.
“Moving on, then.” Reed scribbled something in his notebook, which by this point had several splashes of melted butter prominently featured on the page. Justin pointed to them. “It’ll give the piece more character,” Reed said.
“You don’t usually write this sort of thing, do you?” He liked keeping Reed on his toes.
“That’s another question,” Reed pointed out.
“You’ve got a few more to answer before we’re even.” It was a lot more fun when he was the one asking the questions.
“Fine. And no, I don’t usually write lifestyle stories.” Reed frowned. “Wait. How did you…? Of course. Internet.” He shook his head and the edges of his mouth curved ever so slightly upward.
“I may spend most of my time on the water, but I know how to use a computer.”
“Touché.” Reed looked pleased that Justin had googled him.
“So why are you here?”
“If you looked me up, you already know.”
“I didn’t get that far,” Justin lied. He’d seen the story of how Reed nearly started a brawl at a political fund-raiser, but he wanted to hear it from Reed.
Reed sighed. “I punched a bigot who had it coming to him.” He didn’t elaborate, and Justin figured it was best to let it go. He could fill in the blanks. “My editor said I needed to cool my heels. And voila! Here I am, living the good life and eating fresh seafood with a guy who captains container ships.”
“I don’t captain,” Justin corrected. “I help ships’ masters in and out of port. And not just container ships. We’ve got boats transporting fertilizer and other chemicals, grains, and wood products.” Why did I just offer up more than he asked? Either the alcohol or Reed was getting to him. Probably the latter.
“What’s the difference between a ship’s master and her captain?”
Justin had to give Reed credit—he clearly listened to the answers and thought about them. “A ship’s master is just what it sounds like—master of the ship. Someone else can captain the ship, but the master is always the boss.”
“So when a pilot comes aboard, the pilot captains the ship?” Reed sked.
“Yep.”
“So in your business you really don’t call the person in charge of a vessel a captain.”
Justin nodded. “Yep. Although with a pleasure craft—like a sailboat—everyone calls the operator a captain.”
“How did you get into the business? Did you grow up watching the big boats coming in and think, ‘I want to do that someday’?”
As if. “Something like that.” Justin didn’t like the conversation veering back toward the personal side of things.
“I was honest with you when I answered your questions,” Reed pointed out as he dipped another shrimp in melted butter.
“Honest but short.”
“Okay. How about we try that approach first, then? How did you train to be a pilot, other than apprenticing? And don’t try to dodge the question.”
“Navy. I shipped out when I turned eighteen.” With two broken fingers his dad gave him as a going-away gift. He’d been lucky that’s all his father gave him.
Justin expected Reed would push the issue, but all he said was “Got it. Tell me about Marty Gaines.”
Justin considered how to respond, finally settling on “He was a mentor to me.”
“I heard he lives in town,” Reed pressed.
“Yep.”
“We’re done with the interview, aren’t we?” Reed didn’t seem irritated. He seemed to understand Justin’s limits, and for that Justin was thankful.
“Yep.”
“I have one more question,” Reed said.
Justin frowned in reply.
Reed chewed thoughtfully on the last of the shrimp and wiped his lips. “How about showing me the best beach around here?”
Justin chuckled. “Don’t push your luck.” Reed might be charming, but Justin had no intention of letting things go further. Reed was far too dangerous, even for a one-and-done hookup.
“YOU HAD dinner with who?” Marty set the newspaper down and frowned and screwed up his nose as if he smelled something bad.
“Do you need anything else, Mr. Gaines?” the nurse, Caroline, asked. Marty waved her away, and she shot Justin a knowing smile. He’d catch up with her later to get the low-down on how Marty was doing.
“I had dinner with a reporter from New York,” Justin repeated. “It wasn’t all that bad.”
“Oh?”
“He’s doing a story on the river pilots. The governor’s office called Greg, and I’m the one who got saddled with him.”
Marty nodded. “You just said dinner wasn’t all that bad.”
“Dinner was tasty. The reporter interviewed me at the Shuckin’ Shack. All the questions were a pain in the—”
“He nice?” Marty waggled his eyebrows.
“I guess he was nice.” Maybe better than nice. But he wasn’t going there. Marty might know he was gay, but the last thing Justin wanted was for the other pilots to figure it out. Best to steer the conversation elsewhere. “How are you doing?”
“Me?” Marty shrugged. “We’ve had chicken pot pie three days in a row now. I’m about to sprout feathers.”
More likely Marty had forgotten what they’d served. Stately Pines wasn’t a five-star restaurant, but they did try to mix things up for the residents. “How about I bring you something next time I come?”
Marty brightened. “Persimmons.”
“That’s all? Persimmons?”
Marty nodded. “You still have that tree, right?” Marty’s ability to remember things in the past always amazed Justin.
“Yep.”
“That’s what I want.”
“Okay. Got it.” Justin typed a reminder in his phone. The tree was exploding with fruit this time of year. He’d bring a bucket and offer some up to the nurses.
“Bring in any ships this week?” Marty asked. He asked the same question every time. Justin understood—it was partly living vicariously and partly pride that made him ask. Without Marty, Justin would probably still be sailing on one of the big ships.
“Eight. Six containers and two tankers. Barely missed a whale near the inlet.” He’d had to steer the ship to the edge of the channel to avoid the humpback. He purposely didn’t mention the near miss with Reed’s boat.
“That’s early. Usually don’t see ’em until November,” Marty pointed out. “I remember when I saw a mother and calf upriver in ’72 or ’73. Bunch of pleasure craft decided they’d chase ’em up near the port. Between the boats and the whales, we barely made it in.”
Justin had heard the story a dozen times. “Must’ve been rough.”
“Ship’s master was sweating like a sinner in church. You should’ve seen him. Bought me a round in town afterward.” Marty grinned like a kid who’d hit his first home run.
“I bet.”
“So who’d you have dinner with tonight?” Marty asked.
“A reporter.”
“A reporter?”
Justin’s watch pinged and he stood. “I need to pick Leila up from Kerry’s place. I’ll tell you all about it next time.”
“Sure thing. And while you’re at it, why don’t you bring some of those persimmons from that tree of yours? Food here’s terrible.”
Justin nodded. “Will do.”
Outside, the moon had risen over the river. The mournful sigh of a train’s whistle echoed from the distance. The slight tang of salt on the breeze felt like home.
Justin drew a long breath and brushed away the ache. Even if Marty didn’t remember he’d asked for them, he’d enjoy the persimmons.
Chapter Seven
REED TOSSED his notebook onto the bed and walked over to the window. A lone boat sailed up the Cape Fear River, mostly likely headed for one of the marinas near the Isobel Holmes Bridge north of downtown. The buzz of the beers he’d drunk with Justin had nearly worn off, leaving him with a pleasant, relaxed feeling.
He’d nearly finished writing the GenX story, but the two days he’d spent working on the pilot story hadn’t gotten him very far. The time he’d spent with Justin over dinner was only the down payment—stories about people usually progressed more slowly. Reed welcomed the challenge of getting Justin to open up. Over dinner, he’d sensed not only Justin’s hesitation, but something lingering beneath. Another Justin threatening to bubble up to the surface and—
An image of Justin sucking on a crab leg popped into his thoughts. Focus! This was business. Even if Justin was interested, Reed understood that in this line of work, it was tough enough to fit in as a relative newbie. A year or two of gay marriage hadn’t changed much in this part of the state.
Left home at eighteen. Reed had done the same, but to go to college. Something in the way Justin had avoided the topic of his family made Reed want to know more. Things hadn’t been easy growing up with a Jewish mother in the North Carolina mountains, but he and his mom had done okay. This was something more painful—something beneath Justin’s confident exterior and sense of humor.
Not relevant to the story. All he needed to do was follow Justin around and write the story. The rest didn’t matter. So why did he want to know more about the man? Reed closed his eyes for a moment and thought about what it might be like to spend some time with Justin. Get to know him. Figure him out.
An image of Justin lying in the sand, shirtless, popped into his brain. He imagined running his hand over that powerful chest, exploring Justin’s smooth skin with his tongue, and—
Focus! If relationships were just about sex, life would be a hell of a lot easier. His job was the best kind of relationship. It kept him busy enough that he didn’t care if there was someone waiting for him at home.
This is about getting your job back and nothing more.
Reed pulled out his laptop and began to organize some of the notes he’d taken. He’d figured out most of how the pilot business worked.
Boring. There’s nothing here that anyone wants to read.
He glanced through his notes again, landing on the name in the margin: Marty Gaines. He underlined the name and put a question mark beside it. Maybe Marty would be able to provide some insight into Justin and the pilots. Reed decided he’d head over to the River Watch in the morning and see if Zach knew anything about Marty.
“WHAT DO you know about a Martin Gaines? Former sea captain,” Reed asked over his coffee the next morning.
Zach glanced up from his computer. “Marty?” Zach smiled. “Everyone knows Marty. He’s Wilmington before Wilmington became the cool place to live.”
