Bull Running For Girlsl (15 page)

Pizzas from oven to table in ten minutes flat
—
delivered by the sauciest waitresses with enough sass to make sure the place was filled to overflowing with guys, six nights a week.

Wanda headed the team of women, all dressed in short red skirts with white tops that were screaming out for a wet T-shirt contest. Yes, six nights a week, twenty-three varieties of pizza, with extra toppings and the most incredible seafood, if you could wait for it. That was no hardship, with the dozen varieties of beer that the bar advertised. A circular bar stood in the middle of the deck, in the shadow of three rigged masts. Table linen the colour of aquamarine, small star lights set in a midnight blue ceiling, shipwrecked old brandy barrels stove into the sandbanks that edged the deck, and the boarded floor covered in gritty sand. The entire place was literally a shipwreck; a shipwreck from a bad theme park, all plastic and lifeless.

Blowfish and Peeble Danby were cold and hungry. They pulled off on the North Carolina coast road when they saw The Sly Boy.

“This will be fine. I’m, really,
really
hungry.”

“You’re always hungry Peeble
—
there’s no filling you up.”

“Well, let’s see if this place can.”

“Do you think the diving equipment will be all right in the truck?” Blow checked that the tarpaulin was well tied down, concealing the tanks.

“No one is going to run off with those full tanks in a hurry and why would they?” said Peeble.

Blow thought for a moment, looked out to sea at the setting sun, and then followed Peeble into The Sly Boy.

The interior was quite a surprise: the sea-green shimmer of the walls, the cannons on the deck, the shifting sand beneath their feet.

“What the
—
”

“Hi boys, come on in.”

Wanda showed them to the alcove seating area that lay underneath the overhanging captain’s cabin. She insisted on tablecloths even though the local boys usually ended up dancing on the tables. It was no excuse for poor etiquette on her behalf, she thought. The Sly Boy, unusually empty on Thursday evening, never closed until dawn each morning. And the food was considered to be wholesome and satisfying even though the clientelle were frequently too drunk to appreciate it.

“Here’s the menu and on the board are the specials.” Wanda pointed at the board positioned near the ship’s bell which hung above the bar. Peeble checked it out, squinting to see the list.

SPECIALS

BLUEFISH
WITH ALMONDS AND LEMON.

SALMON EN CROUTE
—
FRENCH STYLE.

SQUID IN INK
—
NOT FRENCH STYLE BUT SPANISH STYLE.

WE GOT SPECIAL PIZZA USING THE LEFTOVERS FROM THE ABOVE.

WANDA
—
NOT ON THE MENU; IN CASE YOU ASK.

“Oh, and the rest of the waitresses are not on the menu
—
before you ask,” Wanda sat on the edge of the table.

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up,” Peeble said.

“Would ya like to know a little about The Sly Boy?”

Blow shrugged, “Sure
—
why not.”

“Good,” said Wanda. “‘Cuz I’ve got all night. This house once belonged to Blackbeard the pirate,” she began and smiled, revealing something green sticking between her teeth. Blowfish pointed discreetly at his teeth, and then at hers.

“You got somethin’ wrong with your teeth?” she asked, “or you trying to tell me you’re hungry?”

“No, you have something between
your
teeth and in your hair too. Something, er
—
green.”

Wanda fiddled in her red hair and yanked. She pulled out a strand of dry seaweed and
fi
nally used her little pinkie nail on her teeth.

Blow couldn’t take his eyes off Wanda’s thigh. It looked way too pale and had an odd mottled pattern on the surface of the skin.

“Where was I? Yes, the house
—
when it was high tide the pirates would have tied their boats to the columns at the front of the house and just stepped right in. Course, the tide came up higher in those days.”

Peeble stared at Blowfish, which meant
—
like why are we listening to this when we should be eating?
There was something else, though; something that was making him squirm uneasily in his seat.

Wanda caught the stare and moved herself along. “Well, I think that fact is interestin’
—
what d’ya want to order?”

“Can we have a minute?” asked Blow.

“Sure, take your time I’m not in a hurry, we’re open all night. Would you like a beer?”

They chose from the twelve different beers and once her back was turned both of the brothers tried unsuccessfully to suppress their laughter.

“I’m kinda glad Wanda isn’t on the menu,” said Blow.

“Yeah, she ain’t the kind of girl Mom would have approved of.”

“Well, she ain’t the kind of girl Mom would have approved of for you. She never cared who I shacked up with. You were always her favourite.”

“That’s not true Blow, she loved both of us and you know it.”

“I know that when I became a diver she didn’t think it was real work and when you became a diver too, she worried about you, but not about me.”

“That’s bullshit Blow, before she died
—
”

“Before she died she asked for you.”

“I’m the oldest
—
I was around longer, and when are you going to put all this grieving behind you? It’s time to move on.”

Blow brought his fist down hard on the table. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’ll stop grieving when I’m good and ready.”

“Suit yourself, but you ain’t never going to get laid thinking about your mom all the time. It ain’t natural.”

At this point Wanda stepped in. “Seems to me you boys should be thinkin’ about eatin’ somethin’ right about now.”

Blow glared at her and then looked hard at the specials.

“What kinds of fresh fish do you have?”

“We have sea bass, amberjack, silver snapper, red snapper, trigger fish, and bluefish. The red snapper is brought in and we feed them up in tanks
—
like pets.”

“Since when do you feed pets to customers?”

Wanda gave Blow a wry smile and took a deep breath.

“We’ll take the bluefish and fries,” said Peeble quickly.

They were both still arguing about the last days of their mother’s life when Wanda brought the two fish dishes. What raced through Blow’s mind, was that he wished his mother had loved him more. What raced through Peeble’s mind, was that he wished he’d got laid more, and obviously not by his mother.

Served whole and staring up at him Peeble toyed with his fish. It did look good. Blow watched Peeble cut into it, as he began to pick at his.

“I’ve gone off it now, Peeb, I think,”

Peeble cut into the bluefish and then he thrust the plate over to his brother. “I think I have too
—
look at that!”

Blow turned the plate around and lifted up the side of the fish, expecting something none too wholesome inside. He found something none too wholesome inside all right. The fish hadn’t been filleted.

“Whoa, what the hell is that doing there?”

A little blackened, but still identifiable by the nail (which actually did look a little like a sliced almond), was a finger. Even more macabre, the finger was still wearing a gold ring.

Blow backed his chair away and made for the men’s room. Peeble shook his head and beckoned Wanda over. Speechless he pointed at the finger on his plate.

“Sorry about that. I keep tellin’ Clara to fillet them, but she keeps on servin’ them up like that. You can’t go wrong with the pizza, though. Of course, the meal will be on the house. D’ya want another?”

Before he could think of a reply (and wondering what Clara could use instead of olives for a pizza, which didn’t really bear thinking about) Wanda whisked the plate away, and returned with two more beers.

“I hear you goin’ divin’?”

Peeble wondered how she knew that. Had Blow been shooting off his mouth again?

“Up the coast a little.”

“There’s somethin’ I want you to do for me.”

“What’s that?”

Peeble quite liked the proximity of her mouth to his ear. He could smell sweet apple on her breath. Wanda whispered, “If you don’t want your brother to end up all chewed up by blue crabs or somethin’ else, I’d listen if I was you. In fact, perhaps I’d better take you to your brother.”

Peeble looked about and was surprised to find all the waitresses staring at him. He stood up. There must have been about a dozen waitresses and he found it odd that he hadn’t taken much notice of them before. Two waitresses came up behind him and gently pushed him forward. He had no idea what was going on but he needed to play along to find out what the hell they had done with Blow.

Wanda led him along the sandy decking over to the far side of the room and to a door half hidden by fishing nets. Next to the door was an enormous figurehead of a mermaid that had once adorned the prow of a far better ship than the lurid Sly Boy. The mermaid stared down on him with a smile akin to a poor copy of the
Mona Lisa’s
smile. The door led down to a dimly lit cellar. Wanda picked up something that glinted in the half-light. She was holding a blunderbuss and, what’s more, it was pointed in Peeble’s direction.

He backed off but the two waitresses pushed him forwards after Wanda. She picked up a torch and led him down a long passageway that must have gone on for five hundred feet or more, before they came to the end. Peeble could see bright moonlight reflecting on water.

Wanda pointed the gun to one side of him. “Over there.”

Peeble looked anxiously around for his brother. Wanda’s torch fell upon Blow’s face. He was chained to the rocks with the tide lapping up around his feet. Peeble could see the glistening backs of turtles in the water a few feet away and he knew that blue crabs would soon be all over the place.

“I’ll take him down in a minute. But if you don’t do what I ask, your brother will be out here tomorrow night, food for the turtles and the blue crabs.”

“I could just call the cops.”

“If you did, he would be dead before they could get to him. I’d see to that.”

“What do you want?” Peeble asked.

“Somethin’ no one else has succeeded in gettin’.”

“And that is?”

“Why, Blackbeard’s treasure
—
you could say it’s ours anyway. He owes us.”

“Why don’t you get it?”

“Oh, we would, but it’s too far out for us.”

“But Blackbeard’s treasure is supposed to be lost off Portsmouth, New Hampshire. What makes you think it’s here in North Carolina?”

“It’s here all right, just out of reach. But you can bring it to us. Other divers have almost succeeded.”

Peeble saw the crazed look on Blow’s face as a blue crab edged closer to his feet and stopped, hesitating as if waiting for reinforcements. It didn’t have to wait long.

“Get him out of there. I’ll get the treasure to you,” Peeble gave in.

“Well
—
what are you waitin’ for? Go and get your divin’ gear.” Wanda motioned with the blunderbuss once more.

“Just one thing. How come you haven’t got your hands on it before now if it’s so close?”

“You’ll see,” Wanda replied, her half smirk breaking into a full grin.

An hour later, after checking his diving gear, Peeble was on the bottom of the inlet staring at a partially buried sea chest. Wanda, who apparently had no problem breathing underwater, swam to some nearby rocks and showed no inclination to come any closer. Peeble had no trouble fastening the hook to the old chain already around the chest, and he couldn’t help wondering why the other divers before him had failed to get the chest to a boat above. Or, at the very least, drag the chest across to where Wanda and the other women could get their hands on it. He looked across at her: she seemed eager to come and help him, but something was stopping her. She was undoubtedly a revenant—a supernatural creature—but seemed tied to the house, and no more than a little ways beyond it.

Peeble didn’t have to wait long before he found out what had defeated the other divers. He felt the current move him forwards slightly. He turned and saw that the sandy bottom was being stirred up by something
—
something big.

Out of the murky water came a face so wild in its countenance it terrified him. Wild, black hair floated around milk white eyes
—
the eyes of Blackbeard himself. He brandished a sword menacingly close to Peeble, who instinctively drew back. The sword hit a rock then fell to the seabed. It had come to within an inch of Peeble’s shoulder. He felt his feet sink into the sandy bottom as he tried to back away, but Blackbeard pinned him against the rock and was feeling for the knife that was tucked into his belt. Blackbeard was all fire and fury, the weight of the water hardly holding him back at all. Peeble looked frantically at Wanda, only a few feet away. She also had a knife in her hand and either could not, or would not come to his aid.