A Billion Ways to Die Read Online Free PDF Page B

we’ll have friends aboard. Their authentic Caribbean experience includes full-time attention from the captain. And first mate. Not that we mind. We’re people people.”
    “Speak for yourself, Sammy Davis,” said Desiree. “I was voted Miss Anthrope in high school. What about you?” she asked Natsumi. “What were you voted?”
    “Most Likely to Attract Ethnic Insult.”
    “Oh,” said Desiree.
    Jersey grinned a crooked grin and nodded over the top of his beer.
    “Ed tells me you have a furniture store,” I said, trying to pull the attention back to me.
    The two of them described running a custom design shop out of a loft in Soho through the eighties and nineties, burning out, getting drawn into the tropical haze, selling the loft for obscene money, moving down permanently and never looking back. They traded the story back and forth as they went, as if rehearsed, which it clearly was through hundreds of tellings. I couldn’t decide if they completely bought their own myth, or so enjoyed how it sounded they may as well have. We honored them either way by lavishing envy.
    “Maybe someday,” I said, “maybe someday.”
    “Work kills,” Jersey said. “I was in line for type two diabetes, coronary thrombosis, maybe a cerebral hemorrhage. All stress-related.”
    “He was dead man walking,” said Desiree.
    “Retail isn’t exactly a cake walk,” I said.
    “The furniture gig was mine,” said Desiree. “Jersey had a bigger issue.”
    “Government job,” he said.
    “Like having your soul sucked out through your nose,” she said.
    “Like getting pecked to death by ducks,” said Jersey.
    “What did you do?” asked Natsumi.
    “FBI supporting the Assistant US Attorney,” said Jersey. “New York Southern District. Rudy Giuliani’s playground.”
    “Can’t blame it on Rudy,” said Desiree.
    “I was a workaholic. Busting bad guys gets in your blood.”
    He gave a theatrical growl, which Desiree answered in kind. It felt like they’d done this before as well.
    “Jersey liked the investigative part,” said Desiree. “I used to call him Donnie Brasco.”
    He liked that, but said, “Never had the pleasure of doing undercover,” he said. “Anyway, those guys keep a low profile. How would I do that?” he added, sweeping his hands up and down his oversized physique.
    “Pretend you’re a bear,” said Desiree.
    “But you gave it up,” I said.
    Jersey gave a long slow shrug, “Yeah, the bad guys aren’t the problem. It’s the bureaucracy that’ll kill you.”
    “Do you stay in touch with the old crowd?” said Natsumi.
    Jersey looked at her.
    “Should I?” he asked.
    “I would,” she said, as if entranced by the idea. “Extreme coolness factor.”
    Jersey liked that enough to shift a little in Natsumi’s direction. Desiree then shifted nearly imperceptively closer to her husband.
    “Show how cool you really are and get these folks another round,” she said to him. He took our orders and moved into the crowd, which instinctively opened up to give the big man a clear path to the bar.
    While he was gone, Desiree described their boat’s galley and what Natsumi could expect for provisions. Natsumi paid close attention, asking questions that seemed to solidify her standing as a bona fide ship’s cook. Desiree reported that when Jersey came back with our beers. He gently grilled me on my nautical skills and experience, holding up his end of the screening process. I must have passed muster, because the conversation easily slid from there into a comparison of rum- versus vodka-based cocktails. I was actually far less qualified in that arena, though I held on well enough to take us to closing time.
    Back out in the dark, Natsumi and I walked over to a park where street vendors ran their carts during the day and spent the night playing cards with cab drivers and other folks who had nowhere else to go. We stayed outside the social circle, but close enough to be sheltered within the gentle hubbub