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fifty bucks and you got a grand and change in your pocket without even getting your dick wet.”
    “Who’s the fucking pirate around here?” Darrel asked. “How about my first born. You want her, too?”
    “If she’s above the age of consent, maybe.”
    “She’s ten, and not nearly as unreasonable as you are.”
    “Well, you could always do it yourself,” Mickey said, turning away.
    “All right, cock sucker. You got me,” Jones said.
    Mickey turned back. “Anything else you’re not telling me?”
    Jones looked suddenly cagey. “Might be some bottom jobs come out of it.”
    Scrubbing boat bottoms underwater wasn’t rocket science. Mickey laughed. “Tell you what, Darrel. I’ll give you fifteen percent of any cleaning jobs I get for a finder’s fee.”
    “Half,” Jones said.
    “Twenty percent, same as I’m getting on the props, only the other way around. And I get the zinc jobs.”
    “That’s chicken shit. Ten bucks apiece. You can have it.”
    “Damned right I can.”
    “Job pays when the props go back on. You get that, right?”
    “Pays half when I deliver them to you and half when the stay nuts are torqued,” Mickey said. “Don’t fuck with me, Darrel. You know how this works. Cash money. No checks for the Mickey. Right?”
    “Asshole,” Jones said without heat. “I’m only doing this because I’m in a bind. My back’s fucked up and I just can’t do this shit anymore.”
    “Shouldn’t have told me that,” Mickey said with a grin. “Shit’s going to cost you twice as much next time.”
    “Fuck you, twice as much,” Jones said. “Now, you get me those props chop-chop, because I need the week-end to work them over. You good with that?”
    “I’ll check my schedule,” Mickey said dryly. “Tomorrow’s free, I think.”
    “It ain’t free, whatever it is,” Jones said, like it hurt him.
    Mickey rode away feeling downright cheerful. It felt good to be actually doing something again, rather than filling out useless job applications on computers with sticky keys in offices that smelled of old coffee and despair. He had Linus Davidson’s money, and maybe four or five hundred more that was all but in the bank. If he was lucky, there’d be more.
    It made him wonder what had changed.

Chapter Five
    “That’s not a job,” Sandy said, putting a little sympathy into it, with just a dash of disappointment on top for flavor. Not up to par, she meant. You can do better, she meant. When are you going to work? That’s what she really meant.
    “Four hundred and change in three days,” he said, feeling the old anger at being put on the defensive. “That damned sure beats what I made in the last couple of months.” And that didn’t include the three hundred and twelve dollars from Linus Davidson’s wallet, which was hidden in his garage tool box.
    “I know, baby,” she said. “It’s just I know you can do better if someone would just give you the chance.”
    “You want to complain because I’m bringing some money in?” Mickey asked, clenching his fists behind his back. “How about I cut my wrists for you, too?”
    “Oh, that’s not what I meant!” “Yeah, it fucking was,” he said.
    “No, really, I...”
    “Be best you just stop talking right now.” He wanted to slap the shit out of her. It was about all he could do not to.
    Sandy blinked at the sharpness in his voice. Her face went blank for a moment, then she closed her mouth with a snap and turned her back on him, stiff as a damned plank. She wanted to talk about it, start one of those interminable ever-so reasonable conversations that went on and on until the wee hours and made everybody miserable while solving exactly nothing. Mickey was done with that.
    He went to drag Cindy out of the tub. The kid was a water rat from the get go – any water, beach, pool, tub, or even rain puddles. She got that from her old man. Mickey rinsed the bubbles off her and applied the towel before sending her off to put on pajamas. He