A.G.E's Joint

Emily rubbed her eyes as she went into the bathroom. It was to get ready for school and her face was caked with remains of breakfast. Krave crumbs against red curls was good makeup at least she thought so. Mommy didn’t and said to wash her face and hurry up about it. She wasn’t going to have the other kids think she was some orphan off the street. Just as the water got hot enough, Mommy yelled from the kitchen “Emmy! Hurry up. It’s time to go.” She splashed the water along her chin and followed up with a washcloth. Looking carefully in the mirror, it looked like she’d gotten it all. The drops of suds beaded up on the side of the sink. She’ll get yelled at when she got home, but there wasn’t time. Being late was worse than a mess. She tore out the door and toward the kitchen door. Rushing out, the Peppa Pig lunchbox was waiting on the counter. Grabbing it, she piled out the door. The backseat door was open and waiting. Mommy had a silly grin on her face as she buckled her in. Mo

Jerry broke the surface and gave the thumbs up. The boat was ready. In a few minutes he was back on board. Paco, the new guy, scurried on the deck of the barge to get ready for the new cargo. First set. Second set. When he got the third done, Jim pulled the gantry lift handle. The numbers on the hydraulic pressure gauge began to rise. Everyone grabbed for the opposite rail as the tug started listing starboard. It happened fast. Screeching cables echoed against the pines on the opposite shore as the motor belched smoke. It was a glorious morning to be out on the lake, clear skies and somewhat clearer waters. The weather had been calm for days. Long enough to be able to see the tops of the trees ten feet below the surface. Heat bore down on the tug and its crew. It had taken a whole lot longer than planned, but that was neither here or there. With what they knew, The Last Chance should come up in one piece. Pretty lucky for something scuttled with dynamite. His life had always be

A rough sketch of Haley’s Dry Dock lay face up on the table. The place was triangular, point ending at the shore. The gravel drive went west from McEver Rd and ended at the main building. From memory, Jerry said there was a large cargo door leading into the eight-slip dock extending over the water. Along the right side of the parking area sat a smaller tool shed and the office. The meeting would be between the shed and the dock. Why did she come back? The whole story about how she had lured Tom in, getting him to cook the marina books to keep her happy was one thing. But to come back knowing what everyone knew? She was a woman addicted to the con. It had to be. Her claim was the Miami gang was upping the pressure was either bogus or desperate. She said she needed cash or bad things would happen. If it was in small bills, she’d have something extra for him. Even in their intoxicated state, they knew what “extra” was. It was slipped into a small cardboard box and taped. To everyone

A dry dock isn’t the most romantic place to be dancing with the stars . But after hours nobody cares. He wasn’t due for another couple of hours. She shut off the engine and checked inside her purse. A pack of condoms and the .380 sat placidly next to each other. Protection and…protection. The gun was Biker Dude’s. So was the truck. He didn’t miss them. He won’t miss anything anymore. It was kind of brutal to see him seize like that. But that’s life. The slide made a satisfying click as she cleared the chamber. Corrine smiled and put it back in the pocket. This was the final play. The grift was always about Waterworld. The guys that owned it killed Harvey. He had found out about the money tango, shifting the drug money from Miami and replacing it with the rent from Georgia. Slick system as long as everyone played their part. The Goons had asked them to squeeze more money from the slip rentals to give them a little more room to launder money. Her first task was snagging Tom. He

The Monday morning briefing felt like sunrise in hell , everyone waiting for the blast. One of the TV stations had picked up on the fun Saturday.It must have been ratings week, because put up a lazy, half-assed segment about it, alleging excessive force by everyone involved. The piece was breathless enough to have the phones ringing in the County Commissioners’ offices all weekend. Sheriff Owens, with his Captain Picard-like bald head, sat in on the briefing because it was obvious this wasn’t going away any time soon. Ray, Lt. Grimes and Angela shifted nervously waiting for the onslaught. In a lawyer-like tone, he began the questioning “What do we know of this woman?” Grimes grunted. “Nothing concrete. She was booked in under the name ‘Shelia Jenkins’, but with no ID. So far, no print matches.” He paused. “Angela, you are the one who has all the interest. Have you turned up anything?” Her voice stammered like a star stuck groupie. “Nothing solid, but I am working on that