AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He slurped his coffee. “You say that every time, Indy.”
“Because it’s true. How the hell do you think we can afford to keep this piece of junk going?” I stomped my wetsuit bootie onto the weathered deck. “We need money, Dad.”
He huffed. “You could sell Rhino, you know.”
“Bullshit. Who would buy her? Besides, what else would we do?”
He shrugged his bony shoulder. “I could?—”
“Ah, for fuck’s sake, don’t give me that get-a-job bullshit. You can’t even get yourself out of bed each day.”
His face sagged.
I hated my bluntness, but it was the only way to deal with him. Dad was like a dried-up sponge; he could no longer absorb anything.
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Indiana.” He clutched my wrist, surprising me with his strength. “Nothing is worth risking your life.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe I should come with you this?—”
“No. I need you up here overseeing the equipment, okay?”
His gray eyes seemed so lost, but they had looked like that since that day he cradled Mom’s lifeless body in his arms.
I rested my hand on the faded tattoo on his bicep.
“Hey, I’ll be fine.” I playfully slapped his arm. “This will be fun. We could find a fucking fortune.”
I unhooked the hundred yards of air hose from the bracket and dropped it onto the weathered wooden deck.
“Or you could find nothing.”
I scowled. “Don’t be such a pessimist.”
I grabbed the metal detector and, trailing my air tube behind me, carried it to the edge of the dive platform.
“Just keeping it real, Indiana.”
“I’ll show you real when I bring up a seventy-year-old bottle of shiraz.”
Dad grinned. “Now that would be nice.”
“Exactly.” I pulled on my gloves and fins.
Dad downed the last of his coffee, put the mug aside, and as he adjusted the cap on his head, his expression changed to serious. Finally, he was focused.
I pulled on my buoyancy vest, clipped it over my breasts, and added some air. “Turn on the compressor. And, Dad . . .?”
His eyes rolled toward me slowly as if every movement hurt. With the hangover he had, his eyeballs probably felt like crap.
“I know,” he said. “Watch the pipes so they don’t get tangled and stay focused.”
“Yes, and do not fall asleep.” It was the last thing I said to him before every dive, but his adherence to the instruction was like playing Russian Roulette.
Dad nodded, and when he pulled the ripcord, the noise from the compressor drowned out any possibility of further conversation.
