Page 121 of Johnny

The man, a big guy with tattoos that look suspiciously like Johnny’s, tosses a large duffel bag onto

the webbing and the woman picks it up, heaving the strap over her shoulder like it weighs a ton, and

then pushes past Johnny saying, “I’m gonna stow this down below.”

She has a soft feminine voice, but her eyes, when they meet mine as she squeezes past me, are hard,

and dark, and not at all feminine.

“Hello,” I say. “I’m—”

But she’s already gone. Her backside disappearing into the cabin. No time for pleasantries.

“OK,” I mumble, turning back to Johnny and the new guy. It’s only then I realize that the tattoos

they’re both sporting are exactly the same.

What?

How is that possible? I mean, it’s not like the Epic of Gilgamesh written in the original blah-blah-

blah ancient language is the go-to full-sleeve tattoo option for tall, handsome outlaws on the high

seas.

“How…” I wave a finger back and forth at the two men. “Is this your brother?” I ask. Because

that’s the only way this makes sense.

“No,” Johnny says, not even looking at me. “OK. Good luck, man. And thanks. I owe you.”

“I’m getting paid, bru,” the man says in a weird accent. “You don’t owe me shit.”

“Yeah, but this?” Johnny laughs, pointing to the man’s tattoos. “Damn. That must’ve taken all

night.”

The other man looks down at his arm and studies it the way one might study their newly tanned skin

after a day in the sun. “But it’s nice, yeah? I wish it were real.”

“Thanks,” Johnny says, clapping him on the back. “See you on the other side.”

“Right then, I’m off.” And then the big guy slips past and does one of those slick, one-finger salutes

and winks at me as he passes.

I turn to watch him disappear into the cabin with the woman.

Who, I now realize… looks a little bit like me.

I whirl back to Johnny. “What’s going on?”

“Come on,” he says, offering me his hand. “We gotta go. They need to leave now if they’re going to

make it in time.”

“Wait? Where are we going?”