Backcast by Ann McMan Page A

“we’re supposed to be here to write—not to fish.”
    â€œWhy can’t we do both? The tournament only lasts three days. And it ends each day at one-thirty.”
    â€œYeah, but you have to get out there and practice. Learn the lake. Learn the equipment.” Something unreadable flickered across her face. Quinn was pretty sure that meant she’d thought of something new. “Please tell me you know how to swim.”
    Quinn shrugged.
    â€œJesus.”
    â€œHey, I don’t plan to fall off the boat.”
    â€œNobody ever plans to fall off a boat, Quinn.”
    â€œWell, what if I wear some of those floatie things?”
    â€œFloatie things?”
    â€œYeah, you know. Like kids wear at the pool?” She extended her arm and displayed her wrist. It was nicely wrapped with a faded blue tattoo of concertina wire. It was also the size of a coffee can. “Floaties.”
    â€œOn your wrists?”
    â€œYeah.”
    Montana looked her over. “I don’t think those would get the job done, Quinn.”
    â€œWell, I bet we can figure something out that would.”
    Montana sighed. “What about your essay?”
    â€œWhat about it?”
    â€œDon’t you need time to work on it with your team?”
    â€œI can meet with my team, but I already wrote my essay.”
    Montana’s jaw dropped. “You already wrote it?”
    Quinn nodded.
    â€œWe’re only in our second day.”
    â€œI’m a panster, remember? It’s how we roll.”
    â€œHave you shown it to Barb?”
    Quinn nodded again.
    â€œAnd she’s okay with it?”
    â€œI think so. She wants me to share it with my group later today.”
    â€œHoly shit.”
    â€œShe said they all had their drafts done, too.”
    â€œGood god. Why didn’t she just book us at a Days Inn near the airport?”
    â€œNah.” Quinn jerked her head toward the group on the lawn. “Look at that crew. They’ll be lucky to finish up by winter.”
    Montana followed her gaze and studied the trio of authors. It was obvious that they were arguing. Viv was pointing at something scrawled in a notebook, and Towanda was energetically shaking her head from side to side. Shawn Harris looked like she wasn’t payingattention to either of them—probably because Kate Winston was out meandering along the rocky coastline with both dogs in tow.
    Montana looked back at Quinn. “Maybe you’re right.”
    â€œDoes that mean you’ll help me?”
    â€œ Cast, ” Montana clarified. “I’ll help you learn how to cast.”
    Quinn gave her a lopsided smile. “That’ll do for now.”
    â€œWhatever.” Montana gestured toward the churning lake. The dock was pitching more dramatically now. “Aim for that yellow swim dock. Try to drop your line halfway between here and there, okay?”
    â€œOkay.” Quinn started swinging her rod.
    â€œReady?” Montana asked. “Ten. Two. Cast. ”

    â€œThat’s absurd.” Towanda crossed her arms and sat back against her chair.
    â€œIt’s only ‘absurd’ because you didn’t think of it.”
    Shawn snickered at Viv’s comment.
    â€œWhat are you laughing at?” Viv shot the words at her like they’d been fired from a slingshot.
    Shawn looked at her apologetically. “Sorry. I was watching the dogs.” She pointed toward the cliff. “Patrick is eating goose poop.”
    Towanda snorted. “That’s an appropriate metaphor for Viv’s idea.”
    Shawn discreetly checked her watch. They’d been out here for nearly an hour, and they weren’t making any progress at all.
    Viv glared at Towanda. “Maybe if you ever had an original idea, I wouldn’t have to do all the heavy lifting.”
    â€œThe only heavy lifting you do happens when you try to stand up.”
    â€œFuck you, Wanda.”
    â€œFuck you,