dump on him. And this asshole wouldn't take his hands off the fish.
"Okay, then, so get away from my boat."
No notice, no sign that he was moving; this guy was showing complete disrespect.
Sutter said more loudly, "I'm not going to tell you again."
The guy turned to him. "Where did you gaff this fish? I can't find a gaff mark on any of them," turning back to the tarpon, like he was reading those big scales ... talking loud enough for Felix and Nels to hear, and Sutter knew he had to stop it.
Sutter grabbed the guy's arm, trying to pull him away. And the guy said, "Wait—don't do that."
Then, when the guy resisted, Sutter swung him hard toward the edge of the dock, thinking he could knock this guy right in. no problem.
Real cold, the guy said, "That was a mistake."
Then something happened; a blurry movement... then a hazy white light flashed in his eyes, like a flashbulb had exploded in his brain. And Sutter tried to refocus, realizing it must be because the guy had hit him, realizing that he was now on his back on the dock.
The guy with glasses was bending over him, had his arm locked around his elbow. Had his fingers jammed up under his jaw, creating so much torque and pain that all
Sutter could make was a squeaking sound when he tried to talk, thinking in a panic. This man is going to crush my throat....
Knowing this guy could do it, too. No doubt. Could break his arm or ruin his windpipe; looking up into the guy's face, seeing no rage, no hatred, nothing at all but a kind of blank indifference in those blue eyes through thick glass lenses. Like he was looking into a scope with cross hairs.
Sutter made his body go slack, submissive, closing his eyes, no longer struggling, and felt the guy's grip immediately relax a little. He heard Felix's voice say, "I think he's had enough, Doc."
Heard the guy say, "Does he always act like this?'' Kind of perplexed, but interested.
Heard Nels say, "It's not worth getting into trouble over a weird one like him, man."
Then he felt the guy release him. and he stood up.
Sutter opened his eyes and got quickly to his feet, backing away, trying to speak, wanting to say something that would show this asshole he didn't know who he was messing with. But when his mouth opened, all that came out was a raspy sound, no words.
The guy, Doc, said, "You'll be all right in a little bit. Why the hell did you try to hit me like that? I was just looking at your fish." Like he was genuinely surprised.
Sutter was still rubbing his throat, backing away, and stepped into his boat, feeling everyone on the dock looking at him, giving him that buggy look, the men, the women; hearing his mother lecture, "You see the way they are?"
Karl Sutter freed the lines and started his boat, pulling away fast with a big wake that rocked the other boats, looking at the guy Doc, giving him his shitkicker look, trying to let him know.
You're a dead man, motherfucker. You are dead.
4
Dewey Nye had asked. "You want to go fish nine?" talking to Ford over the phone from her Captiva Island beach house, where the VCR was playing, and Bud Collins was on the television screen, saying, "Even at her age. Martina is capable of playing the running serve and volley, culling off the court, entirely dominating this younger player." Dewey said, "I'm going nuts sitting here in the house watching tapes, getting my butt kicked over and over. I've got to be doing something."
Ford told her, "I thought we were going to work out this afternoon," which was his way of trying to say no. With him, it was always work, work, work. Dewey knew that to have a good time, she practically had to force him.
She told him, "We are going to work out, we are. But why not fish nine right after the storm? What, usually rains about five? So we go after the storm when all the other golfers have been run off. You fish and I'll bring the clubs and hit. Then we run later, when it's cool, and you won't bitch so much."
"A very kind invitation." Being a
"Okay, then, so get away from my boat."
No notice, no sign that he was moving; this guy was showing complete disrespect.
Sutter said more loudly, "I'm not going to tell you again."
The guy turned to him. "Where did you gaff this fish? I can't find a gaff mark on any of them," turning back to the tarpon, like he was reading those big scales ... talking loud enough for Felix and Nels to hear, and Sutter knew he had to stop it.
Sutter grabbed the guy's arm, trying to pull him away. And the guy said, "Wait—don't do that."
Then, when the guy resisted, Sutter swung him hard toward the edge of the dock, thinking he could knock this guy right in. no problem.
Real cold, the guy said, "That was a mistake."
Then something happened; a blurry movement... then a hazy white light flashed in his eyes, like a flashbulb had exploded in his brain. And Sutter tried to refocus, realizing it must be because the guy had hit him, realizing that he was now on his back on the dock.
The guy with glasses was bending over him, had his arm locked around his elbow. Had his fingers jammed up under his jaw, creating so much torque and pain that all
Sutter could make was a squeaking sound when he tried to talk, thinking in a panic. This man is going to crush my throat....
Knowing this guy could do it, too. No doubt. Could break his arm or ruin his windpipe; looking up into the guy's face, seeing no rage, no hatred, nothing at all but a kind of blank indifference in those blue eyes through thick glass lenses. Like he was looking into a scope with cross hairs.
Sutter made his body go slack, submissive, closing his eyes, no longer struggling, and felt the guy's grip immediately relax a little. He heard Felix's voice say, "I think he's had enough, Doc."
Heard the guy say, "Does he always act like this?'' Kind of perplexed, but interested.
Heard Nels say, "It's not worth getting into trouble over a weird one like him, man."
Then he felt the guy release him. and he stood up.
Sutter opened his eyes and got quickly to his feet, backing away, trying to speak, wanting to say something that would show this asshole he didn't know who he was messing with. But when his mouth opened, all that came out was a raspy sound, no words.
The guy, Doc, said, "You'll be all right in a little bit. Why the hell did you try to hit me like that? I was just looking at your fish." Like he was genuinely surprised.
Sutter was still rubbing his throat, backing away, and stepped into his boat, feeling everyone on the dock looking at him, giving him that buggy look, the men, the women; hearing his mother lecture, "You see the way they are?"
Karl Sutter freed the lines and started his boat, pulling away fast with a big wake that rocked the other boats, looking at the guy Doc, giving him his shitkicker look, trying to let him know.
You're a dead man, motherfucker. You are dead.
4
Dewey Nye had asked. "You want to go fish nine?" talking to Ford over the phone from her Captiva Island beach house, where the VCR was playing, and Bud Collins was on the television screen, saying, "Even at her age. Martina is capable of playing the running serve and volley, culling off the court, entirely dominating this younger player." Dewey said, "I'm going nuts sitting here in the house watching tapes, getting my butt kicked over and over. I've got to be doing something."
Ford told her, "I thought we were going to work out this afternoon," which was his way of trying to say no. With him, it was always work, work, work. Dewey knew that to have a good time, she practically had to force him.
She told him, "We are going to work out, we are. But why not fish nine right after the storm? What, usually rains about five? So we go after the storm when all the other golfers have been run off. You fish and I'll bring the clubs and hit. Then we run later, when it's cool, and you won't bitch so much."
"A very kind invitation." Being a
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