Page 4 of Wet and Welder
is important. We’ve been looking for it at the bottom of the ocean for the past six months. Why
does it matter now?” I plead, knowing this will take more men, work, and time now.
“Circumstances have changed, and the mystery behind the ship will make for great
publicity for the museum, not to mention if we can save the ship itself.”
“You mean it’ll make you all more money,” I state matter-of-factly.
“This has always been about the money, Mallory. Let us not pretend otherwise. Now get
the right crew, fix the ship, make port, and salvage absolutely everything. Am I making myself
and the board, who is writing the checks, perfectly clear?”
“Perfectly,” I say through gritted teeth. The investor’s lawyer hangs up, leaving me
fuming in my wetsuit.
As if on cue, Nelson walks into the control room with a cocky smirk.
“The ship is taking on an extraordinary amount of water. I predict it’ll be fully submerged
within minutes, but it won’t be safe to explore until it hits the ocean floor.
“That’s too deep,” I reply, pushing past him and hurrying back to Captain Hook, whose
ironic last name favors the Disney character. Luckily, his personality doesn’t. If anyone can pull
off something as crazy as I’m about to suggest, it’s him.
CHAPTER TWO
MIC
Another job done meant that me and the boys were celebrating at the local watering hole. In this case, it is an Irish pub on the outskirts of New Orleans, where the drinks are strong, and the women are out in droves.
After a hard month of welding a new barge, we all more than deserve a little rest and relaxation, and the city provides it in abundance. Two women on either side of me fight for my attention as I finish the last of my bourbon. Just when I’m about to suggest the three of us take this argument to my room, the double doors of Voodoos swing open, and a crew that looks dirtier than my own walks in. A fiery redhead leads them inside and walks straight up to the bar. My eyes are glued to her as the world seems to spin for everyone else but me. She commands the dirty dudes to break off as if I looking for someone instead of having a good time. The scene captivates me, but my distraction only sends the two women by my side into a frenzy. Suddenly, I’m being smacked in the biceps as if I’ve done something to offend them.
“The fuck did I do?” I say, looking at the blonde offender.
“Nothing. All night, you buy me drinks, and now what, you’ve got nothing else to say to me? Are you picking her?”
The brunette to my right suddenly sits up straighter as if the blonde’s declaration is fact.
“Listen, ladies, it’s been fun. I hope you enjoy your night,” I say, slapping a hundred-dollar bill on the counter for the bartender, who nods in gratitude.
Sadly, I fail in my attempt to escape as the two women decide to attack me with their purses, smacking me on the chest.
“Ladies, ladies, surely this big oaf didn’t do anything that terrible to offend you.” The firecracker slides up to the bar, inserting herself in front of the blonde.
The bartender hands her three pink shots, and suddenly, the two vixens don’t want to beat on me anymore. She must be a witch. The spell works wonders as the three women take the shots. They start up a conversation as if I no longer exist even though my ass is still firmly stuck on the bar stool, truthfully too afraid and far too mesmerized to try to move.
“I have to pee. Come with me?” The blonde asks the brunette, the two suddenly best friends.
When the two are gone, I sit and stare, waiting for the mystery woman to talk first, but she doesn’t. Not to me, anyway. She thanks the bartender and stands, ready to leave.
I know this is my only chance to make a move, but I’m not a man with any game. I’m a giant with dirty clothes on who only pulls the attention of women on payday. This dame looks like she couldn't care less about how many drinks I could buy her, leaving me with only one option.