[h2]”Travis.  Abby Travis”  -  (Part 3)[/h2]   

[img]https://i.imgur.com/nalNq9e.jpg[/img]


[color=ffd700][b][i]”...if the meet is set for a bar, then you should have a drink…”[/i][/b][/color]

One Vodka an’ Boom’Boom become three.  Goin’ Dutch become Abby runnin’ a tab.  Thomas jest got funnier an’ funnier, not tah mention easier tah look at.  “Now I know yer lyin’!” she chortled as the band commenced another sea shanty.

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[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NsXFP63gQk[/youtube]
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“My hand to Buddha!”  He give a lopsided grin.  “There is such a thing!  We sell ‘em every day!”

“Whatcha take me for?” She give ‘im a playful shove.  “Think I jest fell off tha boat tahday?  Wait..don’t answer that...”  They both broke out laughin’ on that flub.

Thomas landed an empty bottle on the bar.  “We can settle this right now,” he grinned.  “C’mon, we’re goin’.  Pay the man, Crabby….you know somethin’?  You’re kinda pretty when you pout like that..”

“I ain’t poutin’!”   Abby went for her coin.  “I’m...I’m...glarin’!  See?”   She give a fierce look, til her mouth started crackin’ an’ they both laughed.  “Damndest thing ever,” she muttered.  “Meet some yokel on muh birthday an’ I wind up payin’.”

Thomas had her duffel on his right shoulder.  “I’ll take it out in trade,” he give her a wink, and his left arm to steady her.  “Lorry’s right outside.”

With help from his arm, Abby eased herself off the stool.  “This ain’t yer way ‘o’ gettin’ me back tah yer place...is it?”

“You conjured my evil scheme,” he chuckled as they made for the door.  “Take you back home, show you what I got, introduce you to my mom.  No doubt about it,” he chuckled.  “I am the Makeout King of Pensacola.”   He led her to an old green lorry what had stakeside rails on the bed.

Abby read the faded door sign. “Jinks Nautical Outfitters.”

He threw it open.  “Gonna lift you up on the sideboard, so you can ease onto the seat.  Afore she knew it, Thomas’ hands had taken her by the waist.   He boosted Abby off her feet, toward the open cab.  “Careful now.”

His hands was still on her.  Not that she minded...much.  “What’re yew doin’?” she asked.

“Keepin’ your drunk [i]pi gu[/i] from fallin’ outta my truck.”

“I ain’t drunk!”  Abby protested.  “Am I?”

**********************************

Thomas was positively beamin’.  “You see?  I told you so!”

He’d been good as his word.  ‘Stead ‘o’ walkin’ her inta some sorta makeout pad, he opened up tha fam’ly business.  Took her right past all manner ‘o’ boat parts an’ tools tah their “Crew Clothes” section an’ set her right up.  First come some new denims.  “These wear like iron!” he pointed toward them’s he had on.  She took two pair, an’ after some measurin’ an’ fittin’ his mom hauled ‘em off tah her sewin’ room.

Abby found herself some new unders.  A six pack ‘o’ white cotton panties what come with a free stripey pair made up fer what she left on Mariposa.  She also found some boxers, all decorated with ship’s wheels, compasses, lobsters, crabs, an’ them big fish with the pointy noses.  Thomas tried sellin’ her on a black pair what read “The Man...The Legend” with arrows pointin’ up an’ down.  She conjured Rex or the Big‘un would try’n steal ‘em, so they went back on tha shelf.

And now, here’s Thomas, all proud of hisself as she’s standin’ ankle deep in the dog’s water bowl.  “Feet dry?” he give her a big, expectant smile.

She looked up, eyes fulla wonder.  “Sure’n they are!” Abby exclaimed.  “I’da never believed it!  Waterproof socks!”

“They’re warm, too,” he added.  “Been around since the war.   Some purple scientist conjured ‘em up.”

‘Warm’ was definitely workin’ fer Abby, seein’s they had a right frigid trip ahead.  But mention ‘o’ purple snapped her right back.  Her eyes found tha duffel...already emptied of what she brung.  “Where’d the gen’ral’s bag go?” 

Thomas shrugged.  “What bag?”

[color=ffd700][b][i]”...a competent spy never wants to know more than their own part of the operation.  Never talk shop…”[/i][/b][/color]

“The one what I...oh,” she caught wise.  “Sorry,” Abby stepped outta the water.  “Meant muh duffel...an’ it’s right there.”  She reached down tah squeeze one sock.  “Holy [i]la shi,”[/i] she gasped.  “Already dry!”

“How many you want?”  Thomas was punchin’ prices inta a clattery old cash register.

“Got seven panties,” the girl reckoned.  “Sounds like seven pair ‘o’ socks.”

[i]”Ku.”[/i]  The boy tapped it all in.  The register’s bell sounded an’ the cash drawer flew open.  “You got the family discount,” Thomas snickered at the shock wrote all over her face.

Abby’s jaw near hit the floor.  “You sure?”

“Girl buys me drinks on her birthday?  If I didn’t cut you a break my Dad would whip tha tar outta me.”  He opened her duffel and set to stuffin’ all her new socks ‘n’ unders inside.  “Plus one of our tee shirts for your collection.”  Thomas pulled a rolled blue tee from beneath the register.  “Hey Mom!” he shouted.  “MO-OM!”

“What?”

“How soon on Abby’s denims?”

“Ten minutes!”

“We’ll be outside.”  After droppin’ her coin into tha till,  Thomas led the way toward the back door.  “I want you to meet my girl,” he held it open fer Abby.  “C’mon...she’s right out here.”

She weren’t feelin’ none too excited ‘bout that, but he’d been so all fired nice that they’s no way she’s gonna turn ‘im down.  But then it got curious when Thomas showed her out onta a big dock.  They’s a fishin’ boat tied on the end, lights blazin’ an’ crew gettin’ their gear stowed. Tha name [b]CHELSEA J[/b] stood proud on ‘er transom.  Abby seen a girl on deck, haulin’ heavy buckets of somethin’ nasty down inside.  “That her?” she asked.

The boy stopped.  “Her?  No, that’s my sister.  Those’re my brothers,” he pointed out the other crew,” an’ that’s my Dad, up there on the bridge.  “My girl,” he give her a smile, “is right here.”  Beyond knowin’ she’s lookin’ at a sailboat, Abby couldn’t say a thing.  She was long an’ low.  Looked to have a tiny cabin on ‘er.  Abby didn’t see no wheel, jest a long handle what come off the rudder.  Boat had a single mast, with a boom trailin’ back.  She had a grace about her.  Looked fast, but Abby never seen how fast sailboats could go.  Still, growin’ up in boats like she done, the deckhand could spot good care an’ hard workin’ upkeep.  She also conjured how purty a thing’s workin’s could be, to boot.  Then her eye caught the name.

“Day Tripper,” she read aloud.  “That’s an old song, right?”

“Yes!” he laughed.  “How did you know?”

“My Aunt Lupe loved a bunch of ‘em.” Abby studied tha boat’s curves, sussin’ out how things work by the ropes what run from ‘em.  “So,” she guessed, “looks like it takes two folk tah sail ‘er proper?”

He laughed.  “You got a good eye.  That’s right!  I can single hand her, but manning the tiller an’ trimmin’ two-three sails is a serious handful.”

She give ‘im a sidelong grin.  “That how yah lure yer girls?”

[i]’La shi,”[/i] Thomas swore.  “Haven’t found one yet would agree to go.  They take one look at her and say “I don’t wanna get wet.”  That last said in a high pitched, nasal tone.

Abby snorted.  “Sounds tah me like yer askin’ tha wrong girls.”

“You think?”  He lifted an eyebrow.

“I been accused.”

Thomas shrugged.  “You could be right.  I’ve been chasin’ debutantes.  They were all at some high toned to-do last night while I was on the Chelsea J, settin’ trolling lines.  Maybe I should take the hint,” he shook his head.  “But what about you, Crabby?  Spendin’ your days sailin’ the black?  Got a boy in every port, do ya?”

“Nope,” she tossed her hair with a chuckle.  “Truth of it is I ain’t really been lookin’.  Spent muh whole life in tha black, so they’s never much time in any port we touch.”  Abby’s eye swept off toward tha night.  “ ‘sides, I seen I’m purty much tha one gits looked right past...what’s that over there?”  She pointed toward the northeast horizon.  The hazy sky looked to glow somewhat, a pale sorta pink what flashed an’ danced.  Sight was purty.  She’d never seen tha like.

“Hurricane.”

“Fer true?”  Her head whirled on her shoulders.  “Should I warn my Cap’n?”

He shook his head.  “Nah.  It’s about three hundred miles northeast.  Last Mariner track had it movin’ on north.  It’ll fizzle out when it hits real cold water in a couple days.  For now, it’s a bad one,” he said.  “Good news is it won’t trouble anyone but fish.”

“If it’s s’far away, how we seein’ it?”

“We’re not, really.  That’s just haze in the atmo above it, reflectin’ the lightnin’.”

They stood quiet for a time, watching as the distant lights moved and flickered.  “It’s beautiful,” Abby said.  “Seen a storm in tha black once, looked sorta…”

She’s interrupted by Thomas’ dad as he come abreast.  “Thomas, don’t forget, we need that DISBEAC unboxed and mounted before seven in the mornin’.”

“Yes sir,” the boy agreed.  “I’ll do it tonight, after I drop my friend off.  Dad, this is Abby.  Abby, my dad.”

“Hiram Jinks,” he give his hand.  “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

She smiled back, shook his hand.  “Abby Travis.  Nice meetin’ yah.”

At first, he’s dismissive tha way she’d had other grown folk treat her when meetin’.  But somethin’ went odd when she give her name.  Abby could feel the man, studyin’ her face all intense.  Like he’s sizin’ her up...but she couldn’t conjure the meanin’.  “Abigail Travis,” Hiram released her hand.  “I hope this young man’s treated you well?”

“Sure’n he has, sir.”

“Good.”   Hiram’s all gobsmacked.  “Good.”  Afore too much air could leak inta the conversation, he turned.  “Well, I have to hurry off.  Fishing season starts tomorrow.  We aim to be outta port by seven and on the grounds when the clock strikes.  Nice to meet you.” He’s still lookin’ kinda funny as he rushed off up tha dock.

Thomas shrugged.  “Sorry.  My dad gets sorta [i]Qíguài de[/i] the night before a cast off.  Don’t take him serious.”

“It’s shiny,” Abby tilted her head toward the building, “but I think yer mom’s usin’ muh denims fer some kinda semaphore.”

Her denims were ready.  After packin’ em in tha duffel an’ sayin’ her goodbyes, Abby let Thomas lift her back inta the lorry.  As the old truck rattled off, Hiram Jinks joined his wife at the window.

“She the one?” he asked.  “Brought the General’s bag?”

“Yes.”  She turned toward her husband.  “Name of Travis,” she observed.  “Feel like you’ve seen a ghost?”

He cast a glance toward his wife.  “Two of ‘em.”

*********************To Be Continued********************