[h1]Clipboard Confessions[/h1] [img]https://i.imgur.com/ActjeDV.jpg[/img] JP/Collab from [@wanderingwolf] and [@sail3695] “Yes ma’am,” Abby nodded towards the lean woman who stood before her. JennaBeth Dupree wore loose fitting drawstring shorts and an open blouse...bit less modest than she’da chose fer herself,, ‘til she conjured this woman spent mosta her time workin’ alone. All the skin she allowed out was tanned right deep, so much as to be sorta ruddy. Them sandals was newish...like they’s only worn when she come tah town. Her hat was Chinese straw weave, sweat soaked through as it give her shade whilst she rowed among her beds. [i]JennaBeth’s Oysters[/i] was hand painted on tha side ‘o’ her truck. Abby sized the woman by her work, an’ the no nonsense look in ‘er eye...and seen independence. She found it beautiful. “We’re headin’ fer Greenleaf.” “Got a cold storage?” “Sure’n we do,” the girl answered. “Cap’n’s runnin without heat this time...keepin’ our cargo bay nice ‘n’ cold.” “Got a thousand pounds in five ice tubs. How much?” Abby quoted. JennaBeth shook ‘er head. Abby talked up volume discount, then shaved an extra five percent ta close. To that, the oyster farmer signed off. “What time you go?” “Three ‘o’clock. Have yer tubs here by two-thirty. Ice ‘em down good an’ they’ll hold til we break atmo.” JennaBeth fished her coin purse. “That I can do.” she give Abby the money. “See you then.” Abby wrote it all down on the clipboard as tha old truck rattled away. She finished tah tha sound ‘o’ bootheels comin’ down tha ramp. “Hey Cap’n,” girl looked up at Cal. “Jest got us more cargo.” “That’s mighty fine Abigail, mighty fine indeed...” Captain Strand reached inside his breast pocket. “Reckon that nudges the arrow North a little, and given how things went last night….” His fingers found his last cigarette in that silver case of his, tucking it between his teeth as he faced Abigail with quiet eyes. She’s already busted. Cap’n had’er figgered out at breakfast. He seen through her ruse. Buddha knowed what else he seen. Thomas’ truck weren’t zactly quiet in its’ comin’s an’ goin’s…”Things,” she answered. “Went okay, sir. I’m real sorr….” “He treat you right?” Cal fixed Abby with a stare as the sound of flint on steel lit his face behind the cigarette. She swallowed, put a hand up tah her hair, one ‘o’ them things yah just do when yer on the spot. [i]But no,[/i] Abby thought on this. [i]Ain’t gonna crawfish on this.[/i] She kept eyes on his gaze as she answered straight up. “Yes.” The ember at the tip of his smoke danced as Cal drew out the moment; before that wicked grin curled the edges of his lips, “I know we talked of me chasin’ skirt, but then you go and get yourself some tail to boot. And all that with stitches--look at you, Abigail.” Captain Strand grinned, tipping his hat in her direction. She felt the flush when it come tah her cheeks. “Didn’t git no tail,” she sounded all flustered like. “Weren’t lookin’. Did get some new duds. Fella I met helped me with that.” “So you an a fella went shoppin’ for duds in the middle of the night?” He eased up, as it was plain to him she wasn’t going to divulge the real goin’s on in the dead of night, and seein’ as it weren’t his business anyhow, he added “I can take a hint, but, in truth, I need to ask you somethin’ for Penelope. See, she needs a favor.” Abby’s all set tah tell ‘bout standin’ in the dog’s bowl in waterproof socks an’ such, but that story done vanished when he brung up the pilot. “Pen?” she asked. “Sure’n I’ll be happy tah do her a kindness.” “The next leg of our journey’s gonna take us somewhere she’s got history. History, that’d be best left in the past, if you catch my meanin’. She needs what Ms.Baker had: A new name.” Cal drew on his smoke before facing his Deck. Pensive. She’d read the word. Looked it up a time or two. Ain’t never used it. Til now. “I have it on good authority,” he started, pausing to exhale a plume of smoke up toward the China Doll’s arched neck, “that ‘Ms.Baker’ grew mighty fond of you in her short time aboard.” Cal turned toward the wide world of New Melbourne from the comfort of his ramp. “That, and I went lookin’ for her things this mornin’. Wouldn’t happen to know where they got off to, wouldja?” ‘Course he got it conjured. What else could she think? Why in tha hot place didn’t she think it sooner? “It’s plain an’ true that we got on,” she said. “Liked her, sir. She taught me stuff…’bout this boat. Tole me ‘bout her girls. Let me talk ‘bout my folk. She’s right nice. After we touched down, friend ‘o’ hers come lookin’ for her things.” She could shut up now...damage was done. Trust...prob’ly run dry. Still, Abby knew she ain’t answered proper. An’ worse, Cap’n probably did too. Time tah stop playin’ at this nonsense. “Respect fer tha dead. That’s why I done what I did,” she confessed. “Outta respect. I snuck her stuff out, an’ give it over tah that fella.” Cal nodded, this was exactly where he was hoping things would lead. Though, watching this life draw in this girl of no more than seventeen set a pit in his stomach. “Think he might know folk who can get things done… on the QT?” The words tasted more bitter than the tar in his cigarette. This was a sort of using which he knew he’d come to regret: pulling his youngest crewmate into a war almost as old as she was. He spat to clear his conscience before returning his gaze to Abby. Her brows lifted, eyes opened in surprise. “Oh,” the girl said. “That I don’t know.” She thought on it a bit. Cap’n had her all conjured, but she’s still workin’ tah learn his ways...like jest then. Somethin’ round tha eyes as he’s talkin’...somethin’ he held close. But that werren’t what he’s askin’ her. “Don’t conjure it hurts none tah ask,” she finally said. “Can I borrah yer cortex?” With a deft movement, Cal retrieved the glossy device from his pocket and held it out to Abby, “Go find your fella.”