A dockhand aboard Moondance reverses her into deeper water and swings the boat toward the loading docks, where Casey and Mae can board.
Casey punches his truck up the ramp and heads for his parking spot, fully surprised by Bette, the pirate/dognapper/failed extortionist/possible arsonist/amateur actor/wannabe filmmaker and business partner, standing in his usual parking place up by the cleaning sinks and tables.
She’s got a laptop cradled on one hip and a fist balled on the other. Back in her pirate uniform, he sees, the black nylon cargo pants and the windbreaker she was wearing when she boarded Moondance, the yellow gaiter around her neck. No gun. Barefoot again.
Casey honks her out of his way, pulls into his spot, and gets out.
“I doubt you’ve seen this,” she says.
She sets her laptop on the cleaning table and swings open the touch screen. Scrolls down.
“Today’s Los Angeles Times,” she says. “Back in the California section.”
Casey peers at the page as Bette taps a story and it fills the screen.
Reputed Gang Members Arrested
in Laguna Beach Restaurant Arson
Two alleged members of the Monterey 9 criminal organization were charged with arson yesterday in the fire that badly damaged the Barrel Restaurant in Laguna Beach ten days ago.
Glen Lee, 24, and Roy Song, 30, were arrested in their homes without incident, and booked into Los Angeles County Jail. They pled not guilty and were released on $100,000 cash bonds.
“My clients are one hundred percent innocent of this baseless charge,” said Bob Gold, defense attorney for the men. “They were nowhere near Laguna Beach the night of the fire. It’s ludicrous. Just another instance of anti-Asian sentiment sweeping this country.”
Explosive devices with accelerants were used on a night of high Santa Ana winds, igniting fires that destroyed much of the popular restaurant.
LBFD response was quick, and damage to surrounding buildings was slight.
“We are almost done demolishing our beloved Barrel,” said owner Jen Stonebreaker. “We’ll be open again by summer of next year. They tried to break our hearts but they did not.”
Laguna Beach Police Department detectives and Los Angeles Police Department arson investigators have been cooperating in the investigation.
“We’ve been working full time on this since the second the flames were put out,” said Laguna PD Detective Brian Pittman.
Casey’s a slow but thorough reader. He glances at Bette, who has come in close to read along, then back down to the article. She taps a long, slender finger on the names Glen Lee and Roy Song.
“Imperial Fresh Seafood—backed by Monterey 9. Just as I said.”
Finishing the article, Casey feels big emotions surging up against each other inside him. Surprise. Doubt. Relief. Suspicion. Joy?
He says, “Woah, this is heavy.”
“I told you we were innocent. My dad. King Jim Seafood. All of us. Me!”
“I still don’t see why these guys would burn up the Barrel.”
“To punish enemies,” says Bette. “The old way of the underworld. Of gangs and tongs and blood feuds.”
She kneels and hugs Mae. “And I would never hurt your dog. And our offer to buy the Barrel was honest and sincere. Low? Yes, low. But we doubled to four million. We negotiate in good faith. Generous terms for your family and all employees. You have us wrong, Casey. One huge mistake.”
She draws a salmon-and-pumpkin treat from her windbreaker pocket and Mae snatches it with a snort.
Bette rises and gives him a frank look. Even barefoot, she’s not a lot shorter than six-two Casey. He wonders if she played basketball for UCLA. In this damp, early morning light, her skin is smooth and moist and her black bangs hang thick above her ebony eyes. Not a scar, Casey thinks. Not a mole or a blemish.
Not that that means what you are inside.
And not a line on her face, until she smiles.
“I thought you’d be happy to know who burned your restaurant.” She brushes a lock of Casey’s thick blond hair off his forehead. “And maybe if I present myself better, you might let me help you with your businesses and finance. Maybe become your partner someday. Maybe become a friend.”
Suddenly, Casey feels … empty.
Because everything he thought about Bette and her pirates, and her father, was wrong. Probably wrong. The pirates were shark finners, for sure. Ugly stuff. But not Bette, right? The pirates shot up his burner phone and scared the shit out of him but Bette never drew her gun, and it was right there on her hip. Yes, Bette tried to leverage Mae into their offer for the Barrel, but she never laid a finger on her. Jimmy tried to buy the Barrel cheap, but he didn’t burn it up.
Empty, when what you think is true is actually not.
But he feels weirdly … filled up, too.
With total positivity. Bette a friend? Who helps me figure out how to increase my “earning potential”?
This woman isn’t really a shark finner, a Mae-napper, a real-estate hustler, or arsonist? Isn’t a major criminal at all? She’s a choice woman who kissed my ear on Sunset and said she thinks I’m smart?
Slam the door on her?
Gulls keen overhead. Mae sits and looks up at them.
Bette has already shown him the LA sheriff’s report filed by her father, accusing rival Imperial Fresh of torching his fleet. She has told him that she believes him, that the Stonebreakers did no such thing. Suspects the Monterey 9 of escalating their attack on the Wu family and King Jim Seafood.
Logical enough, thinks Casey, but the facts weigh heavily on him, and on his morals and honesty. They’re both lying. Two big fudging lies, but can he spill his?
Out of the question, not on the table.
His guts tighten but he’s keeping his secret. For now. He was against the dang King Jim boat attacks anyway but he’s got his family and Brock’s Go Dogs to protect.
“Your words sound good, Bette. You tempt me with how smart and beautiful you are.”
She blushes slightly, a pink undercurrent swelling up beneath her perfect white skin. He wonders if she can do this on cue. The acting classes.
“I don’t want to tempt. I want to help.”
“But I still don’t want a manager now,” he says. “Signing those papers. That whole fifteen percent commission thing. No.”
“Then let the whole thing go!”
“Maybe if, like…”
“Seriously, Casey.”
