“To get you another check,” Bette says.
“Don’t bother. I’ll tear it up, too.”
“It will make your rebuild go faster, and let you use first-quality materials and labor. You can be open again by summer, bringing in money.”
“You can’t buy my restaurant, or me. Or Casey.”
“I’m not trying to buy your restaurant or you. I feel your disgust for me. But I do want Casey. He’s a generous soul. He’s beautiful. He can be the most famous and well-paid surfer in the world. I’d love to help him be that.”
“You don’t deserve him.”
“So much hate, Jen Stonebreaker. You detest me, but that’s okay. I’ve been down that road. But—with respect—Casey no longer needs you. He’s no longer yours. He’s a grown man with a good mind, a strong heart, and a brilliant future. He needs me now, and I intend to be a part of him.”
“You’re just trying to cash in.”
“Who wouldn’t? But I’ll do well when he does well. And, we should be truthful here—cashing in is only a small part of everything. We will make our own new path in history.”
Bette goes to the fireplace, rubs her hands near the glass. “I could never live up here in this cold. I was born in Southern California and I hope to die there.”
“Be my guest.”
“I’ve enjoyed the articles about you and John in Surf Tribe. You’re a good writer and your heart shows complexity. I can’t wait for part five.”
“Maybe next week. It’ll be the last.”
“You have to write about this contest, which I think Casey will win.”
Jen considers Casey’s chances for the thousandth time. Brock’s, too.
And her own.
“What do you want?”
Bette, rubbing her hands, returns to the couch.
“I want to tell you how I see Casey,” she says. “It will clarify my actions.”
“Clarify away, Bette.”
“The first time I saw him, I saw in Casey what you saw in John Stonebreaker when you were twelve. When you saw him rolling that trash can to the sidewalk up in Top of the World. I was sitting in your bar at the Barrel.”
“Not mutilating sharks off Desperation Reef?”
“I have never finned. I fish. Like Casey.”
“What did you see in him, bartending at the Barrel?” Jen asks.
“A beautiful, powerful man. Composed and focused. But that was only how he looked. I wanted to know the inside of him. I came to the Barrel again but it was his night off. He was there a few nights later, but it was crowded and there was no way to talk to him, or even get close. He was surrounded by beautiful women and men. I gave up and put him out of my mind. Later he caught some of us pirates shark-finning, and posted his videos. Two days after that, I went to the Barrel early, before happy hour, and he was there.”
“After kidnapping Mae.”
“I borrowed Mae. She followed me for the treat in my hand. I would never have hurt her. I was able to talk to Casey. I dressed well and introduced myself as the pirate in his videos, and asked him to take them down. I really wanted those videos off the net. And also, I wanted to look at Casey, and listen to his voice, and try to get inside him. I did. What I saw was goodness and innocence and love. Of Mae. I saw the pain in him, his worry for her. In your article you said that after watching John surf Rockpile, you were going to be John. You were twelve years old then and you knew exactly what you wanted. When you were seventeen, you gave yourself to him after Cortes Bank. Well, Mrs. Stonebreaker, I was twenty-seven when I walked out of the Barrel bar, wanting to be Casey. Your son. John’s son.”
“Nonsense.”
Through the sliding door curtain, Jen watches the headlights down on Capistrano. A gust blows the rain against the glass with a sudden swoosh.
“Your mouth says that, but your heart knows it is not nonsense at all,” says Bette.
“Okay. You love him. Say you’re capable of that. There’s a lot to love in that young man. But you’re also a smuggler, an attempted extortionist, and, I believe—an arsonist. The LA and Laguna investigations are ongoing. Monterey 9 will walk. Just a matter of time. And they’ll have Jimmy dead to rights.”
“Don’t confuse me with my father.”
“How can’t I? You’re a criminal, just like him.”
“Not like him. Yes, I over-limit while fishing sometimes. No finning. And as far as the humans we traffic, well, we move a lot of them from hell into better lives. We do no business in the sex trade. I feel strongly about that. We know our end users—hospitality, big ag, restaurants like yours. Domingo in the Barrel kitchen was one of ours. The burly little guy with the silver tooth, upper right? MS-13 hacked his brother to death in San Salvador for not paying their street taxes. Guess who was next? We got him into Laguna on a panga in the middle of the night. Ten others, too. I told them about the Barrel because I liked the place. See, we are two sides of this, together, Jen Stonebreaker.”
“You, cashing in again.”
“I made an honest deal with Domingo and his sisters, and delivered what I promised. You hired an illegal immigrant, and what you pay him is on you, not me.”
“You’re still a criminal and I don’t want my son involved with you.”
“Understood, and Casey will decide. That said, shall I get you another check to rebuild the Barrel? You understand it is a gift? No conditions except the plaque in the new Barrel?”
“Get out of my room.”
Jen feels Bette prying into her with those dark, difficult-to-read eyes.
“I am planning to leave my family’s business,” she says. Her voice quavers very slightly and her perfect black brows furrow.
“To be a full-time parasite on my son? Stay away from him.”
“I won’t stay away for you. Only if he wants me away.”
“Fifteen percent?”
“No. We talked about that once. I was overreaching and we agreed it was a bad idea.”
“And you say you love him, big money or not?”
Bette gets her purse and heads for the door. Jen follows. Facing each other, Jen looks up into the taller woman’s dark brown eyes. Tries to read them for truthfulness, evasion, duplicity. Hope and doubt. A pinch of pride. Sees all of this and more.
“Jen, I want to marry him and have his children. They will be beautiful and will love you if you let them. Wus have strong passions. I’ll invite you to the wedding.”
“You’ve told him this?”
“Not with words. Not directly.”
