Gone Bamboo by Anthony Bourdain

Author:Anthony Bourdain [Bourdain, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Suspense
ISBN: 9781582341033
Google: CLhXaWm9a2AC
Amazon: 1582341036
Barnesnoble: 1582341036
Goodreads: 40139
Publisher: Bloomsbury
Published: 1996-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

21

As soon as they'd cut the engine, Henry came back to sit on the gunwale and smoke a cigarette. Charlie's line was limp in the water, the old man looking uncomfortable in the sun.

"Does it hurt?" Henry asked Charlie, giving him a long, meaningful look.

"It hurts," said Charlie. "Every day it hurts."

"I'm sorry," said Henry, shaking his head.

"I gotta take pills," said Charlie.

"I gotta take pills," said "That's a bitch."

Charlie held up a hand to stop Henry from saying more and undipped the VHF radio from his hip.

"Tommy, baby, take this thing downstairs there. Maybe those guys . . . they got a bug innit maybe. I don't want them findin' out any fishin' secrets." He looked disdainfully over at the speedboat, a few hundred yards off the port bow, drifting aimlessly, Rick and Woody, their shirts off, lying back in their seats, watching though binoculars.

When Henry and he were alone, Charlie looked at him hard and said, "It was you, wasn't it? You shot me."

"Yeah," said Henry. "It was me."

"I always thought so," said Charlie. "Soon as I come around there, I think, Henry. Henry was up there somewheres. He done this."

"I figured you'd know. If you lived . . ."

"You fucked up big time," said Charlie.

"Yeah."

"I guess Pazz is pretty pissed off at you. He prolly wants a piece a' you almost as bad as he wants me. You get paid in advance?"

"Yeah."

"Then you can count on it. Jimmy don't like to pay for nothing he can't wear. Especially things don't work the way they supposed to."

Henry shrugged and looked out at the water.

"Danny . . . Now that, that was good shootin'. I saw it happen. I seen that, I started to haul ass, I can tell you. Almost made it too." Charlie played with his reel for a second, winding it in, then letting it out again. "I shit in a bag now," he said. "They . . . the doctors there, they gave me a colostomy. You know what that is?"

"Yeah. I heard. I'm sorry, Charlie, really. I felt bad as soon as I read about it."

"They cut me a new asshole," said Charlie, a bitter chuckle escaping.

"You mad at me?" asked Henry.

Charlie only shrugged. "He hadn't got you, he woulda got somebody else."

Tommy returned and sat down, protectively near Charlie, on a cushioned seat by the helm, his jaw set in a look of enforced seriousness. Henry took Charlie's fishing pole, reeled in the hook, and baited it with a piece of turkey dog from an open can.

"They like that, the fish?" said Charlie. "That works?"

"Yeah," said Henry. "They love it. Some friends a' mine down here, they run a sea walk on the other side of the island. They take people out with like diving bells over their heads, weight belts, and they look at the fishes. They've been hand-feeding the fish turkey dogs for years. To keep them around. Give the tourists something to look at for their money."

"Pazz gonna want to feed you to some fish," said Charlie, taking back the pole.

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