Recluse Island

Chapter 36

January 2014

"Where did you get that?" asked seasoned pilot Otto Lyons.

"Found it in the trash," his co-pilot replied.

"I thought I told you to stop that?" reprimanded Otto.

James Joseph Jorgen Jr. or J.J for short spread the newspaper he'd taken out of the trash bin in the corner out on top of the scratched bar ignoring Otto as he began to read. The two were at Denny's Ear, a local bar in Miami near the airport which they frequented on their many stop overs from Pigscula Keys.

Otto Lyons sighed and signaled the bartender, "Another Lloyd."

J.J. may take orders from Otto when they were flying but when on the ground, Otto was just another acquaintance. Otto respected the boy's gumption there was no denying that but J.J. needed to learn to take heed when cautioned. If found in possession of that paper J.J. was looking into either getting landed in Mayhew Jailhouse or sent to the Clinkirk Compound. Neither of which we're very favorable options.

Otto was forty-one to J.J.'s twenty-five. He'd been flying for United Island Way - the only charter company on Pigscula Keys - since 1998. Currently he was commissioned with the Gourd (a fruit distributor) and made weekly trips to the United States. J.J. joined him three years ago as his co-pilot. A significant improvement on his predecessor Lennie Chupwick who was always snapping his gum and asking Otto how many women he'd slept with (even though Lennie knew he'd been married for fifteen years).

Therefore, despite his lack of cooperation at least he kept his questions to himself except of course when it concerned Trixie Kettlebum but as Otto had told him many times, he really didn't know the woman. Trixie was the new head of Modern Technology Guru's; she was also nine years older than J.J. and the real reason he kept sneaking papers home. His apparent attempt at wooing her as Trixie was fascinated with all things off Pigscula Keys such as TV's, newspapers, cars, phones and so forth though it clearly wasn't working as Trixie still thought of J.J. as a kid brother.

Otto was glad his own wife Mabel hadn't played hard to get, if that's what Trixie was doing. They had met at the Fifth Dumpling where Mabel had been waitressing. On this particular night it had been more crowded than a can of sardines, Mabel seemed frazzled and when she got his order wrong - he'd requested Fish N'Chips - and brought him cucumber soup with a hunk of sourdough bread instead he didn't have the heart to tell her she had messed up. At about the time he'd finished eating (the soup actually wasn't that bad) Mabel's shift had ended. He'd gone outside for a smoke and was standing by the door when she came out.

"Rough night?" asked Otto.

Mabel nodded. She had thick blond hair pulled back into a bedraggled bun and blue eyes as sharp as ice chips. She was short but thin and wore a brown skirt under a white apron splashed with stains and food and an equally dirty white blouse.

"But it's better than the Gourd, right? Got any more of those?" she indicated his cigarette.

Otto pulled the box out of his pocket and tapped one out for her. She quickly removed it and popped it into her mouth where Otto proceeded to light it.

"That's better," she drawled slowly, blowing the smoke out.

"That's who I fly for."

She eyed him quizzically.

"The Gourd, I fly for the Gourd," Otto clarified.