A.I. Spies

Mr. Intensity

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Mr. Arnold Ayers clapped his rough hands and rubbed them together.

"I've got a little change of plans for tonight." He raised his eyebrows. "How about grabbing some food quick and sailing for a few hours. We'll eat, watch the sun set into the water. A true Florida experience. Maybe get a few bites on our fishing lines?"

"Deep-sea fishing?" Dad said.

"Not so much 'deep-sea' but 'pretty-deep' fishing in the Gulf."

"Fine with me."

"Me too."

We looked at Mom, waiting for her answer.

"As long as I don't have to fish but can relax. Do I have to smell the fish?"

"No better way to sail than to relax. But I don't think I can do anything about the fish smell. Unless we don't catch anything. Let's not wish that on ourselves though," Arnold said.

We left the house in Arnold's car. Mom and Dad chatted quietly in the back seat, enjoying the vacation. I sat in the front.

As they talked, Arnold spoke to me.

"So you must be the 'Errol.'" He glanced at me, taking his eyes off the road for a moment.

I saw he was a strong man. Thick arms and a hard jaw.

I remember when Matt Barnes first came to my house. I was expecting a burly man with a chiseled face that could sell Jeeps on a billboard in Times Square. He was not that man. Arnold though, I bet he could outsell any other face. In fact, I decided then to buy a Jeep ... someday.

"Jenna has really told me a lot," Arnold said.

Unexpectedly, when he said her name, my heart skipped and then beat a little faster. I immediately convinced myself that the shot of feelings was nothing. Just an excitement of meeting a close friend. But her dark eyes came to mind though and then her strong handshake. Ms. Intensity.

Arnold brought me back from those thoughts. Thankfully.

"She thinks highly of you. I'm impressed too. Most people don't have what you've got: Guts, good luck, but never the glory. Those three are what will take you farthest in life."

"Never the glory?" I asked.

"Let someone else have the limelight. Blah, blah, blah. That light ruins more people. Even if it doesn't ruin people, it'll drain the zest right out of them. If you're not seen, then you can live your way. In the limelight, you end up living how everyone else tells you to live. And the people who tell you how to live aren't even you!" He reached over and patted my shoulder.

The pat was enough to prove his strength. That meaningless pat of his had as much umph as one of my best punches. I also thought back to one of Uncle Louie's guys, that bear of a man. Arnold could have tossed him through my bedroom window as easily as a bad cat can be thrown out the back door.

We grabbed food at a drive-thru and wound up at a dock. A down-home, backwoods, warped-wood, maybe even a forgotten, dock.

"What are we doing here?" Mom asked.

This place seemed abandoned, lost in the bog.

"Whew, that stinks." I waved my hand over my nose.

It had the same scent as the black gunk in clogged bathroom drains.

Then I saw the boat. Suddenly the place didn't stink.

While not a yacht club, the boat that was tied to the wooden pier had a yacht club status. Big and powerful. Two massive black engines on the rear. A tinted windshield and an upper deck, or that's how I would describe it. Tall fishing poles stretched as high as antennas on a semi truck. I wanted to see more of this thing. But first I had to walk on the old pier.