“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” I say.
Anjanette gives a slight snort. “They saw how Dave’s IG blew up when you tagged him, and they’re now all fascinated with social media stuff. These guys love the idea of being filmed.”
“It sounds like I’m looking for content,” I say, “but you guys are truly great.”
“No, I get it. Film away.” Anjanette laughs as I take pictures of her finishing off oysters and scallops. “Your account isn’t like that. You like the real deal.”
“I do.” And I appreciate that she sees that. “So, you all look a bit beat up,” I say as gently as I can. “You’re flashing bruises, obviously tired, and you must be sore as shit.”
“My arms are killing me from pulling in and throwing out traps. But that’s every day.” Jimmy chows down and keepstalking. “Weather tomorrow morning sounds even too brutal for us, but I’m still hoping to head out. And, yes, we’re all hurting. Right, boys?”
For some reason, they all ironically cheer and laugh.
“So, why do you choose this?” I ask, incredulous. “It’s a hard fucking job, isn’t it?”
Flynn stands up, and I manage not to back away despite his intimidating size. “Why lobster boats? Why this life? It chooses most of us. We grew up with this. It’s in our blood. Our family.” He grabs another fried oyster, swallows, sucks his fingers, and grins. “A generational passion, if you will.”
Jacob and Odum show me bruises from their morning. One has a black eye, the other a pretty solid laceration on an arm, both of which they present proudly before going back to their food.
Jimmy winks at me. “Told ya, we love this shit. We live for it.”
Odum pops up from his seat. “You’re gonna post about us?”
“I certainly will,” I assure him. “If you like.”
These guys are the best, and they’re exactly why I started my accounts years ago.
Later, just before I step off to explore the shops, I waltz by Dave’s truck and catch his eye.
Dammit, he’s so cute. So sort of ideal in every way.
His little wink is friendly and kind. A wink with no expectations. The wink I need right now. But I still have to pull myself away.
Yet I can’t stop looking at him, even when he looks away.
It’s so charming how local residents come out for his food, but they are then enticed by the library. They’re not looking for books, just here for the food, but then Dave leans over, pulls up a paperback or two, and raves about the stories even as he’s cooking.
But then his attention is sort of inexplicably captured and held by a father-and-son duo who are waiting in line. Dave suddenly swears and raises his hand in pain.
Anjanette is now by my side, and she apparently saw what I did. “What in the hell? Did he just burn his hand on the grill? That never happens.” Her voice is somber as she watches Dave tend to his burn.
Then she changes her tone and backs us away and toward the little group of shops in town. “Taking Diana shopping,” she yells out happily. But it’s a false happy, and I see her glance back with concern more than once.
She tries to smile at me playfully. “I blame you for that burn.”
“You blame me?” I ask as I try to keep up with her pace.
Anjanette finally stops in front of a cute local shop, and she smiles. “So sorry. Never have I ever seen Dave distracted by a girl, but holy, holy…he could not keep his eyes off of you. It’s why he lost focus for a second and burned himself on the grill. But I freakin’ love that burn! Just didn’t want him to get another.”
I don’t know what to say, how to respond. Because she’s not right.
But I trail after her. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off ofme?”
“Why would you be surprised?” She laughs with such affection and gently sets a hand on my shoulder. “These wildly rich red curls that fucking cascade over your shoulders and down your back? Like, no makeup? Just being naturally beautiful? You sauntering around in this green cardigan and cozy pant matching set like you rolled out of bed so pretty? I’d say we’re all obsessed.” Anjanette giggles and bounces ahead, leaving me stunned and speechless.
I’m the most plain Jane ever, so I have no idea what she could be talking about. No one could be looking at me.
Redheads are always portrayed in the worst ways in books and on-screen. We’re given that horrid stepchild persona. Or shown as kids who are ugly, or dumb, or irritating. Once in a while, a show likeRiverdalewill come around and showcase actual hot redheads, but I’ve spent most of my life hating my hair color and feeling pretty resentful that I’m not a leggy, sultry, tan blonde.
