Short Fiction--The Guy Next Door: Part 10

“Whoa, now Vaquera! Listen to me! I sound as if I drank the Kool-Aide!” said GND excitedly, while looking at me with prideful approval.

“Well, yes, it appears that you indeed have,” I answered him, laughing.  Then there was a pause.

“I sounded sincere, didn’t I?” he asks.

“Yes, you surely did. But, not to worry, ‘cause I’ve got your number.”

“You got my number?”

“Yep.”

He’s been considering retirement, which for him is only a few short years away. Thinking about where he wants to spend his golden years, doing what.

“Maybe I’ll get a boat.”

This is how it began.

“Yeah? You know how to drive one, big guy?

“I grew up on the Chesapeake. Of COURSE I know how to handle a boat!” he scolded.

“Ok, OK—just checking.”

Then, I wait because I know he’ll offer his thoughts in his own good time. And, GND’s got loads of ‘em. Changes his mind with the weather, so I’ve learned to wait him out. Wait on him to disclose the next novel idea and wait for that novelty to pass and wait for the next best thing.

Guys like him are mostly talk. They think things sound great until they run the risk assessments at which point their convictions waver.

“Maybe I’ll get into fishing. I’m going to check out the Punta Gorda area, because I’ve heard that’s a great place to pick up used boats given most houses are on canals,” he continues as expected.

“I see,” I say because I do.  With him, it’s usually a package deal. It’s usually linked somehow how to save money or how to make money.

“The bay’s one of the most productive seafood markets on the eastern shore board—it’s got everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Groovy.” I tread carefully because he thinks I’m hard enough as it is and who am I to crash his dreams. “So…when’s the last time you were in a boat prey tell?”

He doesn’t know. Can’t recall. He looks at me blankly; I stare back.

“So, when you retire in a few years, how much do you imagine you’ll be using this boat? Enough to justify the cost of coastal housing?”

I look at him blankly; he stares back.

“Guess I could rent one a couple of times to see if that’s something I really want to do a lot of.”

“Guess you could.”

This is the way such conversations usually go. This time, he was going on about trading in some of his toys—like his tow trailer for one of my coveted Roadtreks.  

“And maybe I’ll lose the bikes and get a scooter. Heck, I could even get one of those electric ones you keep telling me about. It’d be cleaner all around.”  

I won’t be holding my breath though because as I said, I’ve got his number.