Jack Beale 00 - Dangerous Shoals

truck roared past spewing diesel fumes and kicking up stones from the road, forcing him to close his eyes and hold his breath for a moment. He ran on and eventually the road turned back toward the boulevard. Those troubling thoughts were now replaced by the more immediate dangers of the endless stream of evacuating cars filled with happily sunburned people.
    * * *
    Max was busy behind the bar when Jack walked in. He took one of the two remaining seats at the bar and then nodded a hello to the guy on his left and the couple to his right.
    “Hi Jack,” said Max as she placed a draft ESB in front of him. “How was your run?”
    “Nice, really nice. It felt good to be able to finally run in just shorts and a singlet. How’re things here?”
    “Busy.”
    Before she could say anything else the printer at the bar began its chikka-chikka-chunk as another order from the dining room came in. Max began to make a Cosmo and a Tanqueray and tonic while Jack watched. Patti came in to pick up those drinks, and when she saw Jack she walked around the bar and gave him a friendly hug and kiss. “Hi Jack. I heard you had a nice picnic earlier.”
    “Yeah. It was nice.”
    “Sometime the four of us will have to get together and go on one.”
    “Sure,” Jack agreed lightly. He knew that Dave would probably be off fishing whenever the weather was good enough to picnic, so it seemed unlikely that this would happen anytime soon.
    “C’mon Patti. Leave Jack alone and pick up your drinks; they’re getting warm,” Max teased.
    Patti gave Jack a final kiss on the cheek and said, “Gotta go. Wouldn’t want those drinks to warm up.”
    Jack watched her put the drinks onto a tray and leave the bar. Max came back over to face him. “Today was really nice. We’ll have to do that sometime with Dave and Patti.”
    “Yeah right, when pigs fly,” thought Jack. What he said was, “Dave’s pretty busy. I think it’ll be hard to get him away.”
    “Oh, I don’t think so. Patti can be pretty persuasive.”
    His silent reply was a sip of beer.
    Jack stayed until Ben’s closed and then he helped Max lock up. The moon was out and it was still warm as they walked back to his place.

CHAPTER 7
    >SEVERAL WEEKS HAD passed since the picnic in the park. The weather had continued to be perfect, with warm sunny days and cool calm nights. Every day Ben’s was a little bit busier and Jack was dividing his time between helping Courtney ready the restaurant for the summer and working on his boat. Plastic still covered Irrepressible , and the temperature under the cover in the middle of the day became too hot for working, so he reserved the two ends of the day for boat work and spent the middle of the day at Ben’s.
    Max bartended five days each week, mostly nights, so she was able to help Jack work on the boat now and then. As much as he appreciated her help, and she was getting better and better at sanding bright work, she could be a distraction. Jack loved to watch her work. Beads of sweat would form on her forehead and her face would begin to shimmer. She would tie her hair up so it stayed out of the way, but inevitably a few strands would come loose and stick to the side of her face. She’d try to brush them back with the back of her hand without success. Then, when she’d use her fingers to remove them, a smear of sanding dust would be left on her cheek.
    Her standard uniform for boat work was one of Jack’s old running t-shirts from some long forgotten race, cargo shorts, and knee pads to ease the discomfort of working on hands and knees. It never took long for sweat to begin soaking through the t-shirt. First the back would soak through and then, if she sat up, the shirt would begin to cling to her breasts. Then it would slowly peel away as she returned to sanding. Often, she worked braless because of the heat, and the soft sway of the girls was poetry in motion as she caressed the teak rails with 220 grit sandpaper. By most standards, she looked a mess. But to Jack, watching, she was a masterpiece. She had a raw, elemental sensuality that drove him crazy. Most of the time he was content just to catch glimpses of her, but occasionally a glimpse was not enough, and on those occasions little work was accomplished.
    * * *
    Jack stood at the bottom of the ladder with his varnish brush in one hand and the varnish pot in the other. He put the pot on the ground with the brush balanced on its lip, stood, and stretched as he removed the