Tackle

It was a rather sunny day, the type that inspires you to bask in the glow of the sun and embrace your laziness. The midmorning breeze swept gently past, consistently making the Florida weather beautiful even in mid July. Colletta Simmons lay outside by the pool with her attention entirely focused on what seemed an intensely captivating book…at least until her brother bounded outside, screaming her name. Her younger brother, Victor, was all smiles, all the time. They contrasted each other in looks. Colletta’s skin was tanned brown and her hair was a dark blonde streaked with a mixture of sun and chlorine highlights. Victor, however,  had a paler complexion blushed with freckles giving him a boyish look. His hair was a sandy blonde and slightly rugged in its style. Colletta was more muscular than her brother, partially due to the fact that she was more athletic than Victor. Put side by side however, there was no denying they were related. Despite their differences, one striking similarity was their eyes. They were a brilliant green that captured their vibrant personalities.

As Victor yanked his sister off the pool lounge chair, Colletta vaguely registered that her little brother would soon be definitively taller than her. Though she longed to keep her little brother little, Colletta couldn’t ignore that her little brother was growing up. Well, physically anyway. Her brother’s still enjoyed himself by sporting his happiness as crazily as a seven year old, though he was several years older. Some others outside their family would look down on his passionate, expressive self, Colletta thought to herself. Some would venture to call him crazy and strange. But he was her crazy, strange little brother. He lit up her world with a flash of his smile.

“Colletta!” he shouted playfully, “Will you take me to the tackle shop?!” His excitement was almost palpable. Fishing was Victor’s favorite hobby in the entire world was fishing. The mere thought of tackle shop filled his mind with endless possibilities of amazing catches and daring new adventures. Colletta’s suppressed smile crept through her mock scowl of annoyance.

“Please, please, please, please, please!” Victor begged.

“Fine.” Colletta relented with a smile. Victor tackled her in a hug before racing off no doubt to take a careful inventory of his fishing supplies. Five minutes later they were ready to go.

“I’m taking Vic to the tackle shop. Be back soon.” Colletta called out to her dad.

“Drive safe.” Her dad answered. They drove the three minutes it took from the house to the shop. Victor talked animatedly about everything and anything. Even the simple things he challenged, daring to shed new light on ideas just previously accepted. His brain operated at one hundred miles an hour and required so much energy that it made everyone wonder how he possibly remained awake for the entirety of the day. His observations never failed to make Colletta laugh. So much so that she vaguely thought what it would be like to bottle up his lively personality and save it for a bad day.

Billy Baits Tackle Shop supplied all the equipment for a local fisherman’s hopes and dreams of fantastic catches. The store itself wasn’t very large, but enough to store all kinds of rods, hooks, line, weights, lures, and the like. Billy Baits permanently smelled of fish, mingled with salt water due to the tanks of live bait behind the register. The hum of the water and the clacking of fiddler crabs on the side of the tank were the only sounds in the quiet tackle shop. The initial hum of fishermen would have come and gone early in the morning. The walls of the store sported an impressive assortment of hooks and lures of all different kinds, each specific to a different type of fish. Just off the right wall were a few lines of fishing rods of all different varieties. To the left there were some freestanding wooden structures displaying tackle boxes, netting, and line. Below the collection of hooks on the left wall, weights of remarkable size lay in built in shelves off the wall.

The man working the store was Billy. He wasn’t the actual owner of the store as many might think. He was tall definitely over six feet his hair white. Billy was the type of man you’d think belonged on a boat a few miles offshore with a beer in one hand and a fishing rod in the other. Colletta contented herself by wandering about the store as Victor and Billy excitedly discussed the best way to catch a Spanish Mackerel.

The door alarm chimed as another customer walked in. Colletta looked up only mildly interested, and then did a double take. The man stumbled looking as if he’d just stepped out of a bad Wild West movie. He was a portly man wearing dark denim jeans, cowboy boots, a button down flannel shirt, a bolo tie,a handlebar mustache, all topped with a straw cowboy hat. His speech was slurred as he asked Billy “mind if I stay here awhile?” Billy simply eyed him up and down, let him stay, and excused himself for a moment as he went into the back room. The man looked nervous, Colletta noted. He constantly looked out the window failing to appear discrete. Evidently on the run from something, Colletta guessed drugs.

Colletta stayed next to the heavier weights stored underneath the hooks, ready to act should this man pose any threat to her brother. The man began to relax, and as he relaxed Colletta tensed. The more relaxed he became, the more careless he was. Muttering to himself about how the police wouldn’t find him and how great his plan was to hid in the local tackle shop. Colletta, Victor, and Billy exchanged looks. Colletta and Victor knew that Billy had gone into the back to call the police, now it was just a matter of distracting the man from looking out the window. The man made this fairly easy by sputtering what he thought was extraordinary and was actually anything but.  Behind him, Colletta saw the cops get out of the car and head toward the shop. Suddenly the man turned to her.

“Do you fish?” His speech was loud and slurred, and his eyes were out of focus. Taking an affectionate hold of her brother’s hand as the cops opened the door. Colletta looked at her brother and then back at the man.

“No,” she said, “I just take him to the tackle shop.”