Season 5 – Episode 15 (Hook Line And Sinker)
Coconut sunscreen and jet fuel… she smelled the same as when they had last embraced on Moose Island… working on the Biggy Pescatore case. Only now, his lips were locked with Ellie’s, and he held her face impossibly close to his with hands grasping bleach blonde strands of hair.
Looking into her jet blue eyes he could see embers. The same ones that roared to life every time he stared at the base of a lakeside campfire.
Ellie was the first to come up for air while Rusty barely managed to maintain consciousness. He was a musky roaming the shallows near pencil weeds. There were multiple baits bombing the water. Fat Bastards… Suick Thrillers… Bull Dawgs… Whopper Ploppers… he stayed hidden.
But suddenly the musky was caught off-guard. Ellie’s cast was beyond wild… she was throwing a Sexy Shad. Rusty had no time to react… the bite was instinctual… and without knowing the consequences he flared his gill covers and crushed the fluttering bait Hook Line And Sinker.
“There… how’s that for a grand entrance?” Ellie broke the silence.
“Um… Yeah…” Rusty stuttered.
Then she placed an index finger to his lips and said, “Look, when I left camp to Baha my way back down to Australia via Winnipeg, it gave me a lot of time to think.”
“Yeah, but…” Rusty attempted to interject.
“No, let me finish, please… I could feel the way you’ve been carrying yourself in my presence. I am not oblivious to the vibe. And you know what? I’m… interested.”
“But Ellie…” Rusty began to say… only the drag on her reel was tightened down and the barbed hooks in his jaw were buried.
“Now, according to my aviator’s watch, we have exactly thirty-eight minutes before your guests return to the docks from their day of fishing. So, let’s take a little walk… I want to see what the inside of your bunkhouse looks like.”
At that point, dragging Rusty by one arm, Ellie marched past the lodge with her catch in tow. Behind drawn shades of the front picture window, she identified Celine’s silhouette sneaking a motionless peek. She lifted her free hand to the sky, acknowledging her friend’s presence, and both women immediately shared the nonverbal “V” peace sign.
Minutes later Minister Nev arrived at the dock, inquiring as to the presence of the floatplane, and consequently found himself gasping for air. Apparently, there would be another musky attack.
“Get in here, you white collared man of the cloth,” Celine ordered as he politely knocked on the screen door.
Nev was standing at the lodge entrance peering through the mesh with his crucifix in hand. Then he asked, “Who showed up with the fancy plane?”
“Sure’s hell no angel, ha! Do you know what BFFs are, padre,” Celine began. “Normally, with myself, it’s someone from the same gene pool. The Cramshaws are descendants of royalty… I think… or was it hobo royalty? Anyway, when in Rome… comme ci, comme ca, but I’ve expanded my boundaries.”
“My lovely dear, what are you…” Neville attempted to interrupt.
“But sometimes relatives can’t be trusted. Like the time my cousins let the goats eat my friend Melvin. And you know what?” Celine continued… now squatting on all fours inside the entrance, “Leap frog is a popular game.”
Nev remained outside the door. His crucifix gripped tightly in the palm of his hand.
“Celine, I’m not…” and before he could say the words “following you,” she sprung from her crouched position, burst through the screen door like a ball from a cannon, and tackled him outside the entryway. His crucifix, now being used as a guard for evil spirits, suffered epic failure and was cast blindly with the wind.
“Listen Pastor Perfect… Sally’s gone… our main boss man Blather’s is afraid to jump lily pads. I couldn’t wait for you to do REVELATIONS—so I audibled and shouted at Ellie. She wouldn’t trade blood with me… get it… to consummate our BFF status… but we will spit in each other’s bowls of fish head soup. And finally, Rusty’s bunkhouse is rockin’ so don’t bother knockin. Ya copy?”
“Uncanny… Your innate ability to…” replied Neville.
“My ability to what?” Celine interjected. “Get a frog to jump, or take your breath away with a big ‘ol smoocher?” Which—the latter—is exactly what she proceeded to do.
Neville cried UNCLE three times to no avail… then switched to a trio of HAIL MARY’s as Celine straddled him and pinned his arms to the floor of the cedar decking. Ultimately, he gained splinters in his behind with each failed attempt to inch away… and baring any stain remover his affixed dog collar would forever run red with Ruby Woo lipstick coloring—tough to explain to the congregation.
Speaking earlier of taking one’s breath away… Sally and Team Eagle peered out the windows of the chartered jet as they approached their refueling destination in Dakar. Perched on the westernmost tip of Africa, this astonishing view with its sprawling landmass and vibrant colors, garnered multiple comments from the crew.
Most notable was from the never mincing words Jackie Loonsuckle, “Damn smokie—that there looks a whole frickin’ lot like Monfrickintana! Big—bold—beautimous!”
“What is it with these cowboys?” asked Hazel, to Sally. “Is this dude all big hat, or does he have some cattle?”
“Enough cattle, at least at one time, to warrant the attention of our Eagle pal Ellie Waylayer,” responded Sally.
“Seriously?”
“Yep, for a while, back at the Gold Rope Ranch they were a thing,” answered Sally. “But I think she grew weary waiting for him to grow up… lovable fly-fishing bum that he is.”
“Yeah, I could see that,” said Hazel. “Or maybe it was just time for her to move on to another fish.”
“Doubtful,” countered Sally. “I know Ellie… there’s no one else…”
Just then Win Dixie’s voice came over the intercom from the cockpit, “Team Eagle we are about to go wheels down for our scheduled fuel stop… Please buckle up for the landing if you have not done so already.”
“Hey,” asked Sally, “have you heard anything back from HQ… on this gal Win?”
“Not a peep,” replied Hazel. “I’ve left three threads on the satellite phone and I’m getting zip in return.
“It’s possible someone is mixing our signals,” said Sally. “And if that’s the case—brace yourself if we start circling Blaise Diagne International. Before takeoff—I specifically requested a hot-pit refueling at Leopold Sedar Senghor. It’s a safer location for private charters, but I haven’t got confirmation on that either.”
Then the jet carrying Team Eagle banked right and dropped through the clouds with a hard-throttled descent over (BDI). There was no pulling back… a welcome party stood on the tarmac as the plane touched down. Both Sally and Hazel purposely fogged up their respective windows. Their greeters appeared to have open arms, of the firearm variety.
“Shit,” exclaimed Sally. “We’re gonna need a quick plan-B, Hazel.”
“What’s the problem? Signals? What mixed signals?” asked Ron Heimburg to Jackie, overhearing Sally’s earlier conversation.
“Nothing as far as I can tell,” replied Jackie. “Some dudes with guns and a hot chic standing on the runway.”
There were ZERO mixed signals within the confines of Rusty Flathers bunkhouse. Z—E—R—O.
Lacking bodily fluids Rusty was a fish held too long out of water. Clearly, Ellie came in with a bulletproof plan of attack… strike quickly and throw the entire tackle box at your game. This technique, obviously mastered, left her trophy fish incapable of sustaining a fight.
“I think I hear boats coming into the harbor,” said Rusty with an exhausted voice.
“Ahhh… Pretty sure you didn’t, Flathers. I’m not releasing you—yet.”
–To Be Continued–
