Orbital Decay by Allen Steele Page A

understood over the blare from the juke box. “Story is that, when they catch a little one, like a nurse or sand shark, he likes to put on a little show for the tourists. You know how you never bring a live shark into the boat, how you drag it into a net in the water and then shoot it or take a hammer to its brains? Well, that crazy asshole takes a skinning knife and jumps down into the net with it.”
    “While it’s still alive ?”
    “While it’s still alive.” Whitey shrugged, grinning like a fox. “He wrestles around with it for a while, hanging onto its dorsal fin where it can’t bend around and take a bite out of him, playing Tarzan. Scares the shit out of everyone in the boat for a few minutes doing that, before he takes the knife and puts it in its guts. After that he scrambles out of the net and gets a gun and blows the poor bastard’s brains out. I hear it makes him popular with the people who’ve come down from Minnesota. They love having their picture taken with him.”
    There was a crash from the bar, which made them look up. The bartender and the bouncer, a big black guy nicknamed George the Goon, had grabbed the shark wrestler’s legs and yanked him off the bar. One of his flailing arms had toppled a bottle from the liquor case; he was bleeding and screaming obscenities as George the Goon got him in a headlock and started dragging him out the back door.
    “Nice guy,” Hooker observed. “I’ll make a point of avoiding him this evening.”
    “Hey, why? If George doesn’t break his legs, you oughtta go meet him. He’s been buying everyone drinks all night.”
    Hooker smiled and put a hand on Whitey’s shoulder. “Y’know, Cooz, what I really had in mind was a nice, pleasant girl, who can make intelligent conversation, has a good sense of humor, who’s charming and has an intelligent perspective on life…”
    “Has small firm breasts, a tight ass, and could give a vacuum cleaner a run for its money,” Cuzak interrupted, grinning broadly.
    “Now, I didn’t say that….”
    “But I know what you meant. Thank God my daughter’s off in college where she doesn’t have to be around your type.” Whitey hesitated, his smile fading. “I guess I should warn you, though…”
    “Whitey, damn it, I haven’t even seen Becky since…”
    “No, uh-uh, I didn’t mean that, Claude. Laura’s here tonight.”
    “Oh, goddammit. She’s here ?”
    “Last time I saw her, she was over at the other end of the room, near the pool table. That was only about five minutes ago.”
    “Great. I’ll make a point of avoiding her, too. Maybe she and Bluto the Shark Killer will get together and leave me alone. They’d make a nice pair.” Hooker looked over Cuzak’s shoulder, scanning the crowded barroom. “Well, the place is packed. Maybe she won’t spot me in all these people.”
    “Come to think of it,” Whitey said, “she and that guy were hanging around with each other when I saw ’em.”
    “See? What did I tell ya?” Whitey grinned and gave his arm a slap, then moved off into the crowd. Hooker inched his way across the room to the bar, where he found Kurt the bartender sweeping up the debris left by the fishing guide’s bar-top boogie. The sour expression on the bartender’s face stopped Hooker from making a wisecrack. Seeing him approach, Kurt put aside his broom and fetched a shot of tequila and a Dos Equis.
    “Laura’s been looking for you,” he said as he measured a dose of José Cuervo into a shot glass.
    “That’s nice. I’m not looking for her.”
    “I told her a giant squid had attacked your boat and you were reported missing, but I don’t think she believed me.”
    “Well, good try anyway. Where did you see her last?”
    “Over by the pool table. She was with Rocky. Her taste must be getting weird.”
    “Rocky? Who’s Rocky?”
    “Rocky the dancing geek. The guy George the Goon just dragged out of here. Did you see that?”
    “Yeah.” Hooker shrugged. “Very