Shark Fishing Chapter from my book.

I'm not doing this in anyway a a promotion. I just thought that I would post the 4th Chapter from "Devil in the Grass", which has just been published. I was inspired to write a Florida book in a lot of ways by my buddies and our nights on the beach pulling in the odd shark. I just had to fit in a shark fishing chapter. It feeds the story and adds some interest. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4
Fishing
Jack paddled the kayak into a warm wind that blew steadily off the Gulf of Mexico. It was one of life’s simple pleasures, as far as he was concerned; it gave him a sense of freedom with a bit of daring. The water was slightly choppy, and a large full moon hung almost orange in the July night sky. Shark fishermen called it a hammer moon. The odds of hooking a great hammerhead shark were higher, because the shark was better able to see its favorite prey in the moonlight—the stingray.
Jack removed the plastic-coated wire leader from between his teeth as he reached what he guessed to be about three hundred yards. He looked back toward the shore where his friend Perry waited with the rod. He could see him waving a flashlight, a small speck of light compared to the multitude of lights in the high-rise condos that loomed behind him. Jack took the leader, weight, and the bait, half a cow nose ray, and carefully dumped it into the water.
He felt so peaceful, he didn’t hurry back to shore. He leaned back in the kayak seat and opened a can of Coors. It was a difficult feeling to explain. Friends would ask him, “Aren’t you afraid out there? Dropping a bloody bait, aren’t you going to get attacked?” It didn’t work that way, at least so far. Once a shark had circled him, but that hadn’t bothered him. He was fatalistic out here. If he was going to go that way, then so be it. He had the big-game hunter mentality. Before heading out, he didn’t like the idea of dragging a bloody bait into shark-infested waters, but once on the water he seemed to forget his fear, and the thrill-engaged adrenalin took over. It wasn’t as easy to catch a shark as everyone thought. They weren’t the mindless, meat-eating beasts that most people believed them to be. They were actually quite skittish, and would only bite if conditions were right. A big, bloody piece of fish could be dropped out into the ocean and it might sit there for a day without as much as a nibble. Crabs would do a better job some nights. He’d dropped bait hundreds of times, it wasn’t a big deal and he was still alive. He feared the waves and the storms that circled southwest Florida in the summer more than he did the fish.
He finished his beer in one long gulp and ventured back to shore. As the bow touched, Perry helped him pull the kayak onto the sand. “Took your time, bro.”
“The summer wind off the Gulf is just gorgeous, and the sound of the waves lapping up against the side of the boat was too nice to pass up.”
“True enough, true enough. We got three baits soaking, let’s chill for a bit.”
He sat down in his beach chair and cracked open another Coors. Perry slumped into his chair. The two had bonded and formed a strong friendship through their deep of love fishing.
“Things okay over at the restaurant?”
“Same old. Pretty dead in the summer, but we’re keeping our heads above water. The boss has some pretty good specials going, and a lot of the locals like our shit. You?”
“Job’s going okay, don’t love it. I met this girl, works at the same place, a different office though.”
“C’mon, so?”
“Well, she’s different, but I think in a good way. She’s pretty cool.”
“Pretty cool? Bro, you must be serious. You usually say yeah, she’s a good fuck, or she’s stuck up, or it ain’t workin’. What the hell does pretty cool mean?”
“Um, we’ve only had a couple of dates, but I’m pretty sure I’d like to pursue it a bit more.”
“Two dates? Pursue? C’mon…”
Click, click, click.
“Something’s nibblin’ on the twelve ought.”
ZZZZZZZ… Line started ripping off the huge Penn reel, a sound like no other. Then it stopped. Both men were on their feet staring at the rod. Perry reeled back a few feet. “Let ’em chew a bit. Jackson, I know you better. You are the slumdog football hero. Tell me more.” Both men fell back into their chairs.
“Well, we went for lunch the other day. I tell ya, I was so hot for this chick, Sarah. Anyway, halfway through lunch I thought I was gonna have to go whack off in the restroom. Then she mentions religion. Bam, there goes the hard-on. Thought she was a religious nut—we’ve both dated them, waste of time. But man, was I wrong. Well, it was all nicey-nicey and then she says she has to leave and get back to her job.
“Next week, she calls me up at work. I thought she’d forgotten about me. Comes and drags me out. Says she needs to talk to me. So I clear it with the supervisor and we go for a drive. We talk for a bit, and she says she’s a Satanist.”
“What the fuck, bro!” Perry stood up looking down at Jack.
“I have to say I was taken back. But then she explained that what she did wasn’t evil, that her religion was merely a point of view. Anyway, I’ll keep you briefed. I’m not terribly concerned.”
Perry looked at him, placing his hands on his hips. “Point of view, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Is it voodoo or something? You’re weirding me out now, bro. I wouldn’t touch that shit with your dick, I don’t care how hot the girl might be.”
Perry looked down at Jack, his face pulled tight. He didn’t do that very often unless it had to do with fishing. “Don’t fuck around with that shit, bro. I don’t want to lose my fishin’ buddy over some devil woman. I mean that in two ways. Those fuckers can warp your brain and shit. I’ve heard about it. Before you know it, you’re doing shit that you didn’t want to do. Second, you work for a state senator. They get wind of that shit and you’re toast. You won’t get a job on a shrimp boat after that. My advice is to dump her right away. The pussy don’t own you yet. You go in there and they own ya.”
Jack sat for a few minutes pondering Perry’s words, taking a long swig of his beer. “I’ve thought about all that. I promise to let you know what’s up. I’m just checking things out. You know how it is—sooner or later the blow jobs stop. As soon as things start to get weird, if they do at all, I promise I’m outta there.”
“Blow jobs? I’m not following.”
“Have you ever gotten a blow job from a chick after dating her for more than a year?”
“Good point.”
“So anyway, we drive for a bit and end up at Lovers Key. We park, and before you know it we’re going at it hard.”
“No, c’mon, in the minivan?”
“Yep, right in the front seat.”
ZZZZZZZ…
“That’s a solid run. Get your belt on.”
Jack strapped on a fighting belt and Perry handed him the screaming rod. He took it and started running backward towards a stand of mangrove. Once he had a head of steam up, he threw over the drag lever. Wham, the hook took hold and the fish was on, and none too happy. The line zinged off the reel at an alarming rate.
“Big one, Perry. Not a black tip. Either a hammer or a tiger—taking… too… much… line. Maybe a big bull?” He sat down in the sand and dug his heels in and began rocking forward and back, gaining a bit of line each time he moved forward. The fish calmed a bit and he added a little more drag. It began to take more line, but not as much as the first run. “Not a hammer, but she’s solid.”
Perry would not relent. “So you’re in the fucking minivan and she bangs you? Afternoon delight, I am so jealous, bro. How ya doin’? Can you gain some line?”
“She’s turning, I think.” Jack stood up and quickly ran toward the surf, reeling as he ran. Then he started walking backward toward the trees. “Memorable head, Perry, no sex. Fucking memorable head.” He started to gain some line. “She’s going right, need to keep it off that buoy out there.” Jack ran to the left and was rewarded with some slack. He added more drag and began reeling as hard as he could. “I’m sure that I want to bang her, but it’s scary what she can do with head, you know? I just want to see her again so that I can get some more. Crazy.”
“C’mon, it’s really that great?”
“Believe me Perry, it just fucking is.”
“You’re givin’ me wood, bro.”
“Well then, stay away.”
It took Jack another half hour to get the fish to the beach.
“Here she comes, Mr. ‘Memorable Head.’ Nice bull!” Perry ran into the surf and grabbed the leader. “Got it, grab the tail.”
Jack put the rod in the holder and calmly moved to the back of the thrashing bull shark. He waited until it calmed a bit and the tail stopped flapping back and forth. He quickly grabbed its tail and with one big heave, ran it up onto the beach as far as he could, which was only a few feet.
“Beauty, Perry. It must be eight-plus feet, and she’s fat.”
The shark started to flip again; both men stepped back, respecting the strength of the animal. Finally, Perry stood over the top of the fish, his feet on the pectoral fins, and pulled its jaws open. Jack used pliers to pull the hook out of its mouth. The shark was tagged, measured, dragged back into the Gulf, and released with no harm done.
The two friends did a high-five and went straight to the beer cooler, their adrenaline still kicking in at high gear. It was a rush that neither of the two friends would ever tire of.
“You give me your word. You’re outta there the second things don’t add up, right?”
“Sure thing. Now let’s get another on the sand. Sorry I brought the whole thing up.”
“No, man, that’s what friends are for.”

Chris