XXThe Hiss Quarterly || Volume IV, Issue 3

From the dock, Shannon could hear the distant throaty growling of a male alligator wooing a mate. The breeze off the river brought with it the tangy sulfur smell of rotting seagrass. The females used it to incubate their eggs in the spring. Or at least that’s what Shannon had read somewhere. She’d also read that the local human population hardly noticed the odor after the first heady days of decay. Bullshit, Shannon thought as she resealed the still full bag of frog legs in her hand and ducked back inside the Lone Cabbage Bar and Grille. Some things you never got used to.

Halfway between the brown waters of the Atlantic and the squeaky-clean sidewalks of the Magic Kingdom, the Lone Cabbage had long hugged the meandering banks of the St. John’s River at its intersection with an accident-prone two-lane blacktop. Inside, a few regulars had already drifted in for the evening. Several young men, soon to be deployed to the desert, shot pool in the corner. A mother and son shared a shrimp basket before she dropped him off at the sitter’s on her way to work at the new Walmart. The paddle fans overhead beat out the time they had left together.

Shannon caught a hint of sulfur in the air as she straightened the Gold Star banner behind the bar. Natasha was straddling her usual barstool in her usual strappy green dress. Her bare feet curled around the foot rail like claws. Shannon drew a beer and dropped a handful of frog legs into the fryer basket. The frozen flesh hissed as it hit the hot oil.

A little boy burst through the back door, trailed by his weary parents. The last airboat tour of the day had just pulled into the dock.

“I saw real live alligators,” the boy told anyone who’d listen.

“You can tell Mickey all about it in the morning,” his mother said, taking him by the hand and pulling him gently toward the front door. The father already had his car keys out.

The little family brushed by Deputy Dustin Nelson as he held the screen door open for them.

“Tourists,” he muttered as he leaned against the bar.

“They’ve had enough of the ‘real’ Florida for today.” Shannon slid a Styrofoam cup of sweet tea in front of Dustin. He stabbed the lid with the straw and sucked down its contents.

“Any word on that sexual predator?” Shannon asked as she boxed up his catfish sandwich.

“Nobody’s seen him since last March.” He gave Natasha a sidelong look. “No great loss to society but, damn, I hate the paperwork,” he added before heading back to his cruiser.

A local boy eased himself up to the bar, his eyes on Natasha. Shannon told him to forget about it. She always tried to warn them, but she wasn’t worried about this one.

“Damn, girl, you look good enough to eat,” the boy told Natasha.

Shannon groaned. He was so much like her David.

Natasha sucked a frog leg clean of its flesh and tossed it into a rapidly filling basket of bones. She bared her teeth at the boy, and he slunk back to his friends.

Her plate empty, Natasha raised her big, bright eyes and stared at Shannon.

“You do have your appetites, girl.” Shannon reached for the bag in the cooler under the bar.

The front screen door swung open with a bang. A big redhead pushed into the room as if he owned the place. A leaner version of him followed. The big guy’s cologne got to the bar a couple seconds before he did.

He ordered two shots of tequila. His shirt said Tilly Brothers. Shannon knew they were the ones building the planned community just down the road. Serenity advertised itself as a return to nature and the values of old Florida. She’d driven through Serenity the other day. Old Florida must have played a lot of golf.

“Business first,” the big guy toasted. His eyes were on Natasha, though, as he licked the salt off his hand and then bit into the lime. Natasha ran her finger around the empty plate without looking at him. He sucked the wedge slowly before downing the shot. His wingman rolled his eyes and introduced himself to Shannon.

“Randall Tilly. This big lug is my brother, Rob.” He punched the red head in the arm to get his attention. “Mind if we look around?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. The brothers kicked floorboards, tugged on electrical wiring, and paced out the restaurant’s dimensions. All the regulars kept an eye on the brothers.

Shannon watched Natasha instead. She’d pushed aside the fresh plate of frog legs, and her unblinking eyes followed the big red head’s every move.

“Fuck the charm,” he said loudly to his brother. “Tearing it down is the only option.”

The brothers discussed business over more tequila, oblivious to the hush around them. Serenity evidently needed a quaint little row of boutiques with a river walk. A strip mall by another other name. Randall jotted down some numbers on a napkin. Evidently done with the business portion of the evening, Rob pushed back his chair and swaggered up to the end of the bar. He growled a throaty, perverse come-on at Natasha. She wet her lips with a hungry smack.

Shannon couldn’t watch anymore. A pack of smokes in one hand, a phone in the other, she slipped out back. She told herself she’d make the call after a cigarette. Dustin enjoyed playing the redneck lawman, defender of local virtue, when she deemed it necessary. A ticket for a smashed taillight was usually enough to break the mood.

Outside, the breeze had shifted, and the air smelled of jasmine and orange blossom. Bullfrogs bellowed over the whir of cicadas and the gentle smack of billiard balls. She leaned against the dock railing and imagined it all gone. Fuck the charm indeed. This was all she had left.

Shannon lit another cigarette.

The next evening Randall Tilly returned looking for his brother.

Shannon busied herself fixing Dustin Nelson’s dinner as the deputy tried to assure the man his brother was just shacked up somewhere. Randall would not be assured, though.

“Damn paperwork,” Dustin mouthed distastefully over his shoulder as he accompanied Randall out to the cruiser.

As the door swung shut, her Gold Star banner trembled in the breeze and Shannon shuddered. She grabbed a bag from the cooler and walked out to the dock. The sky was burnt orange, and the air smelled like rotten eggs. A familiar form pushed off the bank and glided toward her. Two big bright eyes rose out of the water. Shannon tossed out a handful of raw frog legs, and the gator snapped them up in its jaws and waited for more.

“You do have your appetites, girl.” Shannon sighed.

She threw another handful of flesh and bones onto the water, and the sun set over the Lone Cabbage Bar and Grille.