They would be waiting for him at Hilo Harbor. He expected this. And he expected they’d want to have “the talk.” The management had been going over Cole’s coworkers in similar fashion, each of the security guards being invited into the meat freezer for what they said were “wifi” reasons. Then they’d slam shut the heavy metal door, and the fans would kick on, and they’d be “safe” to have a private conversation. Cole had heard about it all the way from the mainland, how cold it could get in there.

There were other rumors, too, about men who’d end up staying in the freezer indefinitely. Working as muscle for Blackwoods Security Corp meant that Cole was literally a piece of meat for them. He was treated and paid as such, and for the most part, he was fine with it. But living like a piece of meat and going out like one were two entirely different things.

Before stepping into that freezer, he wanted to be damn sure which outcome was more likely.

He’d start off by slipping away from the cargo ship, and Port Hilo, the second his feet touched the steady ground of Hawaii. Too many people knew his face at the harbor. Even from a distance, his lumbering walk screamed “Cole.” So he’d disguised himself the best he could with big aviator sunglasses and a LA Dodgers hat pulled close. But there was nothing he could do about that walk. When he tried, he felt utterly stupid and more exposed than before. He moved slower, his strides unnaturally shortened, his hips tucked awkwardly. Halfway through the harbor compound was as far as he could go without drawing too much attention—or pulling a hamstring. The rest of the way was flat-out Cole, as fast as he could, past the gates and into one of the curbside taxis.

He ordered the driver to take him five blocks away, quickly, to a seedy dive bar on the outskirts of the tourist sector.

“I was gonna offer you a lei,” the driver said, stuffing a neon pink garland back with the rest in his glove compartment. He didn’t explain the change of heart, but Cole knew it had something to do with how he’d talked to the driver, and where he’d asked to be dropped off. It wasn’t exactly the tourist vibe. That bit of exuberance had worn off years ago, along with the rest of his old naiveties about the world and the shipping industry that made it go around.

He stepped out of the cab without a lei and without knowing exactly what to expect inside the Crow’s Nest, except its typical darkness. It was midday and they already had the neon going, the karaoke playing without a singer. Just the background tune to a song he might have heard a thousand times. Something he’d known from grocery stores and 1-800 numbers, only wordless and in the background to his conversation with Tai, a sixty-year old Vietnamese hustler who looked half his age. He grinned over the bar at Cole. One gold tooth shone in the bar light.

“Hey, Sailor,” Tai said, laughing.

“What did I say about calling me Sailor?” Cole pulled out a stool from under the lip of the bar and sat opposite the cagey bartender. “I’m not even a sailor.”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s that all from, anyway?”

“I don’t know.”

Cole reached over the bar and grabbed a little square napkin. He dropped it in front of him and said, “Any of the guys come in here today?”

“Your guys? No. Not yet.”

A minute later, a rum and coke sat sweating on Cole’s napkin. He picked up the glass, with the napkin still clinging to it, and took a long sip while watching the blurry shape of Tai getting another glass ready. “No,” Cole said. “I just have time for one.”

“Just checking on your guys?”

“Yeah. I’ll check back a little later.”

“I’m not sure if they’ll be here today,” Tai said.

“I thought you just said they would.”

Tai leaned against the bar, leaning in close to Cole. He spoke quietly. “You sure you don’t want another?”

“Why? What’s up?”

Tai was still close. Still quiet. “Everything alright with you, Cole?”

Cole shrugged.

“Because I heard it’s not.”

“What’s not?”

“They saying you’re quitting or something? Is that it?”

Cole wasn’t surprised at how fast the news had traveled. It was erroneous news, but news nonetheless. “What else are they saying?” he asked.

“Are you?”

“Am I quitting? No. Fuck no, I’m not quitting. Who said that?”

He started pouring Cole another drink. “I’m telling you this because I like you.”

“I like you, too, Tai.”

“Ice?”

“No thanks. Who’s been talking to you?”

“They’re all talking,” Tai said. “They say you’re flaking out.”

Cole could only chuckle at that. He reached for his new drink.

“Are you flaking out?”

“I wouldn’t be in here if I were,” Cole said.

“I have no idea what you would or wouldn’t do. I know you like rum and cokes.”

“Let’s keep it that way. I feel like whatever I say here’s gonna get around before the day’s out.”

Tai frowned. “I said I liked you.”

“Then let’s just keep things quiet for a while.” He stared at his bartender, offering a little smile when the next song came on. Soft rock made even more bland by its wordlessness.

Tai seemed immune to it. He’d probably heard it all before: the karaoke and Cole. “Is there someone after you?” he said finally. “Someone I can look out for?”

“Sounds like they’re all after me.”

“That’s a possibility,” Tai said. “Will you still try to work?”

“Yeah, if I can.”

“They think you went nuts or something. That’s all.”

“You sure?”

Tai shrugged and said, “Sure. We all go a little nuts. I’m nuts.”

Cole threw a few bills on the bar top. “Do me a favor?”

“Maybe.”

“Let me know if anyone comes around for me.”

“Want me to call you?”

“I want you to call me.” Tai drew someone a small glass of beer.

When Tai returned, he asked, “Anything else?”

“Yeah, stop watering your drinks so much or you’ll make me switch to beer.”

“You can’t do that, Sailor. There’s no profits in beer.”

“You’re probably watering that down, too.” Cole turned around to scan the exit, making sure no one had followed him in last minute. The music was still playing. The stage, lit up but empty. “And what’s with the karaoke? Someone come by and repossess the PA system?”

“Microphone’s dead.”

“That’s not all that’s dead in here.”

“Yeah,” Tai said. “You’re next.”

When Cole turned back to the bar, he saw that Tai’s face was unsmiling. Almost cold. He nodded sharply in reply. “See you around.”

As he walked out of the bar, Cole wondered about the probability of getting out of his latest jam—which seemed to get worse by the minute. The plan was to sneak into Hawaii undetected, or at least have his latest personal turmoil go undetected by his bosses at Blackwoods Security. But as he walked down the alley next to the Crow’s Nest, with the particular sensation of being followed, he knew that he’d failed at both.

Cole was back in Hawaii. Loud and clear. And yes, he’d had an episode on board the Batchewana. He hadn’t done himself any favors with that one. The guys at Blackwoods Security, already on the third month of their internal investigation, had been snooping closer and closer to Cole. It was clear that they’d already suspected him due to some ill-timed utterances and his sloppier work pattern. But this ordeal on the boat could have sealed his fate.

He was probably better off sealing it himself, going through with it, taking that last leap off the railing.