That evening when they docked, Steve had only caught two fish, including the tiny one he had to throw back. Michael had filled an entire barrel, and Steve had to admit he was a bit jealous. At the docks they were met by a tall man in a red velvet coat. He had slicked-back black hair and a permanent smirk. He wore tan slacks tucked into polished boots. He clearly wasn't a fisherman, since he didn't have the same sea-beaten ruggedness to him.
"Who's that?" Steve asked as he helped Michael tie up the boat.
"That's Chancellor Maybright. He meets the fishermen at the end of the day to buy what they caught that day. Cuts out the hassle of having to sell the stuff ourselves, albeit for an inflated price. He loves teetering on the edge of 'too expensive to be worth it.'" Michael masked his scowl as Chancellor Maybright walked up to them.
"Ah, Mike! What do we got today!" Chancellor Maybright said with a charismatic grin.
"Just one barrel. Kinda slow today," Michael said with a shrug. Steve thought about how Michael was just pulling up fish after fish and wondered in horror how much he pulled up on a busy day.
"Excellent!" the Chancellor looked inside the barrel. "I think this'll go for… fifteen?" He looked up at Michael.
Michael scowled at him. "A barrel this full would have gone for twenty last week," he grunted.
The Chancellor didn't seem bothered at all as he started counting emeralds. "Sorry, Mikey. That's just how the market is nowadays. The Depression, you know?"
Michael didn't find this amusing. "The Depression hasn't hit you at all and we both know that."
The two studied each other and Steve was worried for a moment that a fight might start. The Chancellor then laughed and pulled out three emeralds. "You drive a hard bargain, my friend. Seventeen it is, mostly because it appears you have a paycheck to fill. Who's your little friend?" The Chancellor then looked at Steve and a cold shiver went down his spine. There was something in Maybright's eyes that didn't match his cheerful expression at all.
"This is Steve. He came into town yesterday looking for work. Driven out of, what was it, Northridge? Yeah. He and his wife are staying at my place," Michael said casually.
"Ah, Northridge? It's a beautiful city. Shame what the Depression is doing to it," the Chancellor said, the look disappearing from his eyes. He looked at Michael. "It is too bad he has to put up with your father's incessant yammering about the war," he said jokingly.
Michael's expression darkened at the mention of his father. "He's a shell-shocked veteran, leave him out of this."
The Chancellor raised his hands and took a step back. "Sorry, sorry. Back to business, though. Seventeen emeralds for you and your friend." The coldness crept back into the Chancellor's eyes and he took a step towards Michael, invading his personal space. "Tomorrow, though, I don't think I'll be quite as friendly."
Steve flinched back, but Michael raised his chin defiantly. "I'm looking forward to it."
The Chancellor then smiled, stepped back, and adjusted his coat. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mike. See you tomorrow!" he then turned and strutted down the pier.
As soon as the Chancellor was out of sight, Michael hissed a few derogatory slurs under his breath before turning to Steve. "Come on, let's get out of here," he grumbled, turning to leave.
Alex relaxed on the musty cot, rubbing her stomach. Steve walked in with a bowl of soup in his hands and her eyes lit up. "Steve!" she chimed.
"Hey, sweetheart," he said with a smile. He set the soup to the side and kissed her. "How was your day?"
"Ugh," Alex rubbed her face. "It was… a lot. My back hurts SO BAD and that old guy WOULD. NOT. SHUT. UP. He just kept rambling on and on about the Great War. And the comparator is completely busted in the lighthouse, so they have to get a new one. The quartz crystals in it are completely frosted over with some kind of white crap, I think it's salt but I'm not sure. And whoever designed that circuit was an IDIOT, it's twice the size it needs to be and has so many unnecessary components. I'll probably end up trimming it down." Alex then noticed Steve just smiling at her. "What?"
"You know, you're so cute when you start talking about redstone things," Steve said with a smile. Alex started laughing, but Steve insisted, "No, I'm serious! Keep going. I don't understand a word you're saying, but I love listening to you."
Alex blushed. "Aww. And I love you." She pulled him in for another kiss.
"I brought you some soup if you're hungry," Steve offered, gesturing to the bowl.
"Thanks," Alex said with a smile. "So, how was your day?"
Steve sighed. "It was… fine. I'm just not very good at fishing. I barely caught anything."
Alex put her hand on his shoulder. "You'll get the hang of it, I'm sure."
"Yeah. I hope so, at least," Steve said with a chuckle.
"MICHAEL, I'M TELLING YOU, DON'T GO OUT ON THE BAY!"
Steve was already sick of waking up to Albert screaming his head off.
He groaned and sat up. He had slept a lot better than the night before, maybe because he was getting used to the hard bed. He glanced over at his side and noticed Alex was missing. She must have already been woken up by the shouting.
"Your rib can't predict the weather! That's just not possible!" Michael shouted back as Steve walked out of the room. Michael and Albert were caught in a fierce debate while Alex glared at the two tiredly.
"It IS possible! Every time my rib starts hurting, there's a storm a brewin'! And given by how much it hurts, this one's gonna be a doozy!" Albert argued.
"You also said that about the tiny shower we got about two weeks ago," Michael pointed out.
"But I was right! There WAS a storm!"
Michael glared at his father. "Going out on the bay is the only way I bring food back to you. So unless you want me to just forfeit an entire day of fishing because of your old, creaky rib, then I'm going. Come on, Steve. We're leaving."
Michael walked out of the house briskly, and Steve had no choice but to follow him. Before he left, though, Albert grabbed his wrist with a surprisingly strong grip.
"Mark my words, boy," Albert said, pointing at Steve. "Don't go out there or you'll regret it."
"I need the money, sorry," Steve said quickly, wrenching his wrist out of the old man's grip and dashing after Michael.
Despite Albert's ominous prediction, the weather was clear and the bay was calm. Steve added bait to his hook and cast it while Michael reeled in his first fish. Steve prepared himself for another dull day of no catches, but suddenly something pulled on his fishing rod.
"Nice job!" Michael said with a smile as Steve pulled a cod out of the water. He smiled proudly as he tossed the fish into the barrel and threw the line back into the water.
By midday, Steve had caught five fish, not including the one that escaped while being reeled in. It wasn't as good as Michael was doing, but it was a lot better than yesterday. He was feeling quite proud of himself, but that fizzled out when he noticed something.
"Hey, Michael? We might have a problem," Steve called, pointing at the horizon. Dark clouds were billowing over the sea and were heading towards the bay. Lightning flashed in the clouds.
Michael looked at the clouds and swore under his breath. "That damned old man," he muttered.
"What are we going to do?"
"What do you mean, 'what are we going to do?' We're staying out here. I'm not proving my father right, or we're going to hear about it for the next three weeks straight," Michael grumbled. "It doesn't look THAT bad, anyway. We'll ride it out."
Steve glanced at the clouds nervously but said nothing. Michael knew more about the ocean than he did, so it was probably going to be fine… right?
The wind was the first to arrive. The salty gusts tussled Steve's hair and started whipping the water up into waves. He wobbled a little bit as the boat rocked back and forth. The sun was chased away as the dark clouds took over the sky, drowning out the salty sea air with the smell of rain. As the weather worsened, Michael's frown just hardened.
"Michael? You know, I don't mean to question your judgement, but it's getting kinda bad," Steve called. A large wave slammed into the hull of the boat, causing Steve to nearly lose his footing.
"I told you, we're staying out here!" Michael shouted over the wind.
"I know, but still! We have to head back to land!" Steve argued.
That's when the rain started. The wind blew it around and into Steve's eyes, making it hard to see. Michael didn't seem to mind being pelted with water, though, as he reeled in another fish like nothing was wrong.
"Michael!" Steve shouted.
"Steve, start fishing or you're fired!" Michael shouted back.
Now Steve had quite a dilemma. Steve needed this job, and couldn't risk getting fired. On the other hand, the job meant nothing if the storm dragged them to the bottom of the bay. Luckily though, Steve didn't need to choose. The storm chose for him.
The waves slammed into the little boat, rocking it hard. Steve almost immediately lost his balance and with a scream, fell over the side and into the ocean. He hit the water with a splash.
"Steve!" Michael shouted, shooting to his feet. Steve popped back up and started treading water.
"Help!" Steve shouted back. A wave rolled over him, threatening to pull him under the surface. He struggled to keep his head above the water.
Michael grabbed a rope and threw it out to Steve. "Grab this!" he shouted. Steve reached for it, but another wave crashed over his head, sucking him under the surface. He reached for the rope but it just slipped through his fingers and pulled out of reach by the tide. He fought against the current that was keeping him under. Michael screamed Steve's name, but he couldn't hear him under the water.
Steve managed to get his head above the surface and suck in a breath, but all he got was a mouthful of seawater as a wave sucked him back under. He tried to cough it out, but he was just sucking in more water. Steve realized he was drowning. He started thrashing in panic, desperate to stay above the waves, but he was sinking. Everything burned without air and the edges of Steve's vision were going black. No no no no no… this couldn't be how he went!
Something swam past Steve's vision, but he didn't care. The last bubbles of air slipped out of his mouth. He reached towards the light of the surface as he slowly sank away from it. The last think he saw was an image of Alex holding her newborn, but Steve was nowhere to be seen.