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Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Title
  3. Also by Silas House
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Part One
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. Part Two
  27. 1
  28. 2
  29. 3
  30. 4
  31. 5
  32. 6
  33. 7
  34. 8
  35. 9
  36. 10
  37. Part Three
  38. 1
  39. 2
  40. 3
  41. 4
  42. 5
  43. 6
  44. 7
  45. 8
  46. 9
  47. 10
  48. 11
  49. 12
  50. 13
  51. 14
  52. 15
  53. 16
  54. 17
  55. 18
  56. 19
  57. 20
  58. 21
  59. 22
  60. 23
  61. 24
  62. 25
  63. 26
  64. 27
  65. 28
  66. 29
  67. 30
  68. 31
  69. Part Four
  70. 1
  71. 2
  72. 3
  73. Epilogue: The Everything
  74. Acknowledgments
  75. About the Author
  76. About Algonquin
  77. Copyright

“There’s always plenty work in Key West.” The man’s eyes are very black. He leans his elbows on the counter, his shoulders rising under his ears. “But most of the work down here you wouldn’t want to do.”

“Why not?” Asher is surprised, but masks it by taking a long pull on his straw. The limeade is tart and delicious.

“Most of the jobs I know about are done by us brown folks.” The man laughs.

“I’m willing to do anything,” Asher says. “I’ve got to make a living.”

Justin is pulling at his shirt. “I’m burning up,” he stage-whispers.

“My cousin used to work at the Casa Marina and they were good to him. They got employee housing, too. I’d start there.”

Asher thanks the man, then thinks, Why not?

“You wouldn’t happen to know a man named Luke Sharp, would you?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t believe so.”

“He’s my brother. I’m looking for him.”

“I’m sorry,” the man says, and takes hold of his paperback again.

“I ’ppreciate ye,” Asher says, the country way of saying thanks suddenly on his lips.

“It’s nothing, señor.”

The huge, lumbering woman at the Casa Marina says they have no work, but she directs Asher to the Blue Marlin.

The Blue Marlin maids—flirty, pretty, laughing, Indian, Cuban, Mexican—sit on a stone wall like birds on an electric line during their break. They tell him to look around down at the Harbor.

The men at the Harbor, scattered about the deck of a boat called The Lonesome Dove, pluck their cigarettes from their mouths and all talk at the same time. “The paper.” “The classifieds.” “The Citizen.”

And in the newspaper Asher finds ads for several jobs, most of them restaurant and housekeeping work, but also calls for everything from data-entry clerks to medical technicians. Almost all of the ads demand that the applicant speak English. The one that draws his attention, however, is for a place called Song to a Seagull.

Help Wanted. No Keys Disease Tolerated.

Apply only if you are ready to work hard

and are a good person. I’ll know if you’re not.

Song to a Seagull Cottages.

184 Olivia Street.

Asher has no idea what Keys Disease is but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have it. And he likes the mystery of the ad. Help wanted for what? I’ll know if you’re not. Something about the vagueness is intriguing.

So they head to Olivia Street.

5

5

As they turn onto Olivia Street, Justin sounds it out slow, aloud, as if learning to pronounce a foreign word: “O-liv-eeee-uh,” like exhaling four little breaths.