Black Swan Read Online Free Page B
Author: Chris Knopf
the reception desk, dumping half her breasts out on the counter, and lifted up the phone. Then she and her father left me alone to dial Burton's cell.
    "Hey, Burt, it's Sam."
    "Have you changed your number?"
    "I'm on Fishers Island. Cell service is down. More importantly, the cable from helm to rudder snapped on the way down from Point Judith."
    "Oh dear," he said.
28 BLACK SWAN
    "Oh shit's more like it. It was kind of snotty out there. You've got an emergency tiller, by the way. Good thing."
    "Terribly sorry about that. What do we do now?"
    "You call the boatbuilder and have him ship the whole steering rigâcables, blocks and fittings. I haven't looked yet, but I want to change it all out. Who knows what caused the failure. Send them to me courtesy of the Black Swan. It's a hotel on the island off Inner Harbor. We secured a slip, though not without some convincing. After Labor Day this place turns into Brigadoon."
    "I know the Swan. It's next to the Harbor Club. Has Fishers' only public bar. And a pool table, as I recall."
    "Could be. It's got a new owner. Thinks he's doing us a favor letting us stay at his empty dock for fifty bucks a night."
    "It's good you're in a slip," said Burton. "More bad weather's on the way. They're saying a whole series of storms are coming up the coast and out of the southwest. It's going to be rough for a while. I tried to call your cell phone to get your position, but couldn't make a connection."
    I tried to imagine rougher water than we'd just plowed through, though I knew such a thing was more than possible.
    "Until cell service is back up Amanda's computer's off email," I said. "I'll try to call on a regular basis, if I can ingratiate myself with the owners. Otherwise, you'll have to buy a house out here to get a landline."
    It was quiet on the other end of the line as Burton pondered that option, one he was more than able to fulfill, being one of the fifty richest guys in the world according to Forbes magazine, a rating source Burton looked on with mild contempt.
    "What do they know? Those numbers they publish are ridiculous."
    "Too high?"
    "Far too low."
Chris Knopf 29
    We talked some more about how to proceed, dismissing several options like air freighting in the parts, mostly because of the weather. Rich as he was, Burton wasn't one of those crazy billionaires who thought natural forcesâlike weather, the commodities markets or the NBAâshould bend to his will. He took on frustration like the rest of us, as inevitable and uncontrollable.
    "I'll get you the parts," he said. "Have you heard from Jackie?"
    "Huh?"
    "Jackie Swaitkowski. Your attorney. She's been trying to reach you."
    "I haven't heard," I said. "What's up?"
    Jackie was technically my attorney because I'd once given her a dollar as a retainer against future work, which actually happened in spades, though I'd yet to increase her compensation beyond that original buck. Some day we'd have to address that, I thought.
    "She didn't say, but my guess is you need to provide some guidance on the civil matter she's handling for you."
    "Do me a favor, would you Burt, and tell her I'll call her as soon as I'm out of this junky weather."
    "Certainly. And meanwhile, call back midday tomorrow so I can report my progress. You and Amanda try to find a way to occupy yourselves. Perhaps card games. Or philosophical debate."
    After I hung up the phone, I wondered if I should find one of the Feys to thank, but decided I'd only be invading their privacy again. So I just left.
    My dinghy was still on the
    "Hey, Burt, it's Sam."
    "Have you changed your number?"
    "I'm on Fishers Island. Cell service is down. More importantly, the cable from helm to rudder snapped on the way down from Point Judith."
    "Oh dear," he said.
28 BLACK SWAN
    "Oh shit's more like it. It was kind of snotty out there. You've got an emergency tiller, by the way. Good thing."
    "Terribly sorry about that. What do we do now?"
    "You call the boatbuilder and have him ship the whole steering rigâcables, blocks and fittings. I haven't looked yet, but I want to change it all out. Who knows what caused the failure. Send them to me courtesy of the Black Swan. It's a hotel on the island off Inner Harbor. We secured a slip, though not without some convincing. After Labor Day this place turns into Brigadoon."
    "I know the Swan. It's next to the Harbor Club. Has Fishers' only public bar. And a pool table, as I recall."
    "Could be. It's got a new owner. Thinks he's doing us a favor letting us stay at his empty dock for fifty bucks a night."
    "It's good you're in a slip," said Burton. "More bad weather's on the way. They're saying a whole series of storms are coming up the coast and out of the southwest. It's going to be rough for a while. I tried to call your cell phone to get your position, but couldn't make a connection."
    I tried to imagine rougher water than we'd just plowed through, though I knew such a thing was more than possible.
    "Until cell service is back up Amanda's computer's off email," I said. "I'll try to call on a regular basis, if I can ingratiate myself with the owners. Otherwise, you'll have to buy a house out here to get a landline."
    It was quiet on the other end of the line as Burton pondered that option, one he was more than able to fulfill, being one of the fifty richest guys in the world according to Forbes magazine, a rating source Burton looked on with mild contempt.
    "What do they know? Those numbers they publish are ridiculous."
    "Too high?"
    "Far too low."
Chris Knopf 29
    We talked some more about how to proceed, dismissing several options like air freighting in the parts, mostly because of the weather. Rich as he was, Burton wasn't one of those crazy billionaires who thought natural forcesâlike weather, the commodities markets or the NBAâshould bend to his will. He took on frustration like the rest of us, as inevitable and uncontrollable.
    "I'll get you the parts," he said. "Have you heard from Jackie?"
    "Huh?"
    "Jackie Swaitkowski. Your attorney. She's been trying to reach you."
    "I haven't heard," I said. "What's up?"
    Jackie was technically my attorney because I'd once given her a dollar as a retainer against future work, which actually happened in spades, though I'd yet to increase her compensation beyond that original buck. Some day we'd have to address that, I thought.
    "She didn't say, but my guess is you need to provide some guidance on the civil matter she's handling for you."
    "Do me a favor, would you Burt, and tell her I'll call her as soon as I'm out of this junky weather."
    "Certainly. And meanwhile, call back midday tomorrow so I can report my progress. You and Amanda try to find a way to occupy yourselves. Perhaps card games. Or philosophical debate."
    After I hung up the phone, I wondered if I should find one of the Feys to thank, but decided I'd only be invading their privacy again. So I just left.
    My dinghy was still on the
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