The Color of Money by Walter Tevis

Chapter One
Where it faced the highway, the Sunburst was just another motel, but
behind the main building sat a cluster of a half-dozen concrete cottages with
tiny rock gardens. Condominiums. It was on one of the Keys, the one just
below Largo. Driving down from the Miami airport, Ed had pictured a
resort hotel with terraces and tennis courts, but this was old-fashioned. He
parked beside a crimson hibiscus and got out into the Florida heat. Number
4 was the one across the gravel road, with a clear view of the ocean. It was
late in the afternoon and the light from the sky was intense.
Just as he came up, the screen door opened and a hugely fat man stepped
out. The man wore Bermuda shorts and carried a wet bathing suit; he
walked to the edge of the little porch and began wringing the suit into the
bushes, scowling. It was him. Old as hell and even fatter, but there was no
mistaking the man. Ed walked up to the foot of the steps, shading his eyes
from the sun. “You’re George Hegerman,” he said, pleasantly.
The fat man grunted and went on with his suit.
“We used to know each other, in Chicago….”
The man turned and looked at him. “I remember.”
“I’d like to talk business,” Ed said, squinting up. He was beginning to
feel uncomfortable. It was extremely hot. “I could use a drink.”
The fat man turned and finished with the bathing suit. There was a wood
bannister at one end of the porch and he hung it over that, spreading it out
to dry. The suit was enormous. He turned back to Ed. “I’m going out in the
bay. You can come along.”
Ed stared at him for a moment. “In a boat?”
“That’s right.”
***
Hegerman stood at the wheel, wearing only the Bermuda shorts and dark
glasses; he piloted the small boat expertly toward the low sun. The water

was flat and shallow and as blue as any water Ed had ever seen; the motor
behind him made conversation impossible except for an occasional shout.
After a while Hegerman pushed the throttle forward and the boat jolted
ahead, skipping over the surface of the water like a flat rock and bouncing
Ed hard against the seat. He stood up like the other man and held a rail in
front of him. The spray hit against his face and drenched his dark glasses.
They began to pass small, humped islands made of some kind of tangled
plant. “What’s that?” he shouted as they passed one, and the fat man
boomed out, “Mangrove.” Ed said nothing, feeling stupid for not knowing.
His shirt was soaked now and there was water in his shoes. He seated
himself and tried to get the shoes off, but the boat was bouncing too hard
and he couldn’t manage it. The water’s color had changed to a startling
aquamarine. The deep, unclouded blue of the sky was dazzling.
Abruptly Hegerman cut the throttle back and the banging stopped. The
motor sound changed to a purr. Ed got his shoes off. Ahead of them was a
real island with a narrow beach; they were moving toward it.
Behind the beach stood a mass of trees, through which the sun filtered
toward them. When they were a few hundred yards out, the fat man cut off
the motor and they drifted. Then he opened a storage compartment in the
seat beside him and carefully pulled out something black. It was a camera.
He took a tubular black case from the same place, zipped it open and
removed a lens that was over a foot long. He fastened it to the camera body.
Ed set his shoes beside him on the seat, watching the fat man who had now
erected a tripod on the deck by his seat and was screwing the camera to the
top of it. Ed knew better than to ask questions; he kept silent and watched.
The cigarette pack in his shirt pocket was unopened and had stayed dry. He
opened it now and lit up, then peeled the wet shirt off, wrung it out over the
gunwale and spread it out on the empty seat beside him. The fat man had
his camera ready now, pointed toward the trees. His enormous bottom filled
the back of the boat seat; he had only to lean sideways to have his eye at the
viewfinder. Ed leaned back and smoked, waiting. There were ripples on the
surface of the water and they glowed above their troughs with iridescence.
Water lapped quietly against the side of the boat.
Abruptly there was a movement at the edge of the trees and three tall,
pink birds came walking toward them like apparitions. The fat man leaned
over and his camera began to click. The birds were astonishing; Ed had

The Color of Money by Walter Tevis