Chapter 12: Don't Catfish Me

Same as Chapter 11.

The backyard at Simmons Manor, while not a vegetable garden, was far from something to scoff at. A natural fence made up of tall, dense boxwood hedges acted as the borders, encasing the expansive lawn. In addition to the pool deck and jacuzzi, the main draw of the yard were the countless rose, hibiscus, and peony bushes cut into the shapes of various animals native to Yellowstone, all sculpted by Mark himself. A solar-powered grill, smoker, and fire pit were all situated on a wooden platform on one side of the yard, a pair of crabapple trees providing shade to the other side and also occasionally leading to deer sightings. The center of the yard was taken up by a fountain identical to the one out front, and a few limestone benches sat in random places. Close to the hedges on one side, there were even a couple of small tombstones adorned with the names Sting and Dean, the final resting places of a couple of dogs that the Simmons used to own.

As had been the case ever since the two families got together, the manor had a mere pittance of commotion, compared to Simmons Manor Jr., though Paul didn't mind this. Any excuse to get some peace and quiet as he sat on one of the yard's benches, slowly strumming a steel guitar he'd packed with him.

"I'm comin' home, I've done my time~. Now I've got to know what is and isn't mine~," he quietly sang along. "If you received my letter, tellin' you I'd soon be free, then you'll know just what to do, if you still want me~. If... ya' still want meeee~!"

"Hey there, Paul," Mark greeted, casually strolling outside.

"Oh, hi Mark," Paul replied, not as enthusiastically.

"Hey, so I was just checking the progress on your farm, and I'm afraid all your tractors are totaled," Mark explained. "What types should I purchase for you as replacements?"

"Any of the 2019 models will be fine, thanks." Paul nodded, running a hand through his manila hair. "Old-fashioned, I know, but I don't want my chores to be too mind-numbingly easy."

"Ah, an old-timer I see? I like the cut of your jib," Mark chuckled, tapping away at his phone as he left. "Welp, I'll get started on the order."

However, he quickly ground to a halt as he heard Paul go back to his music, immediately intrigued at what he was hearing.

"Whoa, tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree~. It's been three long years, do ya' still want me~?" Paul sang. "If I don't see a ribbon 'round the old oak tree, I'll stay on the bus, forget about us, put the blame on meee, if I don't see a yellow ribbon 'round... the old oak tree~."

"Say, are my ears deceiving me?" Mark inquired. "You play?"

"Yep, always have. It's how I was able to win over Lorraine." Paul smiled for once, pulling out a picture of him and his wife, smiling and sitting together with a guitar. Because of course they did that.

"Not to mention you're into super old music too." Mark sat down next to him. "Guess we're not so different after all."

"I guess not," Paul shrugged. "Say, uh, I know it's a few months late, but I really do appreciate everything you're doing for my family. I dunno what I was thinking, blindly assuming I could just help myself on my own. I suppose there's nothing wrong with accepting help from trillionaires at least once in a while."

"Don't mention it, dude." Mark slapped a hand on his fellow patriarch's shoulder. "Now I'm afraid I can't play guitar and don't have the time to learn how, so what say we try to bond over something else?"

"Like what?" Paul raised a scruffy eyebrow.

"Well we could swing by my country club. We've got golf, tennis, croquet, a steam room, a fishing pond, and-" Mark explained.

"Wait! You've got a fishing pond?!" Paul cut him off with widened eyes.

"Yeah, and it's catch-and-keep too. Only species you have to release are the bluegills and the smallmouth bass," Mark continued.

"Eh, fair enough. I'm game." Paul stood up, tucking his guitar back into its case.

"Splendid. Junior!" Mark yelled into the house.

"Yeah, Dad?" Junior replied, walking outside with his daughter in his arms. His father couldn't help but smile at them both. They say when a man has a daughter, it changes him forever, and the proof of such change wasn't hard to see.

"We were thinking about going on a father-son-father outing this afternoon," Mark explained. "I remember you and your sister used to love going fishing back when you were kids."

"Yeah, until Justine would intentionalIy stab her catches with the hook to make them bleed and gross me out." Junior shuddered. "Plus, I kinda' have some duties to attend to at home."

"Nonsense, son. You can just leave her with Rosemary." Mark shrugged.

"And if you can't do that, then just drop us off at the country club and pick us up after a few hours," Paul chimed in.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do." Junior nodded.

---

He ended up dropping the two dads off at the club, fishing rods and a tackle box in tow as they waved him off, before making their way into a rowboat on the fishing pond, which was surprisingly uncrowded despite the pleasant weather outside. Soon as they found a good spot, they parked the boat and extended their rods into the water, waiting patiently for a fish to bite and soaking up the natural ambience around them, also taking the time to observe the various ducks, swans, and geese that frequented the lake, unusually docile due to the constant human presence.

"Hot damn, I ain't done this in forever," Paul mused. "Wonder if there's anything big enough to eat in here?"

"Oh yeah, there is," Mark replied, munching on a homemade tuna-melt. "This lake is man-made, so I was able to choose the exact species in it, with a lineup that made sense, of course. And I made sure to choose plenty of big ones."

"Dude, you... you're eating fish while catching them?" Paul pointed a hesitant, shaky finger at his new friend.

"What, too morbid?" Mark asked.

"...Nah, it's cool! I like a guy who's willing to be in bad taste from time to time. I'm a Christian, but I ain't no killjoy." Paul waved his hand dismissively as the two shared a laugh, before something abruptly tugged on his line. "Whoa, s**t!"

"You got it?" Mark asked, finishing his sandwich.

"Yeah, I think- rrraaaggghhh!" Paul yanked his rod up, revealing a sizable Northern pike squirming on the hook. "Holy hell!"

"She's a beaut, isn't she?" Mark whistled. "But you can't keep her, though. I just remembered that her species is catch-and-release too, as well as the walleyes and rainbow trout. We need 'em for the eye-candy. You can still take a selfie with her, though."

"Aw, you're no fun," Paul grumbled, reluctantly taking out his phone.