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So they returned to Shell Beach for a couple of days, and fished and f****d and lay around doing absolutely nothing, which is a cook’s dream vacation: people who spend their days destroying their feet, breaking their backs, and frying their brains on the hot line are unlikely to climb mountains or run marathons in their leisure time. Nothing horrible happened at home, and they allowed themselves an extra night at Anthony’s camp. Driving back to New Orleans on Wednesday morning, they saw a pair of hawks tumbling out of the sky, wings spread and talons linked in the world’s most dramatic mating dance. Rickey felt his soul lift a little. His gloom and his back pain had receded during the days on the water, and despite the crew problems at Liquor and the upcoming responsibility of Soul Kit
