"Is that hair real or has he got a wig on?" Scotty asked.
"It's real," Rick returned. His forehead creased. The dock had never been considered private property—at least not since the hotel was abandoned. He waited to see what the redhead wanted.
The boy ran down the loose wooden surface toward them, his face red and angry. "Get that boat out of here!"
Rick looked into a pair of furious eyes the color of seaweed, set above a wide nose and thin mouth.
"Why?" he asked.
"This is private property. Cast off."
"Where's your sign?" Scotty asked.
The boy grinned unpleasantly. "Don't need a sign." He patted the stock of his rifle. "Got this."
"Plan to use it?" Scotty asked calmly.
"If I have to. Now cast off those lines and get out."