"Since you ask, I’ll tell you," Jim said. He popped down a steel-wired bunk from a space high on the wall and hoisted himself in. He sat above her, legs dangling, neck bent to avoid the ceiling. "Once upon a time, I was a professional fisherman. A shrimper. My dad was, too. And his dad before him.... But they put us in a squeeze we couldn’t get out of. Texas Fish & Game police, a million environment laws. Not that I’m speakin’ against those laws. But American law didn’t stop the Nicaraguans and Mexicans. They cheated. Cleaned out the best grounds, took everything, then undersold us in our own markets. We lost our boat! Lost everything. Went on the Welfare, had nothin’."