Running his fingers through his hair Riley sighs and wipes his hand on his pants. “It’s too hot to be out on the streets for so long.” He begins inspecting a sign that stands on an easel-eque board outside a restaurant. “Should we stop in for some wine, this sign claims it’s from Bordeaux?”
Licking my lips which are already returning to their original thin dryness I swallow. I'm thirsty but not for wine. I stand next to him and inspect the sign. It's a menu written in French, although some words are easily distinguishable like Coca Cola and Pepsi. Wiping my forehead with my arm I nod my agreement. “I’m dying for something cool to drink.”
“A cool drink? What kind of pirate are you?” he says, shooting me a quirky smile as he opens the door to the restaurant.
A bell tingles above us as we step onto an oak laminate floor.
“I’m not a pirate. So, I can drink whatever I want.” I retort, slipping into a booth with brown leather upholstery.
The waitress eyes us up. She lingers on Riley a moment, her mouth curling up on the side and moves towards us.
“Bonjour, what can I get you?” She leans forward, her head tilted toward Riley.
“I’d like to try some of that wine you’re advertising on the sign outside.” He says in stride as if he's used to this sort of behaviour.
I guess I'm not the only one hypnotized by his looks.
“Of course, and for mademoiselle?” she flicks her light blonde hair back and stares at me as though I'm some kind of ruffian.
“I’ll have a Coke.”
She scrunches up her nose, turns and disappears into the kitchen. Her hips swaying as she walks. I can’t be sure if she's putting on a show or not.
Placing my elbows on the table I lean my chin against the palm of my hand. Staring out the grimy window beside us I feel pretty gloomy. “You’d think she’d never heard of Coke before.”
“I’m not sure I know what a Coke is.”
I look up and smile. “I forgot, sorry. It’s a cool drink.”
“It can’t be as good as this wine is going to be.”
I grin. “It tastes even better.”
“Oh really? Then we will have a taste test. You taste mine and I’ll taste yours.”
His brow raises wickedly. I feel my cheeks burn, more because of how he says it than anything else. I look down at my hands which I am horrified to notice have turned pink. I'm saved from replying by the arrival of a stench. Wiggling my nose, I cough. What is that? It smells of someone who hasn’t had a wash in months. Tilting my head, I gaze up at a tall, staunch man in what I assume to be his mid-forties, looming over our table.
“Riley, trying the wine are ye?” His deep grizzly voice is bark ripped from a tree by a bear’s claws.
“Kevin.” Riley nods at him. “Where’s Jerome?”
“Behind me,” Kevin says, his attention suddenly drawn to me. “Who is this?”
I continue to stare unabashedly back at him. Taking in his red hair, orange freckles and a jagged scar that runs along his left cheek. He has dark eyes, almost black, and skin the colour of new paper. I don't like him. He smells of old sweat, must and mothballs. From the corner of my eye, I see someone edge out from behind him. He looks slight with dark hair and a sickly complexion. The seat sags next to me. Astonished I gaze at Kevin before shooting Riley a frantic look. “Uh.”
“Kevin, leave her alone.” He waves his hand at him as if this happens all the time.
“Is this her?” he says abruptly, moving back so he can glare at me better.
“The lass that has the whole ship in disorder? How nice to meet you!” He leers at me and I lean back uncomfortably.
“Just leave Kevin, and take Jerome with you.”
“I’d be glad ta! I don’t want ta associate with this wench.” He stands up, the chair popping back up like a life raft. He pulls his lips back at me, as a wolf might when threatening someone, before striding from the restaurant with Jerome in his shadow.
“Wench?” I spit angrily.
Riley is staring out of the window deep in his thoughts. What is the use of him being with me if he can’t even defend me to his horrible friends?
“It’s pirate talk for girl.”
“It sounds like he’s calling me something bad.”
“He’s not. Although he could be, knowing Kevin. Oh, look our drinks.” His eyes light up. I can’t understand how they can blaze an even brighter green.
I try not to let my facial expression display my rage but I can feel my lips tugging into a pout. I don’t care if he doesn’t think wench is a rude word, I do, and I don’t want to be called it again. The surly waitress sways back to our table carrying our drinks on a circular tray. Her hair is cut in an aline bob which brings out her high cheekbones and stern blue eyes which she has lined with flicks. Bending like a playboy bunny she places a napkin down in front of Riley with his bottle of wine and a pristine glass. Then swinging towards me she thumps down the red can of soda and a dusty glass filled with ice and a spoon.
“Is that all?” She purrs.
“Hmm. I don’t know. How about some frog’s legs or the snails, Cris?”
Pulling a face, I shake my head which only rewards me with a glare from the waitress.
Riley shrugs. “Just the fish of the day for us then, and then we can pay.” He grabs the greenish bottle of wine letting it glug into his glass until it is on the verge of overflowing.
Nodding the waitress returns to the kitchen. I lift the spoon from my glass and sniff it. It smells normal like water and metal. Maybe it's her idea of a practical joke? I place it on top of the napkin Riley's glass was on, swirly blue writing catching my eye. So, the waitress gave him her number. I roll my eyes. How cliché can she be?
Riley is guzzling down his drink and pouring another by the time I empty my can into the glass. I watch the dark liquid fizz and pop before I take a sip and smile with pleasure. It's familiar and I need something familiar.
He pushes the new glass to me. “Taste.”
I give him what is left in my can and we take a sip at the same time. He splutters and I sit swishing the wine around my mouth for a moment, like how they show you to do in the movies when wine tasting.
Riley wipes his mouth. “What is that? It’s so sweet...What are you doing?” he asks, pushing the can to the side of the table.
“I’m wine tasting,” I reply.
“You look like you want to lick your teeth but you can’t.”
I scowl at him and sip on my own beverage. “If you don’t like my drink then whatever, I do.”
“It’s very sweet.”
“Well, I like sweet.”
He pauses, refilling his glass. “What did you think of my wine?”
“It’s actually really good...for wine.”
“I agree, it’s fantastic, I need to tell the crew about this, Jamie will be thrilled.”
The table behind us has just received their order. I can’t see what it is but it smells delicious. My stomach rumbles in agreement. I shift in my chair.
“Why are you drinking wine, shouldn’t you drink rum?”
“I like rum but we drink whatever we want. We're pirates and often enough all we can get our hands on are spirits. It’s nice to have a variety sometimes.”
“And Jamie, is he like Kevin?” I want to ask if the whole crew is like Kevin but decide against it, Riley isn’t that bad, so logically the rest of the crew can’t be that unpleasant.
He shakes his head. “No, there are only a few who will react to you like Kevin, mainly Jerome and James. Elvin doesn’t talk to anyone much. Jamie is a... happy guy.”
The waitress returns with two hot plates of fish and the bill which she places down on a little porcelain plate. Now that she has given Riley her number, she is less annoying. I eat with relish and am finished within ten minutes. Riley throws a few Euros onto the porcelain plate and stands, his wine bottle gripped firmly in one hand.
“It’s getting dark we can carry on searching tomorr
ow.”
I follow him out of the cafe. “Maybe we should put up missing person posters?”
“I doubt that’s a good idea.”
“Why?” I stumble, trying to catch up to him on the cobbled ground. I'm feeling uncomfortably full.
“Because if you two are meant to be dead your identity should be kept a secret, and putting posters up with his face all over it is not going to help.”
“I guess you’re right.” My thoughts are consumed by Jesse and the effect the bombs had had on our world. Will I ever find Jesse and get to go home and fix my mess? France is huge, the world is massive, and who knows where he could have ended up?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Gus' muscles bulge as he hauls a crate on board the ship. Riley and Jerome follow him with crates of their own. Kevin coming up last, one balanced on each of his mammoth shoulders.
After Riley and I had returned from our futile search for Jesse he'd gone straight to the Captain. I have no idea what he told him, but the two of them, Gus, Kevin and Jerome had disembarked soon after, to return now, a week later with a bunch of rattling crates.
The clanging of glass bottles and cracking of wood has me turning to stare at the Captain as he yells, “Lass! Don’t ye know better than ta sneak up on a man!”
I cross my arms and smirk, noting the intact crate at his feet. “What’s in the crates? Beer? Whiskey? Half the wine in France?”
From their rumpled and stained clothing, I know it has to be alcoholic, and of course, the reeking boozy mist surrounding them is a hint too. My thoughts are confirmed as Jerome drops his own crate on deck and promptly leans over the side of the ship. The sound that comes out of him is nauseating. I move back, cringing.
I throw my arms up and shake my head. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know what you’re hauling or where you’ve been.”
Jerome keeps his head down, his body convulsing as Kevin hisses beside him. “And this is why you shouldn’t allow a wench on the Quinlin, Captain. They think they know everything and they can question everything as if she’s in charge just because she has ti-”
The Captain's growl cuts him off. “Kevin, don’t undermine my authority. There’s more of this where it came from and I paid good gold for it. Jerome and ye can go back and collect the rest.”
Again, I flinch at him calling me a wench. It might be universal pirate talk for a girl but none of the other guys have said it to me, which has me questioning its true meaning.
Riley rolls his eyes, placing his crate down and pushing his hair back towards his crown. The Captain props his own on top of Riley's haul. Jerome makes another retching sound, the way his back moves reminds me of a shedding snake. Kevin remains quiet, his face set in a grim line.
A figure slides in next to them but all I can see of him are wispy bits of dirty blonde hair. The colour stirs my memory. Is this the elusive James? Apparently, the guy is super paranoid. So, the idea of my being on board and threatening each crew member with a curse is not a huge help to his nerves.
“Ah James, join em will ye. Riley, Gus, ye two can move this inta storage.”
I lean down, helping Gus lift a crate. A heavy hand comes to rest on my shoulder, forcing me to turn my attention to its owner, the Captain, who moves his chin from side to side slowly.
I let go of the crate as he asks, “have you searched anymore this week?” Droplets of sweat collect on his brow which he wipes away as I mimic his head shake.
“It’s been difficult...” The winds stir bits of my hair before my face and I push it back so it is away from my eyes. “My cousin, Dawn she went live on television, you know the people prisons, and she told the world that Jesse and I had died to save their lives. That if it hadn’t been for our sacrifice Earth would have been destroyed. So, of course, everyone knows our faces. No one in town seems to have caught on to who I am yet but I’m not sure what to do.” I pause gripping the fingers of my right hand and pulling on them. “I feel like, even though everyone thinks I’m dead that someone could still be tracking me when I log onto my social media accounts so I haven’t been online to check if Jesse has or if my family is okay.”
“Ay?” He replies. He doesn’t seem surprised by my news which makes me wonder if he saw the broadcast too, wherever he went.
“But, enough of my sob stories. Where did you guys go?”
“To the north, Nantes and then to Bordeaux,” Riley says, winking at the word, Bordeaux.
Ignoring him I step forward to help Gus with another crate. “That explains all the wine.”
“Lass, ye needn’t lift these.” The Captain murmurs placing his hand over mine until I allow Gus to pull it from me. “Now tell me, this whole week your search has yielded no results?” He lifts his hand from mine. Gus has dropped the crate and is dragging it towards the ramp connecting to Quinlin. I dodge the Captain and help him lift the crate, setting it next to the others on deck. Gus rewards me with a thankful smile as I return to the Captain.
Wiping the yellow wood flakes from my skirt I give the Captain my most serious expression and say, “I’m not a guest on your ship Captain. I might not be a part of the crew but I do insist that I work to pay you back for your hospitality.”
I cross my arms. My stance clearly stating, in my mind at least, that I won’t budge on the topic.
Kevin snorts. “Dishes and laundry.” He huffs under his breath.
I shoot him a distasteful look.
“That’s enough, I’ve given ye my instructions now be off with ye!” The Captain bellows sitting down on one of the crates and beckoning me to join him.
“How do I search for someone everyone believes is dead?” I ask miserably. I’m unable to let it drop. I want to go home, but I feel like Dawn is working for someone who really wants me dead. Why else would she have shot me? Why the big national broadcast of my death and what it meant? If anything, Dawn was trying to prevent my sacrifice. She wanted the world destroyed.
“Who has been helping ye search?”
There has only been one other pirate after Riley left who took it upon himself to befriend me. His name is Jamie. I smile thinking of the cheerful guy with his red face and auburn curls.
The morning I'd discovered half the crew missing I'd attempted to find my way around the ship and to a place where I could get food. I had gotten lost and stumbled into Jamie's round belly. He was slurring his words and smelled of spirits and peppermint crisp. After he helped me find the kitchen and I returned the favour by making him a cheese and egg baguette, he had offered to help me search for Jesse. That part hadn’t gone very well.
"Jamie, but he’s not much help. Most of the time he gets drunk and goes back to the ship.”
“An' the rest of the crew?”
“They’ve been glued to the town. I still don’t think I’ve seen everyone. I met Keenan because he is always around at dinner time, and Elvin, and he doesn’t ever talk.”
I hadn’t liked Keenan, he just seemed greedy and dirty to me, but then again what did I expect from pirates.
“They will come 'round lass.” The Captain stands up, yelling, “Alright ye scurvy dogs get this ship loaded!”
“He went to see the graffiti of the olden day pirates of your time,” Riley says behind me. The Captain walking away.
“Oh and?” I don’t turn to face him, instead, I keep my eyes diverted to the dock.
“They had a laugh about it, but overall found the history of their kind mesmerizing.”
“Their kind?” I turn now and catch his face. He looks as though he's let a secret slip, he doesn’t want to share with anyone, especially me.
“I wasn’t born a pirate,” he whispers and it comes out as nothing more than a weak breeze.
“Nobody is born with a label. We’re made into what we are.”
He clearly doesn't agree. Shaking his dirty hair from side to side he replies, “I didn’t want this.”
“Then why are you here?”
> “Why are you here Cris?” He asks, those bright lime green eyes of his cutting into mine.
I blink. My heart is beating nervous and fast inside my chest. “Where else do you expect me to go? I don’t have any money. I have no idea how to get home from here, or what will happen if I do go home.”
“Exactly.”
“Riley...” I sigh.
“I have to go. I have crates to load and there’s going to be a meeting in a few minutes.”
The nervous feeling inside my chest explodes. Another meeting. Why do I have a bad feeling about that?
“A meeting? Am I not invited?”
I don’t expect to be and it seems the Captain has his own reasons for excluding me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do a little snooping on the subject.
“Knowing the state of the ship at the moment... It’s probably about you.” He turns his back on me lifting a crate and moving up the ramp and out of view.
I feel my eyes sting with tears but I hold them back, what use is it to cry? He's right, the crew don’t approve of me and they don’t want me sharing the ship with them. I straighten my skirt more forcibly than I intend. Well if they don’t want me around then there's no reason for me to stay is there? I’d go search for Jesse alone while they have their stupid secret meeting.
Stomping down the cobbled road I envision all the ways I will tell each and every one of them off when I return. My anger soon diminishing as the search goes in the same direction as the others. Turning back to the ship I overhear two teenage girls arguing. One has curly chestnut hair and a button nose, the other a dark pixie cut and a tattoo of a cross on her neck. I can’t understand a word of what they are saying but I catch murmurs of my name. My stomach sinks.
I don’t want to give up hope but Dawn has made me a household name. Any day now I may be recognized and then what? I slide my feet up the ramp that connects to the ship. A rumbling growl startles me. Looking up to the deck all I can see is the fading light of the setting sun. Its last rays hitting me directly in the eyes. Shielding them with my palm I reach the top and am greeted by dozens of eyes standing behind the Captain. He glares down at me, his cheeks blood red.
Time Torn Page 7
