Airships, Crypts & Chocolate Chips

by Erin Johnson

  Wiley came up onto the platform next. “Let’s head in, ladies.” I glanced over my shoulder as I led the way inside. The rope to our airship lengthened and our ship floated out to hover further away again. I grinned to myself—kinda like valet parking. I stepped inside, followed by Maple and Wiley. Warmth and jaunty piano music greeted us. We stood on a wooden balcony that wrapped around three sides of the Slivered Moon. Down below, men and a few women sat at small tables in the cramped space. Faded oriental rugs checkered the floor and a musician banged away at piano keys in the corner. Patrons played card and dice games, drank from tankards of beer, and sang shanties at the tops of their lungs. The place seemed tiny to me, especially compared to the size of the balloon that supported it.

  Wiley leaned close to Maple and me to be heard over the din. “This place used to be uber fancy. Then dirigibles kinda went out of style, I guess, so now it’s a seedy bar where you go to drink for cheap and do some unregulated gambling.”

  I rubbed my palms together. “You know I love me some unregulated gambling. The more unregulated, the better.”

  He shook his head and though a smile played at the corners of his mouth, his eyes looked tired. “Nothing’s changed. It’s exactly the same as when my dad used to drag me here as a kid.”

  “Do you see the guy anywhere?” Maple gripped the railing.

  I bit my lip as I scanned the room. “Ooh.” I pointed at a group of guys drinking and playing cards in the corner opposite the piano player. “I spy with my little eye, a buzz cut.”

  Maple shot me a quizzical look.

  I waved a hand. “Ignore me.” I frowned. “He’s not wearing his uniform though.” Instead he wore too-small slacks and a worn tee.

  “He probably changed in his airship.” Wiley patted the railing. “Shall we, ladies?” He led the way around the balcony to the far side where we took the stairs down into the main hall. I let out a shaky exhale. This would work… it had to.

  The stairs creaked below my heeled feet and I tugged at the hem of my short dress. All part of the plan, a little distraction to help us charm this guy if needed. I longed for my bed and pajamas—it’d been a long day already, and the night was just beginning. We moved to the bar, our steps cushioned by the stained, tattered rugs. Wiley ordered himself a stein of beer, and a glass of white wine each for Maple and me.

  When the bartender came back with my glass I blinked at it. “I’m honestly shocked that this place has wine.”

  “Snob.” Wiley grinned.

  We clinked glasses and Maple bit her lip. “Good luck, Wi.”

  He nodded and moved off. He meandered through the room, looking right and left, with no apparent aim. He leaned against one of the wooden pillars below the balcony and sipped his beer. I shifted on my sticky barstool.

  “Quite the place, huh?” I looked around.

  “Huh?” Maple leaned closer.

  I grinned and shook my head. The raucous singing and the manic piano music made conversation nearly impossible. I glanced back over my shoulder. Wiley walked casually up to our target—the biggest of three huge men in the corner. He said something and they laughed. He stood there chatting with them for a bit, then pulled out the fourth chair and sat down.

  “He’s in!” Maple’s eyes lit up.

  I spun back around to face her. I didn’t want my watching him to be conspicuous. Part one of the plan had gone smoothly. Now Wiley had to play with them for a while, long enough to inconspicuously mark the cards with his thumbnail. He’d shown us how one of the circles in the design on the back of the card acted like a clock face. He’d mark the circle at the number two spot for a two, for example, or eleven for a jack. A little trick his upstanding father had taught him. He’d made us play game after game with him in the bakery this afternoon so he could practice. I’d been amazed at how he could read the marks in our hand of cards from across the table and therefore knew when to fold, or when to raise. Even though it was cheating, it required a lot of skill.

  Maple bit her lip as she watched him now over my shoulder. She twirled a curled strand of blonde hair. “He’s so good at it.”

  “You thinking about cards right now or…?”

  Her glazed eyes focused on me; she blinked and then scoffed as she registered my words. Her cheeks flushed bright pink. “No! I mean, yes, cards.”

  “Right.” I took a sip of my wine, my brows raised high.

  She clicked her tongue at me.

  Now we just had to wait, so might as well enjoy a little wine with my best girlfriend while I was at it.

  After the piano player finished his loud song, Maple took a sip and swiveled toward me. “I know this sounds crazy, but in a weird way, this is kind of fun.”

  “Sticky barstools?” I grinned.

  “No, silly. The seedy bar, the heist, the outwitting everyone.” She shivered and wriggled a little in her seat. “It’s kind of exciting, don’t you think?”

  “I think…” I took a sip of my wine. “That you and Wiley are going to have a fun night later.”

  She batted at my arm. “Come on. You’re not having even a little fun?”

  “Fine. I’m having a little fun.” I grinned.

  Maple reached over and rubbed the ends of my hair. “You look good blonde, you know? I prefer red, but you’re really pulling it off.”

  “Thanks.” I was spelling a disguise for myself since I’d gotten so recognizable lately. Blonde instead of red hair, brown eyes instead of blue, a smaller nose and bigger lips. I traced a circle on the wooden bar top with my finger, lost in thought. Something from earlier was still bugging me. I looked up. “You know, where does Horace get off telling me that Hank’s not good for me. He’s forcing us to break his girlfriend out of prison and she’s a murderer,” I scoffed.

  Maple took a sip and eyed me carefully. “You’re right, of course.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  She twirled her wine glass in her slender fingers. “I’m just wondering why it’s bothering you then?”

  I frowned and thought back to the way I’d felt when Horace said those things about Hank. “I’m just angry that he thinks he knows what’s best for me, when he hardly even knows me.” I shook my head and kept my eyes on the bar. “And—and it stung, a little. That comment he made about Hank not choosing me.” I bit my lip. “I guess I’d already had that thought myself and hated someone else voicing it.”

  Maple cleared her throat and I looked up. “Hank adores you.” She grinned. “The way he lights up when he sees you—it’s so cute. You two are great together.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.” I shook my head. “I just can’t help but wonder—what if Horace didn’t set Tar loose and interrupt the wedding? Would Hank have said ‘I do’?” I lifted my hands. “And it’s not because I doubt that he loves me, and I’m not questioning if he had feelings for Shaday or anything. It’s more…. It’s more what Horace said. He was marrying Shaday because his father ordered him to. And I wonder, who would he pick, if it came to it? Me or his dad?” I covered my face with my hands. “Not like I want him to have to choose.” I shook my head. “Sorry, I feel like such a jumbled mess.”

  Maple made a little groan of sympathy. “You’ve got a lot going on right now.”

  I lifted my head and chuckled. “Right? You, too.”

  She laughed and we clinked our glasses together, then finished what was left. I lifted a finger to catch the bartender’s attention. “Two more, please.” He nodded and collected our glasses. I grinned at Maple. “Well, might as well enjoy the time we have now.”

  “Cheers to that.”

  The bartender brought us two refilled glasses and we clinked them together. We chatted and passed the time for another hour or so. I filled Maple in on Colin Row’s jail record and the mysterious royal pardon, and she caught me up on her plans for Wiley to have his first official dinner with her family in a few weeks. She was right about it being fun, actually. Since my new social obligations with Hank’s family kept me busy most
nights, I’d really missed our happy hours at the Rusted Wreck. And since this place was a bit of a rusted wreck, it felt like home. We were only able to enjoy ourselves by ignoring the elephant in the room, though: that the day after tomorrow we’d be staging a prison break.

  “Oh!” Maple tapped my arm. “Finish your drink, he’s giving the signal.”

  I stifled a grin as I glanced back. Wiley had doubled over at the table coughing and one of the other men clapped his back, hard. Quite the signal, Wiley. I’d imagined more of a discreet cough. I slid off the stool and my legs nearly buckled. I snickered and teetered behind Maple the short distance to the corner. Then again, he’d probably tried a smaller cough and we hadn’t heard him over the ruckus.

  “Hi there, fellas.” I winked and stuck my hip out.

  Maple shot me a wide-eyed look, no doubt due to the accent I’d adopted. This might be our last night out together. I shrugged. Might as well have a little fun. She pressed her lips together and her eyes shone.

  She whirled on Wiley. “Hey, ba-by.” She blew him an air kiss.

  He froze, his brows drawn together in confusion. Maple and I giggled at each other. A big guy wearing a baseball cap shifted in his seat, his thick hands stacked on top of the deck. “You ladies with this guy?” He jerked his chin at Wiley.

  “Yeaaaahhh.” My voice came out a high whine. Maple and I burst into giggles again. Was four glasses too much wine?

  “Ha.” Wiley tugged at the collar of the open button-up he wore over a tee. “You two are… something.”

  “Ain’t they, though.” The guy we stood behind turned in his seat and winked at me. “Pretty as punch.”

  “I like punch.” Maple’s shoulders shook, she laughed so hard. We leaned our heads together and giggled.

  Wiley patted the table. “Well, this has been delightful, gentlemen, but as you can see I’ve got to get these two lushes home.” He leaned forward and hugged his massive pile of blue and red chips closer. He pulled his wand out of his back pocket and held his hands over the pile. The chips flew into the pockets of his jeans. He pushed his chair back and rose.

  The guy with his back to the corner gripped the table. “You’re cashing out?” He gritted his teeth together, his hard eyes full of desperation. This was our buzz cut, our target. Two measly chips sat on the table in front of him, while the other two men at the table still had healthy piles. I eyed Wiley’s overflowing pockets, impressed. He’d managed to not only cheat the game, but in such a way that he appeared to only have taken buzz cut’s money.

  Wiley lifted his palms. “I’ve got to go, sorry.”

  Buzz cut shoved back from the table and stood glowering at Wiley. At six five, Wiley was quite tall, but this guy stood just as tall and probably weighed twice as much as our friend. The guy’s lips curled back from his teeth. “You’re going to keep playing. I’m going to win that back.”

  Wiley winced. “Afraid I’ve got to go.”

  The guy with the baseball cap gestured at his friend. “Sit down, Smith. Sit down.”

  Smith, our target, ignored him. His face went slack. He was pleading now. “Play. Just another few hands.” His eyes slid to Maple and me. “I’m sure the ladies won’t mind, seems like they’re having a good time.” He pressed his lips tight together and his chest heaved. “I need you to stay, man.”

  Wiley let out a heavy sigh and ran his hand through his hair. He shifted on his feet. “Gee, I wish I could help you, I really do. But—” He turned to me and Maple. “We’ve got that thing….”

  I nodded. “A thing.” My head felt heavy. I giggled.

  The color drained from Smith’s face.

  “But hey.” Wiley sucked some air over his teeth. “I don’t normally like to do this sort of thing, but you seem like a nice guy. We could barter for some chips?”

  The guy’s brows flattened low over his small eyes. I grinned to myself. Eyes like little raisins.

  “I ain’t got much to barter.”

  “You can try me.” Wiley slid an arm around Maple’s bare shoulders. “You let me know, because we’ve got to go.”

  Maple blinked up at Wiley, confused. “We do?”

  I nodded and winked. Why did my whole face help me wink? “Remember. The thing.”

  Maple pressed one eye closed, her other twitching. “Riiggghhht. The thing.”

  The guy in the cap frowned at us. “Why are they doing that?”

  “Ha. Eh.” Wiley flashed his eyes at Maple. “They have a condition.”

  Smith edged around the table. “Fine. You can check out my airship, see if there’s anything you wanna trade for. I’ll be right back, fellas.” He led the way. “I ain’t giving you my ship though, just so we’re clear.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Wiley steadied Maple. I staggered up the stairs behind them and clomped my way around the balcony. We’d nearly reached the exit when a rough-looking old guy shouldered past Wiley. When they spun to look at each other, they froze.

  The old man had patchy white hair, puffy bags under his eyes, and a drooping face. He narrowed his bloodshot eyes. “Miller?”

  A muscle jumped in Wiley’s jaw. “You have me confused with someone else.” He turned to go, but the old guy shot a hand out and gripped his shoulder.

  “You’re his boy, ain’t you?”

  Wiley jerked his shoulder to throw the man’s hand off.

  “Heh.” The old man flashed a mouth full of missing and rotten teeth. “You is. And here you be, back at the Slivered Moon. Like old times, ain’t it?”

  Smith, turned. “We doing this or what?” He jerked his head towards the exit.

  Wiley turned to go but the old man sneered. “Running away, huh? You look like your pappy, but you sure ain’t actin’ like him.” He cackled and the laugh devolved into a wheezing, coughing fit. “Why, he’d a hit a man as soon as look at ’im. Quite the temper ol’ Miller had.” He cackled again.

  “Come on.” Wiley ground his teeth and followed Smith to the exit. I hugged the railing as I passed the old man to stay as far away as possible.

  “Temper’s what got him killed. You got a temper, boy?”

  Wiley glanced back as he ducked out the door, his eyes ablaze. But Maple murmured something to him and he turned away from the old man and stepped out onto the deck. Maple and I followed. The bouncers were already magically reeling in Smith’s airship. I tried to catch Wiley’s eye to ask him about the old guy, but he looked forward and pretended not to see me. I made the mistake of glancing down at the open sky around us. The world spun and I whimpered and latched on to Maple’s arm. The world had already been spinning a little—adding vertigo to my buzz was just one equilibrium issue too many.

  As Smith’s airship drew near, I made out a couple of rust patches and some duct tape across the front windshield. I sure hoped for his sake that was enchanted duct tape. Smith spun the wheel on the door, like the entrance to a submarine, and pushed it open. “Watch your step.”

  Wiley and Maple offered me their hands as I climbed in last, down a couple of narrow, steep steps. It was bigger than our own ship, but not by much. The chaotic control panel buzzed with lights and emitted a low hum. Clothes and crumpled blankets littered the sleeping bunk opposite the door. I spotted an open can of beans resting on a hot plate and suddenly the burnt smell made sense.

  Smith stooped and scooped up a pile of clothes. He dumped them on the bunk and ran a hand across his short hair. “Sorry for the mess, ladies.” He dipped his chin.

  “Is this your home?” I moved deeper into the space.

  “No! Well….” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My wife kicked me out last week. So yeah, I been sleepin’ in here since. But it’s just temporary.”

  Wiley sniffed. “You have kids?”

  The guy’s face flushed red and he kept his eyes down. “Yeah, two, boy and a girl.” He jerked his head. “Hey, you some sorta sicko who’s interested in my kids, you can take your chips and—”

  Wiley held up his palms. “I’m n
ot interested in your kids.”

  The guy’s chest heaved and after a few tense moments, his shoulders slumped. “Just a little protective, that’s all. You see anything you willing to trade for?”

  Maple and I searched the perimeter. I peeked inside a couple of open built-in drawers. I gave Wiley a little shake of the head; we needed more time.

  Wiley cleared his throat. “Possibly, possibly. Ladies, let me know if you see anything that catches your fancy.” He folded his arms and turned to Smith. “Listen, I just ask because you seem like a decent guy. My dad could’ve been a decent guy. But he had a big-time gambling problem—this was one of his favorite haunts, for a while.”

  Smith crossed his beefy arms. “That guy back there knew your pop, huh?”

  Wiley let out a dry laugh. “Yeah. And you can see how that turned out for him. And my dad—he died, not much older than I am now, or you. But before he died, he lost it all—my mom, our house, his friends.” He shook his head. “Word of advice, get help. Don’t do that to yourself—or your kids.”

  Smith’s chin trembled slightly.

  I moved closer to the control panel, still looking for the uniforms, but unable to stop my eavesdropping.

  “Oof!”

  I looked up. Maple bent over and rubbed her knee, wincing, in front of an open drawer. She must’ve run into it while watching Wiley and Smith, too.

  Smith sniffed his now red nose and blinked his glassy eyes. “I’ll, uh—” He cleared his throat. “I’ll think about that, man. Thanks.”

  Wiley nodded.

  “Hey!” Maple pointed down at the open drawer she’d bumped into. “Look, uniforms.”

  Bingo.

  She reached in and held up a black uniform trimmed in gold, a badge still clipped to the breast pocket. “Look!”

  I teetered over in my heels and held up the one lying in the drawer below it. “Another one!”

  He shook his head and moved over to us, shaking his open hands. “No. Nope. Sorry, ladies, but those are off-limits.”