“What? You aren’t my mother, Charlie, I’ll talk to whoever the hell I want. Plus, I’ve told you over and over you don’t have anything to worry about. Shannyn’s just my friend.”
She steeled her eyes. “Friend, my arse. I saw the way she was looking at you—licking up every inch of your saucy body with her eyes. Shit, I can only imagine how terrible she would behave with you if I wasn’t in the same room.”
“Eh, she wouldn’t do anything. I told her how much I love you and you showed her how brutal you are. Between respect and fear I think it’s safe to say she’s smart enough to stay away.”
“I don’t trust her to be smart or courteous.”
“You don’t have to trust her, but you ought to trust me, and I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about.”
She winced at me like I was talking nonsense. “I want to hit you with a bucket every time you tell me she is not a threat, so let’s change the subject before I have to resort to violence.”
I laughed. “Fair enough. What do you want to talk about?”
“We could start by talking about your sister’s runaway. What are we going to do? How will we find her while we are avoiding Port Royal? Maybe we should send someone after her.”
“Find her?” I poured rum in my coffee. “Hell, I can’t even begin to think about that shit right now. I hardly know what we’re going to do next.”
Charlie buttered a roll. “I suppose you are right about that. We tried to help her and she denied our efforts. But I will say, from what she shared of her tale it seems she is quite capable of taking care of herself. I suppose I needn’t worry about her.”
“All I know for sure is that she is a disrespectful and defiant little wretch and I don’t want to think about her bad decisions for another moment.”
“Me either,” Charlie agreed, and after shaking her head in irritation, she looked at me and smiled. “How about we think about throwing a party tonight instead?”
My mood lifted with interest. “After our foot rub?”
“Yes. Let’s invite our friends, get a big spread of food and barrels of rum. Oh, and of course we will hire a band and we can even get some whores to dance and sing.”
“I like the sound of this.”
“Me too.” She raised her glass of juice to meet my mug of rum coffee. “I have known riches, and I have experienced freedom, but rich and free is new to me and I want to enjoy our final days of piracy to the fullest.”
“As you wish, my queen.” I cheered with her, but the words final days of piracy went down with a flavor far more bitter than that of my black coffee. I’d have to tell her the truth soon enough, but not now. No. We were finally clean and relaxed and the last thing I wanted to do was raise a fight.
Chapter 14
Scarred For Life
As Told By Charlotte Bentley
Tasting blood and seeing fire, I tucked behind a barrel and attempted to reload my pistol. Things were exploding, men were screaming, and great guns were blasting, thumping, and thundering around me. Soon enough, round shots were busting the bulkheads to bits. I saw heads and arms and legs flying through the smoky air. Shaking in fear, I could not get the ram rod in my gun barrel. With the deck trembling beneath me, I kept spilling powder everywhere. Just when I figured I’d give up and grab my sword, another broadside was fired.
Covering my head, I waited for the death that would surely claim me. Everything shook and everyone was dying. As timbers and limbs once again went flying, I heard a perilous scream piercing my ears. Feeling something land on my lap, I opened my eyes. A human head detached from its body had landed on me! The face was unfamiliar, but as I looked into his eyes—that still had a glimmer of life in them—the blood covered face groaned, “Help me.”
Shooting upright, I looked around and realized it was just a horrible dream. I was in my sunlit room at The Devil’s Dungeon and Sterling was asleep beside me. While trying to catch my breath, my gut began to churn. With my heart beating rapidly, my body covered in sweat, and my mind still haunted by the memory of the horrendous nightmare I had, I leaned over the edge of the bed and threw up.
Sterling started rubbing my back. He asked me if I was all right but I swatted him off of me. I had gotten his compass rose tattooed on my shoulder blade and he had tapped right on the swollen flesh. It hurt so bad I regretted getting it. That pain mixed with the way the room was spinning, assured me that I had never before been so miserable. This was hell.
With nothing left to expel, I wiped my watery eyes and gagged, “Go get Grace.”
Hopping out of bed, Sterling cursed under his breath as he threw things around.
“Why are you taking so long?” I spat between heaves.
“I can’t find my breeches.”
“Oh, good heavens, wear a sheet. I need help.” I threw up again.
As I expelled my guts on to the expensive rug, he yanked the sheet off of me, then wrapped it around his waist and went to get the maid.
Lying there, holding my aching gut, I thought that she would never come. I wanted to be dressed. I wanted to be clean. I needed a drink of water and would need to eat something before long. But no more rum. Ever. Looking around at the horribly thrashed room—curtains torn, furniture tipped over, one window busted and the chandelier on the floor—I thought back on the god-awful debaucheries that caused the wreckage. Holding my sweat covered forehead, I sighed, “I am never drinking again.”
Once Grace had me clean and dressed, I sat at the table to eat with Sterling. He had never bothered to put a shirt on, and if I had been in a better mood I may have enjoyed the look of the rose vine he had gotten tattooed around his bicep. But I wasn’t in a better mood, and wouldn’t be until I ate.
And boy, did I eat.
Biscuits, bacon, ham, and eggs. It was more than tasty, it was necessary. I needed the grease and the bread to survive. As every flavorful morsel slid down my throat my body came more and more alive. Reaching for another roll, I slathered it with butter. After eating the absurdly tasty thing, I debated on grabbing another. There were plenty. We had been eating like kings since we took down Mariposa and my fattened gut was living proof of the bountiful plunder.
Amidst my fervid debate between more bread or more juice, I compared my ill-kept physique against those of the scantily dressed maids. They were all flat bellied but curvy where it mattered, and dressed in ways that accented all their bountiful features. Realizing that my shape was quite unbecoming in comparison, I shunned the roll and chose to drink water.
Upon filling my glass, I noticed how Sterling was staring at Grace as she bent over to sweep up the shards of a shattered vase. I snapped my fingers at him. “Eyes over here, big boy.”
Slowly turning his head in my direction, he smiled at me slyly. Though I was pleased by how easily he returned his attention to me, he instantly annoyed me by peering at my empty plate. Still picking at his first piece of ham, he chuckled, “You truly are going to gain all the weight I lost eating like that.”
Agitated by his comment, I sneered, “I am already feeling shitty about this weight I have gained, I don’t need your mean little jokes making me feel worse.”
“Oh, stop it. I like that meat on your bones. You look better than you have in months.”
Thinking back on the way he’d been eyeing the maids and all the other half naked bitches that had been dancing in our room during our parties, I rolled my eyes. “I know what you like and it isn’t fatness.” I poked at my belly.
Just then, Grace met us at the table. “Is there anything I can get for you two before I go?” She flashed her pretty smile at me. We had gotten close. While drinking together, sharing cigarros, and engaging in plenty of other sinful activities over the weeks, the lines between her maid service and the friendship we had developed had gotten quite blurry. But now, in the morning light, with a sober mind, I realized that we had gotten far too close. Too many lines had been crossed and boundaries would need to be set.
I was abou
t to thank her for what she had done and request an afternoon alone with my husband, but apparently Sterling had other plans for her. With a stretch and a yawn, he asked her, “Would you mind filling me a bath?”
Noticing the way she was staring at his rose vine tattoo, my mind drifted back on the way she traced it with her crafty little fingers while drinking with us last night. Remembering the way she giggled as she did so, and the way his cocky grin lit his face, I snapped, “We don’t need anything else!”
Their happy chattering halted. Grace looked alarmed, but Sterling glared at me like I had lost my mind. I had. But I didn’t care what any of them thought. “I will fill his bath and I will clean this room. He does not need a damn thing from you. Nor do I.”
Grace stared at me cautiously as she slowly backed toward the door. “As you wish, Madam. I am sorry if I have offended you.”
As she passed by the mirror, I saw myself in the glass behind her. The look of my reflection only intensified the fire of my insecurity. In comparison to her luscious brunette curls, my golden locks were straight and lifeless. As opposed to the rouge on her high cheek bones, my chubby face was scarred and blemished, and while she was wearing a curve accenting burgundy dress, I was dressed like a damn man.
Feeling ugly and jealous, I stormed towards the door, ripped it open and yelled at those maids like they were my pirate crew, “All right, wenches, the room is clean enough. Get on your way. Handsomely, now. Handsomely.”
Slamming the door behind them, I scanned the horrible mess I would now be responsible for, then locked my gaze on Sterling.
He was staring at me with a humorously quizzical expression. “What the hell was that about?”
“That was about me being tired of this shit. It was fun while it lasted but I am done drinking myself blind and I am through smoking my throat raw, and I have certainly had enough of all the sinful debaucheries we have been engaging in.”
“What brought all this on?” He squinted.
Irritated that he would question my moral aptitude, I proceeded to lash at him with all the nattering insecurities that had been plaguing my suddenly sober mind. “For one, this lifestyle is making me fat and has scarred my face for life. For two, the sickness that has struck my body the last few mornings has assured me that I can no longer handle my rum. And finally, being surrounded by all these slutty bitches has me thinking that before I know it you’ll be leaving me for a younger, shapelier thing who can keep up with your hellacious parties.”
Looking annoyed as could be, he jeered, “You’ve been right beside me for my hellacious parties so don’t bother barking about the shit that has happened at them.”
“Is that sincerely all you have to say about this?” I screeched like a crazy woman.
He raised his hands in surrender. “What would you rather me say?”
Filled with the absurd urge to throw something at him, I grabbed a dagger off of my belt and chucked it at the wall. “Maybe you could say something about the retirement you promised me!”
His eyes widened as he eyed the knife that had plummeted into the wall next to the mirror that sent me into this frenzy. “What do you want to know?”
“I want to know why you evade my questions every time I attempt to address this issue.”
He rolled his head back. “Ah, there’s just so much to consider. I haven’t wanted to bother with the details yet.”
“Well, I do. I am tired of this shit, Sterling. Tired. I understand that our options are few, but I have faith in your ability to find a way. I have never once seen you give up on attaining what you desire, so your lack of interest in making a peaceful life with me is leading me to believe that you simply do not want it.”
He lowered his face in his hand.
The reality of my greatest fear coming to life hit me hard in the gut. I slowly stepped towards him. “You don’t want to retire, do you? You could go on and on in this drunken sea of lust and blood and gunpowder and gold, couldn’t you?”
Exhaling slowly, he looked in my direction. “I’ll do whatever you want to do, Charlie.”
“You know what I want, Sterling. But I have no clue what you truly want because you don’t ever tell me how you feel. All I have to go on are your actions, and I do not like what I am seeing anymore.”
He steeled his eyes at me. “I haven’t done a damn thing different from you, o’ righteous one. In fact, there are plenty of ways I think you’re even worse than me.”
“How so?” I snipped with my hands on my hips.
“Well, for one, it was you who fled from home and got yourself on bad terms with your father. And remember when you ran away from me on Tortuga and got yourself kidnapped by pirates? Also, it was you who got all tangled up with my riddle weaving mother and cast me out of the law abiding job I had gotten for your sake. Not to mention how you only recently insisted upon joining me for that brutal Spanish raid that has left you with soul haunting, sleep deprived nightmares. And let us not forget that it was your idea to allow all the sluts in our room.”
With no way to rebut the truth in his words, I stood there speechless.
He smiled like he had won the war. “That’s right, beauty. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve been a hell raising pixie and by your actions I thought you were enjoying this debauchery as much as I was. Yet here you are, slapping me in the face with these ideas for a holy rebirth. Well I’ll tell you right now, I’m not snapping to your fancy at a moment’s notice.”
Struggling to tame my slow burning anger, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “All right. Then let’s take some time to talk about this. What is it that you want out of life, Sterling Bentley?”
He let out an agitated chuckle. “Honestly, I just want to take a bath.”
“Yet another evasive answer!” I threw my hands up in the air. “You enrage me to no end.”
Picking at his tooth, he said, “You aren’t on my sweet list right now, either. In fact, since you chased off the maid like a crazy ol’ nit, I think it’s only fair that you fetch me the hot water to fill the tub.”
“You know what?” I began gathering my weapons. “I was going to fill your bath but at this point I would most likely end up drowning you in that hot water. So for both of our sakes, I will leave you alone.”
After grabbing my coat, I once again flung the door open. I attempted to storm out, but from his seat, he let out a menacing growl that stopped me in my tracks. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“What does it matter to you?” I tried to sound snide.
“It matters to you. For if you don’t tell me, you aren’t going.” He stood up and took a threatening step in my direction.
Violent rage flashed through my mind. I considered testing his intimidation by bolting down the hall, but no matter how mad I was I knew it was safer for him to know where I was headed. I let out a defeated mumble, “I am going to Mister Bernard’s for the day.”
“Have fun,” he said, then headed for the washroom.
Though half of me wished he’d put up more of a fight, the other half knew no sensible agreement could come between us while I was in this wretched mood. Slamming the door behind me, I headed down the hall, and tried to convince myself that a little time apart would do us both some good.
The day was hot and steamy from last night’s rain, and rancid mist was rising from the piss and shit covered streets of Tortuga. I hated it here. I couldn’t wait to leave. Just as I thought I would head for the beach, where I could walk the shore and sort out my thoughts, I heard someone call my name. Turning to see Yakob heading in my direction, I smiled at my friend.
The gigantic German, braced with axes and knives, offered me a jolly greeting, “Good morning, Black Rose.”
“Good morning, Yakob. What brings you out so early?”
“I rise with the dawn every day. Oma Nini used to say we can sleep a plenty beneath our graves.”
“I like that. And honestly, I don’t like what I find in my sleep lately, anyhow.�
��
“I know the feeling.” He rubbed his shiny, bald head. “So where are you headed?”
“Nowhere certain, I just wanted to get some fresh air, but there isn’t anything fresh about this smelly alley.” I giggled. “What do you have planned for the day?”
“I was just heading to the market to find some new shoes. Would you like to join me?”
Enjoying Yakob’s company as I always did, I was more than happy to wander the market aisles alongside him. To my amusement, he put a great deal of consideration into the shoes he wore. Too tight, too loose, not the right style, he said these things over and over. I found his particulars quite entertaining, and the simple pleasure I found in assisting my friend on his hunt kept my mind light as the hours passed. I kept telling him Mister Bernard’s French Quarter had the best selection of accessories, but he insisted that the ol’ Frenchman had tricked him last time he shopped there. Eventually, his desire for the perfect pair overrode his disdain for Mister Bernard, and we headed for the French Quarter.
Entering the red and gold curtains of the fanciest tent in town, I called for my friend. Popping up from behind the counter like a mole, Mister Bernard reached out his arms. “Rose Noire! Vous avez revenir.”
He ran around to hug me. I held my breath as he did so. He always smelled awful.
As soon as he let go, I stepped away. “I will always come back, Monsieur Bernard. I keep telling you that.”
“That is good, because your presence makes this stinky place like a flower covered meadow.”
“N’êtes-vous pas douce.” I thanked him for the compliment. “Now, my friend here, Yakob, is looking for a new pair of shoes, and he is very particular.” I explained just what Yakob was looking for.
Mister Bernard scratched the flakey skin atop his bald head. “I just received a shipment of shoes yesterday. Come on back.” As he led us behind the counter, where only myself and a few others were allowed to go, he rambled on about how his store was the best place to shop. The vast collection of unsorted items and various crates stacked to the brim attested to his boasting.
Gunpowder & Gold (Justified Treason, Book 4): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 22
