Free Hand (Irons and Works Book 1)

by E M Lindsey

  Derek frowned at her. “Should you be telling me all this without his consent?”

  She gave him a careful look, something bright shining in her gaze as she sized him up. After a moment, she shook her head and shrugged. “He’ll take one look at you and me together and realize I told you all the dirty details. He expects it. I’m an asshole.” She moved to the counter and hit a button a few times, which made the back lights blink. “He’ll be out in a moment,” she told him with a grin.

  Derek began to sweat profusely, holding the canvas with one hand so he could swipe his other on the top of his jeans. He waited, his heart hammering in his chest, and then the door swung open. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt when Basil walked out. Time stopped for a second, and then, when the guy gave him a tentative smile, he felt like he could breathe again.

  ‘Hi,’ he signed.

  Basil’s smile twitched a little bigger. ‘Hi.’

  Derek stared down at the canvas in his hand and then, like an idiot, shoved it at Basil so hard it made the guy stumble back a step. “Uh…”

  “Oh my god,” he heard Amaranth mutter under her breath.

  Basil seemed to recover quickly, taking the canvas from Derek and gently setting it down against the counter. He crouched to look at it for a long moment, then looked back up at Derek. ‘Beautiful.’

  Derek stared for a second, then saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Whatever Amaranth had signed, Basil shook his head and told her, ‘No.’ He stood back up, leaving the octopus where it was, and approached Derek slow, like someone might a wounded animal.

  Derek realized he sort of was that. The last and only time Basil had seen him was when he was having a panic attack in a closed room, so it was only fair he think Derek would freak in any circumstances.

  ‘His name is Kevin,’ he signed, then pointed at the octopus.

  Basil stared blankly, then his shoulders began to shake with his near-silent laughter. ‘Kevin?’ he spelled, mouthing along.

  Derek flushed. ‘My friend,’ he signed, but that was as far as his ASL skills extended in explaining James’ asshattery.

  Basil held up a finger, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and started to type. Your friend name octopus?

  Derek sighed and took the offered phone. Yes, because he’s a dickhead, but it stuck. It’s been hanging in the shop for a few years. But you can name it whatever you want to.

  Basil grinned at him as he typed, I like Kevin. When Derek gave him an incredulous look, Basil laughed louder. It look like his name. You bring here why?

  Derek felt a little more embarrassed and he shrugged before answering, I work down the street, over at Irons and Works. It was safer this way. I know for sure it wouldn’t get fucked up in the mail.

  When he looked up, Basil was smiling at him. ‘Thank you,’ he signed.

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Derek desperately wished he’d listened to Tony months ago about the classes, that he’d paid better attention, that he knew more than ‘want milk’ and ‘sleep’ and ‘mommy’. He wanted to talk to this man in his own language, to give him an avenue to express himself in a way that was natural and comfortable. Fidgeting, he took the phone back. I’d better let you get back to work. I have a client coming in soon.

  Basil took the phone, and before Derek could move away, he seized his arm and ran thin, elegant fingers along some of the grey-scale six-fingered hand he had extending up from the wrist. He released him and signed something, and before Derek could ask, Amaranth voiced it. “I like this. Chamsa?”

  Derek smiled and didn’t look away, even as Basil’s eyes moved over to see his sister interpreting. “My mom was Jewish, and uh…” he licked his lips. “as kids, my brother and I weren’t allowed to participate in the faith or anything, especially after she died. My father…” He stopped, the words feeling like they were choking him, and it must have shown on his face because Basil reached for his wrist, squeezing as his thumb rubbed gently over the top of his ink. Shaking his head, he took a breath and managed a tight smile. “It’s a tribute to part of me that I wasn’t really allowed to have when I was younger.”

  When Basil looked at him fully, there was something in his eyes—sympathy, maybe—but it was nothing like the oppressive mothering he got at the shop. It was just understanding and comfort. He wanted to turn his hand and link his fingers with Basil’s, but he let that moment right there be enough.

  His other hand raised, and he tipped it from his chin. ‘Thank you.’

  Basil squeezed his hand once more before he dropped it and signed for Amaranth to interpret, “Thanks for bringing this by. You were right before, it’s wrong no one wanted it. Kevin will have a good home here.”

  Derek blushed but nodded, took one last look at the octopus, then hurried out without glancing back.

  6.

  Derek walked into his place, arms full of shawarma boxes and foil-wrapped pita, and immediately unloaded it all onto the coffee table. Sage had been there for a while, having texted Derek when he got in, and he was sitting on the couch with socked feet up, looking better than he had the year before which Derek counted as progress.

  “Give me five, but if you’re hungry, don’t wait,” he said, then went into his room to change. He found a pair of sweats that weren’t completely covered in dry acrylics, and a white tee, and came out to find Sage opening a couple beers and sorting the food out for easy access.

  “Movie?” Sage asked as he settled on the floor, digging his fork into some of the saffron rice.

  Derek shrugged. “If you want. I’m not feeling picky.”

  Sage chewed a moment, then said, “I’m good.” He waited for Derek to settle in next to him, and they took a few minutes to just eat and exist before he spoke again. “I went to visit his memorial last week since I knew I couldn’t make it up this weekend. Plus, I really didn’t want to run into his mom.”

  Derek put his fork down and looked at his brother. “Why didn’t you ask me to go?”

  Sage shrugged. “I uh…” He licked his lips, unable to meet Derek’s gaze as he spoke. “I’ve been thinking about dating again. I mean, I haven’t met anyone, but the other day when I was grabbing coffee, this super hot guy behind the counter gave me a free scone because he said I looked like I needed it. It wasn’t in a creep way either. It was just…it was nice. And I started thinking, shit, I could ask this guy out and he might actually say yes. I’ve spent the last four years not being ready, and I’m not now. I still can’t shake the feeling like I’d be betraying Ted, but there’s going to come a point where I am.”

  Derek reached for Sage’s shoulder and just let his hand rest there. He smiled inwardly when his brother moved into his touch just a fraction, making him feel like he was needed there. “I can’t know what that’s like, but I do know the agonizing panic of letting yourself be vulnerable again, and I know the courage it takes to even consider it.”

  Sage chewed on his food, swallowed, then took a long drink of beer before he answered him. “He’d want me to be happy. I mean, he’d want me to be picky—because he’d never settle for a douche—but he’d want me to let go, and I want to do that for him. I just don’t know how to be ready.” Leaning his head back on the sofa cushion, he closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “I didn’t cry today. Or last week, when I was there. It was still hard, but it didn’t feel like I was choking on my own heart this time and I realized I am moving on. Stupid little things, like I can’t remember what he sounded like first thing in the morning anymore, and I forget if his hands were smooth or calloused, and it doesn’t hurt the way it used to.”

  “I think that’s normal,” Derek said softly.

  “Tracy told me that when I talked to her today. She said I’m going to be scared for a long time, and that I’ll probably always be a little neurotic with my future partners, but that someday that suffocating grief is just going to feel like an echo. It’s so wrong. I shouldn’t just…get over it.”

  “Except you don’t really have
a choice. If we were eighty and you’d been together sixty years, I might let you get away with it,” Derek said quietly. “But we’re not eighty. We’re young enough that we can still find the person we’re going to spend most of our lives with, and I want that for you.”

  Sage slowly turned his head to look at Derek with a slight grin. “You said ‘we’.”

  Derek frowned at him. “…okay?”

  “You said we, like you’re including yourself in that. Like you’re not shutting yourself off from the very idea of letting someone else in. Is it the ATM guy?”

  Derek felt his cheeks burn. “No. I think the ATM guy is just proof that I might be ready to start looking. My panic isn’t as bad as it used to be, the nightmares are so infrequent I don’t remember the last time I had one. I just…I still feel like I’d be putting someone second to all my fucking issues, and that isn’t fair to anyone.”

  “I think you have to be ready to let someone decide that for you,” Sage replied.

  Derek pursed his lips, then said, “I don’t know that anyone has any idea what they’re getting into, and I know for a fact getting dumped for something I can’t change feels a hell of a lot worse than getting dumped just because they got tired of me.”

  Sage opened his mouth to speak, but just then Derek’s phone began to vibrate, dancing across the table with a call. Before he could grab it, Sage snatched it up and frowned at the screen. “It’s fucking dad.”

  Derek felt his stomach twist. The issue with his father was getting worse, and he knew something had to be done, but he couldn’t bring himself to sever the connection. “I’ll call him back.”

  Sage gave him a look, then hit the answer button and put the phone to his ear. “Hey, old man. I…yes. Yes. Okay…” Derek could tell by the way Sage’s eyes widened a fraction, by the way his jaw tightened and his fingers curled in toward his palm, his dad was shouting abuse into the receiver.

  It seemed to go on for an eternity, the rapid hum of his dad’s voice, Sage’s quiet noises as though he was just making sure his dad knew he was still there. Then, after seven long minutes, the call ended. Sage didn’t say much, just set the phone face down on the table and stared at it.

  “Sage,” Derek said quietly.

  His brother shook his head. “He’s always like that? Every time he calls?”

  Derek shrugged. “It’s…I mean, he’s not all there and…”

  Sage scoffed, looking up at Derek with hard eyes. “He was like that even when he was all there. I just didn’t realize he was still at it.”

  Derek glanced away, taking a shuddering breath. “It’s fine. I don’t…he doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dying. And you really don’t need to do that, you know. I can handle it.”

  “He didn’t know it was me,” Sage replied with a huff. “He can’t remember he’s got two of us, so you can let me share in this.”

  Derek shifted, his body tense. “Look, you’re already dealing with enough, trying to handle yourself after Ted, and I know that’s not easy.”

  Sage gave him a startled look. “Der, that fuck is entirely responsible for your PTSD. He’s entirely responsible for every fresh hell you endure whenever something triggers you. You don’t get to be a martyr here just because I’m sad my fiancé died, okay? I’m strong enough to handle that. I couldn’t,” his voice broke and he cleared his throat, “I couldn’t protect you back then, but I can at least shoulder some of the burden now. Just…fuck. Let me take a call or two. He won’t live long enough to do real damage anyway.”

  Derek closed his eyes, breathed in, then opened them as he released it all. “We can talk about it.”

  It seemed to pacify Sage enough for the moment. “There’s something else though,” he said, and though his tone was hesitant, he didn’t give Derek time to think. “I met someone I think you’d like, and I want you to consider going on a date with him.”

  Derek sat up a little straighter, his brows dipping into a frown. “You didn’t promise him I’d…”

  “No,” Sage said, putting up his hands in surrender. “I’m an asshole, but I’m not an asshole. He goes to my gym.”

  Derek pulled a face. “Okay, that’s so not my type.”

  “He’s an accountant,” Sage replied with a tiny knowing smile. “But he also works out with me a few times a week, and he’s hot as hell. I also know for a fact he’d be interested in you.”

  Derek bristled at that because it meant the guy had hit on Sage, and since Sage wasn’t ready to date, he was just punting his cast-offs toward his twin. “I don’t know, man. If he’s into you, then he won’t like me.”

  “He isn’t,” Sage told him, crossing his arms. “I mean, he thinks I’m hot, which is a big plus for you, but he and I have been talking over the last few months and he’s into all the crap you are. Same music, same art shit, same movies. Here let me…” Sage grunted as he twisted his hips up and dug his phone out of his pocket. He tapped at his screen for a few seconds, then displayed a Facebook photo of a fit guy with tanned skin and dark curls under a backward cap. He was wearing a muscle shirt and tight jeans, and his smile was very bright. Sage hadn’t been lying—the guy was very attractive. Unfortunately, Derek’s mind was slightly occupied with someone else, and it was hard for him to focus on someone who wasn’t Basil.

  “You said he’s an accountant? So why isn’t he into you? You know, with all the math shit?”

  Sage laughed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, dude. I mean, he’s cool with numbers, but I don’t think he wants to like sit and talk quarterly reports at the end of the night or anything. Just…just think about it, okay? Let me know, and if you want to give it a try, I’ll help set something up.”

  Derek knew he should at least consider it. He had no promises, no prospect of a future at all with Basil. He’d delivered the drawing and the guy had been utterly perfect, but it was the second time Derek walked away without a number. And hell, they could be friendly now, and there was every chance they’d see each other in passing, but he couldn’t count on there ever being more.

  It was foolish to think he’d stumbled on some epic romance that was written in the stars. It only made sense to let Sage do this for him. He certainly wasn’t any good at doing it for himself. He took a breath, then met his brother’s gaze. “Go ahead,” he all-but grunted.

  Sage looked momentarily startled, then chanced a tentative smile. “Seriously?”

  Derek sighed, letting his head fall back again. “Seriously. Might as well rip the bandage off, right? So just…if he wants to, yeah. Let’s do it. You can give him my number or whatever and it…it could be good, right?”

  “Right,” Sage said. He reached out and gave Derek’s wrist a gentle squeeze, right where Basil had touched him before, and he suppressed the urge to tug his hand away because he didn’t want to lose the ghost of that comfort just yet. But he didn’t. “It could be really good.”

  ***

  Basil had been dodging both texts and Facebook messages from Jay who seemed to think that although Basil had run out on him, he was owed a chance to do the date over. The very thought made his stomach squirm, and he threw himself into work, staying late nearly every day the week after Derek had brought Kevin by the shop.

  It was hanging in his office for now, and he found himself working on some digital arrangements, but mostly staring at the near-perfect sweeps and smudges of charcoal that somehow brought the drawing to life. It was almost as though Basil could reach up, and the octopus would uncurl a tentacle and wrap it around him.

  Seeing Derek in the shop like that had startled him in a way he hadn’t expected, and his face when he’d been talking about his father had nearly shattered Basil in two. He didn’t have to be well-versed in reading expression to see the pain in Derek’s eyes, to know that he’d suffered more than a person rightfully should, and Basil had only just managed to suppress his urge to take Derek in his arms and hold him until he smiled again.

  Still, he wanted to do something. Not just to
cheer Derek up, but maybe to introduce himself to the shop, to meet the others and experience it. He wasn’t exactly vying for a tattoo, but he was half considering throwing together a bouquet—something highly fragrant for the front of the shop, and using that as a way in.

  Maybe he’d be obvious, but at this point, he wasn’t sure that he cared. He didn’t think he’d ever go for a hearing guy again—especially one not fluent in ASL, but he found himself wanting to make some kind of effort. Friends for sure. Friends was safe, at least. Friends was far easier to leave when it all eventually became too much.

  Without really thinking about it, Basil moved to the back room and began to carefully arrange something to bring over to Irons and Works the following afternoon. He had some white Hyacinth and some Boronia already cut, and he tucked those between sprigs of Jasmine and as an afterthought, added a yellow rose in the center. It was hardly the prettiest bouquet he’d made, but when he tipped his nose low over it, the fragrance was gentle, but lingering. He wasn’t sure any of them would appreciate it, but he could only hope.

  When he was finished, he tucked the bouquet in the cooler, then resolved to grab it around lunch and sneak out without his sister realizing what he was up to.

  ***

  Dodging Ama was easier than he anticipated, as they had a large group of bridesmaids come in for some bouquet tests right around noon, and Basil was able to grab the flowers and sneak off to the shop without his sister being the wiser. He felt a little foolish, hurrying down the street with the bouquet tucked in his arms, but he ignored the curious stares in passing cars and pedestrians, and made his way to the little shopping center around the corner.

  He could see the tattoo shop from the parking lot, and he hesitated before crossing the pavement and heading to the door. He saw the little glowing orange Open sign in the window which sat next to a horizontal blinking sign which read TATTOO in bold capital letters. The window was all-but covered in pasted advertisements for local bands, skateboarding competitions, tattoo expos, and piercing parlors. But beyond that, he could also make out a quaint shop with a small lobby, a front desk, and beyond that, what looked like partially sectioned off stalls with chairs and tables.