Irons and Works: The Complete Series

by E M Lindsey

  Basil shook his head as he let that information slowly sink in. Sage. Not-Derek was named Sage, and he had once had his hands on the man right in front of Basil. And Amit had known Derek, knew some intimate details about him. The coincidences were starting to worry him, because nothing had changed his mind about Derek. Not yet. It still wasn’t going to work.

  ‘I have to go make a couple of blender drinks,’ Amit said, waving to get his attention. ‘Do you want to start a tab?’

  Basil looked down at his drink with the single sip missing, then shook his head. ‘I need to drive.’ He laid cash on the counter, then waved off the change before Amit moved to get his receipt. He took another sip but knew he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be drunk in Denver and stuck waiting to sober up before he could get the hell out and go home. He just wanted this night to be over.

  He glanced up when Amit slid the bit of paper toward him, and as he walked away, Basil noticed there was a number and a little note scribbled at the bottom.

  Call me some time if you ever want to hang out, I could introduce you around. All my friends are inked, and none of them are douchebags.

  It was over the top. It was too goddamn over the top and he was going to get laughed right out of the flower shop. And then the next day he would probably get served with a restraining order because all the guy had done was buy one of his art pieces. Not just that, either, because Derek didn’t have tangible proof that Basil was the one who’d done it at all.

  The account was in his sister’s name and there was every chance Basil had just shown her the site and she found Kevin interesting. Or something.

  Fuck.

  “Fuck,” he murmured to himself. He stared at the octopus which was now glued to a canvas, covered in varnish, and framed, and he pressed his palm to his forehead. He was such a fucking moron.

  “Are you just going to stare at it all day, or are you actually going to take it over there?” James asked. He was half-bent over a woman’s lower back, giving her a string of cherry blossoms.

  “I’m going to rip that machine out of your hand and stab you in the neck with it,” Derek growled.

  The woman twitched—not enough to fuck with James’ lines—he was one of the steadiest hands in the shop, but it was enough to make him look up and glare at Derek. “Can we not terrify the newbies, dude?” He gave the woman’s shoulder a firm pat. “Don’t worry, darlin’, this one’s all bark, no bite. He’d never stab me in the neck.”

  No. Derek would save it for his balls if he didn’t shut the entire fuck up. He was well aware he was making this a bigger deal than it was, but anxiety didn’t ever have chill, and neither did he. He started to drag his hand through his hair, then realized he didn’t want to fuck it up completely because even if Basil told him to fuck all the way out of the shop and never come back, he at least wanted to make his retreat look good.

  “Just go, dude,” James said. “You’ve got two hours before your appointment comes in. That’s plenty of time to suck his face or his dick or his a—”

  “Seriously, man,” Derek said. He grabbed the folded note he’d spent two hours writing and decided to go because anything would be better than sitting there and listening to James give him shit for it. “I’ll be back.”

  “Don’t hurry on my account,” James said, looking up and giving him a wink.

  Derek flipped him off, tucked the note into the back of the frame, and hurried out. The walk was less than three minutes, but he took five in a pathetic attempt to give himself a moment to calm down. It wasn’t working, and he was getting more worked up, so he decided that just jumping in was his only real option.

  From the front window, he could make out that the shop was empty. The owner, Amaranth—the woman he’d met before—was behind the counter tapping away on her phone, and there was no sign of Basil anywhere. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but it gave him the smallest amount of extra courage to walk in.

  The door gave a loud ring as it opened, and he noticed a light in the back flashed. As he stepped in, Amaranth looked up and smiled. “Hey. Tattoo guy,” she said, coming around to greet him. “From the other day. Which one are you again?”

  “Derek,” he said a little shyly. “Uh…”

  Her eyes flickered to the painting in his hands. “What’s that?”

  “He’s called Kevin,” Derek blurted, then flushed and turned the painting to show her. “Actually, my dipshit friend named him. I just called it Octopus, so you can name it whatever you want.”

  She blinked at him, staring hard at his mouth like maybe she’d missed something. “Sorry…what?”

  “You…this. You ordered this, right?” He said two prayers equally—one that the painting was hers, and the other that Basil had done this. He was such a mess.

  She stared, then her mouth slowly curved into a wide grin. “No, but I think I know who did. You’re the guy from the ATM vestibule. The night the power went out.”

  He blushed so hot he felt light-headed. “Yes.”

  “My brother told me about it,” she told him, her tone full of glee. “He told me you were an artist, I didn’t realize he tracked you down.”

  Derek rubbed the back of his neck. “Well I uh…just…during the storm I showed him my gallery online for something to do. He was probably just being nice.”

  She laughed loudly, shaking her head. “My brother doesn’t do, ‘just being nice’. Trust me. He either really liked that, or really liked you.”

  Derek licked his lips nervously. “Well I can just…leave this for him. When he gets back, he can…”

  “He’s here,” she said, interrupting his flow of words. “He’s in the back pouting because he had a shit date the other night.”

  Derek didn’t even bother to pretend like he didn’t know why hearing Basil on a date hurt the way it did. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. The guy was an ass, and he’s blaming me because I set him up. But he’s got this dumbass thing about how he can’t date anyone like his ex, and that leaves a very small population of guys to choose from because his ex was basic as hell.”

  Derek couldn’t help a small chuckle. “Yeah?”

  She nodded sagely. “Trust me, total bro. It was gross and I was glad when they broke up, but it kind of fucked him up a little bit. He’s starting to get over it—I mean, at least he’s trying to now, but it’s been a long road.”

  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 h
e 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.

  Chapter Six

  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.”