Free Hand (Irons and Works Book 1) Page 5

  It had startled him to know Sharon had considered him and his sister worthy of taking on her store’s legacy—and not just because they were the only family left, but because in the will she said she had wanted to be able to give them more, but it was all she’d had to pass on.

  Basil took his parents’ own research and stored it in the attic of the home he and Amaranth took over, storing away most of Sharon and Michael’s things as a way of trying to make it their own. Still, he couldn’t help feeling like he was living with ghosts. Ghosts of his own past, ghosts from those he had loved and had left him, ghosts of his lost bravery and willingness to live life. But he still wanted this to work, still felt obligated to keep Sharon and Michael’s dream alive.

  So, he gave in to Amaranth’s annoyed face and headed out the door so he could fuel up before another long night.

  Two years before, when Amaranth and Basil showed up to open the doors to Wallflowers after a four-month mourning period, the community had been a mixture of relieved and confused. And it was a testament to how well Sharon had blended in that they didn’t seem overly concerned the shop was run by a Deaf man who refused to even try their way of communication, and a murder-faced woman with a strong deaf accent and a penchant for talking longer than people were willing to listen. He supposed it was a family trait—he had a feeling Sharon could be all of those things rolled into one person, and every so often he felt a pang of regret that he’d never really gotten the chance to know her. If she was anything like his mother, he would have loved her so, so dearly.

  Shaking himself out of that melancholy, he patted his pocket to make sure he had his phone, then headed straight for the sandwich shop he liked which was tucked away inside a little outdoor mall. Even just two years ago, the place had been quaint and small—a clothing boutique, a wine bar, a sushi restaurant, and a dry cleaners. The sandwich shop had come next, then a Korean barbeque, all settled by a little tattoo place tucked in the far corner which had been there possibly forever.

  It was only when Basil realized that there was only one tattoo shop in Fairfield that he started to feel a little panicked. Because where else would Derek work, if he was a tattoo artist? Possibly Denver—it was only a half hour drive up the twenty-five, or forty-five minutes if you wanted something scenic, and he could see a guy like Derek flourishing in a big city. But with his luck, he’d only ever been a few degrees of separation from the one person who made him feel in so damn long.

  Swallowing back his panic, he stepped onto the carefully molded brick pathway and started toward the shop. His steps stuttered though, when he saw the tattoo shop doors swing open, and two identical men walked out. Two identical men that Basil recognized, because he’d never forget that face. He felt his heart thud in his chest, and confusion took over for only as long as it took him to remember Derek typing about his twin brother.

  Identical, and he was not kidding about it, either. The one who was not Derek, because Basil didn’t need any sort of specific mark to tell who the man was that consumed his thoughts, had shorter hair with a sharper undercut, and he wore far too much gel to slick it back. They were both dressed casually, t-shirts and tight jeans with boots. Not-Derek had a tattoo on the side of his neck, though he was turned slightly so Basil couldn’t make out exactly what it was, but it suited him.

  The most shocking thing, however, was the fact that the twins weren’t alone. They were accompanied by two children, a toddler walking between them, and a small baby on Not-Derek’s hip. As he ducked beside a large tree barrel and tried to stay out of sight, Basil felt his heart stutter at the idea that Derek had a spouse and kids. Not that it would have mattered but…

  But it didn’t sit well. His gut twisted and his previous appetite dwindled to nothing. He backed up further into the lush green that lined the sidewalk, peering through a break in the tree branches. The brothers were talking fast to each other as they breezed past him, and for a moment he wished desperately to know what they were saying. Had Derek remembered him at all? Was it a blur? Had Basil made any kind of impression on him when the night was over?

  He thought he might have. The way Derek had looked at him right when the lights went on, the way his expression broke a little, and the way his eyes didn’t move from Basil’s face. Basil took that opportunity, in that short moment before Derek left, to study every inch of him. The color art on his arms, the slight dip downward of his large nose, the way his wet hair seemed to want to form into little curls in spite of the way he kept brushing it back.

  But maybe he was just delusional. Maybe he was developing feelings for a man who would never want him back, simply because he was protecting himself.

  He wanted to believe it, truly. But he didn’t think his mind liked him all that much.

  ***

  It turned out, the Universe hated him, or at the very least found it amusing to see him struggle. He got his sandwiches from the sweet college kids at the shop who never really thought twice about him using his phone to ask for what he wanted, and there hadn’t been a line at the little parking lot coffee kiosk for Ama’s drink. There was no sign of Derek or his brother when he was done, and he was ready to call it a win.

  Then, as he turned the corner and Wallflowers came into view, his shoes came to a skidding halt on the pavement. He panicked for a split second, worried he’d made enough noise to be noticed even this far off since he never really quite understood how far sound could travel. But the two familiar men and the two small children who were busy talking to Amaranth didn’t turn around and look behind them.

  It gave Basil the opportunity to duck down the alleyway of the Italian place and watch surreptitiously from behind the exposed brick. He could make out Derek’s profile, the easy way he was smiling at Amaranth and the way he spoke with wide gestures which told Basil he’d probably be a natural signer if he ever tried to pick it up.

  The brother, Not-Derek, had the baby in the crook of one arm and Basil noticed with some surprise, both twins were using a few rudimentary signs whenever they could. It was when Not-Derek turned that Basil caught the flash of sunlight off small hearing aids tucked behind the baby’s ear, and he remembered Derek telling him that his boss’ daughter was hard of hearing.

  It had to be her, though it didn’t explain the toddler. She had no passing resemblance to the twins at all, though that didn’t rule out relation. Mostly, Basil wanted to focus on anything but the sweet way Derek held the little girl’s hand, or the way he knelt down to her level to encourage her to take the flower Amaranth handed to her. Derek encouraged her to use the sign for thank you, and then almost absently copied, ‘You’re welcome,’ that Ama signed back.

  Basil’s heart was thudding in his chest and he pressed himself to the wall as Derek and his brother eventually took the kids and moved along. He didn’t dare move until they turned a corner, and until his sister went back inside. Even then, his steps were at a near-run, and he didn’t breathe easy until he was safely back inside the shop.

  ‘Should I pretend like I didn’t see you throw yourself into the alley?’ Ama asked as she reached for the paper sandwich bag.

  Basil waited until he had her attention to reply. ‘Yes, please.’

  She threw her head back in a laugh, and he knew if he’d had a hand to the center of her back, he’d be able to feel how loud and deep the sound was. ‘Nice try. Did you know those guys?’

  The problem was, Basil had always been a shit liar. Being a native signer meant that a poker-face didn’t come naturally. His language all-but demanded he give true, intense, honest expression to every word exchanged, and it took real skill to be able to hide that. A skill he never possessed.

  So when Ama’s eyes went wide with understanding, he wasn’t surprised. Annoyed, maybe, and even a little irritated, but not surprised. ‘That was the guy. From the ATM.’

  Basil rolled his eyes to the ceiling, praying for the patience to deal with his sister’s meddling before he finally looked back at her. ‘Don’t.’

&nb
sp; ‘What? You think I’m going to chase him down and bring him back here?’ she asked, a coy smile playing on her lips.

  His hands curled, then uncurled before he replied. ‘I wouldn’t put it past you, but I’m going to ask you nicely, please don’t. It’s bad enough he works so close.’

  ‘He said he and his brother work at the shop near the coffee cart,’ she told him.

  ‘Yeah,’ Basil said, realizing there was no point in hiding it now. ‘I saw them coming out of the shop. Irons and Works,’ he spelled the name, but he was pretty sure she’d seen it before. ‘I hid then, too.’

  ‘Of course you did.’ She took a long drink from her coffee, her eyes fluttering closed with happiness before she set it back down on the counter. ‘I told them to come back any time, that we’d be happy to do an arrangement or two for the front of the shop. They said they’d talk to their boss about it, but I’m pretty sure they were just trying to be nice.’

  He let out a breath and felt something shift in him, though right then he didn’t know if it was relief or disappointment. ‘Just leave me out of it.’

  Ama studied him for a long moment, then came around the counter, though she left plenty of space between them as she leaned her hip against the polished wood. ‘I’m not going to meddle. Forcing you to date before you’re ready isn’t going to do anyone any good. But you might want to consider that you’ve been ready for a while and you’re just used to shutting people out.’

  Basil dragged a hand down his face, forcing himself to consider her words, mostly because they were probably true. At least, they had some measure of truth to them. ‘You could be right, but I don’t want to date a guy who doesn’t speak my language. And baby signs don’t count,’ he clarified before she could come to Derek’s defense.

  ‘What if he learns?’ she pointed out.

  ‘Like I haven’t been through that before,’ he reminded her, though he knew at this point bringing up Chad might have been the tiniest bit of a cop-out. ‘I respect that you’re fine dating in either community, but I’m just…not.’

  She looked a little sad then, but her eyes showed an understanding and she gave a nod. ‘Okay. So, what about we check out a couple Deaf events in Denver, then? You know they’ll have some shit—single’s night or something equally lame. Bet you could snag a date there. At least let me help you try to get out there again.’

  Basil wanted to argue, wanted to point out that she wasn’t dating anyone and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to sort her own romantic life the same way she was with his. Except the truth was, she could have easily been dating someone now and he wouldn’t have known. He loved her, but he never wanted her private life to be his business.

  ‘Please,’ she begged.

  He finally threw up his hands in surrender, then grabbed his sandwich without answering her, but he knew she’d accepted that as a defeat. He didn’t know what the hell was in store for him next, but he supposed it was time to try getting his feet wet again.

  4.

  Something about the flower shop lingered, even long after they’d returned to the studio and Derek had passed May over to Katherine for the rest of the afternoon. He was in his station prepping for his first appointment, but his mind kept drifting over to the open door, to the woman smiling at the kids and signing, and the smell drifting on the breeze that had been so much like Basil.

  It wasn’t exactly a far stretch to assume Basil either worked there or was related to the woman who had introduced herself as Ama. She spoke to them and understood without an issue, but she wore hearing aids and her accent gave her away as deaf. In a town this small, he let himself assume. It also didn’t hurt that she looked like Basil in the way that siblings often resembled each other. The same nose, same dark curls, though hers fell long down her back. Mostly though, it was her eyes, intense and piercing like she could see everything.

  He had that same feeling when the lights had gone up and he could see Basil for the first time. Right before he walked out. In fact, it had taken nearly every ounce of his self-control not to ask her if she knew the guy. The last thing Derek wanted to do was stalk some stranger who hadn’t offered to keep in touch. He may have been somewhat infatuated, but he wasn’t a creep.

  “Dude,” a voice to his right said, and Derek’s head whipped over to see James smirking at him, toying with his septum piercing with the tip of his finger. “You’ve been wiping that same spot for like ten minutes. Did someone fuck your actual brains out last night?”

  Derek felt the back of his neck flush. “No. Not that I’d tell you if I did get lucky. I’m just tired. Rough night last night.”

  James’ face fell a little and he leaned forward in his chair. “Want to talk about it?”

  The truth was, no, he didn’t. He was sick to death of having to explain every low mood—even when there was a reason for it. He did appreciate that these guys were his family and would do anything for him, but he also wanted to be treated like a person and not some fragile mess prone to falling apart any time one little thing went wrong.

  He’d had PTSD for most of his formative years, and well into adulthood. He’d survived being homeless, and every single day since then. He could survive a little panic attack and the emotional hang-over that came with it the next day.

  “I’m good,” he finally said, moving on to wrap his table with the big roll of cling wrap he’d stolen from Mat’s station. “Are you on tonight?”

  “I’m doing the shading on my mermaid at nine tonight, and Mat’s going to finish carving my left leg up during his downtime,” he said, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs in front of him. Carving him up was essentially Mat’s pet-project. James was a double-amputee, both legs just below the knee, and more often than not he wore prosthetics that were just a titanium rod which ended with his shoe, but Mat had gotten a wild-hair to do some steampunk design in James’ cover which was made out of some type of flesh-colored foam Mat found intensely satisfying to carve up. His left leg was nearly done, and the design on the right was already being sketched out to match.

  “Are you going to help out with walk-ins?” Derek asked as he started fishing through his bottles, mentally chiding himself for how damn disorganized his drawer was.

  James snorted. “Dude, it’s a Wednesday. We’ll get maybe—maybe—some stoned sorority chicks who looked us up on yelp and decided to drive out. I’m not dealing with that nonsense. If I have to tattoo one more infinity symbol on the side of someone’s finger…”

  Derek grinned, shaking his head even as he all-but buried his face in his ink drawer. “Come on man, it doesn’t hurt to take one or two. Coffee cash, you know?”

  “I want steak and lobster dinner cash, asshole. Infinity symbols don’t pay my rent.”

  Which, true. They didn’t. They were the sixty buck shop minimum walk-ins, but then again, no one in the shop made less than one-fifty an hour for their standard work apart from the two apprenticing, so it’s not like any of them had room to complain. Derek hadn’t stressed about bill paying in years, even when shit like government shutdowns threatened to choke all their business to death. But he also understood how annoying it was to have to swirl a lemniscate on a nineteen-year-old who was terrified of needles and trying to find some deeper meaning in a symbol that didn’t have any significance outside of coding these days.

  Derek did his best not to judge people’s decisions though. That wasn’t his job, even if he did occasionally pull a face when some obnoxious, popped-collar asshole strolled in and asked for a camel on his big toe. His job was to just provide the ink to the best of his abilities—which was worth his one-seventy an hour—and to pocket his cash and move on with his life. He liked his regulars, and he liked his family there, and there wasn’t too much to complain about.

  “Yo,” came a voice from the front. Mat and Sage walked in holding a couple of pizza boxes and Derek wanted to groan because Sage always got fucking anchovies which would make everything smell like fish ass for half the night. �
�Do you want to eat before your client gets in?” Sage asked Derek.

  “Nah.” Derek glanced at the clock and saw his client would be walking in within the next ten minutes. “I don’t want to get all nasty before I get working. Besides your nasty fish juice probably leaked on everything.”

  “Ha,” Sage said, leaning down to grin in his face, “joke’s on you, I got artichoke hearts and feta this time.”

  Not that it sounded any better, but at least it might smell less. “I’m still good. I’ll probably order Thai or something later. Last night kind of killed all sense of appetite.” That was nothing new, and no one really reacted apart from a couple of careful looks which he purposefully ignored.

  “Okay, well I’m going to eat and get a few of my drawings done for next week. Let me know if anyone comes in.” Sage gave his brother a long look before taking the pizzas back into their make-shift breakroom.

  Derek sagged back in his chair and rubbed both hands over his face. When he looked up again, James and Mat were giving him a tentative stare. “Can you please not?”

  “You know we just worry,” Mat replied quietly.

  Derek waved him off. “I know, but that’s not necessary. It’s…it’s not even the stupid panic attack, okay? I got over that sometime around midnight.”