by Jamie Hawke
Lost Pirates
Jamie Hawke
Editors
Diane Newton
Tracey Byrnes
LOST PIRATES (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Complete Book is Copyright (c) 2018 by Jamie Hawke (of Double Down Press).
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Jamie Hawke.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
About the Author
Author Ramblings
Read Next
1
When Frank started his day, there was no way he could’ve known he would end it as a captive of pirates. Even more, that soon he’d be one of them… and fucking love it.
Frank had his SaberForge lightsaber ready for his duel, his cup and Jedi clothes half-sticking out of a too-small gym bag under his arm. He was heading down his dorm’s hallway, hoping today would be the day. He’d basically joined the Jedi lightsaber dueling club to meet this nerdy, hot chick named Presly, although he’d always been fascinated by the epic lightsaber duels in Star Wars when he’d watched the movies with his dad. As was his luck, Presly had been sick the first two weeks. It was his sophomore year at the University of Washington, and this year he was determined to find himself a woman, asap.
For one, his roommate Trent had always been bringing over this girl named Sally last year. There’s nothing like walking in on your roommate banging a super-hot lady before your eyes to remind you how single and horny you are. And Frank? “Mr. I’m too proud to touch myself because I should be able to get a girl?” He was horny as fuck.
That’s what made this so exciting. Trent swore that Sally had heard Presly say she thought Frank was cute. There was an actual chance! Not just at getting his dick wet, either, as much as that was on his mind. No, with a nice, nerdy girl like that, he wanted something more. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, but figured it could start with a drink, maybe see where it went from there.
Oh, fuck. He’d forgotten his cell! How was he going to call his dad and ask him to hold off on picking him up if he didn’t have his damn cell? All he needed was enough time to ask Presly out, maybe go grab a drink, and then set up a date for the following week or weekend. Of course, this had to be the weekend he was going home… and the same week he’d had to take his piece of shit car to get fixed.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go home. It would be the first time since his grandpa had passed, and he had been extremely close to the man. Hell, maybe it was partly that feeling of separation that made this date feel so important.
He spun around, determined to get his phone to make this happen, and beelined it for his room. He passed a couple other guys from the history class he was taking, nodding to them and trying to hide his Jedi gear, but one saw and snickered. Fuck that guy.
The University of Washington campus never failed to serve as a reminder of the great places he hoped life would take him. With his grandpa as a professor, he’d always dreamed of one day being part of the campus life, of walking through these halls and being able to lounge about in the courtyards as one of the students. Now that he was here, he found it ironic that all he could think about was women. He still appreciated the architecture and magic of it all, but now it was more like wondering how he could impress a woman by discussing the gothic architecture of Anderson Hall, or maybe throw out some of the more interesting histories of the campus, like the fact that Bruce Lee had met his wife here, although he’d dropped out later on.
So far, the knowledge tactic hadn’t been working. Hence, this idea of joining a club.
At his door, Frank paused to catch his breath, nearly dropping his saber, but managed to catch it while reaching for the doorhandle. Dammit, pull yourself together! He shook his head at his clumsiness and pushed open the door, only to freeze in shock.
The first thing he saw was a woman’s ass and shaved pussy as she was bent over on his bed. Damn, it almost looked like an invitation. He took a breath, confused, and then saw her head bobbing up and down before he heard the moan. Then he realized there wasn’t just one girl, but two! The other had been lying at a different angle, but now moved her head and revealed another leg. Frank saw what was happening as he stepped to one side: two women, both going down on Trent.
Sally turned, apparently the one whose shaved pussy he’d gotten the full view of, and popped Trent’s cock out of her mouth to look at Frank in shock. This was not a sight Frank needed to see, so he quickly turned around while covering his eyes, and mumbled, “Sorry.”
“Oh, shit.” Trent hopped up, glancing around at Sally and the other college chick, then at Frank’s bed. “Ah shit. Dude, wait.”
Frank turned back, caught a full glimpse of both Trent’s erect cock and this other girl wiping her mouth, huge breasts exposed, and he couldn’t handle it. Not even bothering to try to find his phone, he ran from the room.
That fucker’d better buy me new sheets and blankets, was all he could think. No, forget that. A new bed.
“I’m sorry!” Trent called after him, but laughter echoed down the dorm hall, Frank was pretty sure that apology was bullshit. Nobody’s sorry when they’re getting head by two women at once. Maybe later, when one of those women gets jealous and things get out of control, but not right away, and especially not while it’s still happening.
Dammit, now he was going to have Sally’s taco in his mind the whole time he was fencing. He was turning down the hall when Sally caught up with him, holding a shirt to cover her front, but otherwise nude.
“Frank, I’m—shit, that wasn’t cool,” she said, glancing around nervously. At least for now, the hallway was empty.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Listen, can you just not say anything? I know how rumors spread and this one being true, I wouldn’t want it getting around. I promise to put in a good word… with Presly, I mean. Deal?”
Frank frowned. Of course he wouldn’t have said anything anyway, but why she cared so much was beyond him. “Yeah, definitely.” He noticed her ass in the slight reflection of the window behind her, that taco view coming back into his mind. Flustered, he had to get out of there, and tried to turn but dropped something again.
“Oh, is this,” Sally bent over to grab what he now saw was his cup, and just then a tour group came walking by outside, stopping to stare at that view Frank was now all too familiar with, “a mask?”
She stood, holding it to her face almost, before he snatched it away, then pointed to the window. Sally shrieked, but Frank was already on it, pulling out his expensive Jedi cloak and wrapping it over her shoulders. Good timing, too, because a new group of students had just appeared at the end of the hall.
“Thanks,” he said, giving her a nod and then turning to get to his club.
“And your coat thingy?” she asked, clinging to it in shock, but giving him her best appreciative smile.
“Just leave it in the room,” he said, not looking back. He cou
ld get by without it, though wouldn’t look quite so cool.
He didn’t even remember that his dad was going to be there until he was on the mats, glancing around for Presly, and saw his dad waving.
He waved back and prepared for his first match. So far, this wasn’t going at all according to plan. But at least he wasn’t doing horribly, at first. Presly was there, and he figured that if he pretended not to notice, instead kicking ass and proving that he was hot stuff, she’d maybe sit up and pay attention. He got into the flow of fencing—as that’s what this really was, as much as they liked to dress it up with lightsabers and Jedi fighting. After a couple of sparring bouts, he was paired up for a match and soon they were going at it.
Frank huffed with exertion—his muscles were tense to the point of burning, and he felt a spike of soreness growing from his feet all the way up to his lower back. The lightsaber normally felt light and easy in his grip, but now it weighed on him. His wrist ached. His biceps ached. And there was a very real chance he was about to lose this fight.
A glance over showed that Presly wasn’t even looking his way! She’d finished her match and her body was angled toward that fucker, Jacob, with his curly light brown hair, broad shoulders, and an easy confidence that shone through every move he made as he wielded his dual-bladed lightsaber effortlessly. Shit, Frank couldn’t compete with that.
Using this distraction, his opponent lunged forward. The change in the humming sound of his opponent’s blade drew Frank’s attention back to the match as he spun and parried, their blades flashing and buzzing with their movements as he deflected the first thrust. But the other boy was too fast—a swift sidestep and lunge, and Frank was impaled—a saber-strike, right in the chest. And it hurt. The rules were basically the same as fencing, although their custom lightsabers and Jedi outfits were wildly different from traditional fencing weapons and gear. Now that he stood here, hurting and realizing his chances with Presly weren’t as great as he’d built them up to be in his mind, he realized the whole thing was stupid.
“You’re dead,” the boy said as he removed his fencing mask, dangling it as he thumbed his lightsaber off and tucked it under one arm while removing his gloves. The ultimate insult. A not-so-subtle way of saying, “We’re done here.”
“Fucking right,” Frank said. Dead to the world, anyway. He rubbed the spot on his chest where the sword’s rounded tip had slammed him. Not enough for a bruise, but fuck it hurt. Again. Not as much, though, as seeing Presly cheer when Jacob scored a hit on his opponent, and not as much as that image of Sally’s pussy that passed through his mind again. Dammit, he might have to find a bathroom and take matters into his own hands.
He removed his fencing mask and carelessly tossed his lightsaber toward his gym bag.
“Hey,” his dad said, approaching from the bleachers. “Is that any way to behave?”
“I’m not a fucking kid anymore,” Frank spat back, hating the way his dad glared at him for swearing.
As a kid, Frank had always envied the easy acceptance the other kids got—the excited, positive feedback they all got from their parents that had always seemed to come automatically. That wasn’t the way things had been growing up in the Baker house.
Frank stayed silent, turning away from the throngs of parents giving their kids accolades and support.
“You’re not even trying out there!” his dad said. The veins in his neck stood out like they always did when his father got excited or angry. His cheeks turned bright red, and the veins pulsed as he talked. His voice was still a calm whisper, but Frank knew it was only a facade. Only a matter of time...
This wasn’t a fight Frank wanted. Not here where Presly could see, and certainly not now with the recent loss of his grandpa.
Apparently, his dad saw that and agreed. He nodded to the door and said, “I’m hitting the head… meet you at the car.”
Frank meandered out that way, head down as he sulked at his luck. He was just starting to crave a burger and debating where they could stop, when he heard laughter and a familiar voice said, “Just a sec.”
A patter of feet, and then Presly was there, standing at his side. She smiled and said, “Hey.”
Frank looked behind him, saw he was alone with her, and said, “Hey?”
She shrugged. “Just, saw you in there and a bunch of us from the club are having a get-together later—. You’re welcome to come by. It’s—”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, is that a problem?”
He groaned. “My grandpa, he just passed and… Shit, sorry. You don’t need to know all that, but—”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” She reached out, her hand on his arm sending chills up his back. “Do what you gotta do. I totally understand. Lost a cat two years ago, and it was the worst. Again, so sorry.” She gave his arm a friendly squeeze and turned to go.
“Hey, next time,” he said, but she was already walking off. He wasn’t sure how that had gone, but the fact that she’d invited him at all was something. He’d take it.
Finally his dad came out and they started the drive, but with a lot more silence than expected. Honestly, the death of his grandpa was hitting Frank harder than he thought it would. His dad, too, judging by the random bouts of silence and the glazed stares into the distance. It was a good two-hour drive through the hillsides of Washington state to get back home, down south in Olympia.
It would’ve been nice if he could’ve focused on more of the positive—like that touch from Presly—but his mind kept wandering back to those dinners with Grandpa and his corny jokes. How those jokes were gone now, forever. His dad and Grandpa hadn’t always gotten along, and they’d even fought like crazy since the day Grandpa had moved in, before Frank had left for college. But he was family. The only family Dad had, since the man’s mother had disappeared when he was still a baby. His dad often blamed his drinking on that, but Frank saw it as a copout.
At least the drinking wasn’t as bad as it used to be. After Frank’s mom left, his dad had gone on a bender, and had even gotten a DUI that got him fired. But he’d eventually cleaned up. He found a new job. Now he rarely drank more than a beer or two. But on some nights, when something reminded him a bit too much of Frank’s mom, he overdid it. Then he counted on Frank to keep him from doing anything stupid—and that usually meant watching Star Wars.
It was his dad’s favorite movie franchise, and Frank had to admit he didn’t mind. It was one of the few things the two of them could bond over. In fact, it was the epic lightsaber duels from the films that Grandpa and Dad had used to convince him to take fencing lessons, which led to this silly Jedi group… which had led to Presly finally talking to him. So hey, it hadn’t turned out so bad. Maybe after this trip home, he’d find her and ask her out as planned.
At the moment, it was hard to focus on how he should’ve asked her, how he could’ve been smoother. Dealing with the thought that he’d never see his Grandpa again—the man who’d been no more than a mile away for most of Frank’s life, and then living with them for the last year or so—was outside of Frank’s comfort zone. He wasn’t ready for it. He wasn’t sure he could handle it.
He laid back, closed his eyes, and let the ride pass in and out of naps. When they pulled into the two-car driveway of their Victorian house, his dad gave him a weak smile and a nod—the universal symbol for “let’s pretend we’re ok” and headed into the kitchen. Frank waited a few moments in the car, thinking.
In half an hour or so, his father would be dialing for takeout for both of them. He’d wait for the food to arrive while sipping on a ginger brew—his go-to, non-alcoholic beverage ever since he’d curbed his drinking after the DUI.
Frank considered joining him, but instead found himself walking through the kitchen and wandering into Grandpa’s old room.
Half the stuff in there was going to the trash. His dad had always thought of Grandpa’s “work” as crazy and pointless—an opinion largely shared by the academics that Grandpa was constantly trying
to persuade. “This stuff cost your grandpa a career,” his dad often said. “He couldn’t even get tenure when he was still teaching. We’ll be better off getting rid of all this junk.”
Once said, it was law. If there was anyone more stubborn than Grandpa, it was his dad. He wouldn’t hear any argument otherwise.
Frank wondered if it really was for the best. Grandpa had done and said some crazy stuff in his career, and this junk was all part of that—all that was left of it. The man himself even admitted it. He called it his “folly,” and would often tell Frank how much he regretted that no one would bother seeing things the way he did. Maybe it really was best to throw this stuff out. Maybe when it was gone it would be easier to move on, and this pressure on his chest would ease up.
But Frank wanted another moment with it.
The room was a wreck. It was cramped and cluttered, and every surface was covered with papers or little odd objects that Frank couldn’t always identify. Grandpa had taught him a lot about his work—and had encouraged him to do a lot of learning on his own. Because of Grandpa’s influence, Frank had taught himself how to be quite the tinkerer. He could build or repair small mechanical objects and equipment, and had learned everything he could about the basics of electricity, hydraulics, and mechanical engineering. He’d even taken a few courses at UW on the subjects. As a kid he’d been into science, and even taught himself some programming languages. He’d written some of the software his grandfather used to run 3D models and little virtual experiments as part of his work.