by Dima Zales
“I do not know,” she said in confusion. “He was interesting.”
“Interesting!” Visola barked as she recoiled. “Darling, ‘interesting’ is tantamount to ‘deadly.’”
Aazuria smiled at her friend. “Just because you married a demon…”
Visola stiffened at the mention of her husband. “I know. Not all men are mass-murdering monsters—just the ones I like. Come to think of it, I don’t even know what type of fella you like. You’ve always been so disciplined. I haven’t seen you display interest in someone since 1910.”
Aazuria shook her head. “The Rusalka prince? That was diplomacy, not romance. I was being cordial for the sake of the alliance.”
“Good. If you can be polite to the Russian sea-dwellers for our country, maybe you can be friendly to American fisherman.” Visola grinned and reached under her skirt, revealing a giant knife. “I’ve got your back. Go out there and have fun! I can’t wait to see what this guy looks like—he must be a total hunk if he managed to get your attention.”
“Perhaps,” Aazuria said with a frown. It still bothered her that she did not remember what the green-eyed man looked like. She could recall the general area where he had been sitting, but it was possible that he had already left the club. If he had moved to another location, she might not even recognize him. “He could be hideous,” she mused.
“Well, go find out,” Visola encouraged, nudging Aazuria playfully. “Remember, the most important part of a man’s appearance is the girth of his…”
“Visola!”
“…wallet.”
3
As the hours slowly ticked by, Trevain found himself lost in drink and observation. He had switched over to brandy after watching the dance of the woman called Undina. He could not help but notice when she re-emerged from backstage and seated herself in an isolated corner of the club. In order to quell his natural desire to go over and speak with her, he had taken to carefully monitoring the way his crew members were interacting with the various women in the club.
The captain’s younger brother, Callder Murphy, had already guzzled down far too much beer. He was puffing out his chest and doubtlessly boasting of grand, falsified exploits to the girls who flocked around him. Even watching his body language from across the room made Trevain exhausted. He was fairly certain that his brother would convince one of those girls to accompany him home at the end of the night. To Trevain’s home, anyway, where Callder parasitically stayed.
Rolling his eyes at Callder’s behavior, he sent a fleeting curious glance in Undina’s direction before turning back to his men.
His eyes settled on his young protégé, Arnav Hylas. The boy was a college student from New York who had grown tired of the burden of his sky-rocketing debt. He had researched the position in which he could make the most money possible in a few short months, and here he was, giving it his best shot. Trevain felt protective of the boy. For all his cosmopolitan cleverness, he still had a youthful recklessness about him which was hazardous in a place like this. Trevain wondered, as he watched a blonde seat herself on Arnav’s lap and whisper in his ear, whether the young man really understood the danger he was facing. Not from the blonde, who was only a danger to Arnav’s heart and bank account, but from the job.
Arnav had not actually seen Leander die. Neither had he seen the man’s body—they had not been able to recover it. Perhaps a gruesome, visually violent death would have been healthier for the boy’s deficient sense of caution. Then again, most young men carried themselves about with an aura of immortality and invincibility. Trevain wondered why he had never felt that way himself.
He discreetly looked over at Undina’s corner once more. Trevain felt an inexplicable pang of jealousy when he saw a man approaching her, and an even more peculiar pang of pride when he observed her crossed arms and reproachful body language.
He turned back, casting his gaze on Ujarak—the brawny man of Inuit descent who was always chomping on something. A cigar, a toothpick, a pen, a piece of rope. He was sitting with Edwin, the Canadian, and the sentimental ex-marine Doughlas. For a supposed war hero and someone who was self-proclaimed to have “seen it all,” Doughlas was not taking the situation well. He was essentially sobbing as Edwin and Ujarak consoled him.
Not far from those three sat the brothers from Seattle—Wyatt and Wilbert Wade. For being such very different people, the Wade brothers were fiercely loyal and devoted to each other, and they got along far better than Captain Murphy and his own brother. Wilbert, called “Billy” by the crew, was somewhat effeminate. He was never the butt of any jokes or teasing, for Wyatt was extremely defensive and always joyously ready for an excuse to deploy his fists. Trevain could not resist a small smile as he observed Billy interacting with a pretty dancer. He was doubtlessly complimenting her clothing and sense of style and confusing the poor girl.
Again, the captain looked over at Undina. A gorgeous redhead passed close by her, being pulled to the private dancing area by a young man. The redhead looked at the seated dark-haired woman, and quickly made a complex hand gesture as she passed her. Undina responded with a hand gesture of her own. Trevain frowned thoughtfully. American Sign Language? Could one of the girls be deaf or mute?
He was positive that Undina could not be deaf—at least not completely. She had danced too perfectly to the time of the music to be unable to hear it. Yet it was possible that she was mute. He had not once seen her lips move in speech; those sensuous, reddened lips, which contrasted sharply with her impressive mass of dark hair. Undina’s head turned towards him sharply, as though she could feel his inquest. Her dark eyes locked with his hesitantly, and he looked away in embarrassment and dismay.
Trevain began to scan over the activities of his men once more. After a few minutes of this, he began feeling a bit like a hovering father. He knew that his tendency to be overprotective had been amplified by Leander’s death. He tried to tell himself that he was not at the club to supervise a daycare, and that the men were all adults who could take care of themselves. None of them would fall into any kind of jeopardy if he looked away for more than a few seconds. But he did not look away.
Only one of the living members of the crew was missing from the club. Trevain sighed and took a swill of his brandy, thinking of their only female shipmate, Brynne. She had taken the weekend off work to attend a family member’s wedding in Florida. While many crews still archaically maintained that a woman on the ship was bad luck, Trevain felt the opposite—if the woman was tough enough she could help to keep the men in line better than his authority alone ever could. Now, his superstition was confirmed, and he already dreaded having to tell Brynne about Leander’s demise. She would be furious.
It occurred to Trevain, as his eyes wandered over the crowd, that it was a certain specific type of person that was drawn to a place like this. Some of the folks, like himself, had the misfortune of having been born and raised in Alaska, but the majority of the crowd, especially during the fishing season, was not local. Both the men and the women, the patrons and the dancers, probably had pasts which were darkened by financial difficulties. Something awful had happened to many of them, or they had somehow been pushed to the realization that they needed to make a drastic change and take drastic action. They had somehow decided that fast money was worth very high risk or high levels of discomfort. Then, once they had ventured into the world of large gains and large losses, they had been unable to turn around and return to wherever they hailed from.
They were the same type of people who frequented casinos. The same type of people who drove their cars a little too fast for the sensation it gave them. The same type of people who experimented with substances which allowed them to step outside of themselves for a moment. The same type of people who did not file their income taxes. The same type of people who ventured to Alaska to fish for king crabs.
Everywhere he looked he could neatly categorize the humans into little mental file folders for future reference. He could easily place them
above captions and under subheadings; except for that girl, Undina. She struck him as tremendously different and out of place. Even from his infrequent, uncertain glances at her, he had gauged that she did not have the air of desperation that most of the females in the place exuded. After her dance, she had found a quiet place to sit which strategically overlooked most of the club, and she seemed to be observing people and their interactions just as much as he was.
He felt inexplicably drawn to her. He felt kindred to her in that they were both withdrawn onlookers, not active, wild participants in the madness of the establishment. He wanted to go to her, but her perfect young body repulsed him. Perhaps he could relate to her in certain ways, but his age was a greater disability than even his physical impairment. The combination of the two tarnished any feeble chance he had of being remotely attractive to a young girl.
He knew that she would take one look at his grey hair and his limp and her smile would disappear in disappointment. That extraordinary dancer deserved an energetic young man like Arnav.
“Captain Murphy!” a voice bellowed. Trevain looked for its source, and saw Arnav holding up a bottle of beer in each hand as he slurred his speech, “Captain, come party with us!”
Trevain shook his head and held up his hand to politely decline the offer.
“Why’s my big brother alone?” Callder shouted, leaping up from his seated position and swaying slightly on his feet. “Don’t sit there in the corner all gloomy, Trevain. You gotta have some fun tonight!”
“Yeah, let’s hear it for the captain!” shouted Edwin, the Canadian. The men all cheered and drank from whatever glasses were close at hand. Trevain couldn’t help but notice that some of the men had picked up their neighbor’s glass instead of their own. He had nightmarish visions of having to carpool the men home to their various locations and drag them all in to their beds. He imagined having to tuck them in and listen to their crying about Leander.
This is sometimes like running a preschool, he thought to himself in mild amusement, but I suppose they’re all just miserable and scared under their drunken party-animal disguises. I guess it won’t hurt me to play governess to the kiddies in the nursery for one night.
“Big brother! Come over here and have a drink with this pretty girl!” Callder shouted as he stumbled over furniture while navigating the room.
Trevain cursed softly, feeling a sickening feeling in his stomach as his head snapped around to witness his brother approaching Undina. Of course. Why? Of all the women here? When Callder began trying to wrestle Undina out of her chair, Trevain leapt to his feet and crossed the room in as few strides as possible. He firmly wedged himself between his brother and the dark-haired woman, and glared at the younger man sternly.
“Callder, relax!” He forced his brother into a nearby chair and pinned him to it. “Sit here and try to calm down, okay?” Trevain turned to Undina in embarrassment and began to apologize when Callder cut him off.
“I saw you looking at her,” Callder accused. “You’re not a complete fucking robot, even though you pretend to be! I just thought you should meet her. I know you like her. Since you wouldn’t get off your ass I was going to bring her to you.”
Trevain shook his head and exhaled. “Callder, you’re out of line…”
“No!” he hissed, leaning forward and staring past Trevain at the girl. “Look. Undina, that’s your name right? Undina?”
She lifted an eyebrow and gave the slightest of nods.
“Okay. Undina,” Callder tried to straighten his sloppy posture and gesture toward Trevain. “This is my brother: Captain Trevain Murphy. As you can see, he and I don’t really get along. It’s not because we don’t love each other. It’s because he’s, like, some big-shot crab fishing tycoon, and I’m just his stupid kid brother who gambles away every penny that he pays me.”
“Callder,” Trevain said in warning, but the drunk man continued ranting.
“But you gotta meet him, Undina. He’s, like, the richest man around for hundreds of miles, probably. He’s a good guy, really, I promise,” Callder emphasized this point by throwing his arm around Trevain in a lopsided, meager attempt at a hug. Trevain pressed his palm to his forehead as his brother continued on boasting proudly. “He worked as a deckhand when he was just a kid, like forever ago. He’s been in charge of a boat since he was a teenager. You can do the math: now he’s like… a millionaire, and a couple centuries old or something.”
“Oh?” the dark haired beauty remarked with a shy smile, glancing at Trevain. “How many centuries?”
It was the first time she had spoken. So, she was able to speak.
“Lots. Like two or three,” Callder boasted, “he’s ancient.”
“Hardly,” she responded. “You could live on this earth for a millennium and still be surprised on a daily basis.”
When her lips opened to allow the phonemes to travel forth, they emerged with a slight accent Trevain could not place. His brow creased slightly, and he found himself leaning forward to better hear her lilting syllables over the unpleasant thundering of noise which was considered music.
But Callder had already begun ranting again, obviously enjoying the sound of his own gruff voice. “Trevain is so wise and amazing. He never makes mistakes, ever.” Callder was gesturing at the older man wildly as tears gathered in his eyes. “That’s just my big brother. Just the way he is! He should hate me for what a screw up I am, but he doesn’t. You wanna know how I know that?”
“Hush now, Callder,” Trevain said, trying to pull the man away from Undina, “quit bothering the girl.”
Callder shrugged his brother off and leaned closer to the dark-haired woman, speaking in a conspiratorial tone, “He doesn’t fire me. He keeps me around so that he can watch over me and make sure that I’m safe. He continues to pay me a salary. He’s always looked out for me like that, even though I’m a shitty sailor. I’m pretty much useless on the Magician, and I waste all of the money he pays me. Do you want to know what I’m good for? I scrape ice off stuff. That’s glamorous, isn’t it?”
“Quite glamorous,” she answered with the friendly smile one would give to a stranger’s adorable infant. Trevain frowned and wondered how she could possibly find Callder’s lewd behavior charming.
“But you know the worst part?” Callder moaned. “I failed my brother. I totally screwed him over this time. Because if I wasn’t such a deadbeat, and I paid any attention to what was going on around me, Leander would still be alive and drinking with us now. He used to drink gin and tonic. The stuff tastes terrible, but at least he’d be alive to drink it. It’s my fault that he drowned, because I’m such a fucking loser…”
Callder had excited himself into a torrent of tears, and Trevain looked on in silent sadness at his emotional display. The woman called Undina seemed troubled at the knowledge that someone had drowned.
“I killed Leo. I killed him with my laziness!” Callder sobbed, smashing his fist down onto the table. His shoulders began to shake. “My own brother can’t even enjoy himself in a strip club, and it’s all because of me. I ruined everything.”
Callder suddenly slumped into his chair. It was a moment before they realized that he had only gone quiet because he had passed out.
“Thank God that’s finally over,” Trevain murmured, rubbing his temples. “What a fool.”
“He may be weak of heart,” Undina noted, “but he has great respect for you. He seeks your approval.”
“Well, he’ll never have it if he keeps drinking himself into oblivion!” Trevain said sharply. He turned to Undina, shaking his head wretchedly. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with this tonight…”
“Do not apologize,” she answered softly. “He was so honest and exposed. He was temporarily ignited with such a wealth of emotion. It was refreshing.”
Trevain looked at her curiously, and then back at his collapsed brother. “He was just being a drunken idiot.”
She nodded staring directly at Trevain. “I can see that. Neverth
eless, I appreciate that he was thoughtful enough to introduce us, however clumsy his methods may have been.”
“Undina,” Trevain began, testing the sound of the name which was obviously false. He was intrigued and pleasantly surprised by her personality, and wished to engage her further. A thousand sentences threatened to spill off the tip of his tongue, and tumble forth toward this young woman warmly. He just wanted to speak to her—he just wanted to continue to hear her carefully woven words, curled up in her rich accent. Yet he knew he could not. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about this again. I’ll take him away and I promise he won’t bother you anymore.”
As Trevain moved to pull his brother out of the chair in which he had collapsed, the woman called Undina gently touched his sleeve near his elbow. Although her hand had not even grazed his skin, he was startled by the intimacy and felt his whole body grow tense.
“Please,” she said quietly. “You and I have been sitting alone all night. Life has been happening all around us. I would like to partake of it. Would you please sit with me for a little while?”
He stared at her, searching for any sign of humor. She did not seem as put off by his grey hair and his limp as he had thought she would be. On the contrary, she seemed to hardly notice.
“I have two younger sisters as well,” she was saying with a ghost of a smile on her lips, “perhaps I could tell you about them.”
Against his better judgment, Trevain found himself using his foot to slide his snoring brother a few feet away before seating himself closer to Undina. He could not believe she had invited him to chat. A smile threatened to reveal his gladness, but he counseled it to desist.