Free Hand (Irons and Works Book 1)

by E M Lindsey

  James frowned. “So what has your panties all twisted?” He grunted when Mat dragged his leg over a little harder than normal—punishment for the panties comment which Derek appreciated. They didn’t do gender-role shaming there. Ever.

  “I met a guy,” he finally said, knowing that the moment Sam got back, he’d blab anyway so he might as well head it off. “He was stuck in the little ATM kiosk thing with me and helped me through it. And I’m a fucking moron and I can’t stop thinking about him.”

  The two idiots across from him lit up like a house on fire, and before he could head them off, Mat looked like he was ready to start planning a wedding. “Are you going to see him again? What was his name? Did you have some gross-ass romantic kiss in the rain after you were rescued?”

  Derek fought off the urge to rip open his package of needles and stab Mat in the neck with the tight-liner he was about to prep. “First of all, fuck you, this isn’t a Disney rom-com. Second of all, we didn’t exchange numbers or anything. He just helped me out and then we moved on with our lives.”

  “Well,” James said with a small grin, “one of you did.”

  Mat smacked him at the same time as Derek flipped him off and said, “It was a rough night and I’m not used to strangers being nice for no reason, okay? I’ll get over it.”

  The pair of them looked like they didn’t want him to get over it, and frankly if he thought he had a chance with Basil, he wouldn’t want to get over it either. But it was what it was. He set the needle package down just as his phone buzzed, and he saw it was an email from his online shop alerting him that a sale had been officially processed.

  It had been a while since he’d sold anything from his gallery, so he quickly opened the page and his heart leapt into his throat when he realized what it was. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing up at the wall in front of him, where the octopus sketch had been hanging for nearly two years. He hadn’t ever intended to keep it, of course. He didn’t create to keep, he created to share with the world, but something in him felt a little bereft at the thought of packing it up and shipping it off.

  “Dude, are you about to cry?” Mat asked, interrupting Derek’s thought spiral. His tone wasn’t mocking, it was concerned, and it shook Derek right out of his head.

  “No,” he said quickly. “No, someone just bought…” He nodded his head at the octopus and James’ eyes went wide.

  “Someone bought Kevin?”

  Derek sighed. “His name isn’t Kevin, dude.”

  “It is,” James argued. “I named him, and it’s not like you ever picked anything else. Plus, it suits him. Shit, dude, if I knew you were really going to sell him, I’d have bought it.”

  That made Derek’s stomach twist a little, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. He hated selling to his friends, mostly because they felt like pity buys, even if he knew his work was good. He wanted strangers to own those pieces of him, wanted to know that bits of his soul were scattered around the country—maybe the world.

  “Where’s it going?” Mat asked as he pulled out his scalpel to get to work on James’ leg.

  With a frown, Derek bent over his phone and scrolled to the shipping address. “Wallflowers Florist, C/O Amaranth Shevach,” he said. “That’s here.”

  “That’s the chick who gave May a rose,” Sage said, coming up from behind Derek. “She bought your painting?”

  No, Derek thought, because it wasn’t her. It was Basil. Basil had saved the gallery on his phone and had bought the painting because Derek had lamented that no one wanted it in spite of it being his favorite. And it probably was a pity buy, but more than that, it meant Basil had thought about him. Basil was asking to keep a piece of him, even if he didn’t want anything more.

  He looked back at the octopus and let out a tiny sigh. “Someone at their shop bought the painting,” he finally corrected.

  Sage raised a brow. “Don’t you have like…an entire series of floral work? Why would they by a fucking octopus, dude?”

  Derek bristled, though he knew his brother wasn’t trying to be cruel. “I don’t know, and I can’t say I’m supposed to give a shit. People buy something, I send it. Simple as that.”

  “Testy,” Sage complained as he flopped down into an empty chair on the edge of Derek’s stall. He moved to kick one foot up on the bench, but Derek knocked him away.

  “My client’s about to walk in and I’m not going to goddamn start this whole thing over,” he snapped.

  Sage raised his hands in defense. “My bad.”

  Rolling his eyes, Derek spun away from his brother, then startled a little when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and saw Sam’s name, quickly answering. “Hey, man. How’d it go?”

  “Do you want to come over tonight and chill? Alice is out of town for the next few days and being in the car this long fucked me up. I’m spasming and I need to get in the bath. I can bribe you with beer and take-out.”

  Derek smiled to himself as he reached for the stencil he’d drawn out and set it on the table. “You don’t need to bribe me, also I’ve eaten out both meals so why don’t I cook?”

  “You’re a god amongst men, you know that?” Sam said with a breath of relief. “May’s going to stay over with Kat tonight so I can get my back to calm down, so it’s just the two of us.”

  “I’ll stop over at Wild’s and get something to cook up,” Derek told him. “What time will you be back?”

  “God only knows. I’m on a half hour break, then I have another hour or two. Then she wants me to meet with the rehab specialist regarding the class they’re making me take.” He sounded exhausted and run down, and it made Derek want to get in his car and haul Sam’s ass far away from this mess. “I’m guessing after seven.”

  Derek glanced up at the clock. “I can be there around then. My last appointment’s at four, but it’s probably only a two-hour job. Sage and Mat can handle any of the walk ins. And James is here letting Mat carve on his leg, so we’re staffed.”

  “Thanks, man,” Sam said, then yawned loudly. “Fuck me. Okay. I gotta hit the head before I get back into this shit, so I’ll see you when I get home.”

  “You got it.” Derek hung up, but before he could explain anything, the little bell on the front door sounded and his client walked in. Derek wanted nothing more than to talk about Sam’s shit, and to contemplate why Basil had bought the painting, but instead he put on his best customer service face and cracked his knuckles, ready to get started.

  ***

  It was half six when he finally got his station sanitized and his shit put away. He wrote himself a note to stock his needles and to organize his ink, then he stared at the octopus painting a few minutes more.

  “You really gonna throw that in the mail?” Mat asked, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

  The shop was dead, and the only booking they had was the nine o’clock, and there hadn’t been a single walk-in all evening. James had gotten a call with a request for an emergency car repair job which he immediately snatched up, and Wyatt had come in to work on some of his pig skin since he had his first booking that weekend and he was feeling all the nerves.

  Derek shrugged. “I mean, I kind of have to, don’t I? Wouldn’t it be weird if I walked it down to the flower shop?”

  Mat gave him a careful look. “Why would that be weird? Unless they paid a shitload for shipping.”

  Derek bit his bottom lip, considering his options. Refunding the eight bucks he charged for shipping wasn’t a big deal. But he didn’t know if Basil would appreciate him just showing up. It seemed presumptuous and a little creepy, if he was being honest. “I don’t know.”

  “I bet they’d be happier if you walked it over,” Mat said thoughtfully. “I mean, no risk of it getting all fucked up in the mail. They’re like two blocks away, dude.”

  It was a good point, but not one Derek wanted to explore right then. “I got a couple days, I’ll figure it out. Anyway, I’m off to Sam’s for the nig
ht, so if you guys get slammed, just call me.”

  Mat offered him a mock-salute, then turned back to his drawing table and Derek took the opportunity to slip out without being dragged into further conversation. As he headed to his car, he heard footsteps and turned to see his brother jogging after him.

  “Hey,” Sage said, trying to catch his breath, “I wanted to grab you before you head out.”

  Derek stopped, raising a brow. “What’s up?”

  “This weekend,” Sage said, as though Derek really did have that fake-ass twin ESP people always assumed they did. “I…it’s four years now and I just…uh. Could use the company.”

  Derek felt his entire body sag with remorse because how the hell could he have forgotten that this weekend was the anniversary of Sage’s fiancé’s death? Granted, it had been getting easier, enough that no one really thought about Ted on the day-to-day, but Derek had been more attuned to the loss since it was Sage suffering, and he didn’t want to let himself get complacent.

  “I have no plans,” Derek said. “Come home with me Friday after we close up.”

  Sage looked somewhat relieved. “Thanks. I kind of have a proposition for you anyway, but I want to talk after you’ve been able to unwind.”

  Derek bristled a little at that. Frankly, Sage’s ideas were kind of the worst, especially when his emotions were high. But right now, this weekend? He wasn’t going to turn down anything. “Yeah, of course.”

  Sage gave him a cautious smile, and maybe once upon a time, this would have been a moment they hugged, but neither of them had really sought comfort with each other like that in years. Not since they lay huddled together in a rundown, squatter’s paradise with no heat and a single sleeping bag as they fought to get by night by night.

  Too long since then had passed, but there were moments Derek couldn’t help but miss being able to take that small comfort when he needed it. For now, though, the smile his brother offered was enough, and they quickly parted ways.

  The drive to Wild’s was short, and though Derek hated browsing aisles that smelled overwhelmingly of ground wheat and patchouli, he was able to load up and check out in only a handful of minutes. He loaded the bags into the back of his car, then parked next to Sam’s truck which was still making the faint clicking noise as the engine cooled from the long drive.

  He slung the bags over his arm, using his free hand to grab the case of beer and lock up the truck, then let himself in the front door and went straight for the kitchen. Most of the lights were still off which probably meant Sam was in his bedroom, so Derek threw everything together in the dutch oven, covered it with a little water, the lid, then wandered off.

  He found his friend on the floor with his legs propped up on his exercise ball. Derek could see the vicious tremors in his muscles, and the way Sam’s face was contorted in pain. “How bad?”

  “Maybe like a six,” Sam told him, which in Sam-ese meant he was probably at an eleven. “I just got in and I figured I’d let my legs work themselves out a little before I try to balance in the tub.

  “Want me to start it?” Derek asked.

  Sam waved his hand toward the bathroom. “There’s some of that citrus salt under the cupboard, the one Tony always gives me shit about smelling like the farmer’s market. Throw a couple cups in there for me.”

  Derek was old hat at this. Sam and Tony had grown up together, had been like brothers, but for whatever reason, Derek was better at all this shit. Maybe it was the fact that he’d seen things most people hadn’t which left him unbothered by all that Sam required to get by, but there had never been any awkwardness about it. Sam had a carer who usually helped out, but one winter a handful of years back, her sister had gone into early labor and she’d flown across the country for two weeks to help out.

  Sam hated the replacement the home-health company had sent over, and after watching his spiraling frustration, Derek had offered to help. Sam was hesitant about letting it happen at first. He tended to keep the more unflattering parts of paralysis to himself—like the bladder control issues, and the spasms, and the times when his entire lower half just wouldn’t respond and he needed help with even the simplest transitions from chair to sofa, or chair to bed. Derek had simply put his mind to the task, and after a while, Sam had stopped hesitating to ask.

  “Did May behave for you today?” Sam’s voice came from the doorway, and Derek turned to see the guy had stripped down and bare-ass naked in his chair.

  “She was perfect, as usual,” Derek told him as he arranged the bath seat at the side of the tub, and a towel resting on the edge. “Sage was watching Jaz, so we took them to lunch and fucked around at the duck pond for a while. She also got a flower from that little shop near the bookstore. The owner was outside making some arrangements and of course the girls charmed her.”

  Sam chuckled as he wheeled to the edge of the tub and set his brake. Derek tested the water, then carefully helped Sam to shift from the chair, to the edge of the tub, and then into the water. He let out a small groan as he laid back, and Derek slid to the floor, grateful to have a moment of peace, even if it was on cold bathroom tiles.

  “Kat took her pretty early though, so I’m not sure if she stayed in a good mood. You know how much she hates it when you’re away,” he finished.

  Sam let out a tiny sigh. “I know. She’s getting better with the whole attachment thing, but her therapist was talking about this pre-memory trauma she’s got goin’ on from the foster home bullshit and she said it could last for most of her life.”

  “God,” Derek said. He’d never known Sam’s cousin—the fifteen-year-old who’d gotten in way over her head with a too-old boyfriend. The guy was in jail now for assault and robbery, and the girl had sunk so deep into heroine Sam confessed he wasn’t sure she was even alive anymore. “Well I’ve noticed a difference the past few months at least, so that means something, right?”

  “It does,” Sam said with a smile. He pushed himself up to sit, holding the side of the tub for balance, and used his other hand to massage his still-trembling legs. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fucking sick of being asked that,” Derek confessed. “Apparently it was all over my goddamn face today and everyone decided to try to play mom with me.”

  Sam shook his head. “It’s out of love, dearie.”

  “Fuck you,” Derek said cheerfully. “I uh…I sold Kevin.” He hated himself for using James’ stupid name for the octopus, but it meant Sam knew exactly what he was talking about.

  “Seriously?”

  Derek sighed internally. “Seriously. I think the guy from the bank thing last night bought it.”

  Sam sat up straighter, almost slipping before he caught himself. “You’re shitting me. Dude, that’s like…”

  “If you say rom-com, I will punch you. I don’t care if you’re naked and in the bath,” Derek warned him without any real heat. “I think he might work in that flower shop we passed by today. The owner had hearing aids in, and she knew sign language, and she…she looked like him. A lot like him.”

  Sam was grinning and Derek hated himself for confessing it all, though he couldn’t help but admit having the weight off felt good. “Did you go in?”

  “Nah. The girls were getting restless and we didn’t have a lot of time to screw around. But I was…the thing is…Mat pointed out that I might want to hand-deliver it since throwing it in the mail would be such a waste. It probably won’t mean anything but…yeah.”

  Sam’s grin softened a little, and he leaned over the edge of the tub, putting his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Maybe it won’t mean anything at all, and maybe it will. But it can’t hurt to try, can it?”

  Derek worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “I guess not. I’m just such a mess still, I don’t know someone like him would want to put up with all this shit. It’s a lot.”

  “It is,” Sam told him bluntly, “and it might be a little exhausting, but if he feels the same way about you, he’ll think it’s worth it.”

>   Derek shrugged. “I don’t even speak his language.”

  “Well clearly there’s not an easy fix for that,” Sam snarked at him. “I mean, it’s not like Kat and Tony haven’t been up our asses about starting ASL or anything.”

  Derek flushed, knowing he was right, and knowing he ought to do it for Jasmine no matter what happened between him and Basil. “Yeah. I…I guess.”

  “I get being afraid,” Sam told him. “You can’t guarantee happiness forever.”

  Derek was half-sure Sam was talking about Ted now, and there was a moment of slightly awkward silence between them. “I know that. And I feel like I owe it to myself to at least try. I think maybe I’ll adhere the sketch to a canvas and throw some varnish on it, then I can walk it over.”

  “Maybe write him a love note and tuck it in the back so he finds it years later when you two are married with five kids,” Sam said, waggling his brows.

  Derek stood up. “That’s it. I’m leaving you to drown.”

  5.

  Basil jumped, startled when a hand fell down on the desk in front of him. Under Ama’s flat palm was a bright orange post-it with sharpie scribbled on the front. A name—Jay—and a number. He stared at it for a minute, then looked up at his sister’s smirk.

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘A phone number.’

  Rolling his eyes, he pushed his chair back away from the desk. ‘Thank you, I had no idea. Seriously, what is this?’

  ‘You’ll hate all the Deaf events they have going on in Denver this month. It’s all stuff for young kids—bowling, coffee house meet-ups, I think there’s like a D and D game in a card shop?’

  Basil pulled a face. ‘Sounds like my nightmare.’

  ‘I know,’ Ama told him with a grin. ‘But one of the event coordinators and I were emailing, and I asked him if he had any LGBT events planned? Something for actual gay grown-ups. He said they tried to do that a few months ago but the turn-out was really small. Then he said maybe the two of you could get together and get a drink. And talk. He thought you were hot.’