Free Hand (Irons and Works Book 1)

by E M Lindsey

  Basil flushed a little, shrugging one shoulder. ‘Is that weird?’

  ‘Irons and Works,’ Amit started, spelling the name out very carefully, ‘is not the kind of shop that just gives stuff away. They’re expensive because they’re good. Every person who works there is employed because they’re able to prove their talent is a step above others. This is like getting free music lessons from Mozart.’ When Basil raised both his brows, Amit rolled his eyes. ‘Okay not Mozart, but close. I’m just trying to make a point that if this guy offered that to you, take it.’

  Basil found himself brushing fingers along his forearm, the place he’d get that damn Night-Blooming blossom tattoo if he really was going to go through with it. He’d been thinking about it since Katherine chased after him and explained what Derek really meant by the offer. ‘I can’t seem to stop thinking about him.’

  ‘I noticed,’ Amit replied, a dry expression on his face. ‘Are you really set on never dating him?’

  Basil shrugged, glancing away for just a second to gather his thoughts. ‘No. I want to say yes, because the thought of going through anything like my ex put me through sends me into a panic spiral and I can’t live like that. But every one of my instincts is telling me Derek won’t be like that. None of them will.’

  Amit considered him for a long moment. ‘I’ve spent most of my teenage and adult life in the Deaf Community. I don’t have a lot of hearing friends, and the only reason I know those guys is because they were the best rated and I wanted good ink. I’m not the kind of guy who would tell you to start dating outside of our community, or to give hearies a chance, because I don’t really feel like that. But those guys are different. I was there when the owner’s daughter came home from her doctor’s appointment after they were told she was hard of hearing.’

  Basil’s eyes widened. ‘They came to the shop?’

  ‘It’s their family, all those guys,’ Amit clarified. ‘I was getting one of my side pieces done, so I was laying on a table. Sage had been going for a while, and he was in the zone, so he didn’t want to stop, but it was obvious there was news. I always take my hearing aids out because the buzzing is overwhelming, but Tony’s really easy to read.’

  Basil knew this story. He’d seen it a hundred times on social media—parents struggling and crying because their child was deaf. He’d read a hundred captions on a hundred videos, ‘We didn’t know what to do when we got the diagnosis, we were heart broken.’

  Then some inspo story about finding some amazing speech therapist or audiologist and their baby smiled for the first time after they got CIs or hearing aids or whatever. He didn’t need Amit to tell him this.

  ‘I thought it was going to be some bullshit, and I couldn’t decide if I was going to get defensive or not, because you don’t fuck with people permanently altering your skin. It ended up not being necessary. He sat down at a computer, and when someone asked him what was up, he just turned around and said, ‘Jazz is deaf, so you fuckers better be ready to learn sign with me.’ Then he found a couple of classes and made some calls, and before I was wiped down and wrapped up, he was registered for ASL.’ Amit gave Basil a second to absorb all that. ‘I know the guys have been slow about it, but they’re nothing like Derek’s date. And nothing like your ex. No one’s forcing this girl to verbalize. They sign with her all the time. They let me sign with her. They all try.’

  Basil knew that. He knew it in the effortless way he’d seen Sage and Derek handle the kids, in the way they were with his sister, and how Derek always used every bit of sign he knew with Basil before resorting to paper and pen. Maybe if he started slow. Maybe if he took up Katherine, and now Amit’s, advice and worked with him, gave him time so they could get to know each other without communication creating a barrier between them, there could be something real there.

  ‘Start with the tattoo,’ Amit said. ‘Go from there.’

  ***

  At home, Basil paced his room, annoyed with himself and unable to stop replaying his conversation with Amit over and over in his head. Boiled down to the bare bones of the situation, it was simple. He liked Derek, Derek wasn’t anything like Chad, and he would probably be safe.

  But that didn’t erase his fear of what could be, of what it all meant, and the not knowing how serious Derek was about any of it. They could try this—they could move forward and try something more, and then Derek could get annoyed, or bored, or tired of not speaking his own language and eventually they’d reach an impasse. Mostly because Basil would not voice—he would not. He would not compromise that part of himself again for anyone, no matter what they meant to him. A word or two here or there—fine. But he’d never carve away at his Deaf identity because it made some hearing person’s life easier.

  And he didn’t know if there was middle ground between him and Derek with that between him.

  Walking to his chair, he flopped down and pushed back, a little too hard. He hit the wall with a thud, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the octopus painting crash to the floor. With a gasp, he jumped to his feet, terrified that the canvas had been torn, and he yanked it from between the desk and the wall.

  It looked fine, and then he saw a scrap of something poking out of the wood frame in the back. For a moment, he thought the canvas had torn, but as he picked at it, he realized it was something else. A folded bit of paper, and he could see ink bleed on one side.

  With trembling hands, he unfolded it and stared down at the writing, the surprise of it all preventing him from absorbing the words for a long moment.

  Basil,

  I don’t really know why I’m writing this except to tell you that what you did for me the other night meant everything. Part of me isn’t sure this painting is for you. Hell, maybe you showed your sister and somehow she had a thing for sea creatures, I don’t know. But another part of me thinks maybe this means something. That maybe living through dark moments, you get to have something like this. I don’t know if we’ll be friends—if we’ll be more—if we’ll be less, but I do know that I’ll carry the other night with me probably forever. You’re not the first person to talk me down from the ledge, but please you know are the first person who I walked away from without drowning in guilt and feeling like I’d been a burden. You just let me feel like a person, and I can’t tell you what that meant. So thank you. If you ever get this note, just…thank you.

  Always,

  Derek

  He stared down at the words, his hands shaking so hard he wasn’t able to read them clearly when he went back a second time, but it didn’t matter. He’d memorized it from that single pass. Maybe he was a fool for letting it get to him, maybe he should just burn the damn thing and be done with it. But instead, he folded it up and laid it on his nightstand, and he knew that tomorrow would bring a change.

  9.

  Basil headed over to Irons and Works on Wednesday afternoon. His own shop was all-but dead, and Amit said that was the slowest day for most tattoo shops that he knew of. He couldn’t be sure Derek was working, but he was taking the plunge. His feet dragged on the walk, but he finally made it to the door, and his heart stuttered a little in his chest because he could see Derek inside working in his stall at his drawing table.

  He swallowed thickly, fighting the flight urge, and forced himself to walk through the door. It must have had a bell or buzzer, because the moment it swung open, Derek’s head lifted, and his mouth parted in surprise. Basil could see his lips form a word, then Derek got to his feet and hurried toward the low swinging door.

  ‘Hi,’ he signed.

  Basil smiled at him. ‘Can we talk?’ He hoped Derek’s lessons and his work with Jasmine had gotten him that far, and by the blush on Derek’s face, Basil thought maybe it had.

  Derek gestured for Basil to follow him through, then led him to the seats they’d occupied last time he was there. Nothing looked different, apart from the spread of paper Derek had been working on, and though Basil was curious, wanted to poke and prod and learn Derek from the ins
ide out, he held back. He sat down, then reached into his pocket for the short note he’d carefully crafted before coming over.

  I am here for apologize. I didn’t understand what you mean about free tattoo. I was think pity, but Katherine explain. So I say yes. If you want.

  Derek read the note, then looked up with bright eyes and the curve of a smile on his lips. He carefully set the paper down, then signed, ‘Yes. I want.’

  ‘Book,’ Basil signed, then pointed to where Derek had pulled out his sketchbook. ‘With flowers.’

  Basil felt a measure of relief when Derek nodded and reached for it. Their communication was half pantomime and nothing more advanced than the infant he was learning for, but it was something. He handed it over, and Basil wasted no time flipping to the back page where the Night-Blooming Cereus had been sketched. He wanted that, and something a little more, something that was all Derek, and a little bit of him—but not something Derek had pre-drawn.

  He motioned for a pen and paper, and Derek handed over a blank notebook and a little golf pencil which barely fit between Basil’s fingers. It would do, though, enough to explain what he was looking for. My mother have this flower. I want, but not this, you understand? Want new, but same flower.

  Derek read the note, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, and Basil felt a hot surge of want he tried desperately to ignore. Friends, he reminded himself. First, they would try for friends. First, he would see if he really had the ability to trust him and let him in, because he owed it to himself to go slow.

  Okay, Derek wrote beneath Basil’s scribbled note. I have an idea, and you let me know if you like it. Some of my clients, ones that trust me a lot, let me do something free hand. I’ll draw it on you with my pen first, but I don’t stencil it. I just see where the work takes me. Would you want something like that, or do you want me to draw it out first?

  That, Basil thought. That’s what I want, what I need. He laid one hand over Derek’s wrist for a second, then signed, ‘Yes. Perfect,’ and, ‘please.’

  Derek’s cheeks bloomed a soft pink, but he nodded and carefully put the notepad to the side of the desk. After a long moment he lifted his hands. ‘I’m learning ASL. Beginner’s class. I’m sorry I’m slow, but I’m trying.’

  Basil ducked his head a little shyly and he nodded. ‘I’m happy. Jasmine,’ he used the sign name the twins had showed his sister, ‘it will mean a lot to her when she grows up.’ He mouthed along with his words, going slow, slower even when he saw Derek’s eyebrows dip into a frown of confusion. But he didn’t back down, he didn’t dumb it down. ‘I can help you.’

  ‘Help me,’ Derek repeated. Basil could tell from the way he moved his lips, he said the word aloud and he felt an inexplicable urge to lay his hand to Derek’s throat and feel the vibrations of his voice. His fingers tingled with the barely repressed urge. ‘Sign?’

  Basil nodded. ‘Every day. We can meet, drink coffee, practice.’

  Derek’s lips lifted into a grin that reached his eyes, making them stand out gorgeous and almost hypnotizing. ‘Thank you. I…’ His finger hovered in the air, pointing to himself like there was so much more he wanted to say but didn’t know how yet. Which was fine. It was okay. Some day he would have the words, and Basil was almost positive he’d be there when Derek could finally give them.

  ***

  ‘You are out of your damn mind,’ Amaranth said, though she was smiling at him. She had her legs up on the arm of the sofa, her head pillowed on a folded afghan, her signs a little sloppy from the half-gone bottle of wine at the floor near the edge of the table. ‘A tattoo. You?’

  Basil scowled at her. ‘Since when do you not like tattoos?’

  ‘I love them.’ She rolled onto her side, lifting her shirt so he could get an eye-full of her songbirds which bore a ribbon with their parents’ names. She dropped her clothes and settled back in. ‘You don’t have any.’

  ‘Need to start somewhere, right?’ he challenged.

  ‘You just want to touch dicks with him,’ she said, waving her hand dismissively.

  Basil’s entire body erupted with a blush so hot he was almost dizzy with it. ‘I’m helping him with sign, and he’s giving me a tattoo. There’s nothing sexual.’

  ‘Yet,’ she signed, spelling the word slow and pointed. ‘You’ll seal the deal with some good old fashion fucking, and I’m happy for you. I wish things hadn’t been so ugly with Jay, but I think Derek is a great guy. And he’s so hot.’

  Basil rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t exactly argue with the latter part of her statement. He was a good guy, and he was so hot. More than. There was a beauty about him—something maybe a little vulnerable like his beauty had been part of why life was so shitty for him before now. But he didn’t want to read too much into it. Derek deserved to be discovered properly and truthfully, and Basil wanted nothing more than to dive in and start learning him.

  ‘When do you start?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he told her. ‘For sign. Saturday for tattoo.’ He dropped his hands, then let his right palm fall to his left forearm and he stared down at the blank skin there. By the end of Saturday afternoon, there would be something there—permanent and bright, and there would be no taking it back. He wanted it though, wanted to see the evidence of someone like Derek on his skin.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the lights flashing, and he frowned over at her. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’

  Amaranth shook her head. ‘No. It’s probably just soul-solicitors. You want me to get it?’

  He grinned at her. ‘Nah. They always walk away faster when they realize I don’t speak.’ Pushing himself up, he walked to the door and flung it open, preparing a flurry of ASL in hands too fast for anyone but the totally fluent to understand.

  Instead of people asking for donations, or to test their water, or to sign them up for their church service, Jay stood there looking contrite and hesitant. His hand raised, hesitated, then signed a simple, ‘Hello.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Basil demanded. He figured his total ghosting of the guy had sent the message well enough, but apparently not.

  Gnawing on his bottom lip, he fidgeted a moment before he answered. ‘I wanted to apologize. I should have before. I should have texted or emailed you, but I wanted to say it in person. I was being really harsh and judgmental without considering they might have been your friends.’

  Basil clung to his frustration and anger, because he didn’t want to forgive him. He didn’t want Jay to pave the way for some sort of reconciliation. ‘You didn’t need to do that.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jay signed. ‘You’re a great guy and I liked you a lot, and I’d like the chance to maybe start over. It had been a rough week for me, and I wasn’t at my best.’

  Wasn’t there some saying, he thought to himself, about handling someone at their worst to deserve their best? Jay’s worst wasn’t as bad as Chad’s had been, but all the same, he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue on with some guy whose default was judgmental asshole. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I understand,’ Jay offered. ‘Just…think about it and text me? I’d like the chance to prove I’m not actually a bad guy. It was just a bad night.’

  Basil could give him that, sure. He wasn’t the kind of guy who had unreasonable expectations. He was surly and difficult to get along with even on his good days, but something was rubbing him the wrong way. Maybe it was the fact that for most of the night, Jay had centered the conversation totally around himself. And maybe it was the fact that his apology had done the same thing.

  ‘I’ll let you know,’ he finally replied.

  Jay didn’t look overly enthusiastic about the dismissal, but he didn’t argue either. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I won’t keep you, but please just know I can show you a different side to me.’

  Basil just nodded, then shut the door before he had a chance to go on. When he went back to the living room, Amaranth turned the TV off to give him her full attention. ‘Who was that?’

  �
��Jay,’ Basil told her, sinking back into his chair with a sigh. ‘He came to apologize for the bad date and asked me to give him another chance.’

  Her eyebrows flew up. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘That I’d think about it,’ he told her. ‘I don’t really know if I should. He’s self-absorbed. He spent the whole night talking about himself when he wasn’t judging me for living here or judging the guys from the tattoo shop and calling them trashy. I’m not sure that’s someone I want to date.’

  ‘Did he say why he was such an asshole?’

  Basil laughed. ‘Yeah, he said it was a bad night. And I guess? But I can’t imagine having a day so bad I start talking like that. And then to claim he didn’t mean it? Bullshit.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she replied, her expression careful. ‘Maybe he really was just having a shit time.’

  Basil bit his lip. ‘Maybe,’ he conceded, but he wasn’t entirely sure he believed him.

  ***

  When Derek walked into the shop Saturday morning, he was humming with nerves. He’d already had his first coffee meet-up with Basil where they’d gone over the basics of what he knew, and they’d even managed a simple conversation by the end of the night. It might have consisted solely of talking about family members and what he was studying at the university, but it was still progress. And he got to see that look on Basil’s face—the quiet smile filled with something a little deeper than pride—that made him want to do anything to keep it there.

  Today, he would start Basil’s piece. They’d switched to paper to discuss it, and Basil had carefully explained, using more written words than he usually did, the meaning behind the flower. Was it coincidence or irony that one of the most captivating blossoms Derek had ever seen was something Basil’s mother had used to show her son that he was special? He could never figure those two words out, but what he did know was that it was important. That it meant something for him to get it right.