Self-Made Scoundrel (36 page)

“Really, I’m the stupidest?” Derk asked, anger rising in his voice. “Me? Out of all the idiots who walk about Portsmouth?”

“And the most selfish,” Gam added, smiling while narrowing her eyes. “I bet you’re back to ask for something.”

“I-” Derk stopped cold, his cigarette falling out of his mouth. He dropped the poker in his hand, cursing as he fumbled to catch it and burned his hand when the cigarette fell onto it. Old Gam laughed at him, like she always did. It made him angry he still loved her laugh, even when it was directed at him.

“Derk, why’re you here?” she asked. Her words were quiet and she sounded tired. Derk brought his hand to his mouth and snuffed out the cigarette with his foot, taking his time to grind the black ash into the floor. Then he picked up the poker, setting it back against the wall carefully so it wouldn’t slide. He went to where she kept the cups and pulled out two of them. One of them was new.

“Why’re you always making me feel like an ass, Gam?” he asked, walking across the room and sitting down. He set the glasses on the table.

“You make it so easy,” she quipped, taking her feet off the table and leaning forward, resting her elbows on the surface. Derk poured them each a glass of beer, noticing the tablecloth as he set hers in front of her. She had changed the cloth from the old one. It looked newer. He poured himself a glass of beer and rubbed at the embroidery with a finger, feeling the raise of the stitches. A sip of his beer told him the recipe Gam liked hadn’t changed after all this time. Gam sat with her own beer, her hands wrapped about the cup but she didn’t drink. She just waited.

“I don’t have something to ask for. I’ve something for you,” he said, looking up.

“Oh well then, you should give it to me,” she said. Old Gam said it quietly, in a voice he remembered well. He lifted his eyes to her and bit the inside of his lip, a grin tugging at his mouth. His eyes wandered to her bare legs, bruises on her shins dark on her skin.

“Don’t you get tired of doing things by yourself?” he asked. Gam’s mouth fell open, a bark of laughter skipping from her lips. If it had been a younger Derk, he would have blushed but he only chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Not like that, Gam, come on, stop it!”

“What, is that why you’re back?” she asked. Gam ran a finger around the rim of her glass before she picked it up, eying him over the top. “Tired of doing it by yourself?”

“I’m not talking about matters betwixt,” he laughed. “Please, I’m trying to be serious!”

“You always take the wrong things too seriously.” The smile faded from her face and she crossed her legs under the table, her foot bumping against his leg as she did. “What is it then? What do you have for me?”

“Well, I actually brought you something,” he said, leaning back and reaching into his belt pouch. He pulled out a pendent made of wood, carved with the image of a starry sky. Chips of shining stones made the stars twinkle in the dark wood. “I hope you like it. Just for you.”

Genuine surprise crossed Gam’s face as she reached over and took it, her fingers brushing against his as she picked it up. She looked it over, her eyes darting over the tiny individual stars. “It’s…thank you.” It was a genuine bit of thanks with a hint of surprise in her voice. Gam looked to him, her smile warmer than usual. “I…I think I have the perfect ribbon to hang it on.”

“If you still have the dark brown one, I think it’d be good,” he said, taking a drink. “It makes your eyes sort of.…” He shrugged. If he said ‘shine like the stars,’ it would sound like a line. But Gam’s eyes twinkled more often than not. With mischief. With secrets. With wrongdoings wrapped in a raucous laugh. “It’d be best.”

“Out of all the men I’ve ever met, you’ve the keenest eye for color and sparkle,” she said. It sounded like a compliment. Derk took the chance and leaned in, tilting his head to the side.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” They considered each other for a few breaths, Derk trying to figure out how Celeel took what he said. Celeel held the pendant in her hand.

“What d’you mean by that?” she asked. He was surprised by how plainly she asked. Was it an opportunity? He missed playing with Gam, quipping back and forth till they were exacerbated with each other, laid bare with sarcasm. Today, Derk thought, the skin would be removed more plainly.

“Celeel,” he said. “I know you’re a good taker. I know it. You know it. You could do more with other people. The right people.” She gave him a sidelong glance but recognition showed in her narrowed eyes. Her mouth pulled to the side, as if many answers lay in her mind and she was sorting through which one to let out.

“And how do you know I’m not already working for someone else?” she asked. Her tone didn’t match the serious face she had just shown him. Someone else? Who? For a breath Derk entertained the thought that he didn’t know everything about Gam, her sewing and love for taking and her laugh. How she stayed in Portsmouth because she moved so much as a child she wanted to stay put and have a home. How it felt to be smacked by her, kissed by her. There was the Church, the Barons, the Block Lords and the Cup. She sometimes sewed for the Church. She wasn’t lawful enough to work for the Barons. She disliked the Gangs. So why not the Cup?

“Are you sewing things into your quilts for someone else now? For more than just deals here and there for extra eggs, a barrel of beer?” He knew it was one of Gam’s tricks, though she never said it plainly. It hadn’t been difficult to figure out. Derk had stayed with her too often not to. Quilts she worked on at night with an inconsistent bit of batting in the morning. Money, packets of items sewn into the quilting. He watched as she tried to wash her guilt down with a sip of beer. “Your quilts are beautiful, Celeel, they shouldn’t be pulled apart for a take.”

“And how do I know all the people in this…Cup of yours? That they care about what happens to me?” she asked. “Why should I throw my lot in for the big take, when I can happily pick away for the things I want?”

“Since when do you need anyone to care about you, Gam? I thought you were happy caring for yourself?”

“There’s no point in being with people if they’re dumb fappers who don’t care about you,” Old Gam said. She took another drink and poured herself another glass. “I don’t need another set of people who don’t care about me. It’s a kick in the twixt to deal with.” She topped off Derk’s glass without asking him if he wanted her to.

“But they won’t just…Gam, I know these people, I’ve told them about you. I’ve vouched for you.”

“Oh, you’ve vouched for me, you sweet thing,” she laughed. “Let me light a stick of incense on my altar in thanks.” Gam squinted at him. The look on her face was probably the closest to a pout she could do. It still managed to look sly somehow. “You know,” she said, wagging her finger at him. “It was I who took you in all those years ago!”

“And now I want to take you in, Gam! Please! I know you do a bit yourself but you can do more with others. You’re smart, you’re cunning.” Derk left out the other compliments he had for her. They didn’t matter at this point and she would just think he was trying to grease her up. “And when I get something good in my lap, I want to be able to let you in, with more than just a packet of dye. I want you to get recognition. Respect.”

“Not everyone wants those things, Derk,” was all she said. She sighed and leaned forward and Derk couldn’t help but ease in to meet her. Old Gam put her hand on the side of his face. Her fingertips brushed against his forehead and his hair, running along and lingering along his jawline. She scratched at his beard and smirked. “What’s with the beard?”

“Last time I was here, I didn’t have one, so I grew one,” he said, shrugging. He pulled away from her and sat back in in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. Derk could still feel the touch of her hands on his face, the warmth of her skin.

“Takes a while to grow a beard,” Old Gam mused. She laid her hands on the tabletop, her nails pink ovals. The pendant lay under one of her hands, star side up. Even from this angle, Derk saw the glint of the stars.

“Well,” he said, looking to the side. “I had it in my mind to come here for a while.” He said it and he let it hang in the air. Derk stared at the table, wondering what she would say in response. “I’ve thought about you,” he said. He ran his fingers over the tablecloth, trying to remember what the sheets on her bed felt like. “More than you probably think. More than you tell yourself I do.” He looked up at her. As soon as her eyes met his she stood up from her seat, leaving the pendant on the tabletop. Her back was toward him, her long, curly hair spilling down her back. He could see the curve of her backside under her garments, the backs of her legs and the hint of the scar on her calf that crept over her skin.

“You think what you want is more important than what other people want. Like you know better. You’re so stupid.” He could see her fingers, her arms wrapped around herself.

“You know, Gam, it is possible for two people to want the same thing,” he said, leaning forward. She spun her head around looking over her shoulder.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Happiness. Being themselves. Alongside one another,” he said. “Even if they don’t want the same thing, it can be sorted.” He believed that. “You want to be happy, don’t you? And if you join the Cup, no one will ask you to be anything but yourself. And I’d be closer to you.”

“We’re close now, Derk.” She turned around and faced him, her arms still wrapped around her middle.

“Closer?” He said it and couldn’t keep a bit of hope out of his voice. “You could always find me.” He walked over and stood in front of her, sliding his hands around her hips, not bothering to start at her waist and slide down. “I could always find you. Or others.”

“Or each other,” she said, gazing up at him. He saw the laugh there before it jerked in her stomach, played on her lips. “Ain’t your new friends good enough? You still need Gam?”

He wanted to say he wanted her. It would be the sweet thing to say. More than he needed her, he wanted her, more than the other women he had dallied with over the last year. Dark haired women with sweet smiles. Not Gam. Gam, whose mouth was more likely to grin, with her curly hair as raucous as her laugh. The scar hiding under her skirts. He could probably trace the outline of it with his eyes closed. The thought made his fingertips press into her skin harder but Derk forced himself to loosen his hold on her.

“Gam, everyone needs you in their life,” he said. Her eyes narrowed at him but a pleased smile curled her mouth and she put her hands on his chest. As she put her head back to up at him, he could feel her hair brush against his hands.

“Is that a fact?” she asked. “I think you’re a liar.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer so his forehead rested on hers. Her nose brushed against his, and he felt her breath against his mouth.

“Have I at least gotten a bit better at it?” he whispered. He wondered how they had once again started with sharp words and yelling and wound up whispering in her front room. Derk had come there set on business but the two of them together had turned the meeting into something else altogether. Or at least it was heading that way.

“You can fool other people, but you can never fool me,” she said, quietly, so closely her lips brushed against his. He thought she would kiss him but before he could blink she slipped out of his arms and away from him, walking to the stove.

Derk cursed himself. Working with Gam was never just business or pleasure. Business, he reminded himself. He brushed his hair back, trying to think of how he could bring it back to the Cup, get her to say yes. He wanted her in because it would be more like a family if she was in. And he wanted to bring something to the Cup besides himself. Gam would be the best thing he could bring, for now. And as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to give her something in return for all the nights he had shared her bed and covered for her, for all she had taught him. Gam had taught him how to mend his own socks. She had taught him how most garments were made and the best way to put your hand into a pocket without getting noticed. With Sindra gone, Celeel was the one who knew him best. Celeel knew him the longest out of anyone. As long as he had been Derk, this had been the case.

“Look, I only asked because I thought you’d be interested,” he said. “There’s no question as to whether you can do it or not. You’d probably be running it in a few months time,” he said. Her eyes darted toward him as she put a pot on the stove.

“Why don’t you run it yourself?” she asked. She ladled water into the pot to boil, turning to look over the cupboards herself.

“What?” Derk laughed. He laughed so hard Gam actually looked surprised. “Me? I don’t want to run anything,” he said with a shake of his head. He picked his beer up and chuckled, thinking about how funny it was. “I just want to have some fun, get my heart going, a grip of coins in a day. A laugh, a drink with a friend and every once in a while, sleep in bed. Maybe with company.” He drank from his glass, watching Gam’s reaction to his words, wondering if she would take the last bit as an invitation. “And have some people to talk about the triumphs of the day.”

“And the failures,” Gam said.

“Of course, in the most comical way possible,” he said. “Give ‘em a show.” He sat on the edge of the table, looking at the spot on his hand he had burned. It was red and still throbbed but nothing too serious. Derk watched as Gam found some herbs in a tin to make tea. “Oi, d’you have anything to put on my burn? It’s starting to hurt.”

Gam dropped her chin to her chest and glared at him. “Really?” she asked. “That little thing?” She sighed, though to Derk it didn’t sound like she was too upset, walking toward her room. “You’re such a baby.”

“Ah, yes, such a baby. I’m Gam’s little baby,” he said, trying to sound whiny through his laughs.

“Oh stop it,” she said, slapping at him as she walked into the bedroom, Derk following behind her. Derk looked around the room as she looked through the boxes she had under her nightstand. She blinked and looked at him, frowning slightly as her eyes traveled up and down his frame. “You’re dressed mighty fancy,” she said. “What’s that about?”