A Pirate's Life For Me

Prologue - A Pirate's Life For Me

Rewritten : 3.12.17

--

"Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!" shouted the drunk man in time with the gritty banjo chords that permeated the air.

Captain James Ramsey glanced at him. He certainly didn't need another bottle of rum. The man had good and soused himself already. They hadn't been here more than an hour and his crew had already made melting snowmen of booze out of themselves. He shook his head, taking a sip of his own drink. Water. He needed to stay sharp, at least for right now.

The pub walls were dark and windowless, washing away any concept of time James might have had. Had they been there an hour? Two? More? Who could say?

The girl sitting across from him, however, had only joined the dark, musty party a few minutes ago. A woman in a tight corset and a mask of makeup approached with a wooden tray, slamming down one splintered mug of foaming liquid for the girl and one for James. She walked away slowly, but James didn't watch. He was too focused on the face under the hood.

Only from the voice and that hands could James tell he was speaking to a feminine creature. She had the mannerisms of a man, and her body was draped in a thick, dried-blood red cloak that obscured her face and her figure. The hood cast a shadow that hid her face in darkness. James took this as a sign of intelligent prudence, something his crew needed badly as was proudly displayed by James' stumbling, singing men right now.

The girl let out a short chuckle as a man tripped over his own foot, nearly falling on top of their table. "They seem like a fun lot," she said.

James raised an eyebrow. They had formed a circle around the poor banjo player who looked slightly terrified, rocking back and forth with their arms around each other's shoulders as they sang an old folk ballad about an old woman dying from eating infected cornmeal. Yes, what fun. "You might think differently once you've been out to sea with them for months on end."

He had spoken to other young adventure seekers before this one. Most of them would have been prodded to silence by the sharpness of his tone, but not this one. She shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. They seem like my kind of people."

James sighed. He didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one. If he was going to let a woman onboard, he definitely needed someone who could put up with his unruly crew. But he had also been hoping for something of a mother figure, someone who could rein them in with her disapproval and get them to clean up their acts. Oh, well. James looked between the hidden face and his crew's drunken red ones. "Your kind of people are stumbling, drunk bastards in tight pants?" he asked.

At this, the girl laughed. She had a nice laugh, James thought -- a little loud, a little harsh, but with a hint of music that made him want to hear it again. She tilted her head back when she laughed, but not enough to reveal her face. James found himself wanting to find out what her smile looked like.

"--But you know what I mean," she was saying. James had been too caught up in his own thoughts to pay any attention the first part.

"Yes," he agreed. It didn't feel like a lie -- even if he had no idea what she'd said, he felt like he knew her mind as well as if it were his. She was mysterious and strange and seductive in the most subtle, perverse ways, yet James felt like he understood her completely. "Of course."

She nodded, deeming that leg of the conversation done. "So, is there a menu or something in this place? I could go for some fries."

He stared at her. "Um?"

"What?"

"Well, no, I don't suppose there would be a menu . . ."

The girl picked up the handle of her mug, considering it before lifting it under the hood to take a drink. "Why? Cause y'all can't read?"

James raised his eyebrows at her. It took some guts and maybe a little misguided thinking to take such an obvious swipe at a pirate captain's intelligence. "A word of advice," he said. "If you know what's good for you, you won't insult my intelligence again. You might be good, but I'm better."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Mysterious Pirate Man."

"You're calling me mysterious? Who's wearing the hood?" James gave her a wry smile, one that past women had been known to melt for.

She tapped her fingers against her mug. "I suppose you're right," she said but made no move to take off the hood.

James pushed his still full mug away, reaching across the table toward her. "You needn't be afraid of me," he said. His fingers slid along the edge of the hood, reaching teasingly close to the skin behind it.

The girl batted his hand away, pulling the hood closer over her eyes. "I'm not afraid."

"Then let me see you."

She waited a long second before saying, "Tell me if I got the job, first."

James looked her over one more time. He knew nearly nothing about this woman, not her age, not her face, not her skill or her experience. All he knew was that he couldn't imagine walking away tonight without her. "Welcome aboard."

She threw the hood back and James's heart stopped. "Olivia Reece," she said. "Pleased to meet you."