Page 19 of Blown

“In the Middle Ages, the rulers of Venice declared that all glassblowers should move to the island of Murano just off the coast of Venice in order to keep the secrets of the trade just that, a secret. If any of the craftsmen left the island, they would be put to death.”

A few of the people listening to Rafe gasped.

“I don’t think I’d mind living on an island where men were trained in the art of blowing,” Jake said, giving up on the piece he was working on so he could join Rafe in talking to the growing crowd.

Rafe pivoted and frowned at him. “Keep it clean,” he murmured.

Jake returned the order with his winning smile, then grinned at the people watching. “I can personally vouch for the fact that Rafe here is one of the best blowers I’ve ever known.”

Their audience laughed. Rafe glowered at Jake.

“What, you’re not?” Jake asked him, blinking innocently.

“I’m better than you,” Rafe said.

Jake wasn’t sure if it was posturing, Rafe’s attempt to play along, or plain old snappishness. Whatever the case, he took that ball and ran with it, saying, “How would you know until you give me a try?” He winked for good measure.

The crowd laughed even more, but Rafe didn’t look amused.

“I challenge you to a blowing duel,” Jake said, stepping back and reaching for the blowpipes. “First one to complete a Christmas ornament wins.”

Rafe looked downright mutinous…until their audience clapped and cheered and egged them on. “Alright,” he said, swaggering his way back toward the furnace. “You’re on.”

The thrill of competition zipped through Jake like electricity as he raced to grab a blowpipe and gather glass from the furnace before Rafe. Rafe held back, making a show of choosing his equipment more carefully than Jake had and grinning at him like he had a secret weapon that would guarantee him victory. Their audience loved it.

“Looks like I’ve got the jump on you,” Jake told Rafe with a wink as he took his glass over to the marvering table and smoothed it out, ready to blow. When that was done, he moved to one of the workbenches facing the growing crowd. He blew into the pipe, turned it, and blew some more before glancing at Rafe back by the furnace and saying, “I usually like it the other way around.”

A few of the people watching who caught the innuendo laughed.

“Funny that you seem to think finishing quickly is a good thing,” Rafe zinged back from the marvering table before shifting to the other workbench and blowing into his pipe.

More people laughed, and one mom steered her kid away from the booth.

“Someone has to finish first,” Jake said, sitting on the bench and picking up the jacks to start shaping the ornament. “That whole thing about finishing at the same time is a myth.”

Rafe had his mouth to the blowpipe and couldn’t fire off a comeback quick enough.

“Oh, sorry,” Jake said. “I’ll wait to finish until you don’t have your mouth around a pipe. Unless you like that sort of thing.”

He got another rowdy laugh from the crowd and loved it. Getting attention, making people laugh, was his kryptonite. It made everything better for him, but it wasn’t great at helping him keep friends.

“Mind your drip there, boy,” Rafe said when he finished blowing, nodding to Jake’s work.

Their audience laughed again, and Jake dragged his eyes away from Rafe to find his ornament had slipped to one side when he stopped paying attention to it. He had to get up and take the whole thing to the furnace to heat it up again. Once that was done, he focused on his work to form it back into something close to symmetrical again, although the damage had already been done.

Rafe returned to the furnace for a moment, too, then took his seat on his bench with his back to Jake’s, since that had been the only way to fit both benches into the small space. The two of them went to work forming their ornaments while the audience looked on, murmuring and pointing at everything they were doing.

Try as he might, after his first slip with the glass, Jake knew he wasn’t going to make a perfect piece. As usual when his back was against the wall, he looked for ways to get more attention.

“I can feel you’re close,” he said, loud enough for their audience to hear. He snuck a peek over his shoulder at Rafe. “Sure you’re not ready to blow some more?”

“It’s all about pacing,” Rafe replied, his body tight with concentration. “There’s a fine art to handling baubles and without causing the whole thing to burst before you’re done.”

Jake snorted and tried to focus on his own work again. He was glad there weren’t any kids watching them at the moment. “You know I love a big, round bauble,” he told Rafe over his shoulder as he concentrated on rolling and shaping his work again. “Something that fills up your hands when you hold them.”

The crowd loved their banter, and Jake loved the implied praise.

“It’s not about the size of the baubles,” Rafe said, shifting slightly, which told Jake he was making quick progress on his piece. “It’s about the quality of the shape. Same goes for making cups and goblets. Some of the best I’ve ever had were no bigger than a cordial glass.”

---