Page 27 of Born for Lace

“Listen here, bitch?—”

Then he sees me. He stops, the hate and hunger within his leer slither down my body, making me shudder. His eyebrow rises when he sees Spero, and his slow grin churns my stomach.

She grabs his face in her hands, redirecting his gaze. Her heavy-lidded eyes and sweet, inaudible words compelling him.

I dart past them.

It’s none of my business and nothing unusual. I often saw men bothering House Girls in the Half-tower. Men display little restraint with them. Desire flares to the surface. Unlike with my Trade, where they ignore us. We belong to one man, while a House Girl belongs to no man.

After a small stroll around the town, I trace my steps back to the rocky ledge behind the main walkway.

As I approach the dinghy, the old man is already pulling in a load of fish from his first-light adventures on the ocean. My Ward would leave at night, take on the seas in the dark, and return just before crown-light. So, I was right in assuming the old man did the same, given his Trade background.

Stopping behind him, I say, “I made the rattle. I used shells and a few rocks. He likes it. So, what’s your name?” I inadvertently jig, bouncing Spero on my chest. I look the old man over. He is in the same clothing, though his suspenders are pulled over his shoulders, and his shirt seems to have been cleaned.

“Tide.”

I knew he would have a geographical name; most Trade members do. Unlike Xin De men and women of importance, they have city names from the old-world, while some girls like me are flowers. “Can I call you Tide?”

“Well, that’s my name,” he grunts, hunched over in the boat with his back to me, sorting the fish into different buckets.

“I know.” I sit down on the ledge and cross my legs. “But some men prefer sir.”

“I am not a sir.”

I smile, and even though he didn’t ask, I introduce myself. “I’m Dahlia.”

“A flower, of course. What would you be doing now if you weren’t on the run, Dahlia?”

I might have been thrown by that assumption and question were it anyone else asking. For some reason, I feel comfortable with this grumpy old man. “How do you know I am on the run?”

“Everyone here is.”

So, that means he is also on the run—or was. I wonder why? But since he didn’t ask me what I am running from, I won’t ask him. “Well, I would be with my Collective, sewing or sleeping.”

“Sleeping?” He laughs once, a husky sound that vibrates around overused lungs. Then he stops, like the sound was painful to make. “At crown-light?”

I like his laugh; it is harsh and makes me smile a little harder. “I mean,” I shrug, unapologetic, “I like to sleep. Everyone does, really, or maybe it’s just… I miss it. I haven’t had much the past few days.”

“Well,”—he nods his head toward the net— “you gonna get down ‘ere and help me, or just sit there and watch me break my old back?”

I feel my lips curve even wider and climb to my feet. Cupping the back of Spero’s head with one hand, I brace the edge of the boat with the other. I climb in and get to work on the nets.

I catch a whiff of lemon from his shirt as I settle down beside him. “You smell nice.” I remember he has very little sense of smell, and he’s alone on this boat all day, so who is he grooming for today? “You might not know that, so I thought I’d mention it.”

“Smell like what?”

I inhale him again, and he pretends to be offended, leaning away. “Lemons and fish,” I answer him, picking up the net.

Tide huffs an amused sound. “I like lemons.”

I beam, happy to have a friend. “I like lemon and fish together, probably one of my favourite meals, and I used to?—”

A tremoring hand touches my arm, cutting me off mid-sentence. I peer over my shoulder at him, this close to him I can make out all his wrinkles, the lovely lines of age that many don’t get to wear.

“You’re a sweet girl,” he whispers, his face tight with seriousness. “You need to stop talking to strangers. Someone will take advantage of you. I heard what happened with The Fish. Got no Exchange Hub now ‘cause of it. Lagos and Tomar are still not back. People misbehave when they leave. That’s the only reason I’m letting you sit with me again.”

Taking a heavy breath, I mull over his warning, trying to understand each part. I want to know who The Fish is? He must mean the Endigo man. Did they call him The Fish? And what do Lagos and Tomar do when they leave? Probably get more runaways or supplies from the Half-tower. Then… are they in danger? If they don’t return because they have been shot, what will I do? But I mostly want to know why Tide doesn’t want me to sit with him‘for any other reason.’

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