Page 29 of All The Way Under
“I don’t check the normal boxes as a partner. I like odd things like sailing and software. I don’t deal with typical male bullshit either, so it makes it hard to find someone who…appreciates me.” I scrunch up my nose when I realize I still said too much.
“How is that different for me? Are you assuming I don’t have high standards and enjoy dealing with typical female bullshit? It’s hard to find someone who appreciates you no matter what. If anything, it’s even harder for me. I like the gym and mechanics. Those things don’t attract a lot of ladies.”
He begins wrenching again, but drops it out of nerves. His hand shakes as he picks it up. I’m making him nervous or uncomfortable.
“You don’t talk about this kind of stuff often, do you?”
Brody shakes his head once. “Never.”
“What’s your type?” I soldier on, needing more info to figure him out.
It’s the most fun I’ve had since before the sail.
My mom’s spring soirée was enormous, and all my friends were there. We dressed in matching flowy maxi dresses, drank champagne, and made plans for more partying when I returned from my sail. I don’t remember laughing so hard in my entire life. Of course Mom invited prospects for me, her friend’s sons. They all have the same bland personalities, with the same insipid style, with the same degrees and ambitions. I tried to engage with them, but they all reminded me of lying, cheating Archie at the end of the day, and I don’t want that.
“I don’t have a defined type, and if I do, I’ve never thought about how to describe it,” he says, pouring gas into the bike tank from a black makeshift can. The bike doesn’t start when he bypasses the starter to try to see if what he just fixed is working.
“Let me,” I say, moving him out of the way, taking the wrench, and redoing what I saw him mess up. “Describe it,” I order while I focus on the task. “Think about your type and describe it.”
“When I think about something, it’s not going to be this instantaneous ah-ha moment. It takes time to sift through my thoughts,” he says.
I peer over my shoulder, and he’s watching my hands with narrowed eyes.
“I don’t want to be bored or bossed around,” he replies. “I don’t need to think too hard for those.”
“Okay, same,” I reply, switching wires out with ones that I found when they first put the tarp down. It cranks immediately when I try. “But it’s hard because I’m a woman and men want to tell me how to live and who to be.”
He shakes his head.
“Good job,” he says as he moves my hands out of the way to finish the job. “I’ll put it back together now.”
At the sound of the bike starting, the men guarding us from a distance clap and whoop.
“We keep doing this, they’re going to crown us leaders of the pirate tribe,” Brody remarks, grinning. “The right man won’t tell you how to live and who to be, but it feels like you know that already. You’re fishing for someone else to tell you that.”
I scoff. “I’m the leader of pirates now. I don’t need anyone to tell me anything.”
I brush my hair over my shoulder. It’s stiff from drying in the sun after being wet.
“I take it back. Maybe I need someone to tell me where to find some shampoo and soap.”
Brody tries to hide a smile, but I see it before he turns back to work.
“There’s a large garden east of the main building. There must be stuff growing that can be used for soap,” he says. “Do you know anything about herbs or mixing things? I don’t know much in that regard. I know leaves of three let it be, and if it’s shiny and red, you could turn up dead.”
Clearing my throat, I say, “I do know a few things. I studied all the different countries I sailed to as a kid.” I regret telling him that fact, so I bluster on, “We need to get into the garden. I’d kill…I mean, I’d do anything for a fresh vegetable, too.”
Brody picks up a different, smaller tool and stands to get a better grip.
“You think you can use whatever manipulating skills you have to get us into the garden tomorrow?”
“Manipulating?”
“Yes. I mean, they took to you immediately. There has to be some skill you have that made you trustworthy so quickly. To them.”
“To them? Not to you?”
Brody starts the bike using the button, and it roars to life on the first try. He’s better than I gave him credit for after the first wiring mistake.
