Confusion played across Sam’s face, then he put his hand down. “I apologize. Dyne warned us that you’re uncomfortable with physical contact. I shouldn’t have assumed a handshake was acceptable. My apologies.”
Jessie relaxed her death grip a fraction. “Don’t. It’s… I know you didn’t mean any harm. I just…”
Sam held up a hand. “No explanation necessary. Dyne informed us that you’ve been through a lot and warned us to behave ourselves. He didn’t give any specifics, but he mentioned how you escaped Tethys’ ship. That was clue enough to understand that they behaved anything but gentlemanly towards you.” Disgust crept into his voice. “You’ll soon learn that we have a better breed of men on this ship.”
“What about O’Toole?” she said bitterly. “He got a peep show while I was showering.”
“He’s the most harmless of all of us,” Sam said, trying not to smile. “He’s autistic. He wouldn’t know what to do you. Just be mindful of your surroundings when you use the bathroom. That’s his favorite hiding place, even when we go in there.”
“Great,” she said under her breath.
“I swear on the wellbeing of my male member that he’s harmless,” Same insisted with a hand up as if he was swearing an oath.
Jessie studied him a moment. The sincerity in his soothing voice was eating away at her defensiveness. She wasn’t afraid of men per sé; just ones she didn’t know or trust. Even while trapped on Tethys’ ship, she’d prayed for a knight in shining armor to come save her sorry rear. Men weren’t all bad, but the vast majority were pigs. Sam came across as an exception. There was no mistaking it. She’d become an excellent judge of men while on her last ship.
Two men on Tethys’s ship had tried sweet-talking her. One had sounded sincere, but his body language and hungry eyes had warned her otherwise. The other man had brought her food and kept a respectable distance between them. Sadly, Tethys had fired the genuine guy once he found out he’d been “wasting” food on her. Sam had the same vibe as Mr. Genuine.
“I believe you,” she said, “but I can’t promise I won’t accidentally punch him again. I’ll do my best not to.”
“Thank you, ma’am. All of us would really appreciate it. He’s a really important crew member.”
Jessie wanted to draw inside arm’s reach but fear held her at bay. There was something about Sam’s demeanor and personality that put her somewhat at ease. Maybe it was his gentle voice, maybe his older age, or maybe it was him being almost the same height as her. The taller the scarier no matter how kind and unthreatening they behaved. That aside, she felt a need to speak quietly about O’Toole’s immunity to the quasi-children. “Is it really true that he’s immune?”
Sam nodded. “Runs right up to ‘em. They just vanish. He’s never touched one and they avoid touching him. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen—besides the quasis, of course.”
Jessie stood in numb amazement. “I lost my father to them. He was only trying to hand the gun over to them.”
“I’m sorry to hear. My condolences.”
“Thank you.”
“We lost one crew member to them as well, years ago. He just accidentally backed into one. Went mad and killed himself a week later.” He shook his head. “Enough of such talk. I need to finish suiting you up.” He looked her up and down but without hunger in his pale eyes. “More like retry. You’re about as tall as me, but nowhere near as broad.” He held out a hand in front of her sneakers. “I can take those off your hands. You won’t be needing those anymore.”
Jessie turned slightly. “I want to throw them overboard after I get the steel toe boots I was promised.”
Sam gave her a knowing smile and tapped the side of his nose. “How ‘bout a sailor’s burial?” She gave him a confused look. “To the depths with them…”
“Ah.” That sounded like a great idea.
Jessie marched to Scully’s bunk with her new boots clanking along the metal floor. They fit perfectly. She almost wished one of the guys would step out of line just so she could test them out. Almost. As much as she enjoyed making a man fold, she preferred sweet words and respect.
She was garbed in all men’s clothes, including tube socks and boxers. Still no bra, but no surprise there. Bralessness, aside, it felt strange wearing what felt like a thin pair of shorts under cargo pants pulled all the way up to her bellybutton. In order for a pair of pants to fit past her hips, she had to go a few sizes too long to compensate. Sam gave her a leather belt and a few more plain shirts, then sent her off with simple directions to Scully’s cabin. They’d give her sneakers a sailor’s burial after dinner. Right now they needed to work—that and a few of the crew would be happy to help formally send her shoes off.
Jessie smelled the sleeping cabins before she saw the postcards and calendars Sam had described. The place stank of what men did when they had no holes to fill. The smell made her almost turn around. It triggered bad memories she desperately wanted to forget. Still, she wanted to apologize to Scully as soon as possible. Hopefully it would suffice and none of the men would feel a need to punish her and put her in her place for hurting their friend.
Hopefully the doctor named Cancer wouldn’t do that before she could try.
That thought slowed her trek to a silent crawl. She mentally scolded herself and slipped back into a confident gait, then stopped altogether. How should she carry herself? Meek and humble? Confident and tough? What would be better received? She decided on the meek route, not wanting to chance confidence being mistaken for pride in having beat up Scully.
A genial voice mixed with the stink. “And then my line got snagged on the rudder as the bass jumped out of the water. It would’ve jumped clear over the side, but the line stopped it mid-jump. It flopped into the boat right next to my foot!” Two men guffawed.
The laughter brought a small smile to Jesie’s lips but she shooed it away. Smiling wouldn’t be smart.
She wasn’t sure who she was hearing. She didn’t remember Scully’s voice, but the rich tenor didn’t match the frightening baritone of Cancer’s. Maybe he wasn’t with Scully anymore and that was someone else. Her hopes rose… and then crashed the moment she stood in the cabin rooms’s doorway.
Cancer sat in a fold-up chair next to Scully, who was half sitting up in a bunk in the middle tier. The cramped closet of a cabin had three bunks lying opposite the doorway. Blue curtains covered each bunk held up by a white rope. Scully had his curtain bunched by his waist. Cubby drawers took up all the wall space on the sides. Taking up the rest of the room was Cancer, who glowered at her with his brown eyes. Jessie’s stomach dropped.
“And what are you doing here, little lady?” Cancer said, his voice suddenly an octave lower than a moment ago.
She felt like she could piss herself. At the same time she wanted to punch him for being so unnecessarily rude. She could deal with the stupid moniker, but not the attitude. She puffed herself up just a little. “I-I came here to apologize. To Scully.” She clarified her statement to make sure the doc wouldn’t mistakenly think she believed she owed him an apology as well. No way. Not a chance.
“You can do that later. I am busy monitoring the concussion you gave him. Now leave.”
Jessie felt tears well in her eyes. She took a deep breath and raised her chin. Before she could catch her breath and calm herself enough, Scully spoke.
“Let the poor girl talk. I betcha it took a lot of courage for her to come down here.”
“Scully, she’d bad luck. I wouldn’t fraternize with her if I were you. Look at the state of your head already.”
“You don’t really mean all that,” Scully said with a smile.
“Oh, I do.” He turned back to Jessie. “Leave.”