Arachnodactyl by Danny Knestaut Read Free Book Online Page A

ounce into a stout glass.
    “One for me as well,” Cross said and tapped the bar.
    “I’ll take one, too,” Willa said.
    The barman scowled at Willa. “You’re on the job.”
    Willa held out her arms and made a show of looking about the pub, empty except for two men sitting quietly at a table, a cribbage board between them.
    “There’s no one here yet. And besides, you only get one chance at a first impression, and I want to make a smashing impression on our newest regular.” She slinked an arm around Ikey’s shoulder and pulled him close.
    “I mentioned he worked for the admiral, right?” Cross said as he picked up his whiskey.
    “I mentioned he’s cute, didn’t I?” Willa winked at Ikey.
    His stomach gurgled. He slipped out of Willa’s grasp and stepped away.
    Cross laughed and slapped the bar with his palm. “Why, Willa, I do believe you’ve been scorned.” He punctuated his observation with a pull off his glass.
    Willa planted her hands on her hips and pursed her lips in a dramatic moue. “Don’t you like girls, Ikey?”
    Ikey looked to the floor and nodded. “I…”
    “Nothing personal, Willa,” Cross interrupted. “It’s just that if you’re not shaped like a hand, he doesn’t know what to do with you.”
    Cross, Willa, and the barman erupted into laughter. Ikey stepped back from them, heat rippling up his face. He grasped his wrist before him, closed his eyes, and thought of his dad’s cart. Once, when the axle snapped and a wheel fell off, his dad had taken to kicking the cart, thrashing it with boot and fist until his face blistered red, and redder spots peppered his knuckles. Panting, he snatched a shovel out of the bed and further beat on the cart as Ikey cowered behind a nearby rock, ready to bolt should his dad’s anger leap to him. As the cart took his dad’s punishment, it occurred to Ikey that the cart felt nothing. It took the beating and the blows and the chops from the edge of the shovel blade and it made no cry. It did not wince. It did not flinch. Its wood planks and iron bands and hard nails felt nothing.
    Since that day, every time Ikey took a beating, he thought of the cart and imagined himself made of unfeeling wood, banded with unyielding iron, and held together with unshakable nails.
    “Oh, sit down,” Cross spat. “Your drink is getting old.”
    Ikey looked up at Cross.
    “Don’t mind him,” Willa said. “He’s ornery because he’s a sour old cuss. I don’t mind men who haven’t been with a woman yet. I prefer it, because you’re not all jaded and like him.” She jerked her head back at Cross.
    “Well then take him in the back room,” Cross said, “and get it over with already.”
    “No,” Willa said and touched the tip of her fingers to Ikey’s shoulder.
    Ikey jerked away and stumbled back into a table as he recalled the way his dad had treated his mother, the cries and screams. Ikey closed his eyes and wished Willa to go away. He would never want to treat a woman like that.
    “He understands that your first time should be with someone special. Not someone like me.”
    “I think you’re special,” the barman said.
    “Only because no other barmaid will put up with you for this pay,” Willa said as she cocked a hand on her hip. “I must be right special in the head.”
    Cross chuckled and patted the stool next to him. “Sit down, Ikey. Otherwise, if you insist on standing, you can do so outside.”
    Ikey glanced back at the door. Standing outside would be preferable, but it would sour Cross further. Ikey trudged over and sat on the stool.
    Cross nudged the glass toward Ikey and leaned in to say that if he played his cards right, Willa might be convinced to see him after work.
    Ikey shrugged and stared into his drink as Willa slapped Cross on the back of his head.
    Cross lifted his cap and ran his hand through his hair. “Not your type, is she?”
    Ikey shook his head.
    “What is your type?” Willa asked as she rounded the bar and stepped