He walked like a ballroom dancer, and talked like a stifled piano. Beautiful, but kept from saying more. He was a pirate.
I, on the other hand, was a complete bum who had a thing for apple pie and hot guys.
I remember it exactly. I was in a new town, had found a nice little inn, the greatest apple pie on this side of the planet. Handsome, crispy, light brown crust that melted in my mouth and a fill- Sorry. The inn was dusty, chilly and gray. The light outside was a wonderful pink alone the horizon, almost night, almost the end of my long, hard day, and the beginning of the rest of my life.
When he walked in, he brought with him an air of intelligence, light heartedness, and a gorgeous head of hair. I turned; the inn door had an awful bell attached to it that brought a migraine to my brain; and saw him; Coy. Possibly the oddest name ever attached to a pirate.
But Coy was wonderful. Very popular as well, several men and several more ladies greeted him enthusiastically, but he didn’t look at though he was in the mood for it right then.
He scanned the room, found the counter and sat himself down right in front of my small two chaired table, frowning, eyebrows furrowed together. I dropped my fork, I don’t know what was wrong with me, and he turned. By the time I looked up again, fork in my hand, he was at my chair.
“Aye, who do you think you are?” What made me say that, I have no idea.
He raised an eyebrow; his mouth twitched as though he wanted to laugh, but thought that would make a bad first impression, as it would. “Coy. And I could you use your help.”
“That’s your name? Coy? Because I’m not being coy.”
“Yes! That’s my name. Now, I need your help.”
“With what exactly?” I wiped off my fork and took another huge, obnoxious bite out of the greatest apple pie ever.
I choked on my pie and he slapped my back as I recovered myself. “Sorry. What?!”
“Would you like to be a pirate?”
“Does it pay?” What an idiot I am.
“Of course is does! Brilliantly if you’re good at it. So what’s your name?”
“Doesn’t that mean coy?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Shhh shh shh. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
I had no idea what I was getting myself into as I took that last bite of apple pie and followed my destiny into the street.
“My ship is on the harbor. Would you like to see it?”
I hesitated, the toes of my shoes drawing in the dirt of the road. I had nowhere else to go. He seemed nice enough. I needed an adventure. I sighed. I agreed. “Aye, why not?”
He grinned and pulled me by the wrist, and by the time we could see the ocean, I already felt comfortable around him and like a real live pirate.
“The Coquina.” He grinned with what seemed his entire soul, and ran up to the shore. “AHOY! All men on deck! RIGHT NOW YOU DOGS!” Coy laughed and placed his fists on hips as his oddball crew assembled on the top deck. “My men, Tiombe.” He winked at her.
One of the men on deck called out. He was tall and dark skinned, with deep green eyes and short dreadlocks. “Did ye find someone? Her? A woman! That’ll be frightful bad luck Cap’n.”
“Oh, an old wife’s tale. Just get ready to leave soon. Go on, Roger. Hurry it up. You’re the first mate, so you do everything I don’t want to. Go, go, go!”
I, all this time, was slowly backing away, hoping I wasn’t noticed.
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