Chapter 15 #2
I wanted to say that I wouldn’t be staying long enough to purchase something more suitable, but bit back the reply.
If I hoped to delay and stay a year or two before my parents insisted I return home, then purchasing a nicer den was a good idea.
It wasn’t like I needed to be frugal or didn’t have enough money to purchase a human home.
“I haven’t seen the Tusks play yet, but I’m glad we finally have a hockey team in Baltimore,” Hassan continued.
“We are terrible,” I warned him. “We have lost the two games we’ve played. Expect us to lose every game this season.”
He laughed. “My wife’s family is from Chicago. Between the Blackhawks, the Bears, and the Cubs, we’re used to losing. Doesn’t mean we’ll abandon our team, though.”
“We will lose to the Blackhawks next week,” I said glumly
“Then my father-in-law will be very happy.” He tilted his head, regarding me.
“Would you mind coming by the hardware store sometime and letting us take a picture of you there? We’ve owned Al-Sayyed Hardware for two generations and appreciate that you chose our family store to buy your tools and supplies. ”
“Of course.” I didn’t tell him that I’d chosen the store at random, remembering it from my walks around the neighborhood. “I would be honored to have a photo taken in your store with your family.”
He beamed. “I’m also very interested in this traditional orc game you’re building.”
I nodded. “I play chess, checkers, and backgammon with elderly humans at Heritage Park in an area called Dundalk. They meet daily at eight in the morning at a pub for liquid breakfast, then go to the park to play. Come by and I will show you how to play Hnefatafl.”
“I’ll do that.” Hassan shook my hand again, refusing the human currency I tried to give him. “No, no. You paid a delivery fee. That’s sufficient. And my tip is learning to play your Hnefatafl.”
After he left I sorted through the delivery items, knowing this would take much longer than it would at home since I was unfamiliar with the human electric-powered tools.
I was a bit unfamiliar with our magic or our hand-powered tools back home as well since I just purchased anything I needed already made.
As a child I’d frequently snuck out of the castle and away from my minders, and many times I’d ended up in the section of the city where craftspeople made wooden toys, blew beautiful glass vases, and crafted the most amazing metal artwork and tools.
The game board and pieces wouldn’t be as intricate or precisely crafted as those back home, but I knew it would be functional.
There wasn’t enough time to hang my flag, so I left it in its box and jogged over to Heritage Park.
The usual humans were there—Benny, Frank, Dave, Edna, Helen, and Piotr.
Today they had chessboards set up and I groaned, knowing that I had little chance of winning this game.
Not that winning was the purpose. I didn’t care if we won our hockey games because I was in protest of us being made fools by the humans.
I didn’t care if I won these games because I liked my time with these elderly humans.
They reminded me of the ancient orcs back home who told stories of their life and seemed to be enjoying the sunset of their days.
These human elders smelled better than the orc ones, though.
From what I could discern their odor was a combination of skin moistening lotion, cream for shaving, ointment for sore muscles, and whatever they’d had for breakfast.
“Enzo!” Piotr rose awkwardly from the picnic table bench where he’d been sitting and embraced me, thumping my biceps with his bony hands. “Did you bring that orc game you were talking about?”
“It is unavailable for purchase here, so I will need to make one. I will bring it tomorrow or perhaps Monday morning.” I thought about my date with the shrew and where I wanted us to end up afterward.
“I may not come to play games tomorrow. I am feeding a human female tonight and I hope we will not wake up until late tomorrow morning or maybe afternoon.”
The human males roared with laughter and cheers. Even the human females giggled, shaking a finger my way but tempering the scold with a smile.
Piotr motioned me over to sit opposite him. “Tell me about this woman of yours, Enzo. Is this a first date? A long-term girlfriend? Do you see the potential for marriage with her?”
I opened my mouth to say a vehement no to the last question, only to shut it, the word unspoken.
The shrew wasn’t princess material, not at all the sort of female my parents had in mind when they discussed our future queen and the mother of my children, but…
Something about her jolted me out of the sullen boredom of the last few decades of my life.
She brought back a spark of that childhood fun I’d once had. Even our arguments were invigorating.
And the sex was amazing. She was strong, flexible, and creative. I never tired of her. Just thinking of her bold passion, her unbridled enjoyment of our joining, awakened my hand-axe to a semi-hard state.
Which was rather uncomfortable given the fabric of the trousers I was wearing.
“We have been seeing each other for a week,” I told the man, “but we have not had what humans would call a date yet.”
“Ah yes, the ‘booty call’ as my grandchildren call it.” Piotr began setting up the chess pieces.
“We weren’t all chaste virgins in my day either, but at least people wanted to get married back then.
Nowadays kids are happy to just fool around until they’re ready for the nursing home.
I’ve got this granddaughter that is probably never going to get married.
Whoo-boy, the men never last more than a few months with her. ”
I frowned, wondering if this was common with human females.
Ozar’s mate seemed open to long-term, committed relationships, but perhaps she was the anomaly.
I might never find a suitable bride if human females were so averse to marriage.
Once more, I thought about just kidnapping one off the street, but it wasn’t just the logistical difficulties and the edict by the angels that made that plan ill-advised.
What if I grabbed an unsuitable female? I could end up married to a horrible wife who didn’t have the skills to even be a royal figurehead, or one who was infertile, or one that my hand-axe refused to rise for.
I’d be better off kidnapping the shrew if things turned that desperate.
At least I knew we were physically compatible.
“Are you cooking for this woman?” Piotr had given me the white pieces and motioned for me to go first.
“By the mountain gods, no. I do not cook.” I moved a pawn forward two spaces with zero strategic intent.
Piotr chuckled and moved one of the horse pieces. “So just microwave something. It doesn’t sound like you’ll spend much time in the dining room anyway.”
I moved another pawn, not wanting to admit that I didn’t know what “microwaving” even involved.
“Oh, don’t you dare,” Helen scolded from where she was playing Frank at the table next to us. “If she’s been bootying you for a week, then she deserves a decent meal. Take her out to a nice dinner, and don’t skimp on the wine either.”
“Take her dancing when you’re done with dinner,” Benny added. “Girls love dancing and it’ll give you a chance to do a little reach-around and maybe slide your hand down to her butt.”
“Letch,” Edna swatted at him. “Did your wife let you grope her like that when you were dating?”
Benny laughed. “No. She smacked me across the face when I tried. Which is why we’ve been married for fifty-two years. I like a spirited gal.”
Piotr move one of his pawns. “Enzo already knows what her butt feels like. And the rest of her. Because kids these days are at home base within an hour of meeting each other.”
Helen rolled her eyes. “Get with the century, old man! Just because they’ve run around the plates a bunch of times doesn’t mean a slow dance with a little reach-around isn’t sexy.
Enzo, Benny is right, at least about the dancing.
If she’s been warming your sheets for a week, then it’s time to show her she’s more than a booty-call. ”
But was she? I aimlessly moved an elephant forward as I thought.
“There hasn’t been a lot of talking between us outside of last night,” I admitted. “Sometimes we argue and that’s…exciting. She is intelligent, but doesn’t usually initiate deep conversation.”
A sick feeling swept over me that the shrew didn’t find me worthy of conversation, that she might not see me as intelligent.
I’d told her when we met that she wasn’t princess material, and for the first time I wondered if she had instantly judged me as not husband material, or even boyfriend material.
Did my only worth lay in my hand-axe and nothing else?
My whole life I’d been repeatedly informed of my high-value, of all I had to offer. But here, an orc kingdom, orc riches, an orc title, seemed to mean absolutely nothing.
“Dinner is the perfect time to have those deep conversations,” Frank said.
“Ask her about her job. Ask if she has any pets, or what her childhood was like. Ask where she grew up and where she went to school. Find out what her favorite color is, what kind of ice cream she likes, and where she likes to vacation.”
I dug my phone out of my pocket and began to take notes, knowing I wouldn’t remember any of this if I didn’t write it down.
“Make sure you tell her a little about yourself, but then bring the conversation back to her,” Edna suggested. “So many men go on and on about their own lives and never listen to anything about the woman. Ask her questions, and listen. And remember what she says.”
I was typing furiously, wondering if advice was specific to human females, or if orc females were the same.
“What does she like to eat?” Piotr asked as he moved another pawn.
I went over our scant conversation in my mind. “She has mentioned she likes pastry. I have seen her eat breaded spicy peppers and have fed her chicken. I met her once at a restaurant that serves steak, although she was not eating anything at that time. She does drink wine. And beer.”
“Take her to a place in Little Italy, Enzo,” Dave spoke up. “Feed her the food of your people. Women love pasta, and those places usually have good wine too.”
“And good pastries,” Helen added.
I hadn’t realized Little Italy had restaurants that served orc food, and I had no idea what pasta was, but I was open to suggestions. Moving a random chess piece, I searched for dining establishments in that area on my phone and was alarmed at the huge list that appeared.
The dismay must have shown on my face because the others laughed.
“Costiera is my favorite,” Frank said. “Their pork belly porchetta is…” He kissed his fingertips.
“Dalesio’s,” Helen sighed. “I can’t get enough of their Scampi Marinara Fra Diavolo.”
Edna nodded. “Or Little Donna’s if you want something more casual. Their tavern pies are amazing.”
“I love the pappardelle at Osteria Da Amedo,” Benny chimed in. “And you can order cannoli to finish off your meal and satisfy her pastry cravings.”
“Sabatino’s is where my wife and I always go,” Piotr said. “The little woman always gets the eggplant parm, and I alternate between their homemade lasagna and the shrimp cacciatore. After dinner, you should walk down to Vaccaro’s for pastry.”
“Then dancing,” Dave insisted. “Otherwise you’ll both be in a food stupor all night and no one will be getting any action.”
“You can skip the Italian food and just go to Mobtown,” Frank suggested. “It’s mostly sandwich stuff, but they’ve got a great band and you can do swing and lindy. My knees are shot to hell, but I still go there and hobble through a few songs.”
I had no idea how to swing or lindy, but I made a note, wondering if I had time to learn with the aid of videos. How ironic that I refused to make a fool of myself on the ice-skating rink, but I was willing to appear a total idiot dancing with the shrew.
“My kids used to go to the Power Plant to dance when they were in college, and I know it’s still open,” Benny said. “There’s a lot of flashing lights and thump so if you’re prone to seizures, might not want to risk it.”
“The Ottobar,” Piotr suggested. “They have live music and they’re in Charles Village. The grandkids like it, saying it’s an old-school alternative dive bar, whatever the heck that means.”
I didn’t know what that meant either, but I put an asterisk next to it, valuing Piotr’s opinion.
“The Horse is fun, although it’s in Fells Point, so parking is always a nightmare,” Edna said. “It’s a historic building, so that might be a fun conversation starter.”
Benny laughed. “I think we’re overwhelming the boy. He’s typing like crazy on that phone of his, and put himself in check-mate as well. Do you want us to vote, Enzo? Or you could just put all the names up on your wall and throw a dart at them to choose?”
I looked at them, panic rising up through my chest. Then I glanced at Piotr who smiled as he advanced his queen and knocked my king over.
“You pick,” I told him. “You’ve listened to what your grandchildren like, and I believe this female will enjoy the same.”
The old man laughed. “Okay, but don’t blame me if the whole date goes sideways.
“Make reservations for an early dinner at Costiera in Little Italy. Walk down to Vacarro’s for cannoli afterward.
Then go dancing at Mobtown. It’s a long evening, but you’re young and probably don’t need to be in bed by nine like us old folks.
After Mobtown, take her home and make the rest of the night all about her.
Since you don’t cook, make sure you have pastries for breakfast and some decent coffee.
Or for lunch, depending on how late you two sleep in.
Show her that she’s more than a booty call. ”
I began to set the chess pieces up again for our next game. Was the shrew more than a booty call? My brain wanted to say no, but that sentimental organ behind my rib cage and my hand-axe were absolutely saying yes.