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A pounding echoed through the walls of the good ship Ewe Hall : it was a quarter to noon and Stede Bonnet had questions.
He was reaching his seventh round of “Captain? Captain!” when the door to the Captains’ quarters opened, and Anne Bonny poked her head out. Her haloish tangle of ginger hair seemed more mussed than usual, and her face was oddly pink. “How the fuck can I help you?”
Stede blinked. “Oh, sorry. Captain Read.”
Anne sighed, “Okay,” and closed the door. A few moments and some light shuffling noises later, Mary Read emerged, draped in a salmon pink robe and sporting what appeared to be a series of reddening bruises on her neck. Stede hoped whatever fight they were from hadn’t been too nasty.
Mary gave him a slight nod. “Yes, Stede?”
Stede’s brow creased. “Am I interrupting something?”
There was a long stretch of silence, during which Mary gave him a once over, narrowed her eyes, looked briefly amused, and adjusted her robe. “No.”
Stede brighted. “Fantastic. Right, so: the food situation. It’s nearly lunchtime, and I’m afraid I’m not sure who handles the cooking around here.”
“Nobody gave you the tour?” Mary frowned. Stede shrugged.
“I didn’t want to impose by snooping. The rest of the crew should be back soon, but of course they’ll need a place to put everything. Would you mind showing me to your kitchen? Or perhaps the formal dining room?”
“Formal dining room,” Mary echoed. She made noise of deep thought and light humor. “Yeah, okay. Give us just a sec.”
She slipped back inside, and Stede could hear the rise and fall of a rapid-fire conversation, and the fumbling of what sounded like heavy footwear. He busied himself with examining the walls of the ship, feeling a jolt of curiosity at what appeared to be a crude carving of a curved capital “W” with two dots in each valley. He wondered what it could be.
The puzzle slowly forming in his mind was interrupted by the door to the cabin flying open, and Anne marching into the hall, overcoat and hair unfurling behind her like twin flags. “Right,” she said, clapping her hands as Mary followed, nodding for Stede to come along. “The formal dining room. Ooh la la. Follow me, Cap.”
They wound their way through the halls of the ship, Stede almost struggling to keep up with the women’s pace. He felt his earring bounce against the side of his jaw, swinging back and forth like a flailing pendulum. “Captain Bonny, I’m very glad you’ve so graciously decided to host us for the time being. I have to say, I missed this.”
“Well, any friend of Blackbeard’s is a friend of mine,” Anne said, a mix of cheery and cryptic. “Missed what?”
“Oh, an eye for cleanliness. An appreciation for a tidy home. You know, a woman’s tou–”
As Stede said this, the hallway opened up into what must have been the dining area. He stopped short, words dying in his throat. “Ah…”
Plastered onto the walls of the room were a litany of various drawings, all of scandalously naked women giving the viewer a coquettish stare. There was a dartboard in the corner, riddled with bulls-eyes, but clearly emblazoned with a portrait copy of King George the First. Hanging above the head of the table, a piece of torn sail read, “SATURDAYS ARE FOR THE BOYZ”.
The women lounging around the room all turned to stare at him. Anne swept an arm grandly about the scene. “Viv,” she called. A dark-skinned woman with intricate tattoos covering her shaved head, dressed in a waistcoat and trousers, sat up. “Clean off the beer pong table for our most distinguished guest.”
As Viv smirked and began clearing the detritus, Anne pointed to each of her crew. “Right, so you got Mo, Lois, Sydney, Sparrow, Ginger, Toni, Samia, Clarice, Jezanna, Gloria, Thea, and of course Viv.”
“Golly,” said Stede, “what unique names. Wait’ll Black Pete, Wee John, and Roach hear about this.”
That night, Mary employed one of her most faithful tactics for getting the dish on a situation: she got out The Jars.
“What’s this?” Stede asked, holding one up to the light. It was full of a clear, bubbling liquid with a faint red sheen.
“I’ve invented this stunning new alcoholic beverage,” Anne answered, screwing the top off of hers. “It’s called White Claw, after what I figured mauled me the morning after before I finished puking my guts out.”
“Ah,” said Stede, and quickly drank a third of the jar in one go. Anne clapped her hands.
“No gag reflex! Congrazzles, man! So!” She sprawled on one of the floor cushions, leaning against her folded leg and dangling the jar over her knee. “What’s got you looking for Eddie?”
“Eddie?” Stede asked. She nodded.
“Ed Teach. Blackbeard, yeah?
“Oh, yes,” Stede said. “You said you knew him?”
Anne snorted. “Biblically. Well–” She pursed her lips. “Not biblically. More like… you know those little church pamphlets with the songs and the quotes? That.”
Stede sported the hopeless confusion of a raccoon attempting to wash its piece of cotton candy. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”
“Eddie’s gay. You are aware that he’s gay?” she asked. At Stede’s pinking nod, she snapped her fingers. “Fantastic. So, he and I go way back. Fortunately and unfortunately. He mention Hornigold at all?” She didn’t leave Stede time to answer before continuing, “I hopped ship with him when he was in Nassau, met him and Jack– fuck that guy, fuckin’ unicorn chaser– and we all played okie-dickheads for a couple of years until Eddie went off to do his own thing, and I met Mary here.” She gave the other woman a smile, who reached out, pulled her bare feet into her lap, and began rubbing them. “And he and I,” she continued, “well, y’know, we were kids. Kids get confused, they think they’re feeling one thing when really it’s something else.” At Stede’s blank stare, she clarified, “We did some egregious hand stuff and called it a day.”
Stede’s face went bright red. “Ah.”
“Yeah,” Anne shrugged. “Boys will be boys, and I sure dressed like one most of the time.”
Stede stared down at his lap, only moving to take a delicate sip of White Claw. One of his knees was bouncing. “So… you had a dalliance…”
“If you can even call it that.”
He looked up, visibly covering his curiosity with a thin veneer of polite interest. “Why’d you end things, then?”
Anne glanced down to where Mary had finished with her feet, and was now moving up to massage her calves. She looked back at Stede. “Wasn’t my type.”
Stede sighed miserably. “I hope I’m his type.”
Mary shot her a look that read, “What’s the situation here?” Anne replied with a look that read, “Don’t worry, pumpkin, he’s not mean. He’s just stupid”.
Mary flicked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And you said you knew each other quite well, Stede?” This seemed to only deflate the poor man further. Mary frowned. “Would you like to… talk about it?”
She felt Anne wince at the mention of discussing feelings, but this seemed to perk Stede up. “Yes, yes I suppose I should practice what I preach.” He sighed, eyed the jar of White Claw, and took a long gulp. After swallowing, he delicately wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded curtly. “Right. Well. I wish I could say it all began when I got stabbed, but this really starts just after I left my wife.”
“Incredible opening line,” said Anne. “Let’s see what the fuck is going on here.”
And out came the whole sordid tale. Like any good audience of two sympathetic lesbians with their life significantly more together, Anne and Mary nodded at all the right parts, and gasped, and Anne swore a blue streak at the return of Badminton Number Two, and Mary thought the song choice was inspired. When Stede described the way Ed’s face had looked, “so utterly devastated, like I had torn out his heart and was flaying it right in front of him,” when they were first reunited, and how, “he seemed as if he really did want to kiss me, before he punched me in the face and drew his sword on me,” to which Anne let out a loud, “Huh!”
Stede looked up at the interruption. “Yes, it was really very–”
“He’s a pillow princess?”
Stede’s face jerked forward in surprise. “Pardon?”
Anne took a slow sip of her White Claw. “You heard me, lover boy.”
Stede looked down at his jar, which was almost empty. “My God, I’m very drunk.”
Anne reached over and patted him on the back with two heavy thumps. “That’s the idea, bud.”
“I can’t feel my legs.”
“It’s how you know it’s working.” She got to her feet, reaching out a hand to help Mary up, and tossed Stede another pillow. “You can crash down here tonight. After that, though, no boys allowed. Capiche?”
Stede nodded several more times than necessary, head bobbing like a dead fish. “Roger that.”
Anne stared at him for a few seconds longer, then looked at Mary, whose eyes said, “No.” Ignoring this, Anne leaned forward and tipped him over with her foot like a weary calf, watching with amusement as he toppled over, lights out.
“Some girls just can’t hold their liquor, huh, babe?”
Mary looked disapproving, but gave her shoulders a rub. “Hm. The next time I’ve got to carry you home from the tavern, I’ll remember that.” She looked down at Stede with an air of being endeared, yet unimpressed. “Baby. Are we really taking this guy in?”
Anne shrugged. “Always wanted a pet.”
Stede stormed into the dining room, tossing aside his sword with a noise that would have been unnerving if it hadn’t come from a man carrying all the energy of a shitty terrier mix who had just had an iPhone dropped on its head. “I really– I’m gonna be honest, ladies– I really don’t know why I bother.”
“Stede, hey man, c’mon,” said Anne, trailing behind him as Mary tried to grab for her arm.
“Anne,” she hissed, “sit down; I need to check if you need stitches.”
Anne shook her off. “Babe, I’m good, it’s just a scratch.”
“That’s what you said last time, and three hours later you were passed out on deck with a thunderstorm rolling in.” She grabbed Anne’s shoulder and shoved her onto the bench. “Sit. Down .”
Anne huffed, but allowed herself to be examined for gaping wounds. When Mary found she was only bleeding from one place enough to require a bandage, she set to work dressing the scratch while Stede fumed.
“I don’t know what I’m missing. I give him space, I seek him out, I bring him flowers, I bring him a new shirt– I bloody sing to him! The single most embarrassing moment of my life–”
“Doubt it,” muttered Anne.
“– and he’ll still barely talk to me, much less stop waving his sword about to have a proper conversation.”
“You just gotta keep looking for the right angle,” Anne insisted. “I know the guy– he’s the sensitive type.”
“Awful sensitive for a man who won’t stop siccing that little rat of his on us,” Mary said darkly. She turned to look at Stede. “Maybe it’s time to take a hint, sweetie. You’ve done everything you can.”
“Not everything!” Anne pointed a finger at Mary. “There’s always breaking and entering.”
“Right, because that will certainly end in many happy reunions and you not getting yourself killed !” Mary snapped. She glanced aside. “And you too, Stede. I’d like you to not die.”
“Mary, pumpkin, I know him. He’s in a mood. Somebody’s just gotta snap him out of it, trust me!”
“Oh, you’re the Ed expert, then?” Mary pulled the bandage a little tighter than necessary, causing Anne to wince. “You take responsibility for his little, what was that phrase the barkeep used, ‘rein of terror across the Caribbean’?”
“I never said that!” Anne growled, and batted Mary’s hands away. “I’m trying to help them here. Both of ‘em! They’re not gonna just magically get over it, and Ed’s not gonna cut this shit out, if Prince Charming doesn’t get his shit together and fix this mess!”
“And ‘this’ isn’t our problem! I’m not going to keep letting you throw yourself into the tornado of a man who doesn’t care who he drags into his misery!”
“You’re not going to ‘let me’?” Anne asked sharply. “Mary, I am a goddamn adult. I do what I want, when I want, and when the people I care about need help, I’m gonna do that.”
Mary opened her mouth to argue, then caught sight of Stede. He was watching them, eyes huge and sad, fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly they nearly shook. She massaged the bridge of her nose with her fingertips and sighed.
“Okay. Okay. We’re both stressed. We’re both coming down from a fight. I’m gonna go cool off. You cool off. I’ll meet you back here at first dusk?”
Anne scrubbed at her face with her hands, then pulled them back to push her hair down. “Yeah. Okay. See you in a bit, hon.”
Stede stayed in the dining room that afternoon, cleaning his sword and staring at the wall in abject misery. He only paused in his work to pick at the plate of tofu jerky Ginger set out for him, ruffling his hair and giving him a thump on the back. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed until shadows appeared on the wall, and Anne and Mary both entered, sitting beside each other on the bench.
“Hi,” Anne said shyly.
Mary reached for her hand, and Anne automatically took it. “Hey.”
“I know,” Anne began, “that you’re just worried about me. Our life is dangerous enough without all this breakup shit making it worse, and you don’t wanna see me get hurt.”
“I don’t,” Mary agreed. “But I also know he’s your friend, and you love him, and you never turn away from someone you love when they’re hurting.” She stroked the back of Anne’s hand with her thumb. “That’s one of my favorite things about you.”
Anne went redder than Stede had ever seen her. “Aw, shit. And I– I should remember that I can’t really do that if I’m, yknow. Dead. And you’re the best common sense in that regard I’ve ever had.” She leaned forward and gently knocked her forehead against Mary’s. “I’m kinda shit when I don’t use my common sense.”
“You are,” Mary said softly. “You are very shit. So let me help you, okay?”
Anne gave her hand two squeezes in quick succession. “Yeah. You got it.”
From the way Stede could see an under-the-table game of footsie starting, he knew what was coming next needed to be headed off at the pass. More than a bit embarrassedly, he cleared his throat.
Both Anne and Mary jumped, not letting go of each other’s hands but both of their free ones flying to their weapons. Stede found a long knife and a massive revolver respectively, pointed straight at his face. The three of them froze for a moment.
“Jesus, man,” Anne said finally. “What are you, a fucking spider or something? Intimate moment! No boys allowed!”
Stede lowered his hands from their defensive position, running them nervously over his thighs. “Ah– sorry. My bad. Didn’t want to, yknow. Disrupt the moment.”
Mary smiled genially. “It’s okay.” She leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Anne’s lips, then folded her hands at the table. “Alrighty. What are our options?”
Stede stared at them, processing what he had just seen. His eyes darted back and forth. Then, without warning, he snapped his fingers. “Oh… I’ve got it!”
“You just realized she’s my wife?” Anne said incredulously.
“No! Well, that too. Congratulations.”
“We didn’t just–”
“But,” Stede beamed, “I know how to win back Ed!”
“Hi, Eddie,” said Anne, flopping into the desk chair and kicking her boots up on the table. “How’s tricks?”
Faced with the sight of his sort-of-ex-girlfriend-but-not-spiritually-anway, Ed Teach took the sensible approach. He drew his knife, vaulted across the desk, and loomed over her with the blade at her throat.
“What the fuck have you told him, then?” he snarled. Anne’s smirk refused to waver.
“Relax, princess. He doesn’t know you sneeze like a kitten.” She reached up and slowly pushed the blade away with a finger. “He does, however, confirm a particular theory of mine.”
“And what’s that?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I knew you were a tits man.”
Ed’s expression did its best impression of a deflating birthday balloon. “So he told you , then.”
“Eddie. From the sordid tale your boyfriend spun to me and my wife, he personally kicked you in the nuts, crashed your boat, and spat in your face before wandering off to go murder a carriage full of puppies. He’s clinically insane and madly in love with you, and two shots away from boom boxing ‘Careless Whispers’ outside your ship.”
“What’s a boom box?”
“Doesn’t matter. Look,” Anne continued to use the one finger, pushing his chest away and sending Ed to stand on his own two feet. “Don’t be such a fuckin’ pussy, okay? He’s cuckoo bananas about you. For realsies and shit. Wash your hair, throw a little perfume on, and go get your dick sucked.”
Ed gave her a withering look. “I liked you better when emotional vulnerability made you break out in hives.”
Anne pushed him further away with her boot. “I’ll betcha. Have fun, bud.”
Ed, sensing that cooler (or at least more rational than his) heads were doomed to prevail here, made it a few steps from the door before turning to ask, “And what do you plan to do in the meantime?”
Anne looked up from where she was rifling through his desk drawers. “I figured I’d avail you of some of your alcohol, then see what the rest of the crew’s up to. Someone’s gotta babysit ‘em for the next six to ten hours.”
“Optimistic,” Ed snorted. Anne nodded.
“That’s true. You’re in rather the two-pump-chump era, huh Eddie?”
The door slammed shut with a particularly petulant BANG . Glancing around as if to ensure no one was watching, Anne scratched fiercely at her arms.
As Mary and her new second favorite gay man in the world, Lucius Spriggs, watched their significant others invent Rage Cage, she considered the facts.
Ed had ceased his breakup spiral across their corner of the world, which was good. He was currently sitting in a corner of Spanish Jackie’s far less secluded than either he or Stede believed, playing with Stede’s hair in pleased wonderment while the third beer hit his system.
That little rat of his was staring at Mary from across the bar, nervously looking from her to the exit, clearly planning an escape if needed. Good. So he remembered last time. She always liked it in men when training stuck quickly.
Winding up for the launch, Jim slid another glass of wine down the bar to perfectly stop at her elbow. She tipped it in their direction, then took a sip. Absolute garbage. Probably some of that Cali shit.
Seeing Stede extricate himself from his boyfriend to step outside, she gave Lucius a nod and sauntered over to the love nest. Ed spotted her coming and sat up straighter, eyeing where Anne was now yelling at a ping-pong ball.
“So,” Mary said, sidling onto one of the tables and looking down at him. “You’re Eddie.”
Ed squirmed in his seat. “Yep, ah. Anne said a lot about me?” He paused just long enough to register it as awkward. “Ha…”
“Not really,” she said, and took a sip of wine. Ed looked like he wanted to walk into the ocean. She took pity. “Don’t feel too bad. Despite the absolutely massive fucking headache you’ve caused me, my wife, your boyfriend, and my crew these past few weeks, I think you’re fine just the way you are.”
Ed perked up cautiously. “Really?”
Mary grinned much wider than usual– some would even say it was unsettling. Most people, really. She slid off the table and gave Ed’s arm a rub.
“Yes. If one of you had been a top, you and Anne might’ve lasted for three weeks.” She glanced over at her wife, lips a pleased and perfect curve. “And wouldn’t that be a shame.”