Page 11 of Geist Fleisch
“Hallo,” Callum said, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice. “Wie gehts?”
The man grinned as all eyes at the table landed on their guest. “You speak a little German, then?”
Callum smiled shyly. “Only what I’ve learned since I came here.”
“Ah, but do you know where ‘here’ is?”
He didn’t know how to answer that. The gregarious German spared him further embarrassment with a flurry of introductions. There was Oskar, and Ernst, then Johann, the flirty, vest-wearing rogue… and finally the scarred blond man in the blue shirt, Max.
“Callum,” he got out, nodding at each of them and catching a dark look from Ernst.
“Sit with us, Callum?” the English-speaker who’d introduced himself as Ferdi asked. “There is room next to Max, I think?”
Johann smirked, moving to make said room while Max shot Ferdi an embarrassed glare. Well, it wasn’t as if Callum could refuse now. He took the vacated space, at last noticing Ferdi’s mismatched eyes, one a deep, natural brown, the other a surreal green, like glass. A small piece of his ear was missing too, like a cat who’d been through a street fight. A pirate cat? Callum wanted to laugh, but instead looked away quickly, only to notice burn scars under Ernst’s collar, and a long gash along Oskar’s head which divided his crop of thick red hair. Only Johann appeared to be without some injury. Not one of them could have been more than twenty-five.
Max recovered quickly from his embarrassment, smiling at Callum and rubbing the back of his hand before taking another sip of his beer. Without words, the gesture undid the knot that had formed in Callum’s stomach, even if they were all still staring at him. And theywerestill staring.
“How long have you been in Berlin, Callum?” Ferdi asked. “And from where?
It was an obvious question, but he had to start somewhere. “A month. I’m from Nottingham.”
Ferdi translated for his friends.
“Robin Hood?” Johann laughed, then mimed firing a bow and arrow.
“That’s the one.” Callum forced a smile like he hadn’t heard the joke a hundred times since arriving. He hadn’t expected Germans to be so obsessed with folk stories of English outlaws. More likely, it was all they’d heard about Nottingham.
Ernst said something curt to Johann that cut short his laughter. Johann fired something back, giving him a dismissive wave. Ferdi’s attempt to intercede seemed the last straw, as Ernst slapped his fingers down on the table with a bang and stalked off to the bar.
“Drama-Kind,” Oskar muttered, sipping his beer.
Johann glared at him, then turned to Callum, shaking his head apologetically. “Ernst… hate English. Sorry.”
“He what?” Callum didn’t know why this caught him so off-guard. He’d been only seven when they’d signed the armistice. When Germany’s slide into economic oblivion had begun. “I’m sorry.”
“Nein,” Ferdi waved his apology away. “We were all the same then, obeying cruel, selfish little men, trying to protect their empires. We are all the same now.”
Max muttered in German something which set Oskar and Johann laughing.
“The Communists are as stupid as the rest,” Ferdi retorted. “But they have it right when they say ‘no gods, no masters.’Anyone who calls himself master will soon face a revolution of his own stupid making.”
Johann pursed his lips and blurted out a march while miming a trumpet. “Revolution!”
More laughter. Max squeezed Callum’s hand again, then relaxed, his touch sending a jolt up Callum’s wrist to the pit of his gut. No… lower.
Ferdi looked over at the sulking Ernst, then said something in German to Johann, who gave them a rueful smile and went over to his friend by the bar. When he tried to put his arm around Ernst, the man shook it off.
“Drama,” Oskar whispered again with a mischievous smile.
Callum wasn’t sure if Max’s body had drawn closer to his, or if it was just his own temperature rising. The man’s breath smelled so sweet on Callum’s face that he was scared to make eye contact.
“Entschuldegung,” Oskar said at last, leaving them for a lad he’d spied on the other side of the room. And then there were three.
Ferdi smirked at Max. “Er ist schön.”
Callum knew he’d just been paid a compliment, even as they exchanged a few more words that weren’t translated for him. It was probably best not to know. He was nervous enough. He kept forcing himself to look away from Ferdi’s green eye.
“You like it?” the man asked, his attention now firmly drawn.
