Pulled by the Tail: Celestial Mates

by Nancey Cummings

  Just before she left the apartment for the final time, she set all the televisions to Spanish and hid all the remotes. She wasn’t that mature.

  To celebrate, Georgia and Freema were determined to get falling-down drunk, watch bad movies, and eat pizza and junk food until they were sick. Or fell asleep. Whatever happened first.

  “We’re going to be so sick tomorrow,” Georgia said. Her tolerance for alcohol had seriously diminished. In college, she could stay up all night, drink, eat junk, get only two hours of sleep, and be fresh as a daisy. Now? One beer was her usual limit. Anything more and she had a headache for days. She was so not looking forward to the morning.

  She stuffed a handful of chips in her mouth, to soak up the booze.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Pizza’s here!” Freema jumped off the couch and raced to the door, sliding across the floor in her socks. “Um, Georgia. It’s for you.”

  Kevin stood in the doorway, wearing a wool coat more expensive than her monthly salary, and looking around Freema’s small apartment with a judgmental frown.

  “What do you want?” Georgia crossed her arms over her chest, aware that she was braless—girl’s night in, after all—and a cold breeze came in through the door. She didn’t want Kevin to think her nipples got hard just because he showed up. It was cold, dammit.

  “This is where you’ve been hiding?”

  “I’m not hiding,” she replied before she could think better of letting Kevin direct the flow of conversation. That’s what he did: steered her down a path until she agreed with everything he said, even if she disagreed. All their past arguments fell into that pattern. It had to stop. “What are you doing here?”

  He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and withdrew an envelope. “I thought I’d drop off your last paycheck,” he said, voice cold. Georgia reached for the envelope, but he drew it back. “By the way, starting a rumor about Janice in the office was highly unprofessional.”

  “It’s not a rumor if it’s true.” She shrugged. See, she could be cold and unfeeling too. “The director wanted to know why I was leaving. I didn’t mince words.” She had been fairly blunt stating that she no longer felt comfortable working with her ex-boyfriend while he was fucking the intern.

  “I’ll have to mention it if anyone calls for a reference,” Kevin said.

  Georgia narrowed her eyes, not sure what game Kevin played. Did he want an apology? A blowjob for a good reference?

  “No, I don’t want a blowjob,” he said.

  Shit. She must be drunker than she thought.

  “I’ve had enough of your unenthusiastic blowjobs to last a lifetime.”

  “Well, it’s hard to get excited about sucking your dick when you fall asleep.”

  “Sunshine, I don’t know how you expect me to be excited when you look like that.” His gaze swept her from head to toe and from the sour look, he found her lacking.

  Georgia blushed. She knew she wasn’t a supermodel, but he had to have found her somewhat attractive. They hadn’t had sex in months, even before the breakup, but she had been ill. Between the near-constant bleeding, the fatigue, and the stomach cramps, she hadn’t felt sexy in a long time.

  “Oh shit. That happened? Sorry! I’m not listening,” Freema said, slamming two pillows on either side of her head.

  Yeah, that happened. She had his pecker in her mouth, giving it her all, and he fell asleep. He wasn’t drunk or anything; he just wasn’t interested.

  Georgia saw the entirety of their relationship. She had predictable sex with her boring boyfriend. They had a boring, predictable life where the most exciting thing was a new bagel place opening on the corner. That life was as gray and bland as the color scheme in their apartment. She deserved better. They both did.

  Kevin actually did them a favor. Huh.

  “Have you been to the apartment yet?” Georgia tried to ask casually and not darting her eyes side to side like a guilty person. Freema coughed dramatically. Yeah, not such a smart question.

  “Why?”

  “No reason. I got my stuff and left my key.” True enough and not a complete lie.

  A figure appeared behind Kevin, holding two pizza boxes.

  “Look, we’re in the middle of stuff here. I appreciate you dropping off my last paycheck.” Georgia snagged the envelope while the pizza guy distracted Kevin, then signed for the delivery. “Thanks! Have a good life,” she sang in a far-too-chipper voice, slamming the door shut.

  Abruptly, she opened the door again on Kevin, who had not moved. She shouted, “Florida is the sunshine state. Georgia is peaches!” Another slam, this one final. She’d never see Kevin again, God willing. “Fucker,” she muttered.

  “He’s the worst,” Freema said, opening the box and helping herself to a slice of barbequed chicken. “We totally need to find you a rebound guy.”

  “I don’t want a rebound guy.” She wanted pizza and maybe more whiskey. Her needs were simple.

  “You do. Everyone does. It’s like dating law.”

  “Oh, well if everyone does it,” she said, adding extra sarcasm to her voice. The sarcasm must not have been obvious because Freema jumped up from the sofa and raced to her tablet computer.

  “Let’s sign you up for a dating app,” Freema said.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Pfft. It’s the best idea we’ve ever had. Oh, Celestial Mates. Find your perfect match. Look at the hot guy.” Freema shoved the screen in Georgia’s face. The blue-skinned Fremmian model had no shirt, appeared to be covered in glistening baby oil, and flexed his biceps for the camera.

  “Um, he’s blue. Is this an alien hookup app?”

  “Don’t be narrow-minded. Blue guys need loving, too. Besides, that’s just the sugar to lure you in. The profiles are totally average.”

  Georgia grabbed the tablet and scrolled through the sample profiles. “They’re all aliens. This is an alien hookup app.”

  Freema snatched the device back. “Don’t be such a xenophobe. Have you ever dated an alien guy?”

  “I’m not a xenophobe,” she protested. She hadn’t dated anyone of extraterrestrial origins but not because she wouldn’t; she just hadn’t been asked out. “You know Kevin was my only boyfriend.”

  Freema stuck her tongue out and made a completely mature retching noise. “Such a waste. We have to get you out there and getting some. How about this guy?” turning the tablet to face Georgia, a golden-skinned male with four arms filled the screen.

  “A Gyer? I don’t know.”

  “What’s wrong with a Gyer? They’re hot. All those hands. Yum.”

  “They’re not, you know, binary.” The Gyer did not have distinct male or female genders. They were equally capable of becoming pregnant and also impregnating a partner. Maybe. The details were fuzzy.

  Georgia really should have paid attention in her Comparative Biology course in college, otherwise known as Alien Banging 101. The class in a nutshell: humans like to fuck, have fucked every alien they’ve encountered, and can have babies with most of those aliens. Basically, humans were slutty when it came to aliens.

  “Do you think they’re, umm, compatible?” Georgia asked.

  A grin tugged at Freema’s painted fuchsia lips. “God, I really want to find out. I can think of lots of things to do with four hands.”

  “Gross!”

  “For hugging.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Pervert. Okay, profile picture. I got this old one from last summer when we went to the beach.”

  “Not the bikini.” The floral two-piece looked so pretty in the store and Georgia thought it flattered her curves, but Kevin didn’t like her showing so much skin. She spent the day covered up with a towel rather than enjoying the sun.

  Freema never had those worries, being thinner than Georgia and infinitely cooler. She wore her blonde hair in twin buns, streaked in pastel-colored hair wax, and her friend totally pulled it off. Georgia? She had a hard enough time finding jeans that fit
her hips without leaving a gap at the waist. She’d never tried trendy hairstyles, electing to play it safe with the same old haircut.

  “Yes, the bikini. You looked super cute with those highlights,” Freema said.

  Georgia absently touched the end of her hair. The golden blonde highlights had grown out long ago and hovered at the bottom of her mid-length chestnut hair. “You think I should get highlights again?”

  “Yes. It’s not even a question.” Freema continued to fill in personal data in the app. “Tomorrow, let’s have a girl’s day and spoil ourselves. Facials. Manicures. Massages. The works.”

  “Sounds brilliant.” She took a slice of barbeque chicken. As she chewed, she grew curious as to what Freema was writing on her behalf. “What does it want to know now?”

  “No peeking! It’s a surprise.”

  “But you’re talking about me.” She reached for the tablet with greasy fingers.

  “Nope.” Freema sprang from the sofa, clutching the tablet. “We’re going to find you a perfectly disreputable bad boy and you’re going to bang your brains out. Doctor’s orders.”

  “With tattoos?”

  “At least three.”

  She’d never dated a bad boy before. That wasn’t part of the plan, but the plan failed her. Going off-script terrified her but thrilled her to her core. “Let’s do it.”

  * * *

  Talen

  * * *

  Mr. T. Achaval,

  Your presence is requested on the 30th level, in the private gaming rooms. We wish to discuss your brother. Please visit the concierge at your earliest convenience.

  -Noxu Station Management Team

  * * *

  “You what?!”

  “It’s a sure thing,” Quil said, tail curiously still.

  Talen stared down at his elder brother. Quil’s tells were so obvious. How did everyone at the card table not know Quil lied? His body practically screamed that he played a poor hand and winning was far from guaranteed.

  Take care of your brother, his mother commanded the last time he saw her. Never mind that Quil was the elder and by all rights, he should be caring for Talen, not the other way around, but their mother had been a practical female and didn’t expect miracles.

  It had been twenty years since an assassin took Talen’s parents from him, but he tried his best to abide by his mother’s words. Talen tried to take care of Quil, but his older brother made it so hard.

  “We only have each other in this universe,” Quil said, resting a hand on Talen’s forearm. Invoking the words of their nursemaid—the female who smuggled the young males off Talmar and raised them as her own—was a dirty trick.

  “The ship is our home,” Talen said. His ears pressed flat against his head and his tail twitched in agitation. His claws itched just below the surface at his fingertips. “You’re gambling our home.”

  “And Lerrence is gambling his family’s ancestral estate.” Quil’s greedy eyes flash as he took a sip of his drink. The dark amber liquor complimented his pale amber complexion. “Besides, the collateral had been certified by the casino already. It’s too late.”

  With a growl, Talen knocked the glass from his irresponsible brother’s clutches. He knew how he appeared, a large brute about to lose what little control he had.

  The liquor splashed a Corravian male seated at the table. “I say! Watch yourself.”

  “Forgive my brother. He’s in a mood,” Quil said, laying on the charm thick and easy.

  “I’m not in a mood. I’m furious.” Quil rolled his eyes, which only ratcheted up Talen’s fury. “The ship is our transportation, our livelihood, and our home. How could you be so reckless?”

  “That rusted old beast?” The seated Corravian male snorted. “I’ll be paying the junkers to haul it away.”

  “You’re Lerrence, then?” Talen knew the male’s identity. They had played cards before, in another gambling hall. Of course, Quil had lost spectacular sums of money to the male, no doubt boosting the male’s confidence about a win.

  “And that estate is nothing but a money pit. I’m doing you a favor taking it off your hands,” Quil said, taking his seat at the table.

  “Yes, and your ship is bringing down the property value of the entire station. I’m surprised you can even afford the docking fees,” Lerrence retorted, his tone practically dripping with money and privilege.

  “I don’t like this,” Talen growled. His fingers flexed, claws extending and retracting. The crowd of spectators around the table took a collective step back.

  “As the gentleman said, it’s too late now. The bet is placed and the collateral certified. The only way to finish this is to win,” Lerrence spoke with the confident tones of a male used to winning. Of course he was. He lived in the luxurious sky palaces above Corra, where the ultra-rich fled when ecological disaster struck their homeworld. They lived the literal high life in orbiting stations, indulging in every available vice while the less monied struggled on the surface.

  Not that life on Corra proved to be a hardship. Talen had grown fond of the planet on the far edge of the galaxy. It was free from many of those pesky Interstellar Union rules and regulations, and the provinces had contained the mornclaw problem. Well, the civilized regions were secure from the monstrous creatures that wrecked the Corra ecosystem and slaughtered nearly half the planet’s population. He was sure the money pit Quil gambled everything for was far from civilization and infested.

  Judging by Lerrence’s smug expression, of course it was. They really would be doing him a favor if they won the property.

  “I need a drink,” Talen growled, snagging a glass from a passing tray.

  Lerrence rolled his eyes at the uncouth behavior and then picked up his cards. Those very same cards would determine whether Talen rested his head in his familiar bunk that night or hustled to find a new berth. He had little but he had his own ship and a trade. He’d rather be in his bunk, reading, than scowling over Quil’s shoulder.

  Lerrence motioned to the dealer for another card and examined it with an impassive expression. Quil, however, practically shouted his distress with his flattened ears and twitching tail.

  “You bet everything on a bad hand,” Talen muttered. He didn’t have to see the cards to know the truth.

  “Not now, dear brother. I’m working,” Quil hissed.

  “You’re losing.” His frustration grew. With his jaw clench, he was surprised the entire room couldn’t hear him grind his teeth.

  Quil ignored his obvious agitation and motioned to the dealer.

  “I won’t let you ruin us,” Talen said, grabbing Quil by the ear and yanking him to his feet. “We’re leaving. Now!”

  Large Tal males in expensive suits moved to block the door. If they had any loyalty to the planet of their shared origin, they gave no sign of it.

  “No one leaves until we finish our game,” Lerrence said.

  Talen curled back his top lip in a hiss. He sized up the guards, believing he could take one, perhaps two. Larger than the males and with military training, he had an advantage, but if Lerrence alerted the station, soon every available pair of fists on the payroll would be involved, and that was a fight Talen could not win.

  So he resorted to verbal fighting. “Typical. Rich Corravian sources his protection off-world. How much does he pay you to pretend you’re not disgusted with him?” They gave no indication of hearing him, let alone of being affected by his barbed comments. He turned his ire to Lerrence. “And you! Fleecing my brother. You know he’s terrible and you know our pockets are empty. How dare you accept such a bet? Is your pampered life so empty that you have to torture a stupid male for entertainment?”

  “Stupid? Hey now,” Quil said, taking offense.

  Tough. Talen called his brother a lot worse.

  Talen turned to Lerrence, knocking his tumbler of no doubt expensive alcohol into the male’s lap. He jumped to his feet and a casino employee appeared out of nowhere with a towel. “Watch yourself! You damn hot
-headed fool.”

  “And what happens when you take our home? You plan to make us beg? Grovel for your amusement?”

  “You Tal are all alike,” Lerrence sneered. “Happy to spend money like there’s no tomorrow, full of growls and threats when it’s time to pay the bill. Your kind is good for nothing but being hired muscle, and even then, I wouldn’t put it past you to steal the silverware. Everyone knows the Tal are nothing but thieves.”

  Talen tossed a scandalized look to the two Tal males at the door. “You let him talk about your people like that?” A shifting of weight from foot to foot was the only indication of unease. “So, it’s like that then,” Talen said, disappointed that negative Tal stereotypes thrived in the modern world.

  “You bore me,” Lerrence said. With a flick of a finger, the nearest guard grabbed Talen and shoved him out the door.

  “You think you’re better than me! Because you have money and pedigree.” Over the guard’s shoulder, his brother gave a mournful shake of his head. Before he could continue his rant, the door slammed in his face.

  Finally.

  Talen ran a hand through his hair, unconcerned about making a mess of it. His hair refused to cooperate, always appeared tousled. He had started to wonder what he had to say or do to get thrown out of the private room. Smash furniture, perhaps. Marks like Lerrence usually had a pricklier disposition. The first insult, and they tossed Talen out on his tail. That was one advantage of size: no one wanted to see him angry.

  He sauntered up to the nearest bar and ordered water. The next bit required a clear head.

  He didn’t know what Quil saw in Lerrence’s parcel of Corra, but his brother wouldn’t let an opportunity pass him by. They had encountered Lerrence before and knew enough about the male to know he played a decent hand but had a cocky attitude. Talen played a solid if unremarkable hand and won consistently enough to barely notice. That was the second advantage of size: no one ever suspected Talen of being more than dumb muscle.