by V. K. Ludwig
“Not everyone is as good with numbers as you are, mom,” Grace said. “Not everyone wants to become an accountant, either.”
I tugged that dress I had borrowed from K’terra in place, the tail hole patched-up with a few crooked stitches. “It’s quadratic algebra, Grace, and every high school sophomore needs to go through it.”
“Not every sophomore,” she snarled, letting out a yawn before she got up from the floor and tossed herself onto the couch. “Why can’t I just go and help Melek? My assessment said I would most likely join a healer stratum anyway, and he even offered to teach me.”
“Are you seriously asking me why I don’t let you spend hours with a guy we don’t know?”
She cocked her head and gave me that mom-is-a-nutcase look. “Oh yeah, because he’s such a psycho. He got us out of that tiny apartment, took care of me while you were passed out, fixed your knee, and went through all that trouble so he could chop me into pieces five days later during his shift.”
I ignored her remark and slipped into shoes at least a number too small, but the only ones Adora could find not designed for hooves.
Six years to get my degree in accounting, all done raising a child during the day and serving at Applebee’s at night. Tonight I’d end up behind a bar again. Go figure.
“How’s it going in here?”
Melek’s familiar voice made me turn around, my toes already aching, and I hadn’t even walked a step yet. “Did you tell my daughter that she could help you during your shift?”
He leaned against the doorframe to our apartment, one hand in his pocket, the other wiping over his face as if warding off that headache called Katie. “She’s already spending all day upstairs. I was just trying to give her something to do, and I could teach her.”
“Well, I don’t want her roaming Brot Adnak while I can’t keep an eye on her, okay? How about you watch a movie, Grace?” I waved my hand at the holographic projector mounted to the ceiling, but no lights came. “Why isn’t this turning on?”
“You’re doing it wrong.” Melek pushed himself away from the door and stepped up beside me, performing the exact same gesture I had. “Like this. You swirl and activate, and from there, you can use the voice commands.”
I loathed needing his help. But I absolutely hated how Grace threw him a pleading look, to which he responded with a shrug as if I was in the wrong here.
“Please don’t go to bed too late,” I said. “I won’t stay the entire shift, so it shouldn’t be too late when I get back.”
“Alright,” she said, concern sitting on her features.
I didn’t let it get to me.
I’d mix drinks and serve them to patrons with a good three feet of bar between them and me. No part of me was for sale, which Adora guaranteed me she would communicate to them. What was there to be concerned about?
It was just a job.
Just a job.
I stepped outside and made my way to the staircase, but Melek immediately jogged up beside me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, I don’t feel comfortable with this at all,” he said, leaning over and cocking his head as if he expected a reaction from me. “Hey, can you just stop for a moment?”
“What do you want?” I stopped and swung around. “Intimidate me like you did a few days ago?”
He scratched the back of his head and smacked his tongue. “It wasn’t my intention to intimidate you. All I wanted was to prove my point. You’re not ready for this, and I don’t like the idea of you being on display for other Vetusians.” His gaze dropped to the ground, and he shook his head, mumbling, “Don’t like it at all.”
“Maybe this taking care of a female is a Vetusian thing, and I don’t blame you for it,” I said. “But taking care of myself is my thing. And I’m fine.”
“Are you? How about we talk about the attack then? I’ve got questions, and there are things I need to understand in order to navigate all this. Where did it start?”
I stepped back into motion. “I can’t talk about it now.”
“When? Tomorrow morning?”
“Maybe,” I said and picked up speed, flying down the staircase and through the kitchen into one of the private hallways.
K’terra already stood behind the bar and polished tumblers, folkish beats mixing with electronic vibes in the background. Round booths lined a wall where Vetusian patrons watched how Jal’zar females rubbed themselves up and down the poles which hovered right before them.
“About time,” K’terra said. “Already thought you’d back out.”
I snorted. “Why would I?”
She shrugged and handed me a rag. “All these need to be polished. This backroom offers the most discretion with its own entrance. The Vetusians you see here are usually politicians, judges, lawmakers. Everyone who has the credits to pay for something they’ll deny in front of the public.”
I forced the tremble from my fingers and grabbed one hovering flute after another, polishing them to a shine. The air hung heavy back here, almost suffocating.
“I made you this list with a picture of all the bottles since you can’t read Cosmic,” K’terra said, placing it on the bar in front of me. “Melek helped me write down their names as you would pronounce them in your language, thanks to the cosmikin.”
“Wait, he helped you prepare this list for me?”
My heart clenched at that, and a word whispered at the back of my mind, I could have sworn sounded like bitch.
“Uh-huh. He’s the only one familiar with your written letters.” She tapped the sheet. “In any case, these are the recipes. Those over here are the most popular ones. They all paid admission, so there’s no need to charge them for the individual drinks.”
I looked over the recipes and familiarized myself with the bottles. Most of them stood lined up right in front of me, their shapes and colors different enough to make this a rather simple task.
K’terra leaned into a whisper. “That guy over there is Galat, a high judge at the Imperial Supreme Court. Not sure why he keeps coming here. He isn’t into females.”
The Vetusian strolled over from a booth, his green uniform sitting high around his neck, adorned with golden embroidery. His eyes immediately fell on me, sending a numbing sensation into my limbs.
Not into females.
“So it is true,” he said and took a seat right in front of me. “Adora has not promised too much. A flesh born human female. I can tell by the spark in your eyes that you are no droid.”
My throat turned parched, raw, but I wouldn’t allow myself to be weak. How likely was it that anybody would attack me in here? Not very. Not likely at all, actually. Practically impossible.
I struggled something onto my lips I hoped was a smile. “Um, yes. Can I prepare you a drink?”
He dipped his head slightly. “Please. You choose for me.”
I glanced down and searched for the shortest ingredient list. The struggle started right at the first bottle, the screw top sitting too tight, with a slippery surface impossible to grab.
K’terra watched me with a raised brow. Eventually, she ripped the bottle from my clasp, stared at the cap, shook her head, then unscrewed it.
I cleared my throat and started preparing the drink. “Jal’zar are pretty strong, huh?”
“Not particularly,” she huffed. “Stop pouring!”
“Oh shit —”
I pulled the bottle away and placed it back on the counter, but the green liquid already sloshed over the rim of the tumbler.
“Good luck getting the langoa juice in there,” K’terra said. “Pour half of that down the sink, then fill it up. And don’t let that happen again when Adora’s around. She might have a big heart in the kitchen, but out here, it turns to palathium.”
I quickly finished the drink and handed the glass to the Vetusian. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
“No apology necessary,” he said with a warm smile. “I am just here for the extraord
inary beauty.”
My heart gave one slam against my sternum.
I sensed dozens of eyes staring me up and down, their curious glances slithering over my breasts and down along my waist.
Nobody is staring.
Quit imagining shit.
“She isn’t for sale, Galat.”
He chuckled and wiped a black strand out of his face before he pointed at the booth across. “My mate would be very displeased. Shocked, even.”
I shifted my weight and glanced over at the bald Vetusian sitting in the booth, who raised his glass toward me the moment he noticed.
“He is your mate?” I asked.
“Yes. Does that surprise you? Do Earth males not sometimes prefer the companionship of other males?”
“Oh, um, yeah. I guess it never crossed my mind that it might be the same for Vetusians.”
He chuckled. “It was nice to meet you, human.”
At that, he left with his drink, and my heart returned into an even rhythm with each additional step of distance he brought between us.
“You look pale, human,” K’terra said, placing a shot glass with a blue liquid in front of me. “Drink that. It’ll help you relax.”
“I’m fine.” And yet I grabbed the glass, letting the blue stuff burn down along my throat where it exploded with a flowery sweetness. “And my name is Katie, not human.”
She tsked and searched for something in one of the drawers underneath the bar. “Don’t expect the Jal’zar females to be friendly with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s your kind who puts them out of work,” she said and shoved a brush against my chest. “A sun cycle ago, Brot Adnak burst from its seams with Vetusians lining up to fuck us. Now they’re on Earth trying to fuck you instead. And my kind is starving on the streets. Now clean that sink.”
I gave a huff and brushed the green stuff, my toes turning itchy in those too-tight shoes. “For your information, we didn’t invite them to come and fuck us.”
“Neither did we, Katie. Neither did we.”
The next hour behind the bar passed quickly. I shuffled along from left to right, trying to keep up with orders, the scratches along my thighs flaring up again at the constant friction. They hurt so bad I barely noticed my aching feet.
“Looks like you’ve got a visitor,” K’terra said.
Melek stepped through the curtain coming from the supply room, his eyes falling to me. He took a deep breath and assessed the room, then strolled over to sit at the bar.
“Hey,” I said, shoving a wet rag over my sticky work surface. “How’s our shift?”
He leaned forward and folded his arms on the bar. “Quiet for the most part.”
“Do you want a drink?”
“Water would be neat.”
“Melek is mature and responsible now,” K’terra said with a smirk on her face.
I grabbed a flask of water from one of the bottom drawers and placed it in front of him. “Sounds like he wasn’t always that way.”
“Hph! Ask Adora how many times she bailed him out of the Odheim jail.”
Melek grunted. “Don’t you have patrons to tend to, K’terra?”
K’terra showed her fangs but walked away, guiding a hover tray with drinks into the room.
“Jail?” I asked, the word bitter on my tongue.
Melek gave a single shake of his head. “I’m happy to report that Grace fell asleep on the couch. I threw a blanket on her so she wouldn’t get cold.”
“Did she clean up her clothes?”
“Nope.”
I gave an internal scoff. At least that hadn’t changed.
“K’terra said you helped her make a drink list for me,” I said, forcing my voice into something civilized. “I didn’t expect you to help, so… thanks.”
“Just because I don’t agree with this doesn’t mean I want you to fail.”
As those sweet words flowed over me, embarrassment stuck to every pore on my skin. Perhaps I’d never get why he helped us, but that didn’t change the fact that he had. No questions asked.
“Look,” I said, loosening up that tightness in my throat. “If I came across as a cunt, then I’m sorry. Teen pregnancy is a thing on Earth, you know, and I just don’t want Grace to end up like me.”
He cocked his head. “Strong and capable, with a degree in accounting, managing life without a male by her side? Yeah, that sounds like a terrifying future for her. Independent females are the worst.”
I rubbed the rag across the counter a bit faster, not liking that flutter in my stomach over the unexpected compliment. Dripping with sarcasm or not.
“Knocked up by the high school quarterback at seventeen on the back of a pick-up truck.”
He let out a sigh and took another sip from his flask. “Where’s her dad, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Was never in the picture. His parents begged me to abort because a child would ruin his career and that scholarship he got for college. My mom helped and took care of her whenever I had to go on campus.”
He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head. The way his shirt slipped up revealed a line of blond hair running from his navel down to his waistband. Something a recently attacked woman shouldn’t even have noticed.
“Your mom?” he asked.
“Died six years ago, and from then, I did it mostly on my own.”
He raised a curious brow. “No boyfriends?”
“Nothing that stuck. Obviously.”
“Obviously.” He lent the word a sarcastic tone, his eyes locked on mine. “They weren’t fated to stick.”
“Neither was my fated mate.”
Because I killed him.
My stomach convulsed.
Melek stroked his shirt back down. “Did you ever sense a connection with Kidan?”
His question turned a knot into my guts, making me want to gulp down another shot of that blue drink from earlier. “Why is that any of your business again?”
“Did I just hear you saying you’d prefer telling it to the counselor? Alright, suit yourself.”
“You’re pretty cocky; do you know that?” I huffed, brushing a strand from my suddenly damp forehead. “Kidan was annoying, inconsiderate, and I didn’t feel any of that stuff the Vetusian Empire promised me.”
“Did you want to?”
I huffed a mocking chuckle. “Are you kidding? Women over thirty aren’t too popular on Earth, and things really slow down once you’ve got a kid in tow. And you’re asking if I would mind a tall, sexy Vetusian who is convinced I’m his soulmate?”
A deep laugh vibrated from his chest. “You’ve seen too many warriors and combat healers. If you believe tall and sexy comes standard with Vetusians, then you’re mistaken.”
“So, that’s what you are?” I asked. “A combat healer?”
A smirk tugged at his mouth, and he did nothing to hide it. Instead, he leaned forward and tilted his head, flashing it right at me. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just called me tall and sexy.”
I stood frozen, equally numbed and heated by his innuendo.
He must have noticed because his smirk pulled into a wide grin as he leaned deep into his chair. “Did they ever tell our scholars determined decades ago that Earth men are idiots? You’re a stunning woman, Katie, kid in tow or not. And while I think this is unhealthy, I respect you for having the guts to stand behind this bar tonight.”
I pulled my gaze away from him, irritated by that comfort his words spread at my core. They should have meant nothing to me, but somehow resonated with a hum so deep within me as if I’d known his voice all my life. Perhaps Melek wasn’t half bad, but miles lay between tolerance and trust.
Nine
Melek
* * *
“Go wash your hands with that soap over there by the sink,” I said to Grace, placing my healer pack on the makeshift exam table. “Once you’re done, take the canister beside it and spray your hands.”
After our
conversation at the bar, Katie finally agreed to let Grace assist me during my shifts. While I taught her daughter the fundamental basics of my stratum, she faithfully worked behind the bar. Pretending she didn’t freeze whenever new patrons entered or got clammy hands if one of them as much as glanced in her direction.
I watched over her whenever I wasn’t needed upstairs, just waiting for this shipwreck to happen. As much as I admired her resilience, her fake reality would dissolve eventually — all I could do was hope I’d be there once it did.
“Is it supposed to be purple?” Grace asked.
I walked over and washed my hands as well. “You don’t like purple?”
“It seems like an odd color against the white healer uniform.”
“Well, I’m an outcast among my stratum anyway,” I said with a sigh. “Might as well be rebellious and have a color on my body other than white.”
“Other healers don’t like you?”
“Not particularly… which isn’t their fault, though.” I walked back over to the couch and fluffed the pillow for the first patient of the night. “The healer corp stripped me off my license once due to medical malpractice. It’s a pretty big deal for us, considering we don’t have much to live for other than our stratum.”
I grabbed a little pouch and retrieved a hook needle along with some thread and handed it to her. “Be good and get that thread in there. We have to keep the costs affordable for the workers, so good old-fashioned needle and thread it is.”
“Like this?”
“That was pretty fast. Got any trouble seeing blood? Because I expect a couple of puncture wounds to walk in here tonight since we have Jal’zar males in the house. Think you can handle that?”
She nodded. “I don’t mind blood.”
The hover cart beside me had seen better days, often hitting the ground without warning, so I didn’t bother placing anything on it. Luckily, pleasure workers didn’t have high expectations.
A knock sounded from the door, followed by a soft voice crooning, “Rumor has it my favorite healer is back.”
