Quantum’s schedule was unusual, too. Passengers didn’t have a destination, save for going back to where they started. The ship was the destination. And it was very exclusive.
“No port today, excellent. Yesterday’s rush of new vacationers was enough.” He checked through his messages for any patients who had been given passage from charitable wish fulfillment organizations. None boarded on the last cycle. Excellent.
Cruise after cruise, the passengers came and went. Some won their trip, some paid their way, and some slept their way into a berth. There were a number of escort services that sent their employees to be “entertainment and companionship” for exclusive clientele.
Zane never had to pay; even his sad overused lines still got him laid. Bushy blond hair, boyish good looks coupled with brilliant blue eyes, and a body he liked to keep toned didn’t hurt his chances, either. Zane had briefly thought of giving up his medical career and becoming an escort — they made good money for basically doing everything he did every night.
Find. Fuck. Farewell.
But even the fucking had grown boring lately. Zane wasn’t sure when the shiny veneer of new captures had worn off, but it had been replaced with a dissatisfaction and growing hunger in his belly for quiet, comfortable, and ordinary. He spent nearly every night watching the performances at Le Mouche Cabaret.
He got up and looked in the mirror. “You look like scum, doc. Let’s make you pretty again. The show’s about to start.” The growing hunger became a quickening the moment he thought of the cabaret.
Two hours later Zane Jones, sporting his uniform whites, stood before the brightly lit archway in front of Le Mouche Cabaret. As usual, tall, muscular, and quite beautiful feather clad folk greeted him when he walked in. Their bodies were supple, lithe, and muscular; their faces didn’t quite match the clothing. Female or male? It didn’t matter.
Burlesque. Vaudeville. Bawdy. Beautiful. He loved everything about this place, from the music to the food to the acts. But he was especially charmed with the family created by this troupe of performers.
He entered the main area, made to look like an ancient spiegeltent, and let his whole being take in the sensory overload of sound, scent, and scenery. The low flickering light of the dinner theatre radiated the warm ambiance of timelessness. Strings tuned up while intermittent blasts of brass playing scales all gave birth to a growing excitement of the show to come.
When the lights came up, the spectacle was worth coming for night-after-night. He had nothing better to spend credits on, anyway. Wine? Food? Hydration packs? All generously provided by Blue Star.
Why not come here and feel the warmth? Until recently, he rarely left alone.
The doctor found himself at the cabaret so often they’d reserved a spot just for him where he could see his favorite act: the aerial silks. The main attraction, Char Melana, contorted them in a way that bespoke beauty and grace. The assistant, Astra, shined as bright as her namesake and caught his eye.
Veronika Elias, Le Mouche’s manager, extended a hand as she greeted him. The petite woman, a force to be reckoned with and an act unto herself, ran the show. Her red hair was coiffed into an equally unique hairstyle, often with a giant swoosh of curl covering her cheek with another at her brow. Zane had no idea how hair worked, but hers was made to work a crowd.
Tonight, like every night, she became the interlacing connection through the acts. Veronika’s appearance morphed between each to give the audience an unspoken clue as to what the next one would be like. In doing so, she linked them in an unbroken succession of continuity. Though tiny, she stood like a giant on the stage built into the center of the dining floor of the replicated spiegeltent. She worked the crowd, teasing the guests close to the circular stage where she stood.
Veronika once explained that these types of tent structures were originally built somewhere back in the Central Zone many centuries ago, before mankind took to space. The original tents were almost exactly like this. Quantum, despite being tight lipped, advertised the cabaret was the oldest venue aboard the star liner. And rumor had it that this particular piece was preserved from an ancient early starport.
The spiegeltent atmosphere was different from circus tents. The shining mirrors and brilliant stained glass that adorned the walls gave the venue sparkling glow and glam.
Zane was alive here. As though the spiegeltent itself was a healing balm. He sat back, watched the spectacle, and enjoyed the food and fanfare as he did almost every night. He allowed it to shut out the places of the past and their ghosts: all that he’d left behind.
As always, he watched the women on the silks, stretching their bodies, inviting adoration. He ached in an exquisite pain of appreciation for their splendor and perfection. He was their most unabashed fanboy.
Afterhours was an earned pleasure at the Le Mouche Cabaret. It had taken him a while to merit the honor. Little by little, Zane the comfortable presence of the troupe warmed him through, like a steaming cup of cocoa.
Veronika Elias held court, in a sense, in her private booth. One-by-one the performers checked in. It was then, in the small hours, when Zane got a chance to get to know these enigmatic people better. In the past, he’d always been invited, and he rarely took them up on it. But over the past few months he’d spent more time there, soaking up the feeling of belonging.
“Zane, come here,” Veronika said, pointing to the cushioned booth seating nearby. “Have a drink. Wonderful show tonight, yes?”
Zane gave a courteous nod and sat down. “It was.”
“What did you like the best? Bubbles?”
“You sang wonderfully,” he winked at her, knowing that she wanted a different answer. But the volley he just tossed over their conversational net would put Veronika the in the awkward position of taking a compliment while harassing him about his not-so-subtle crush on a certain performer.
“Thank you. Did you notice that Astra performed as a solo this evening?” Veronika slid over his compliment neatly.
“How could I miss it? She did a ratchet spin that was outstanding. I thought I was going to swallow my heart,” he said and immediately regretted having mentioned that particular organ. His fingers fiddled awkwardly then slid a coaster into his palm, slipping it from palm to fingertip with the tricks of legerdemain that allowed him to hide and reveal the coaster effortlessly. Veronika watched then raised a brow at his sleight-of-hand.
“You’re adorable when you try too hard,” said Veronika. “But I thought tonight you might want to try again, you know, in your never-ending quest to get into Astra Faraday’s jumpsuit.”
“I resent that. I have nothing but a fondness for her and a purely intellectual interest.”
“M-hmm,” she said and wiped her chin daintily with her serviette. “I’ve seen the way you look at Astra. It’s not the wolfish gleam that you have with your regular conquests. You get flustered around her.” The older woman raised her brows. “Don’t deny it.”
Color rose from Zane’s neck to his chin. He hoped the darkness of the booth would hide it. Veronika had a way of exposing people, teasing out their very souls with no effort.
“Zane, she should be taken out tonight and by someone other than the crew. She had her first unofficial headline experience, and she nailed it. And,” Veronika paused dramatically shaking a finger, “You’d better treat her like a lady. We do have our ways of protecting our own.” She smiled a syrupy grin.
“Are you setting me up? For what? A date or death?”
Just as they were talking about her, Astra sidled up to the table, she was alight with a glow he’d rarely seen on her outside of the performance arena. Her bright hazel eyes shone with intelligence that he sometimes found daunting. She saw him and her circus persona clicked into place. Face stilled to a practiced smile she greeted him, “Hello Doctor Jones.”
I need to learn that for the Hokapan tables on the casino deck. Zane rose in deference to the lady.
“Miss Faraday,” he said. Her graceful presence m
ade him feel like an ancient knight. He hadn’t realized his soul contained an ounce of chivalry until he’d met her.
Zane tried to decide if the flicker of faux candlelight played up her cherry lips, or if they were really that red.
Cherry red. Kissable and plump. A sudden irrational need gripped him. He pictured himself kissing her delicate chin and tracing his fingertip over the sensuous curl of her mysterious smile before crushing those thick lips with a demanding kiss.
There was a crash of plates in the kitchen. Veronika rose, unruffled. “Now what? I’ll be right back.”
Veronika Elias shifted out of the booth. “Carry on.”
Zane looked down at the ice in his drink. He tried to string some words together, call up his trademark charm, anything. But words and phrases that came to mind sounded trite and wrong.
Him. Him. Always him. Why couldn’t Astra just get away from the heart-thumping creature, Doctor Zane Jones? He was every woman’s dream date. Except mine. That was the lie she liked to tell herself because Doctor Jones set her pants on fire. Sitting near him, made her entire body quake. By will alone she forced herself to stillness.
Veronika gave her a wink as she walked away. That woman always knew who-wanted-whom. But Astra didn’t want to get caught in a relationship with a guy that left with a different girl every night.
Except that lately he hadn’t.
Acrobats instinctively look for grounding, stability, and equilibrium. Zane Jones had been hanging around after hours on Veronika’s invitation. Normally, the troupe closed ranks. No outsiders. Led by Veronika, however, they came to realize he was like them, looking for equilibrium.
It was the doctor’s eyes that always got her. Dark edges around a hard blue center with a gold corona that melted her to the bone. His aristocratic nose sat perfectly in the middle of his face, framed by a squared jaw. And he looked good in a uniform. Damn good. She could only imagine what was going on beneath his formal Blue Star Line uniform. What his broad shoulders topped. Ripped chest, she was willing to bet.
“Astra?” Zane waved his hand in front of her eyes, jolting her out of her fantasies and back to the present.
“Hi.” She stopped daydreaming and shut her mouth with a snap.
“A-are you thirsty? Can I get you something?”
Did he just stammer? “Oh, no, it’s ok,” she blew a wisp of hair from her cheek. “Andy is bringing me my shifter, a Coco-loco-mamma.”
He laughed. Did it sound a little nervous? Yet, his tentative grin deepened into a genuine smile. The tiny dimples that he tucked away in his serious face peeked out. The sight of those dimples made her gooey.
“Well, since you didn’t have your shifter yet, there’s a place I know that serves bluebell beer. It’s sweet and light and has a finish to it that reminds me of sugarplums.”
Astra sat in stunned silence. What just happened? Did he just ask her out? How did he sneak that in? She looked over her shoulder at where Veronika was chatting with one of the six and a half foot tall dancers made even taller by the eight-inch spike heels and another two feet of flowery feathers on their heads.
What did you do, Veronika? I do not need complications! Astra turned back towards Zane. “I’m not sure I should leave. We usually do a post-show assessment, and this was my first solo.”
“I know it was. You were impressive. That trick you pulled at the end, the one with the knot, and the slip, and the flip, and I don’t know how you do it. You’re amazing.” The intensity of his gaze held the promise of a kiss.
Panic. Heart racing, she shoved her hands into her lap to hide the shake. Astra kept the smile plastered to her lips and sat up taller, stiffening her body all the way down to her toes. Silks she could handle. Barbells. Easy. Doing a triple backflip into a round-off? No problem. That man looking at her like that? Mush. She managed to a gracious, “Thank you.”
“I’m sure it will be alright with Veronika,” he said.
“I’m thinking you’re right,” she said, her head swiveling to search the room but Veronika had disappeared again. I’m thinking I’m being set up.
Le Mouche’s manager hadn’t come back. That was not her usual pattern. Not how Veronika Elias dealt with after-hours work caucuses.
“Come on, are you at least hungry?”
“No, I am not.” Astra said too quickly and regretted it. She was ravenous.
“What would you like then?” Zane asked.
“I don’t drink much alcohol. Just my shifter, usually. Actually,” Astra looked down and confessed, her head canted slightly towards Zane. “I am in the mood for something decadently sweet. But if I eat it here, I’ll catch a load of dookie. We have to stay light and eat light, so that we can be our best come show time.”
“I think you’ve earned a treat.” He seemed pleased by her answer, and his smile grew even wider.
She wanted to fall into that smile and be devoured by his lips, toyed with by his teeth in places she’d only dreamed of being nibbled.
“I know just the place,” he said.
“Let me get my wrap.”
As she began to rise, Veronika showed up at the booth, “Hey, you two,” she said as she handed Astra a bundle of woven textiles. “You look a little chilly, need your wrap?”
Astra’s lips pursed and pushed to the side of her face in a knowing annoyance. “Thanks. You must be psychic.”
Zane looked at her with those oh-so-delicious eyes as she slid across the velvety fabric of the booth’s cushions to exit the booth.
“I’m taking Miss Faraday out for a bite. You don’t mind, right?” He winked at Veronika who nodded.
“Just have her back here in a few hours. She needs to get her sleep because she’s headlining the matinee tomorrow.”
“I am?” Astra looked from Veronika to Zane then searched the room for Char Melana who was nowhere to be seen.
“Yes, you are. You’ll need to be ready to roll by mid-shift.”
As they walked out the door, Astra caught the eye of Li’l Bo who looked as though his puppy was stolen. Poor kid. She thought. Zane must have seen the look, too.
“One day he’ll be a great boyfriend for some girl. But he’s forgetting about age gaps,” Zane said.
“Oh, you’re missing the point. He’s not jealous in that way. I’m pretty sure he’s the dish breaker and is in a bit of trouble.” Astra pulled her wrap closer to her chin as they left the warmth of the cabaret through the main doors and onto the promenade.
“Oh, his voice tinged with relief. But he’s always hanging around you,” Zane said.
“He’s more like a little brother,” Astra explained. “There’s nothing, trust me, nothing between me and my Li’l Bo other than the fact that if anyone were to hurt him I’d kill them. And he’d go after anyone that would hurt me.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zane do a double take.
Good. She thought. That distance will keep me from falling into his arms like a doe-eyed dingbat.
At any given moment aboard Quantum, the promenade was full. People from around the universe kept their own time, and in response the shops stayed open through the three shift cycles.
In essence, the ship never slept.
“Let’s get you some decadent food.” He put his arm out for her to take. She curled her hand around his forearm and let him lead her.
They walked along the promenade soon reaching a row of expensive shops. The lights were a glimmering low to simulate twilight.
“Twilight’s my favorite lighting for the promenade. What’s yours?” He said. The lights were set on a short cycle of three hours to enable many of the passengers to find their own daily rhythm.
“I like daybreak, the lights are warmer. I get enough dark when I’m on stage and stark bright at the spotlights.”
“I can understand that. Hey, there’s the place,” he waved an arm further down the promenade.
“Frigid Froth?” she mouthed.
“No, that’s a fancy clothing store. No,
next to it: Sweet Nothings.”
“Now that sounds like a lingerie shop.” Astra giggled, and he joined in with his mellow toned chuckle. His voice was like a sexy saxophone that wormed its way into your bones and made you sway, even if you weren’t a fan of bluesy notes.
They entered the shop and the scents of warmed butter crusts and melted sugars wafted to her nose, spiraling around her senses like a cat settling in for a snooze. Purring. She let a goofy childlike grin sneak out onto her face. “Oh my stars this place smells like a grandma’s kitchen exploded.”
“You have to meet Sally,” He grinned and nodded to an older woman behind the counter.
The older woman nodded, “Hello again, Doctor and—”
“This is Astra, from Le Mouche, the Cabaret over on level 23 in the agora.”
“Oh, crew? I see.” She nodded.
“Sort of… I’m a performer?” Astra’s voice rose in question wondering why the woman thought it was important that she was a member of the crew. “I’ve been a Quantumite for ten years.”
“And you’ve never come to my shop before?” The woman clutched her heart and feigned mock hurt.
“That’s good, I’ll tell my boss, maybe you can get part-time as an actress in the troupe.” Astra giggled as the older woman steered them towards a chair beneath an overhanging fringed lamp. It cast a warm, amber-rose glow over the table.
“I’m afraid those days are gone.” she said. “I’m Sally McMann.”
“Gone?”
“Oh, I’ve had quite the past, my dear, quite the past.”
“Me too,” Astra agreed and sat down. “But Quantum has been a quiet settling experience for me.”
“Has it now? Well, I love being aboard a ship that just goes nowhere and is too big for a band of pirates to board.”
At the mention of pirates, Astra cringed. Past memories broke through her carefully constructed cocoon with the force of a jackhammer. Quickly, she straightened her crunched brow and lowered her shoulders.
“Now what’ll it be?” Sally asked.
“Pie,” Zane said. “Pie and frozen custard for the lady. She has just performed center ring in the aerial silks this evening and deserves all the sweets she desires.”
Cosmic Cabaret Page 10
