“Oh, wow. It’s almost six,” Saif says, lying down next to me. “Do you think they saved us any food?” He rolls over and nuzzles his nose into my neck. My body tightens. “I’m hungry after the day we just had.”
He kisses my neck and pulls back to jump out of bed.
“Uh, maybe there’s food out there. I don’t know,” I say, closing my eyes.
This is so awkward. I can’t believe I slept with Saif. Don’t get me wrong. It was good, great. Damned fantastic. It was hot and sweet and vulnerable and all the things I always wondered if sex could be. But now he’s stuck on the ship with me, and I’ll have to avoid him for the next twelve hours or so.
I flinch as he grabs my left toes. “Come on,” he says, jerking his head at the door. He has his underwear back on and his pants in his hand. “Come out and eat something with me. You still love spicy stuff, right?”
“Yeah?” I have loved hot sauce and spicy foods since I was an early teen.
“Perfect. I packed a hot sauce I think you’ll enjoy. It’s called the ‘Happiest of Hot Sauces.’ It’s some underground manufacturer. Makes you feel light and happy.”
I sit straight up in bed. “You have that?”
He doesn’t know we used to cook up this hot sauce here. That it’s a secret recipe from Vivian and her dad, my Uncle Nuno. That it contains unique plants from Rio that will make you high on happiness… That it’s not the only secret plant from Rio I have ever seen or ingested.
“Yeah. You’ve had it?” he asks.
I nod my head. “Yeah, but um, well…” I trace my knees under the bedsheets.
He pauses and watches me for a moment.
“Sky,” he says, sitting next to me, “don’t try to break up with me. I know you enjoyed the sex.”
“Oh, I did. It’s just that, usually, this is the end of things.” I wince, hearing it out loud, and his lips drop into a frown. “Look, if you want to just go to your room and pretend it never happened, I’ll understand. Don’t feel like you have to drag this out to save face or anything.”
He breathes deeply, in and out, one, two, three times.
“You know, Marcelo said this might be more… challenging than I anticipated. And I didn’t know what he meant by that.” He pauses and clears his throat. “No. I’d like to sit and have a meal with you, talk, and be close to you.” He reaches for my hand and laces his fingers with mine. “And then, I’d like to do this again.” He waves to my bed. “And we’ll repeat this, over and over and over again, until I’m confident you believe I’m sticking around.”
“Yeah?” I ask. He raises his eyebrows in response. “Okay. We’ll see about that.” My tone is more resigned than challenging. I don’t believe him yet, and I wonder if I ever will.
He stands up and hands me my underwear and pants. I shift my legs out of bed and get dressed. I’m so… Well, I’m confused. I don’t know what to do with a man who wants to stick around. What do I even do? How do I deal with things like him seeing me without makeup? Or what if I’m ever sick? Or injured? Surely, that would be the end, right? No one ever helped me when I was sick. I had fevers all the time as a kid. I learned how to use the thermometer on my own, how to read it, and how to take the meds to bring it down. Thank goodness for the duonet, otherwise, I might be dead by now. We had a doctor who came to the ship once per year to give us immunizations and checkups, but those visits weren’t caring or kind. Just business.
The more I analyze my childhood, the more I realize just how fucked up it was. I am so damned lucky I never broke a bone.
Out in the galley, the area is quiet, but there’s a buffet of food leftover on the main table. Lia probably left it for us. I’m sure everyone else has eaten and retired to their rooms until our jump slot.
“Ah, perfect,” Saif says, pulling the bottle of hot sauce from his pants pocket. He picked it up from his room on the way here. “Plates?”
“In the galley. I’ll grab them.”
We load up plates of cured meats for me, spiced printed protein for Saif, cheeses, dates, crackers, and fresh fruit. There’s pasta salad too, so I add some to a plate between us. It’s packed with olives, feta cheese, sweet tomatoes, and herbs with a tangy vinaigrette. Saif douses the pasta with the ‘Happiest of Hot Sauces,’ and we both dig into the food. He pulls my leg over his under the table, and we eat in silence for a bit. As the hot sauce works its way through my system, I start to feel light. Happy, even. It’s a pleasant change from the anger and anxiety I’ve experienced lately.
“The food is good,” he says, pleased. He wipes his mouth off with a napkin. “Who’s the cook around here?”
“Lia.” My face is warm, and my heartbeat slows. I look at Saif, and I can’t believe he’s here. Someone pinch me. “She spent the last few years learning how to cook on Vivian’s farm while I was in flight school.”
Saif creates a tower of crackers, cheese, and hot sauce. “And your cousin is doing well now, after all the problems she had?”
I nod as I spear more pasta with my fork. “Well enough. There’s still a lot to be done, and now I’ll be going to her for help, which I don’t want to do.” I’m quiet while I chew on my pasta. “It can’t be helped, though.”
“I’ll come along. Maybe I can help, too.”
“It’s not necessary,” I say, shaking my head. “I can handle it.”
“Of course you can. But if I can help, I want to.”
He slides his arm over my shoulder and pulls me to him. “It was one of the things I discussed with Marcelo. I like to be needed. I don’t want to just sit around.”
I smile, remembering his youth of running from one thing to another. “You never did. Did your previous girlfriends need you?”
He smiles as he looks away. “No. Neither of them did. They were both independent, and I liked that. I like that about you. But I like to help. I want to help. Always. And they just never asked for my help or opinion on anything. I hated it.”
I nod slowly. I hate asking for help, so this may be a problem, but at least he’s honest with me. I used to ask for help, from my mom, from the dads, from my brothers and sisters, and I was always turned down. They told me to suck it up and deal with it myself. I’m used to handling my own problems.
“Oh, sorry.” Takemo comes into the galley and stops dead where he is. “I didn’t know anyone would be here.”
The warmth of the hot sauce has crept into my icy veins, and it gives me the power to smile at him, though he doesn’t deserve it.
“Not a problem,” I say, sweeping my hand over the food. “Please have a seat and eat, if you haven’t already.”
“No thanks.” He raises his hands, palms out. “I ate earlier with your crew. They seem to be a nice bunch. At least I won’t have to complain to Flyght about you.”
It’s hard to feel disappointed through the haze of the hot sauce, but his words hurt.
“I should hope not,” I say, dropping my eyes to the food. I load up my plate again as a distraction. “Despite what you think of me, I run a tight ship, and no one has ever called my Diamond Level permit into question.”
“That’s because you cheated and got it straight from Ken Mata himself,” he points out.
Was it cheating? Vivian and Ken are married. He’s in her relationship network. But he gave us the permit after we submitted our application and went through the entire hiring process. It’s not like he gave it to us outright.
“Yeah, I cheated. Poor me,” I reply. It doesn’t matter what I say to him. He won’t believe it, anyway.
Usually, I would jump to my feet and chew out anyone who would dare to challenge me and my right to this ship and my work. But Takemo is different. I’ve already lost my temper on him numerous times. It doesn’t get me anywhere. And maybe having Saif by my side is a good thing. He’s a calming presence, with his hand on my leg and his other arm still around my shoulders.
Takemo looks at us both, his eyes training on Saif’s arm. Saif flexes and brings me a little closer.
“You two are awfully close. Are you dating?”
I add cheese to a cracker. “That’s a personal question, and the answer will cost you.”
His face falls. “How much?”
“Why don’t you come sit down and join us?” Saif asks. He reaches out with his foot and pushes the chair across from us away from the table. Takemo blinks a few times, grabs a bottle of water from the galley counter, and then sits. He drinks from the bottle and plucks a handful of nuts from the spread, crunching on each one.
I watch him while I eat bits of food from my plate. He doesn’t make eye contact with me, probably because he knows too much about me at this point, and I know just enough about him to be dangerous. My belly twists as I’m struck by how much he despises me. I hate that. I’m not a people pleaser — not by a long shot. And I declared war on him, for sure. But he loathes me. He thinks I’m a liar and a cheat.
Aren’t you, though, Skylar?
“So, it looks like Skylar’s going to be your Bridge partner at this upcoming tournament,” Saif says, leaning forward to grab a piece of cheese. “Where on Rio is it being held?”
“Primeiro,” Takemo says, “and she will not be my partner. The charity auction officer already said they suspect there was foul play.”
Oh yeah, Primeiro is choice. It was the first floating city of Rio, and it has all the fancy high-life amenities rich people love. And his accusation about foul play will go nowhere. Carlos is the best hacker in the Duo Systems. There’s no way he left behind anything to incriminate me. I have Takemo by the balls.
It’s time for me to squeeze them.
I pop the last olive into my mouth and wipe off my fingers.
“You’re so sure to dismiss me, and you haven’t even seen me play.” I cock my head to the side and smile.
“I don’t need to see you play,” he says, sitting back in his chair.
I scoot away from Saif, stand up, and cross to the galley. Two decks of cards are in the drawer farthest from the cooking equipment. We keep them there for Flyght clients who love to sit and socialize. I grab my favorite deck, the one decorated with local star formations and nebulas, and return to the table.
“Saif, would you mind?” I jerk my chin at the food leftover on the table. He pops up from his seat. “There’s room in the galley.”
Takemo raises his eyebrows. “What? You’re going to prove yourself right here?” He snorts a laugh.
I ignore him and shuffle the cards. Turning over my wrist, I access the ship’s internal comms and ping Lia. “Lia, can you join us in the common room for some cards?”
“Sure, Captain. Be right there.”
Saif returns to the table after removing the food. “Skylar, I don’t know how to play Bridge, unfortunately,” he says, sitting to my left. “I spectate sometimes, but that’s about it.”
Lia enters the room, a glass of wine in hand. She’s a little underage to be drinking, but whatever. She’s more responsible than other nineteen-year-olds I know.
“Anyone else want some wine?” she asks.
Both Saif and Takemo nod.
“None for me. I still have to navigate through the jump ring in an hour. Save me some for after.” I finish shuffling. “Okay, here on the Amagi, we play a lot of card games. I know them all, so I find out what other people play, and then we choose from their list of preferred games.”
Takemo’s eyes zero in on me. “What do you mean, you know them all?”
“Are you having trouble with your hearing?” I ask him. “You should get that checked out.”
Lia smiles as she delivers two more glasses to the table. “She means what she says. She knows every card game you can think of. And probably some you don’t.”
“Shut up,” Takemo says, shaking his head. “That’s impossible.”
I tap on my temple. “I’ve spent my life studying in isolation. You know that ship of my mother’s you now own? That’s where I grew up. That’s where I spent all my years before going away to flight school. And I had almost nothing better to do than to sit and read and learn.”
Saif’s foot meets mine under the table, an unexpected moment. Usually, there’s no one to bolster me or give me confidence. I have to find that confidence myself.
Now I have Takemo’s attention. “You grew up on that ship? Why didn’t your parents send you to a boarding school on Ossun or Rio?” He seems genuinely confused. This is how most spacefaring families raise their kids with boarding schools and the occasional far-school camp.
I ignore his question.
“I grew up watching the dads play cards. So I learned Bridge, Rummy, Gin, Gin Rummy, Spades, Hearts, Euchre, Canasta, Cribbage, Poker (pretty much every flavor), Blackjack, Baccarat, Agram, Presidents, War, Pepper, Forty-Five, Cinch, Whist, a bunch of different Solitaires…”
Takemo’s eyes grew as my list got longer.
“Pinochle, Slap Jack…” I draw a deep breath. “And then there are the Brazilian card games like Buraco, Sueca, and Truco.”
I place the deck on the table.
“I thought only people from Rio knew about Truco,” Takemo says.
Saif laughs. “I’ve never seen a Truco game that didn’t scare the shit out of me.”
Truco can get rowdy for sure. I watched Juan play once on Rio. Dominic had grounded me for yelling at him, but I desperately wanted off the ship. It was the winter holidays, and everyone was gone but Juan, Cam and Nolan, and me. He was nice enough to take me to visit his family.
“So,” I continue, “I don’t think we can play Bridge because Saif and Lia don’t know how to play. But Spades is similar since it’s a game with trumps. You take tricks, and you make contracts. Do you all know how to play?”
Everyone nods. “Okay. Spades, it is. No bags.” I hate playing with ‘bags.’ Bags are penalizations if you take more tricks than you bid. It’s more unfair for people who play with me than it is for me.
Lia groans and drops her head to the table. “But you always win, Skylar. It’s not fair.”
I lean across the table and drop my voice to Takemo. “No one likes playing with me because I always win. I usually offer to be the dealer.” I sit back up and raise my voice. “But we’re here to prove a point. So, just for this game, I will give the losers each one hundred credits.” I can afford to spend three hundred credits to prove this point. “If you win and I don’t, you each get three hundred credits. Understood? Win-win for everyone but me.”
I glance at Saif, and he’s drumming his fingers on the table. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.
“Oh, I want to do this.” My nod, smile, and wide eyes make Lia laugh.
“She is evil. I’m warning you now,” Lia says to Saif, sipping her wine. “I hope Marcelo prepared you for the Skylar Vortex.”
I drop my eyes and hold back a chuckle. That’s what Vivian calls my effect on people. I whirl in, charm them, wow them, and leave them in a pile of confusion when I’m done. Maybe that’s not the best selling point for men because Saif seems to pale.
Can’t be helped.
“Fine. I’m in,” Takemo says, sitting up. Saif sits up too.
I deal, and we make our bids. Even though I don’t have many spades in my hand, I feel confident I can take all the tricks with what I have if I play them correctly, so I bid ten. I watch the first trick to see what strategies everyone else is going to play. Then I win all the rest of the tricks.
An hour later, I’ve won every hand but two, but I’ve won the entire game by a landslide. Takemo is silent. Saif and Lia are in good moods because they’ve been talking about food for twenty minutes straight. I never talk while I play cards.
Lia rubs her hands together. “I’m going to spend those one hundred credits on chocolate and a nice pair of sandals. Thanks, Skylar.” She pops out of her chair and kisses me on the cheek.
“Anytime,” I tell her.
“I’m going to go check on the animals before we traverse the jump ring,” she says, heading towards the ca
rgo bay.
Takemo gathers up the cards. “If you think you proved a point with this, then you’re mistaken.”
I laugh. “Come on. What do I have to do to prove I’m an excellent Bridge player? Huh?”
He stands up and faces me. “I only know one way. We’ll have to stake the tournament on something.”
“Oh yeah? What?” I throw my hands out to the side. “What more do you want from me? And don’t say the Amagi because you can’t have her. I will stand you up in the tournament before I ever agree to that.”
“And I’m not giving your ships back to you, either,” he says.
“Fine. Then something else.”
He thinks for a moment, rubbing the stubble on his cheek. Behind him, Saif is shaking his head in warning.
“If we win, I’ll take the Mikasa and your mom off trash-hauling duties. I’ll also take all of your dirty little secrets to my grave.”
I swallow and picture the times I’ve used sexbots and what he must know about me, assuming he is Azid Entertainment, and all his hints are true. He must know that I won’t let the bots kiss me or hold me. That the meetings were purely for sex, and intimacy never entered into the equation. Honestly, it’s not the worst dirty little secret ever, but it would embarrass the hell out of me, and my family, if it made it out.
“What if we lose?” I ask. “If I lose,” I stress, “because if I catch you throwing the game on purpose, we’ll go back to being enemies, and then you better check your bed before you get in it every single night for the rest of your life.”
I’m satisfied to see him hesitate at that.
He thinks about it for a moment. “If we lose, you sign a year-long contract to work for me only. No Flyght contracts. No family business. Just me.”
He leans in, and I slowly inhale. He smells of soap and wine and confidence.
Saif is still shaking his head in the background. He mouths, “Don’t do it.”
But I have to do it.
My future is riding on this.
I stick out my hand, and his fingers meet mine. We shake.
An Unexpected Debt Page 16
