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Kef, I really suck at this “being someone’s mate” thing.
I watch him carefully as I take one of the bowls and we head to the bridge. Is he limping? There’s a hitch in his gait to make up for the weight of his prosthetics, but I don’t notice anything different. Skipping meals? Something else?
When the doors open to the bridge and I see a blonde form curled up in his chair, I realize that I am indeed stupid. Of course he got Dora noodles. He’s taking care of her, just like he takes care of me.
She sits up, stiffening at the sight of me, but takes the noodles from him. I sit down in the nav seat, and Jamef leans against one of the other stations, toying with his food and deliberately not looking at either of us. I feel a bit like a naughty child that’s supposed to apologize.
And I don’t want to. My mouth presses flat and I scowl at Jamef, then look over at Dora again…and immediately feel like an ass. She’s not wearing the defiant look I am. Instead, her shoulders are hunched and she looks sad and miserable and alone. Kef.
I poke my noodles, my appetite dwindling. “I suppose you hate me now.”
Dora looks up and over at me, her eyes dark. “I don’t hate you.”
“Good, then that makes one of us.” I stab my eating sticks into the noodles, shoving them around the bowl. “I’m not a people person on a good day, and when Rhonda’s around, they’re all bad days. I’d love nothing more than to space her, but she’s a human alone and I feel like someone should help her, even if it has to be me. So…I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything right away. I should have.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. When she speaks, her voice quavers. “I just want a warning if you’re going to replace me with her.”
Replace her? “Fluffit, even if she held a blaster to my head, I wouldn’t want to touch her. That was ten years ago. I wasn’t good enough for her then, and I’m positive she hasn’t changed her mind on that.” I eye her thoughtfully. “But I’ve changed a lot in ten years. I know a manipulator when I see one, now. And I like people that are honest about who they are. That’s why I like Jamef…and that’s why I like you.” I swallow hard, because it sucks to be honest and vulnerable and I’m not good at it. “And why I hope you don’t hate me.”
Dora stares into her noodles, her mouth soft with hurt. She’s silent for a long moment, and then shakes her head, looking over at me. “I don’t hate you. But I’m not sure I can trust you right now, either.”
Ouch.
Eighty-Nine
JAMEF
I’m not sure if this is progress or not. Dora and Bethiah are in the same room together and no one is screaming or crying, but there’s a wariness between the two of them that feels troubling.
There’s nothing to be done about it at this moment, though. They’re going to have to figure each other out. I hope. Until then, all I can do is keep moving things forward. “Can we talk about business for a while?”
“Kef yes we can,” Bethiah says, and she sounds relieved, as if I’ve just saved her from execution. “What’s the situation?”
I clear my throat, glancing between the two females. “I figured while we were getting settled, I’d do a few cursory traces.”
“What’d you find?” Bethiah asks.
“That’s just it…I found everything.” I take a bite of my noodles to let that statement digest for a moment. “If he’s hiding his trail, he’s doing a piss-poor job of it. There are credit profiles being used all over the place.”
“Credit profiles?” Dora asks. She sets her bowl down and draws her knees up in the chair. She hasn’t touched her food and the protective side of me wants to ensure that she eats, but one thing at a time.
I nod. “Most nobility use Homeworld-certified credit accounts instead of actual physical chits like the rest of us. The chits aren’t trackable, but nobility don’t tend to move around quietly anyhow. I’ve found his accounts being used all over this end of the galaxy. Some at a high-end station, some at a fancy cantina, some at a gambling house.” I shrug. “I thought I’d have to dig harder, that’s all.”
“The trails could be leading to his wife or children, though,” Bethiah points out. “Those credit accounts are used by the entire family.”
Dora’s eyes widen and she glances at Bethiah, then me. “What? He’s married? Does Rhonda know?”
“Better question is, does Rhonda care?” Bethiah replies. “My guess is no.”
“That’s awful,” Dora says. “No wonder she’s so obsessed with her position.”
“You can’t seriously be taking her side, can you?” Bethiah gives Dora a puzzled look.
