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Nisha groaned and let her head fall back to watch the ceiling. “When do we leave?”
“Today as soon as possible,” Kien replied.
Crash!
Tasha jumped and looked up, expecting the ceiling to cave in.
Everyone’s head angled up, probably expecting the same as her.
“I wonder what that’s about,” she said to herself. She didn’t know who lived in the apartment above hers and had never wondered since they’d been quiet up until now.
“By doing this you would be doing us a big favor,” Solgre told Nisha. “We’ll be indebted to you.”
Nisha straightened and stopped pouting long enough to focus on Solgre. “Are we talking about indebted money wise or a favor I could call on...”
“Whatever is in our means, we’ll accommodate,” Solgre promised.
“Or you could just do it out of the goodness of your heart,” Tasha said.
Nisha waved her off. “Goodness. Heart. Whatever. Whatever. I’m slowly coming around to the idea of calling in a favor from aliens.”
“Nisha.”
“Tasha.”
Tasha sighed. “Go pack a bag, Kien. But be prepared for Nisha to call in her favor.”
“Damn skippy!”
“What will you do for a week to occupy your time now?” Phate asked Solgre.
Solgre blinked as if he hadn’t understood the question.
“Since Kien is taking the replicator back to the ship,” Phate continued. “You won’t have it to fix anymore.”
There was no mistaking the panicked look in Solgre’s eyes. He lowered his gaze to his hands. He twitched them as if already missing the tedious action he was used to doing.
“I have a puzzle you can work on,” Tasha offered. “I’m pretty sure it’s not as complicated as what you’re used to working on, but it’ll give you something to do.”
Solgre gave her a tight nod. “I would appreciate that.”
Just as Tasha handed Solgre the one-thousand-piece puzzle she had no intention of finishing they were interrupted.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The room stilled and everyone glanced to the door at the same time.
Nisha turned toward Tasha with questioning in her eyes. “Were you expecting company?”
Tasha shook her head and stood, making her way toward the door. She didn’t get many visitors who popped up without warning. The only person who did was Nisha and Phate. She went to her tippytoes to peer through the peephole. There was a woman on the opposite end, around her age.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Tasha opened the door to find an African American woman, maybe a few years older than her and Nisha standing on the other side. She was darker, with skin so vibrant and smooth that Tasha would’ve killed for. She had a plethora of long and thick eyelashes and equally as thick eyebrows. Her lips were full and tinged pink. Her hair was styled in microbraids that fell to the middle of her back. And on top of looking like an artesian crafted porcelain doll, the woman had the nerve to be tall, leggy and curvy.
“Hello? May I help you?” Tasha asked her.
The woman smiled and held up a plate of cookies. “Sorry to bother you. I live in the apartment directly above yours and thought I would come and say hi and apologize for the racket this morning. I was rearranging my living room furniture.”
