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My bottom lip twitches as I watch the expression on the pop star’s face go from startled to angry to defeated, all within the span of ten seconds. It’s an interesting moment to witness, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a bit bad for the girl. It’s not her fault her manager is the way she is.
“Sure,” I say.
Kallista slides out of the booth to escape to the bar. Something tells me this job is going to be a lot harder than bounty hunting.
8XAVIAN
Our first function as a dynamic duo is a birthday party.
Kallista and I haven’t said more than three words to each other since I was hired. Which is fine. I don’t need to talk to her to protect her. But the fact that she seems to outright ignore me when I do speak to her is annoying at best, and kind of dangerous at worst.
This morning, on our way to a salon appointment in downtown Latrixia, she was nearlyscalpedfor god’s sake. I yelled at her to stop, to let me go through the doors first, but she didn’t listen. The moment she stepped outside, a teenager on a hoverboard whizzed right over her head, forcing her to duck to avoid the propulsion beams. She had the audacity to scowl at me the entire trip to the salon, because apparently it’s somehow my fault she almost rocked a buzzcut for the party.
The only highlight of the job so far? Kallista insists I keep my uniform casual. No suits, nothing that draws any attention, which is just fine by me. Once we return from the salon, Kallista and Margot pick out a black T-shirt and dark denim jeans for me to wear tonight.
Our ride to the birthday party is a sleek black Windrunner 27800. Its long body cuts a classy profile in the sky, while its tinted windows provide complete privacy. As an added bonus, its entire exterior is bulletproof, too. The inside is furnished with plush cream seats. Even when I was in the pro leagues at the top of my game, I never got to travel in anything as luxurious or expensive as this.
We sit in silence on the ride to the mansion, and Margot scrolls through her terminal’s news feed while Kallista stares out the window.
If there was ever a perfect time to try to get to know my charge, it’s now.
I clear my throat loudly and say, “So … Kallista. You don’t have an entourage? Just you and Margot, huh?”
Margot’s gaze flicks up toward mine, then back down to the floating screen. Kallista doesn’t even acknowledge my presence, but I’m nothing if not stubborn.
“Do you like Latrixia so far? I haven’t been here for very long, myself.”
Crickets.
With a sigh, I turn to look out my own window. Bird-like creatures flap their leathery black wings as they soar through the sky, my only source of entertainment on the long flight to who knows where.
This is going to be a long, long night.
* * *
I lean against the enormous pillar in the middle of the living room, trying my best to look unapproachable and disaffected while still keeping an eye on Kallista. This penthouse is huge. Bigger than the place I lived in on Terra, when I was making an obscene amount of credits. A lot nicer, too. I could still be living that lavish lifestyle had I not been so irresponsible with my savings, but I think I prefer my current apartment to this place. It’s got marble flooring in every room, a fireplace that wraps around an entire wall and spits out purple flames, and dozens of paintings. Who the artists are, I couldn’t tell you, but there’s a zero percent chance they’re not worth millions of credits.
A drunken woman in a teeny black dress stumbles into me. I barely feel it.
“Oh, hey,” she slurs as she looks up at me, her eyes unfocused. It’s only seven in the evening and here she is, already trashed. I only spare her a glance. Need to stay focused while Kal does her rounds.
The woman tosses back her candy apple red hair and jabs me in the arm. “Hey. Hey, aren’t you that guy?”
Okay, now I’m slightly perturbed. “You’ll have to be a little more specific, sorry.”
“You look just like that guy from the Reapers. Yeah, my boyfriend fucking loves that team. Where’d you go? Weren’t you playing center?” Her words might be a slurry of vowels and saliva, but apparently she’s lucid enough to recognize me. My blood runs cold, and I cast a furtive glance down at her.
“What? No. Sorry. You have the wrong person, I’m afraid.” My heartbeat thunders to the tempo of the bass in the background. No way in hell I thought I’d get recognized all the way out here on Sar Nouveau, but it’s a small universe, evidently.
Kallista’s purple and blond hair gets lost in the crowd, and I bite the inside of my cheek as I look around, trying to find her again. Shit. I let myself get distracted for three seconds and I’ve already lost her?
“Oh, Honey. Honey Rain, where have you been?” Margot’s voice is like velvet, wrapping around each syllable as she approaches the two of us. Since I first met Margot, she hasn’t once changed the sleek black bob that frames her high cheekbones. Most women these days change their Weave several times a day, but not her. She has a look. I’d respect it a lot more if I wasn’t so terrified of her.
The drunken woman, Honey, peers at Margot like she’s a complicated math problem, then lifts her martini glass. “Heeeeeey! Margot! Long time no see!”
Margot smiles sweetly, but it’s definitely fake. Then, out of the corner of her mouth, she says, “Kal went into the kitchen. Keep up, new guy.”
I leave Margot and Honey behind and push through the crowd to find the kitchen in this behemoth of a house. Some of the other partygoers are Terran, and when they see me, they lift their glasses in greeting. I do the same with my glass of water. Mostly, though, the crowd is a melting pot of aliens and a few Terrans.
