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Lacie scowls, then leans forward, putting her shelf of cleavage on display. “Sorry. Could you sign my boobs for me, then?”
I can’t help but notice that all her friends have their terminal screens pointed straight at her. They’re filming this. Because of course they are.
“No, Lacie. Go away.” I hop off my stool to wedge myself in between them. “He’s my bodyguard, and he’s working.”
“Don’t be so possessive,” Lacie purrs, and a chill runs across my arms. It’s cold out here, but Lacie’s tone is even colder as she shoots me a look of challenge. “I just want an autograph, and then I’ll leave you two alone. Promise.”
“Can it be somewhere that’s not your, um … chest?” Xavian asks as he takes the pen from her.
“This is considered sexual harassment, you know,” I chime in.
Lacie aggressively flips me off. I roll my eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just the tops of my tits, Jesus.”
“Yeah, no. No thank you,” Xavian says, shaking his head and pulling back.
I want to throw my arms around his neck and hug him right then and there, because I don’t think anyone has ever told this oversized blister pretending to be a Human the word “no” before. My hero.
Lacie flips him off, too, then whirls around, nearly hitting us both with her cotton candy hair. “Whatever, plebs. Enjoy your dinner. Don’t expect me to invite you to my parties ever again, Kal.”
I blink slowly, trying to remember the last time Lacie Calbert has ever invited me to anything, ever. She didn’t even invite me to the last party I went to. “Oh, no,” I mumble. “How will I ever manage?”
And like a swarm of locusts, as quickly as she came, she goes, along with her entourage of locusts.
“Sooo … that was Lacie again,” I mutter. “Singer of the hit single that’s topping the Milky Way Galaxy’s charts,Me and You 4-Eva. That’s with an actual number four, by the way.”
Xavian cringes. “And that sold ten million copies?”
“Yep.”
He whistles. “That says something about society, I think.”
“Oh, it most certainly does.” I turn back to my soup. Fortunately, it still smells just as good as when it was first brought out. “Come on. Let’s eat before the food goes cold.”
* * *
We don’t take the jammer back to the hotel. Not right away, at least. Instead, Xavian and I decide to walk off our meal. Luckily for us, the rain has died down to a soft drizzle, so an umbrella isn’t necessary. We’re quiet for a long while as we meander through the neon-tinged streets, stopping only so I can stare into a shop window here and there.
When was the last time I took a walk like this? When was the last time I was truly alone with my thoughts? Sure, Xavian is with me, so I’m not alone-alone, but he’s not interrupting my quiet time, either. That’s something else I appreciate about him. He doesn’t mock me or try to move me from one job to the next. I know I should be getting my beauty rest right now, but he doesn’t insist I go back to the hotel. Doesn’t insist I call Margot with an update like so many of my other guards have done in the past. He doesn’t insist on anything at all. He’s just doing his job. Keeping me alive.
We stop in front of an old vinyl record store, and I peer inside one of the darkened windows. I’ve never heard a record before. They’re centuries old, for one thing, and I can just get any song I want on my terminal and have it delivered straight into my brain wherever I want. Records fascinate me, though, like the rest of Terran history. Or, rather, Human history. The real Humans. My ancestors who were actually born on the planet.
“I have one of these.” Xavian’s voice cuts through the silence for the first time in ages, startling me. I look up at him, my eyebrows pinched together, and he laughs so smoothly it sounds the way I think expensive whisky probably tastes. “They’re nice, but also a pain to maintain. You need to maintain the needles, store the records correctly so they don’t scratch. That sort of thing.”
“I can see why they went out of style, then,” I say, peering at the cherry-red record player on display. The card in front of it says it’s fifty thousand credits. Wow. That’s an astronomical price for something that looks like it’s made out of cheap plastic and metal.
Xavian peers down at me, and one of the corners of his mouth quirks upward. “Yes and no. The sound quality on them is fantastic, if you can get your hands on a good one. But no, they are not convenient. Then cassette tapes came around, and those were … shit, honestly.” He lets loose a throaty rumble of a laugh, and the tightness in my core surprises me. A man’s laugh should not be affecting my nether region this much, but Xavian’s laughter makes me want to jump his bones and cover him in kisses. Why am I like this?
Pinching my legs together, I flip my hair back in a display of feigned apathy. “Do I want to know why?”
Xavian hooks one of his thumbs in his pocket and smirks. “Sometimes the tape inside of them would fall out. You can spool it back in with a pencil or knitting needle. I got some off the terminal markets years ago. Regretted that purchase, though. Vinyls are superior.”
I’m not up to date on my Earth history, because the education system on Luna sucked ass, so I ask, “Dare I ask what came next?”
“CDs,” he answers without hesitation. “Yeah, I have some of those, too. But then Aiken found them one day, and he thought they were some sort of new disc-throwing game, so he sent them soaring around the apartment. I was so pissed. They all shattered.”
I frown. “I’m sorry to hear that. Um … wait, who is Aiken?” That’s a name I’m not familiar with. Is that his … lover? Roommate? I’m annoyed with myself that I even care.
“He’s your number one fan,” he says, flashing me a bright grin. “He’s my—hewasmy Gorcian bounty hunter partner. Also, my flatmate back on Terra.”
