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The sister. I can’t bring myself to utter Jenny’s name aloud while Tornn is listening. I’m afraid a lusty tremor in my voice might give away my desire for the female. I don’t want my cousin to worry I might jeopardize the alliance. I don’t want him to think I’m as unstable and foolish as my father.
“I’m pleased by this news. Thank you, Brute. I will contact you again tomorrow, however if anything interesting happens in the meantime, please hail my wrist comm.”
We exchange a quick farewell and I immediately exit the alcove. I peer through the window of the gym, searching for Jenny. Worry and rage fill me when I don’t spot her. I walk past the door and go farther down the hallway, and her scent hits me. I growl. She must’ve sneaked out of the gym when I was focused on my conversation with Admiral Tornn.
If she were my mate, I would take a strap to those shapely buttocks of hers. I would punish her until she was sobbing and repentant and swore never to disobey my orders again.
I follow her scent down the corridor, my fury rising.
Chapter5
JENNY
I approachthe unmarked door of Leona’s Speakeasy, then glance up and down the corridor to make sure no one is nearby. Thankfully there are never many people using this corridor at this time of night. I knock exactly six times in quick succession, follow with a four second pause, then finish with three light taps. The secret knock.
Alcohol is banned on theJansonnaand so are unsanctioned gatherings, hence the reason for a secret knock. I exhale with relief when the door is cracked open and Angelo’s familiar dark eyes peer out. He sweeps the door open just far enough for me to dart through, and I quickly enter the massive storage room that’s been repurposed as a bar.
“Good evening, Jenny,” Angelo says as he locks the door behind us. “Here to sing for your alcohol? I sure hope so. I’ve missed your lovely voice. Haven’t seen you in a while.” His gaze suddenly turns pitying, and I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking about Ellie. About how she’s gone and she’s never coming back.
“Good evening, Angelo. Yep, I’m here to sing for my alcohol. I’m afraid I don’t have any credits to spare.” What Angelo doesn’t know is that tonight I would gladly perform for free, no complimentary booze required. It’s been a little over two weeks since I last sang in Leona’s Speakeasy, and I never realized how much I needed the escape of losing myself in a performance until now. I glance at the empty stage, then look around the bar. It’s not very crowded, but that’s okay. Leona’s always happy for impromptu entertainment, even on nights when there are few patrons.
Angelo places a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, if you need to talk, I’m here. My shift ends in an hour.”
I blink back tears. I consider Angelo one of my dearest friends, and I sometimes wonder if maybe we’ll get married one day. I don’t feel any sexual attraction to him—not in the way I’m apparently drawn to Officer Brute—but he’s a nice guy and we’ve shared many secrets over the years. I trust him. “Thanks,” I eventually reply. “I might take you up on that. But first, I need to earn those drinks.” Forcing back the sad emotions, I give him a playful wink and glide over to Leona. She’s standing behind the bar drying a glass, a twinkle in her eye.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” she says, using what I assume is an old Earth expression. Considering that I now teach History of Earth and Humankind, I ought to study more of those. In any case, I appreciate that she’s not looking at me with pity, though I also appreciate Angelo’s offer to talk. Maybe talking will help. Maybe pouring my heart out in a few songs, getting shitfaced, and then crying on Angelo’s shoulder is just what I need.
“Lovely to see you too,” I finally quip, sliding onto a stool. I glance at the stage again, and my soul hums with the longing to perform. To float away in the music while bringing the patrons a bit of respite from the worries of life on theJansonna. “Any requests for tonight?”
“Sing whatever your heart desires.” She flashes a wide smile. “It’s good to see you again, kid.” I know that’s the closest Leona will come to offering her condolences for Ellie’s departure from the worldship. I give her a smile in return, slip off the stool, and approach the stage.
The murmur of conversation halts when I take my place behind the keyboard, an ancient but still-functioning piece of technology that was manufactured on Earth. It’s similar to the one I have in my quarters that my father gave me for my fifth birthday, and my fingers automatically know where to go. I fire up the device and touch the keys as I mull over what song I ought to perform.
After adjusting the microphone, I settle on an old favorite, a catchy rock ‘n’ roll piece from the twentieth century about government control and fighting back.
Songs about rebellion are very popular at Leona’s Speakeasy, and the small crowd immediately cheers.
When I get to the chorus, they chant along, and I soon find my mood growing lighter.
Thank goodness I was able to thwart that bossy, overbearing Darrvason. Officer Brute. I still can’t believe he touched me. Just as I can’t believe he insisted on escorting me to my destination and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I actually had to spend a few minutes in the gym to get the alien off my ass. Luckily, he was distracted by a call on his wrist comm long enough to allow my escape.
It suddenly hits me that love songs aren’t popular on theJansonna, and I’m now starting to wonder if it has something to do with everyone taking hormone suppression shots. If we don’t crave romance and physical affection—the indecent act of copulation—it makes sense that love songs wouldn’t be popular.
Well, maybe I’m wrong about romance. Couples still get married on the worldship, and surely some of them must care about one another, though I remind myself the marriages are typically for the sake of tradition or to form alliances between families. A woman is also more likely to get approved for artificial insemination if she’s married and has a partner to help raise the child. I could see myself raising a child with Angelo. He’s patient, kind, and has a good sense of humor.
I think about my parents. They’d seemed affectionate, often hugging one another, though they never shared a bed and I never once saw them kiss. But I heard them say ‘I love you’ rather frequently, and they got along well enough. As heartbroken as Mom was after Dad died, she must’ve truly loved him.
I also think about Ellie and Nathan. Ellie once confided to me that she cared deeply about Nathan, though she never used the wordlove. Perhaps if she did love him, she was afraid to tell me.
I’ve learned a few old-fashioned love songs, catchy tunes that I honestly wouldn’t mind performing right now, but I don’t want to disappoint the crowd, so I launch into another rebellious rock ‘n’ roll piece.
The crowd, though small, cheers so loud and enthusiastically that it makes my ears ring. Thank goodness the walls of this place are soundproof. Though I don’t miss a note, my stomach flips and I start to worry. Because holy shit, maybe I am part of the dissent against Captain Warren and I never realized it.
Performing songs that contain lyrics about societal change, fighting the power, and not needing thought control could be considered an act of rebellion. Especially if I’m singing them in an illegal bar.
Well, fuck.
I keep singing and tell myself I’m only doing it for the free drinks. In a couple of minutes, I can grab a seat and Leona will keep the alcohol flowing all night. Angelo can help me back to my quarters if I’m too tipsy to walk. Maybe I’ll try kissing him and see how it feels. Maybe it’ll scratch the strange itch I’ve been having for physical affection lately, and then I won’t feel breathless and achy around a certain bossy Darrvason male anymore.
