“Jack, can I have a goodnight kiss?”
“Another one?” I said, teasing.
“Get in here.”
I did. She was in bed and under the covers. I sat on the edge of the bed then saw the ‘Starbuzzed’ t-shirt and sweatpants and street clothes neatly piled on a chair. I put two fingers to my lips, kissed them, then touched them to her lips.
“Good night, Poly.” I started to get up. She gripped my hand and pulled me back down to face her.
“Why aren’t you taking me to bed?” Poly was nothing if not direct—and persistent.
“Because twice before, when I’ve really liked someone and slept with them too soon, it ended badly.” That was true, but didn’t have much bearing on my current situation. Those women weren’t Poly.
“That makes sense,” said Poly. “I’m sorry I pushed so hard.”
“No need to apologize. It’s just that you—and our relationship—are so special to me that I’m scared I’ll screw things up by moving too fast. I want to make sure we’re good friends first and that takes time.”
She pulled my hand to her lips and kissed it. “You’re really special to me, too.”
I slowly pulled my hand away and caressed her cheek. I did not want to tell her about Tomáso and Shepherd and some unknown party bugging my apartment. She wouldn’t like it and would register her displeasure, forcefully. The Dauushan authorities might object to severe bodily harm to one of their consuls and who knows what the Pâkk would do.
“Good night, Poly.” I got up and headed for my bedroom door.
“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”
“Good night, Poly.” I closed the door and would have locked it from this side if I could have. Sigh. I felt like Odysseus facing the Sirens without any rope.
I changed into sweatpants and the ‘Goodbye Carbon’ t-shirt and tried to get settled on the sofa. It felt a lot like my uncomfortable old futon on Orishen and my brain was spinning faster than a 25,000-rpm hard drive. Was I being an idiot? Probably, in multiple contexts. I tried not to think about Poly and Tony Zed and grajja and mercenary armies and Poly but it was as futile as trying not to think about pink elephants. The elephants kept turning into Tomáso and Terrhi. Then I tried counting faux and must have finally drifted off since the last quadruped I remembered enumerating was ninety-five.
Chapter 22
“You can't buy love, but you can buy bagels and it's basically the same.” — Bagels & Bites
I was having peaceful dreams about bells when a sound like a cannonball hitting my front door demanded my attention—again. I dragged myself to a sitting position. It better not be Terrhi, I thought.
“I’m sorry, but this was the only way to wake you,” said my phone. “Nothing more subtle was working.”
“You made the cannonball noise?” I said.
“I recorded it last night and filed it under ‘Juvenile Dauushan Knocking on Door.’”
“Well, knock it off,” I said.
My front door chimed. I had the vague sense it had been chiming for some time.
“You have a delivery,” said my cell phone.
“Okay,” I said. I wondered if this was how people who drank felt in the morning after overindulging. The front door chimed again. I stood, reluctantly, and shuffled slowly to the door. When I opened it a FedExAmazon delivery drone with four rotating fans, a twin of the one that brought the flowers last night, hovered outside. It carried a one foot square box that smelled wonderful.
“Mr. Jack Buckston?” said the drone.
“Correct.”
“One half dozen sesame and one half dozen cinnamon raisin bagels, plus one eight ounce package of light cream cheese,” said the drone. “Two Orishen oranges, one pint fresh galberries and three ounces of pickled capers.”
“That’s what I ordered.” My brain was slowly starting to unfog.
“Please acknowledge receipt.”
“Acknowledged,” I said, touching my phone to the drone.
“Thank you,” said the drone insincerely. “It was a pleasure to serve you.”
The package dropped into my hands and the drone flew off, its fans making a rude noise as if to say “I wouldn’t have to hurry now if you’d answered your door sooner.” I ignored it. If you can’t deal with passive-aggressive machines you have no business being in tech support.
“What time is it?” I said.
“It’s 7:09 a.m.,” said my phone softly. I was grateful it wasn’t too perky in the mornings. I carried the box to the kitchen, put the two separate containers of bagels in my oven on warm and put the cream cheese, fruit and capers in the refrigerator with the Dauushan caviar. I always made sure my delivery service packed different types of bagels separately. I was glad we’d opted for sesame, not garlic, since the mere proximity of a garlic bagel to a cinnamon raisin bagel can ruin both. Then I realized something I needed to do. Urgently.
Fortunately there were two doors to my bathroom—one from my bedroom and one from the public area of the apartment. I wouldn’t have to disturb Poly. I tiptoed inside, asked the lid and seat to lift and pushed the front of my sweatpants down. I tried to aim for porcelain, not water, to keep noise to a minimum.
“Hi there, big guy,” said Poly from the bedroom door behind me. I didn’t turn around but I did catch a glimpse in the bathroom mirror. I was relieved that she’d put on the ‘Starbuzzed’ t-shirt and distracted by how much the shirt left uncovered.
“Hi,” I said, pulling up my sweat pants and turning to wash my hands. “Did you sleep well?”
“Just fine,” said Poly, “until the cannon went off. Again.”
“Don’t blame me, that was my phone. The bagels are here.”
“I figured. Care to join me in the shower?”
“I’ll take a rain check,” I said. I hoped the part of my psyche that didn’t want to ruin things by moving too fast would hurry up and get over it. I made a mental note to make countering the surveillance on my apartment a top priority so I wouldn’t have being bugged as an excuse as well.
“I’ll hold you to that,” said Poly, teasing me with a sultry, sexy tone.
“I’ll set the table,” I said and made a strategic retreat. In a few minutes I heard Poly say “Earl Grey, hot. Make it so,” in command voice. Then the water started running. She’d remembered one of my preprogrammed sequences from my shower story. I was touched. I got plates and silverware and napkins and such from the kitchen and set the dining room table. I even found one of my special spiral cutters from Orish—we’d use it on the oranges. I pulled breakfast items from the fridge as well.
“What would you like to drink?” I shouted at the wall next to the bathroom.
“Hot tea,” came the answering shout. “Surprise me.”
I put a pot on to boil and by the time the allspice peach infusion was steeping Poly came out of my bedroom with slightly wet hair and a mock glare in my direction. She was wrapped in one of my extra-large sized bath towels.
“What’s wrong?”
“I loved the Earl Grey, hot, shower program,” she said. “It was delightfully relaxing and almost made me forget how sexually frustrated I was last night.”
“And?”
“I’d forgotten about the ice cold spray at the end,” said Poly. “It made my libido curl up into a ball and hide.”
“Not for long, I expect.” I pulled out a chair at the table and indicated she should take a seat. “You can sublimate with food in the meantime.”
“I can do that.”
First I poured us two mugs of tea. Then I toasted sesame bagels and she sliced thin sheets from the pale pink Dauushan caviar egg. While Poly spread toasted bagels with cream cheese and added Dauushan caviar slices and capers, I showed her how to cut and eat an Orishen orange. I’d learned to enjoy them when I was a grad student at Mulbiri Tech. Orishen oranges are roughly the size and shape of Terran oranges but they’re not citrus. Instead, their fles
h is a lot like a nectarine but not so juicy. They have thick, edible, ginger-flavored skins that perfectly balance with the taste of the inner fruit so the trick is to cut them in spirals. That way, as much of the sweet inner flesh stays connected to the spicy outer skin as possible. I spun and cut one of the Orishen oranges into a perfect spiral and gave a length of it to Poly. She bit off a piece, popped it in her mouth, chewed, sighed and closed her eyes, smiling. The oranges had been a good idea.
“They’re delicious!” said Poly, wiping a drop of juice from her chin. “I wish I could afford them on a graduate student’s stipend.”
“You’ll just have to come over here more often.”
“Any time. Just twist my arm—and feed me.”
The container of galberries buzzed at me from a few feet down the table. I opened it and carefully removed one kiwi-sized berry, quickly replacing the lid before more could escape. Galberries were originally from Quirn, home of the sentient flyers known as the Quirinx. The flyers were particularly fond of fruit so galberries developed a symbiotic relationship with insect-equivalents to avoid being eaten. The insects, which looked something like dragonflies, laid their eggs in the immature fruits and were fed by the galberry bushes as the insects and galberries matured together. At the right time in the growing season the mature galberries were released and the insects inside them would unfurl their wings and help the succulent berries escape predators. The trick was to catch the berries, hold them by the wings at the top where a stem would typically be and pop them in your mouth. The insects tasted like crunchy almonds and the flavor of the fruit was somewhere between a strawberry and a raspberry. They were well worth the effort needed to catch them.
Galberries came in red, orange and yellow varieties, though the yellow-skinned ones were the most expensive due to their resemblance to magical sporting equipment. An enterprising farmers’ cooperative in New Zealand got the rights from J. K. Rowling to call theirs Golden Snitch Galberries. Unfortunately, they were out of season so all we had were red ones. I looked at Poly. She was taking a break from eating her bagel, cream cheese, caviar, capers and orange.
“Catch,” I said, tossing the galberry in her direction. It hovered six inches above her head. Poly reached up to grab it but it darted away and headed toward the kitchen. She jumped up to follow it and I did the same. I took bets with myself on how long the towel would stay wrapped around her.
“Get it, Jack!” Poly chased it into the far corner to the left of the stove, laughing and waving her hands. It settled a foot and a half down from the ceiling, just above her reach.
“I’m trying,” I said and realized I might be able to stun the evasive fruit by quickly opening the kitchen cabinet door it was hovering in front of. I tried, but the galberry scooted away and only took a glancing blow. It did lose a foot of altitude, however, and Poly was able to grab it in her cupped hands.
“Got you!” she said. Poly moved her hands up to grab the wings then popped the galberry into her mouth. She released the wings and they started beating frantically, still attached to the fruit. Then Poly tried to kiss me.
“Buzz off,” I said, laughing, my words distorted by the vibrating wings near my lips.
“This is delicious,” she said, after she’d chewed and swallowed. “Now let’s get one for you.”
It was entertaining to chase “my” galberry and Poly contrived to bump into me frequently during the chase. There were half a dozen more in the container but we decided to save those for later.
“I’d better get a shower,” I said.
“Can I scrub your back?”
“You. Are. Incorrigible.”
“I know, but can I scrub your back?”
“I hope you’re this persistent in contract negotiations.”
“Most vendors capitulate a lot faster than you do,” said Poly.
“I’m glad you’re on my side.”
“I could be behind you scrubbing your back instead.”
“Would you be willing to clean up breakfast while I get that shower?”
“Sure,” said Poly. “And if I finish early I can come in and scrub your back.” She was grinning. I was laughing.
“I’m going to lock the door and take my shower now,” I said.
“Don’t forget to lock both doors.”
“I won’t,” I said. “Earl Grey, hot. Make it so.”
Chapter 23
“If you're not in the parade, you watch the parade. That's life.” — Mike Ditka
The shower felt wonderful and the icy blast at the end was invigorating. I didn’t have to wear my corporate uniform so I pulled on a comfortable pair of jeans. I wore my pupa silk shirt underneath a navy blue “We’re from the Galactic Free Trade Association and We’re Here to Help You” sweatshirt that I thought was appropriate for the holiday. After transferring all the stuff that usually lives in my pockets into my jeans I strapped on my new belt and Spike-tooth knife since I thought that would make Terrhi happy. When I stepped out of the bedroom Poly took a running start and nearly bowled me over with an energetic hug. I was surprised her towel stayed in place.
“Ouch! That hurt,” she said.
“I’m wearing my pupa silk shirt.”
“It’s cool enough for long sleeves this morning—I will too,” said Poly. “Do you have something I can borrow to go over it?”
We went into the bedroom and I found her a Mulbiri Tech sweatshirt, colored mulberry, of course. I kept my back turned while she dressed. I’d been taught that’s what a gentleman did.
“It would have been fun to tempt your virtue, but it’s safe, for now. You can turn around,” said Poly. I did, and smiled appreciatively. She looked great. We hugged. Gently.
“Do you want to wear your new belt and knife? I thought wearing mine would make Terrhi happy.”
“Of course, Jack. Help me put it on?” I knew this was another ruse to get me close enough to cuddle and was glad to assist, putting my arms around her waist and buckling her belt over her sweatshirt, like mine, so Terrhi would be sure to see it.
“Ready to face the world,” I said.
“Ready to face the universe.”
“We’ll have to start with Terrhi.”
As we walked to the front door I did a quick visual check of my apartment. Poly had very generously cleaned up while I was in the shower. She’d even taken care of the wrapping paper from her silk shirt. I hoped she’d saved the leftovers from breakfast and the flavor bush. I stopped at my backpack tool bag on its stand next to the door and pulled out Chit’s pill bottle.
“Hey, Chit, would you like to see the parade?”
“Naah,” said Chit’s voice from inside the bottle. “I’ll watch it on-line if there’s nuttin’ better on.”
Chit really was a homebody. Either that or she was addicted to broadcast Tea Party versus Tree Party debates in Congress.
“Suit yourself.”
“Have a nice day,” said Poly, trying to be friendly.
“You, too, doll,” said Chit. “Give him a kiss for me. I’m not equipped for it.”
She did and I heard snickering from Chit’s bottle.
“G’wan, get outta here,” said Chit from the depths of her bottle. “The kid’s waitin’ for ya.”
I slid Chit’s bottle back into its special compartment on my pack then Poly and I stepped outside. We turned to leave then I remembered something important. I took Poly’s hand and raised it to the pad by the door, then pressed her palm against it.
“Phone, please tell the door that Poly can come in any time,” I said. “And introduce her phone to the door, too.” The palm print reader was a failsafe, because she might need to get in and not have her phone.
“With pleasure,” said my phone. I heard several beeps and blips and expected that my phone had taken care of the requisite details and was getting to know Poly’s phone as well. I like electronics with initiative.
Poly slid her palm from the door pad into my hand and squeezed. “You didn’t have to do t
hat. I like it, though.”
“Mi casa es su casa, partner,” I said. “If you ever come over and I’m running late I don’t want you to have to wait outside.”
“Muchas gracias,” said Poly. “My apartment still uses an old-fashioned metal key. You can fab a copy for yourself after the parade if you’d like.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I liked having someone special in my life.
It only took us a few minutes to get to Tomáso and Terrhi’s apartment, even holding hands and stopping to smell the flowers and spinning each other around at random intervals. Terrhi and Spike were waiting for us at their courtyard door.
“Hi Uncle Jack! Hi Aunt Poly! Did you have a nice evening? Did you do a lot of kissing?”
“Hi Terrhi,” said Poly. “Yes and Yes. How about you? Did you sleep well?” Spike came over to me and allowed me to scritch him under his chin. He rubbed his head against my leg. I had to brace myself to hold my ground.
“It was nice. Thanks for telling me bedtime stories. Spike and I liked them a lot.” Terrhi took a breath. “We’ve been up for a long time and Daddy’s been at the mustering area for hours. He’s in charge of all the Dauushans marching.” The girl’s nine trunks were writhing with excitement. “The parade will be starting soon and we need to get to the viewing box. I made sure we had great seats.” She grabbed our hands with two of her trunks and tugged us from the back of her apartment toward the front. “The consulate’s box is right on Peachtree.”
Poly was patting Terrhi’s triangular head while I allowed Spike to herd me along as part of our small procession. His head kept butting my hand for more scritches. Greedy feline. Terrhi’s front door opened onto the Dauushan consulate’s box, a repurposed flatbed 18-wheeler. Sturdy steps led up to it and a heavy-duty steel railing separated the platform from the street. The viewing area was decorated in shades of pink bunting. Giant benches for adult Dauushans and assorted morphurniture for the comfort of visiting Galactic dignitaries filled the rear of the platform. We were the only ones there.
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