Mom woke up bright and early as usual to run some errands, dragging dad along with her. She left a note letting me know they had gone into town to look at some new light fixtures, even though I saw nothing wrong with the current ones.
Sometimes, it felt like my mom kept my dad working on things around the house just keep him from growing bored or getting depressed. My dad was the type who always needed to be working on something. The type that needed to feel useful and productive. At one time, it had been his career that kept him going. But now that he was retired, it was the house.
A lot had changed since the last time I'd been home – including the garden in the back. My mom used to garden here and there. Nothing big. A few tomato vines, and some herbs. Now, she was practically her own farmer's market. Dad, with likely nothing else to do, had apparently taken an interest in her gardening, and instead of sectioning off a part of the backyard for a small vegetable garden, he'd built a massive greenhouse for her back there. She'd gone crazy with it. The greenhouse was filled with fruits, vegetables, and even some flowers.
Better Homes and Gardens had nothing on my parents.
I walked into the greenhouse and was surprised to find a several bright, pink roses. My dad never had hobbies before. He'd never had time for them since he was always too busy with this or that case. He was always working. When he was home, he was either in his study preparing a case or sleeping for a few hours before getting up and doing it all over again.
Now, for the first time in his life, he had time to garden and renovate the house. So that’s what he did, and he did it to the extreme. Though, I was sure mom had put him up to a lot of that. Either because she wanted the changes or just to keep him busy and occupied – I couldn't say which.
Thinking about my parents reminded me of the conversation I'd had with my mom the night before. My dad was retired now, but had I stayed in law, would we be partners? Would my dad still be working hard – with me at his side working equally as hard? Would we both be so busy working that we weren't actually living?
The thought of having no time for the activities I loved – music, singing, socializing – killed me. To imagine my whole life like that, to only have time for hobbies once I'd grown old and had given up my career, was a depressing thought.
And yet, my dad had done just that. For so many years, he'd worked and had avoided anything that he might have loved or enjoyed. He was too busy for anything else. Hobbies were frivolous and were nothing more than things the lazy indulged in. That was his attitude. And he'd wanted nothing more than for his daughter than to follow along in his footsteps. Because, to him, that was the logical step.
I tried to be just like him because I'd looked up to him. I'd tried to be just like him for so long while my heart cried out for something more fulfilling that would nourish my soul. For so long, I'd ignored those cries and focused on becoming every bit the powerhouse attorney my father was. After all, I was trying to live up to his legend.
But as a child, all I saw were the good things. Time with my father wasn't as plentiful as I would have liked, so any time we did spend together, I spent watching him. I was curious about what he was working on and was fascinated by his passion. I so badly wanted to feel as passionate about my life as he did his.
Finally, I realized that law wasn't it for me. It felt logical at the time. When I was little, I wanted to be like my dad. And I was like my dad in a lot of ways. And I was really good at it. I supposed that all those years immersed in law because of my father had rubbed off on me. I'd learned a lot of things by watching him. Practicing law was just the next logical, natural progression in my life.
It felt safe.
I stared down at the perfect, pink rose before me and smiled. Leaning forward, I closed my eyes as I took in the brilliant scent of the flower. My mother might have helped out, but these flowers – these were all him. He'd grown them with the same meticulous care he'd put into his career. And they were something of beauty. What threw me was that they served no purpose other than to be beautiful. It was illogical for my father to spend his time on something that he merely enjoyed doing. Something he took pride in simply because it made him happy. Something that had no pragmatic purpose.
As I stared at the rose, I wondered why on earth had it taken him so long to indulge in those things he enjoyed and that made him feel somehow fulfilled. Imagine the life he could have led had he realized that sooner – all the beautiful things he could have made, the fun times he could have had. But instead, he'd spent most of his years focused on playing it safe, on being logical and useful.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something fly overhead. Probably a plane, I thought to myself. Or maybe it was a helicopter. It moved fast, however, and seemed larger than a helicopter and too low to the ground to be a plane. More curious was the fact that it was quiet. Maybe I'd been caught up in my head, but I hadn't heard a plane or a helicopter go by.
I shrugged and tried to push those thoughts away because they reminded me of what happened the other day with Baz.
A voice inside my head told me, Face it, Paige. There are things in this world that defy logic. And that doesn't make them bad. Just like the rose, not everything has to be logical.
I sighed. My heart was wanting to look past all the craziness, because there was something about Baz that made him impossible to forget. I'd think about his face or hear his voice in my thoughts, and my insides would get all warm and fuzzy. I couldn't help but smile when his name came up in my thoughts, but then I'd remember what I'd seen and totally lose those feelings, at least for a little while.
My feelings for Baz were complex. He was unlike anybody I'd ever met before, and I knew it would be so easy to let myself go and fall for him. He had so many amazing qualities and things I liked about him. I enjoyed his company and thought that he was a good man – for someone who wasn't technically a man. But I knew that I couldn't let myself go. I could not give my emotions free rein. It was too dangerous in so many ways.
How could I come to terms with all of that? How could I reconcile my feelings with facts? He's an alien. I wanted to deny it and write him off as a delusional whack job. But I knew what I'd seen. And I had no earthly explanation for it. I'd never believed in aliens, much less thought they might be walking among us, but I'd seen what I saw with my own two eyes.
Whatever happened – the blue blood coming out of those men, the fight – none of that made a bit of sense. It defied logic. If I were to apply the theory of Occam's razor to the situation, I'd have to conclude that Baz wasn't lying, that he really was an alien and those two men he killed were, in fact, alien assassins sent to kill him.
Damn it. I groaned and rubbed my temples, trying to stave off the headache that was coming on. Why did dating have to be so complicated? Though I think finding out that your suitor is an alien goes above and beyond just being complicated.
It was downright crazy. And yet, there we were.
Chapter Two: Baz
The Mahogany Tavern was as lively, but there was something missing. I felt it, but judging by the laughing, smiling faces around me, I was the only one. It just didn't feel the same to me. There wasn't as much energy tonight as there had been previously. The music, as always, was good, and I immersed myself in it. But as I sat alone in a booth and watched the performer on stage, I knew that without Paige there, this bar would never feel the same for me again.
I sipped a concoction of sorts that burned my throat and grimaced. I still did not understand why these humans were so fascinated with these painful and disgusting beverages. I'd merely ordered what the guy next to me had ordered – a bourbon on the rocks. But as I inspected the glass, I realized that there were no rocks to be found.
These humans, I thought to myself, shaking my head.
Anjol, of course, took the opportunity to give me a history lesson, “Bourbon is a distilled spirit–”
I finished the sentence for him, “That tastes like fire burning your throat as it goes down?”
“It's quite potent, yes. The rocks refer to the ice–”
“Listen, Anjol, does it look like I care about that right now? I have more important things to worry about at the moment. Like Finding Paige. Do you know where I might be able to find her?”
“Are you still sure you should find her, Baz? Because honestly, I worry you're overreacting and your impulses aren't based in sound logic. The human woman specifically asked you to stay away. So to go looking for her now would go against her very wishes.”
“True, but I doubt she wants to end up dead.”
Anjol was quiet and didn't seem to have an answer to that. That's the problem with machines – even bionetic-based computer systems like Anjol. He could help keep me logical and present me with an array of facts all designed to help me keep my emotions out of the way, but he had no concept of life or death, or of love. He had been created, not born. And he died when I died – in a way. His program lived on long after I died.
Even if it didn't, he didn't hold the same emotional attachments to his life the way I did. I had reason to believe humans felt the same way about their lives. Though incredibly advanced, bionetic-based systems like Anjol did not have the capacity to understand emotion. That was not their purpose. Even though Optorions were famous for their logic and pragmatism, we still had emotions.
Without a tracking device, there was no way to know where she went, though. So even if I'd wanted to find her and save her, I realized that I might not be able to.
I took another drink of the awful liquid, cringing as it went down. I pushed the glass out of reach to avoid taking another sip. It wasn't a pleasant experience, and I didn't want to force myself to continue it. My head felt a little funny – a sensation that I hadn't felt before coming to Earth. Anjol had warned me that these drinks could do that to me. He also warned me to avoid them as they were toxic to the liver and then gave me an array of statistics about disease and death associated with these spirits. But considering the fact that I didn't have a human liver – and wasn't consuming it in very large quantities – I figured I'd be just fine.
I considered it all part of my research of this species. Getting to know their habits, social or otherwise. Anjol didn't seem to agree, but I wasn't planning on drinking any more of this bourbon anyway. I didn't believe in torturing myself without good reason.
I got the feeling I was being watched, and when I scanned the room, I saw that someone was indeed staring at me. Someone I recognized.
Josie. She was friends with Paige and very well might know where I could find her.
“I would warn against that, Baz,” Anjol said.
I didn't listen. I didn't have to wait too long to talk to Josie, because before I could walk toward her, she came over to me, swishing her hips and walking in a way that made most of the human males in the room stop and watch her.
She stopped at my table and smiled down at me.
“May I have a seat?”
“I don't believe it's my seat to give away,” I said. “They belong to the club. Is that not correct?”
She gave me an odd look as Anjol quickly explained the meaning behind the phrase. I cleared my throat and looked at her before laughing and trying to play it off.
“Sorry,” I said. “My sense of humor is a little odd sometimes. Yes, please, feel free to sit down.”
Josie sat across from me and stared at me in silence for a few seconds. The way she stared at me unnerved me a bit. It was like she was trying to figure something out. Like maybe she was trying to read my mind. Humans couldn't do that – could they?
Anjol responded quickly. “No, Baz. Humans are incapable of reading minds. At least most of them, it appears. Some claim to have this ability, but it's deeply contested and I can't find any real proof.”
“What's going on with you and Paige?” Josie asked, interrupting Anjol's voice in my head and confirming what he'd told me. No, she couldn't read minds. Otherwise she wouldn't be asking me such a question. “I mean, how serious are you about her?”
“Serious? I take her very seriously,” I said, and Anjol explained what the phrase meant. “I like your friend very much, and I can honestly say she's unlike any woman I've ever met before. I'm just worried about her.”
Josie ran a hand through her hair and laughed. “Aren't we all.”
“Why are you worried about her?” I asked. “Has she given you reason to worry?”
Josie looked at me again, this time as if she was trying to come to a decision in her head. She was deep in thought, and the silence hung in the air for a little longer than I was comfortable with. Finally, she spoke.
“If I tell you this, you have to promise me it won't get back to Paige, okay? And know that I'm only telling you because I think you're good for her. That, and I know my best friend well enough to know she's probably trying to push you away right about now.”
“Yes, she is, as you say, pushing me away right now. In fact, she's asked me to avoid contact with her for a little while,” I said. “How did you know?”
“Because Paige is Paige, and she's a stubborn woman who always pushes men away before it gets too serious. You know that means she likes you, right? Because once she starts having feelings for a man, that's when she runs away.”
I was not sure about the feelings part of that equation, but seeing me kill two alien assassins directly in front of her could probably have the same effect. But I knew I couldn't let Josie know about that part.
“Do you know where she's at, Josie?” I asked. “I really need to find her and speak to her.”
Josie sighed, not meeting my gaze for a moment. Finally, she said, “Yeah, I do. But hear me out first, Baz. You have to know a few things about my best friend before I'll let you go to her. You need to understand where she's coming from.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling like the clock was ticking. I needed to get to Paige quickly, but I couldn't argue with Josie or risk alienating her. She could prove a very useful ally. “Go on.”
Josie sighed and then nodded to herself, as if to provide herself with some encouragement. Or perhaps she was trying to convince herself that she was doing the right thing.
“Paige was in an abusive relationship not all that long ago,” she said. “Her ex, Shane, wasn't really physical abusive, but it was getting there. He just – well, he was always manipulating her. He was always lying to her and treating her like shit. He cheated on her left and right. He had a nasty habit of treating her like trash, but giving her just enough kindness to keep her hanging there on a string before he tore her apart again.”
I leaned back in my seat and tried to process all that she was telling me – as well as having Anjol fill in the blanks on many of the colloquialisms Josie was using.
Josie spoke softly, and as she paused, she looked down at my drink and asked, “Are you going to finish that?”
“No, you are more than welcome to this,” I said.
Josie took a long, hard swig as if she was drinking water. Humans. They never ceased to amaze me with the most ridiculous of talents.
“I'll pay for you to get a new drink,” she said. “What would you like?”
“I'm fine. I need to be leaving soon anyway to find Paige.”
Josie nodded, wiping her lips with a napkin before continuing. “Paige has always had problems with trusting people. Her folks haven't been much better, but she's trying to fix things with them, I think. She's trying to stop pushing people away and maybe learn to love and trust again, which is why she's there. It's where she always went when Shane and her fought. Despite her problems with her folks, it was her safe place. It's where she grew up.”
Her parents' house. “Do you know how I can find her parents' home, Josie?”
“I have an address.”
“That would be incredibly helpful,” I said, knowing that Anjol could use the address to locate the house and direct me there. “How far is it from here?”
“Not that far, but listen to me, Baz. When you go to h
er, you need to be honest. Any sign of a lie or half-truth will send her running for the hills,” she said. “You can't lie to this woman. She will smell it from a mile away, and it's a sin she'll never be able to forgive. If you care for her, you need to be totally and completely honest with her. Can you do that?”
I nodded. “I believe that I can. Yes.”
If she believes what I have to say. I didn't want to lie to her, but how could I tell her who I really was? There was no way for me to do that without sounding like – to use human parlance – a lunatic. Now she knew the truth of it all, but if what Josie said was right, would Paige be able to forgive me? Would she be willing to give me a second chance? Or was my 'sin' unforgivable to her?
I sighed. It probably didn't matter in the end. I was not chasing after her to reunite and beg for forgiveness. Forgiveness would be nice, yes, but I wanted to keep her alive. That was the most important thing to me right now.
Keep her alive first. Then, maybe, I could hope for forgiveness.
Chapter Three
She was in a place known as Big Sur, California, which was about an hour and a half from Sapphire Bay. That was where I would find Paige. I couldn't walk there, and without my ship, there was no way I could fly.
So how would I travel that distance?
I stood outside the Mahogany Tavern and stared at the cars lining the street. I needed one of them.
“According to their code of law, grand theft auto is a jailable offense on Earth, and I'm afraid your diplomatic immunity won't help you here, Baz.”
Maybe not, I thought to myself with a smile. But I'll only go to jail if I get caught. And that won't happen, Anjol. We won't let it happen.
“Are you asking me to help you break the law of this land, Baz?”
“Human laws, Anjol. These are human laws and we're not human. So technically, we're not breaking the law at all.”
Anjol didn't seem entirely convinced, but there wasn't much he could do. He was still in my brain and still had to follow my orders or risk being shut down.
Mated to a Bear (Legends of Black Salmon Falls Book 3) Page 24