Among The Stars

by Robin Banks

  We manage to collar her in the morning, before she sets off to gods-know-where. Tom’s got his best smile on, too. “You want to come to ours for dinner tonight? Luke’s cooking.”

  I appreciate that my cooking skills are a work in progress, but I’m still surprised by her reaction. Instead of looking happy, she looks shocked. “Are you kidding me? Tonight?”

  “Yeah. What’s wrong with tonight?”

  “Tonight’s the party.”

  “Party? What party?”

  “New year’s eve party? Tonight? On Terran New Year’s eve?”

  “You’re having a party?”

  “Oh, shit. You don’t know anything about it, do you? Didn’t Kolya tell you? Or any of your friends?”

  “Know what about what?”

  “Jameson always throws a party for the whole show for Terran New Year. Formal occasion. Fancy food, rivers of booze, that kind of thing. Everyone’s invited, even the peasants. That means you.”

  “Oh, what?” I wail.

  “It’s party, kid, not a spacing. There’s no need to look so dismayed.”

  “Do we have to go?”

  Tom elbows me. “Man, what’s wrong with you? It’s a free party.”

  I elbow him back. “Formal occasion? So not my scene.”

  “You’re too good for free food and booze now?”

  Alya coughs. “I don’t think so. Free food. You can eat until you’re sick, if that’s your style, but if you even look at the booze I’ll have your guts for garters. And yes, you have to go. When the boss throws a party and invites you, you go.”

  “I’ve got nothing to wear.”

  “Then you’ll have to get something, because you’re not borrowing one of my dresses. Pick your bottom lip off the floor. It’s not going to be that bad. The powers that be are not going to mingle with the commoners just because it’s a party. You lot will all be seated together with the boys, having a grand time. Kolya will be in charge of checking your drinks, in case you get ideas. I, on the other hand, will have to sit at the main table with Jameson and utterly bloody Bella and whatever his girlfriend is called this week, and all the posh bastards, and pretend I’m enjoying their company. So I’m not terribly inclined to feel sorry for you. You’ll cope.”

  “Who else is coming?” asks Tom eagerly.

  “Couple of circus people who are relatively local. A bunch of circus groupies. Oh, yeah: you’ll have to watch out for them. Seriously.”

  “As in how?”

  “Just, you know, watch yourselves.” It’s hard to tell with her complexion, but I think she’s blushing.

  Tom blinks at her. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. What am I watching out for?”

  “Some of these people, they’re really into circus. Really… Passionate about it.” Yup. She’s definitely blushing.

  “So?”

  “So they might think it would be lovely to get friendly with someone from the circus.”

  “Get friendly? You mean they might try to pick us up?”

  “Yes.”

  “For sex?”

  “Yes!” She’s looking so mortified that it makes me feel bad for wanting to laugh at her.

  Tom beams. “Any of them rich?”

  “What?” squeaks Alya. “Some. I guess. Why?”

  “Oh, this is brilliant! Damn shame we’ve only got a few days left here. Hardly any chance to capitalize on that.”

  I can’t stop laughing at Alya’s face then, even though I know it’s unfair.

  Tom pats her on the arm. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine. Just point us in the direction of the ones who’re loaded. They’re bound to be sitting at your table, right?”

  She turns to look at me, mouth still hanging open.

  I shrug. “It’s just one of those things, you know?”

  “No, I don’t. What things?”

  “Mixing business and pleasure. Their pleasure, our business.”

  “And you… You…”

  Tom sniggers. “No, he doesn’t. He just keeps an eye out for me. I don’t either, really. Mostly. It’s often a case of, you know, selling the possibility. Man, we’ve got to get some decent clothes.”

  I sigh. There isn’t any stopping him now. “You wanna hit the bubble at lunchtime?”

  “Will have to. I wish we’d had more notice. I would have got a haircut.”

  “I'm not cutting my hair for a party.”

  “You don’t need to. You’ve got that curly-haired baby boy thing going for you.”

  “Kiss my ass.”

  “No time for that, sorry.” He turns back to Alya. “So, what kind of formal is this? Local, Terran, what?”

  Alya blinks. “I’m sorry. I’m still trying to come to terms with the way this conversation panned out. Actually, I don’t want to. I don’t want to know. Ask Kolya.”

  “Sure. With his interest in fashion and formalities he’s going to be a priceless source of advice.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to advise you on how to… How to…”

  “How to make a rich man happy?” Tom grins. “No need for that. We just need fashion advice. Shirt, ties? Jackets?”

  Alya looks close to tears. I feel bad about that, so I signal to Tom to cut it out. He looks a bit put out, but he pats her on the arm again and bugs off, whistling tunelessly. She still looks horrified, so I try to comfort her.

  “It’s alright, you know? Tom is mostly joking.”

  “Mostly?”

  “Yeah. He likes it when people find him attractive. Sometimes he just capitalizes on that.”

  “I wish you two didn’t use that word. It makes it all sound even worse.”

  “Sorry. But there’s not much to it, honestly. Unless there is. I’ll keep an eye out for him. Keep him safe. That’s what I do.”

  “What do I do? I feel like I ought to do something.”

  “Nah. He’s a big boy.” She looks only marginally convinced, so I carry on. “That’s why he can charge extra.”

  Getting hit with a shoe is uncomfortable, but sometimes it’s worth it.

  The party starts out better than I expected. Everyone is looking somewhere between ‘good’ and ‘fantastic’, including us two, thanks to Tom dragging me around the shops at lunchtime. To look at him, you’d think he really was somebody. I hate to admit it, but he looks really out of place at the boys’ table. He ought to be with his artist friends.

  I’m glad I’m here, though, despite hardly knowing the boys at all. They don’t really talk to us. Even after they got used to us working right next to them, the most we’ve been getting out of them is a nod in passing. Turns out that the reason for that is that their English isn’t that great. They can understand it well enough: I figure that out when I realize that Kolya has to translate what they’re saying for us, but not what we’re saying for them. They just don’t speak it well enough to feel comfortable doing so. When I hear that, I can’t stop laughing. It seems so strange that they would be embarrassed when they speak two languages and we can only speak one.

  Once we’ve all chilled out, and once Tom and I have managed to sneak a couple of proper drinks under Kolya’s nose, we have a great time. Unfortunately, as soon as the meal is over, we have to get up and mingle.

  Alya’s walking around smiling and chatting with the visitors. Her hair is down and she’s wearing a bright red dress that swishes around when she moves. Compared to her, most of the girls look a lot more done up. They’re all covered in make-up and jewelry and shiny things. You’d think Alya would look drab by comparison, but I think she looks like a flower: unfussily pretty.

  The boys all huddle together on one side of the ring, clutching their drinks as if they were shields. I wish I could go and hide with them, but Tom’s doing his thing. He’s got style, he really does. He doesn’t go chasing admirers. He just stands there all broad shoulders, smoldering eyes, and dazzling smile, and lets them come to him. He’s got a fair bit of competition here, so he’s turned all the dials up t
o max. None of the guys are half as good looking as he is, though. I reckon he’s gonna do fine.

  I’m trying real hard to play my normal role, but some of the people here are really hard to manage. They get talking to me, which is normal, but instead of moving on to talk to Tom they stick to me like glue. I don’t get it. One guy in particular won’t leave me alone. I wonder how direct I need to be to get him to fuck off, when Alya appears at my elbow.

  “Luke, sweetie, sorry to disturb you, but I could do with your help. “Would you mind awfully?”

  “No! I mean, of course I don’t mind, if you need me.”

  The sticky guy doesn’t look happy at all, but he doesn’t try to stop us. Alya walks us round to backstage. As soon as she’s out of sight, her expression goes from slightly vacant happiness to terminal annoyance.

  “What a horrible little creep! Sorry to drag you out here. I just couldn’t bear to watch him crawl all over you anymore.”

  “What? So you don’t need me?”

  “Nah. Just had this sudden urge to rescue you.”

  I get a sudden urge to hug her for that, but I stop myself. “That was kind of you. But I have to go back, you know.”

  “You don’t, really. I mean, no offence, but Jameson is barely aware of your existence and that’s how I want to keep it. He won’t miss you.”

  “Tom might, though. I’m letting my side down.”

  “I thought he’d appreciate less competition.”

  “What? I’m his wingman. I’m not competing with him.”

  She giggles. “Not intentionally, maybe. Why do you think all those people were hounding you?”

  “I’m Tom’s friend.”

  She chortles. “Yeah, right.” Then she looks at my face. “Gods. You’re serious. You really believe that. You really don’t get it.”

  “Get what?”

  “Those people aren’t talking to you because you’re Tom’s friend. That’s got nothing to do with it.”

  “What the hell are you on about? Why are they talking to me, then?”

  She blinks. “…Because you’re ridiculously good looking?”

  I stare at her hard, but she just shrugs at me. “I’m sorry. It’s true. You’re like, I don’t know, some old Terran painting of an angel. You know, golden curls and stuff. But with muscles. Some kind of buff fighting angel, maybe. And you’re completely oblivious to that, which makes it even better.”

  “Yeah. Whatever.”

  “You think I’m bullshitting you?”

  “I think you’re confused.”

  “Suit yourself. But at some point you’ll need to readjust your self-image, ‘cause it’s a couple of months out of whack. When you came here, you looked like a pasty, scrawny kid badly in need of a decent haircut. Now you look like a buff young man, and if anyone took scissors anywhere near your hair there’d be an insurrection. Luke, as far as I’m concerned you’re still a twelve year old little twerp with questionable morals, dubious habits, and no common sense. But what the world sees is, well, that.” She waves her hand in my general direction. “A golden-maned buff angel. And they’re gonna want a piece of that. You’re going to have to watch out.”

  “Have you been drinking? I mean, you look pretty steady, but you’re talking trash.”

  “That’s it. I give up. Anyway, if you want to go back in, hopefully that guy will have found someone else to latch on to. And if you ever need rescuing just let me know.”

  “Thank you? I think. Are you going to rescue Tom, too?”

  “Only thing that guy need rescuing from is himself. I lack the energy.”

  She goes through the side curtains to get back to the party and I linger backstage. I know I’ve got to go back, but it’s quiet here. Cooler, too. And it smells lovely, like smoke.

  Holy shit: it smells like smoke. It really does. I sniff the air again and there’s no mistaking it. Someone’s smoking and what they’ve got is unlikely to be legal. I mean, I’ve not checked the local statutes, but this is a Fed planet. The Fed don’t approve of most things fun.

  I follow my nose to the back door. When I stick my head through it I spot a glow in the darkness and hear a girl giggling. I amble over, because why not, and find that dancer whose face Tom was sucking at my party looking quite cozy with one of the visitors. I haven’t interrupted anything major, ‘cause their clothes are still on, but they’re definitely friendly enough that Tom will need to know. Oh, well.

  Whatsherface, Sonia or Sandra or Something with an S, tries to be all cheery and friendly at me, but she doesn’t do a very good job. Her friend isn’t terribly happy to have me join them, but still passes over the smoke. I take a couple of tokes, then a third one ‘cause it’s not as if me and this guy are going to be pals. I hand it back when I’m good and ready and fuck off back indoors.

  Whatever that shit was, it was good. When I get back to Tom I’m feeling great. I couldn’t care less about how much I hate parties and chatting with strangers. Everything’s just fine.

  It takes Tom about two nanoseconds to work out what’s up with me. He excuses himself from his admirers and corners me.

  “Where and how did you get baked and why didn’t I get any?”

  “I could hardly steal someone’s lit smoke and walk it through here, could I? Do you want the good or bad news? Bad one’s pretty bad, good one is alright.”

  “Hit me.”

  “Your girl was getting cozy with one of the visitors outside backstage.”

  “Well, damn.”

  “Yeah.”

  His face runs through a few expression, then it settles for indifference. “Then again, I was trying to get cozy with the rich bastards here. Can’t fault her, really.”

  “I don’t think they got very far.”

  “Him and me both, then.”

  “The good news is that if you hurry you may be able to bum a smoke from them.”

  His grin splits his face. “Lead on. I’m missing my girl something fierce.”

  They’re still there when we get there. I don’t know whether she doesn’t care or she’s trying to get caught. She must have known I’d tell Tom all about it. If she was trying to cause a scene with Tom, she must be disappointed. He saunters up to them, all smiles and charm, and proceeds to get us both blissfully baked courtesy of her admirer. When we’ve had enough, we smile our goodbyes and leave them to whatever.

  “Tom? You ok with leaving her with that guy?”

  “What? Yeah. He’s no threat to me. I’d cozy up to him for that shit he’s smoking, too. And if he thinks he can bother her, there’s a ton of people right next door. Sonia can scream for help and a whole horde will descend upon him. She’ll be fine.”

  “I’m in no mood to go back to the party, though.”

  “Me neither.”

  We’ve meandered away from the big top and ended up by the storage containers. It’s pitch black out here. The only light comes from the reflection of the big top lights on the bubble. I glance up at it and have to stop walking. It’s so pretty I want to check it out properly, but looking up at it is killing my neck, so I lie down on the ground. I don’t have much of an option, really. My head’s spinning so much it’s either lying down or falling down. I feel good, though. Everything inside me is fizzing. Lying down here in the dark all I can see are those reflections high up there. Hundreds of lights are twinkling in my sky, and my insides are twinkling with them.

  Tom laughs at me. “Can’t handle it, can you? Couple of drinks and a smoke and you’re legless.”

  “Nah. Come down here. It’s pretty.”

  “Are you shitting me? I don’t wanna get filthy. These are new clothes.”

  “Your loss.”

  He stands next to me for a bit, looking up, then swears loudly and sits down.

  “No, man. Lie down. Seriously.”

  “You’re a godsdamn freak, you know that?” But he lies down next to me anyway. After a few moments, he whistles. “Holy shit.”

  “Told you.”

&
nbsp; “Never seen anything like this without doing something illegal.”

  “Technically what we did was illegal.”

  “Yeah, well, who cares about ‘technically’?”

  We lie there watching the pretty lights for I don’t know how long. It’s not cold down here, not like it would have been back home. You couldn’t lie on the ground back home and go to sleep. Not if you wanted to wake up, anyway.

  “Tom, you know what? I could stay here forever.”

  “If you do, it would be forever. Gotta be time for the air to go off soon.”

  “Shit. Gonna be ages before it’s dangerous out, though.”

  “If you’re wasted enough to say something like that, then you’re way too wasted to be out anywhere. Get up. Up!” He kicks me hard in the leg.

  “In a moment. The alarm hasn’t even gone off yet.”

  “Ok, but don’t you fucking dare fall asleep. They’ll never find you here.”

  “If I do, you’ll wake me up.”

  “This is not how it works. I get wasted, you look after me. Remember?”

  “Vividly. About time we did a swap.”

  “Oh hell no. You’re the boring, sensible one.”

  “I got you here. That was neither boring nor sensible.”

  “Meh. It worked out well, didn’t it?”

  “Seems to. I’m so fucking happy it scares me.”

  “I get you.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Are you happy?”

  Tom snorts. “You know me. I’m always happy.”

  “Answer the fucking question, will you.”

  “Yeah. I guess. Like, right now I’m fucking ecstatic. Every day, yeah, it’s alright. I just wish… I liked how we got treated today. I liked it a lot. And only reason that happened is that those creeps had no idea what we actually do for a living. They thought we were circus stars.”

  “You looked like one.”

  “You didn’t do badly yourself. I just wish we could really amount to something. Be the kind of people who get treated like that for real.”

  “Can’t we?”

  “Not without changing tack. Without getting into the show somehow.”

  “Hell, I don’t wanna do that.”