Kord: Dakonian Alien Mail Order Brides #5 (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Cara Bristol

“All right, then.” She flounced away.

  “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Braxx watched until she disappeared into the kitchen. “We’re going to make beautiful kits together.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him he had his work cut out for him. It appeared convincing Holly they were Fated would be no easier than convincing Barb. But, oddly, my brother’s upcoming trials made me feel better about my tribulations.

  It appeared Earth females were just contrary. They’d warned us in the IDA assimilation classes our dates would require courtship and wooing. It reassured me to discover my experiences with Barb were normal. I hadn’t hit a snag; this was just the way Earth relationships went.

  Braxx drummed his fingers on the table. “I need to see her again. It is hard when there are so many people, and she is so busy.”

  “I’ll check the work schedule for you,” I said. “If you come in at the start of her shift, you’ll have more time to talk.” Holly had been so supportive of Barb and me, the least I could do was return the favor and help her and Braxx to achieve their happily ever after.

  With a little time and patience, everything would work out for all of us as it was meant to be. With the Fates on our side, how could we lose?

  Chapter Twelve

  Barb

  Dim lightbulbs flickered in the hallway smelling of grease and urine, and if I hadn’t once lived here, I couldn’t have told you what color the holey carpeting had been originally. Gray now, green back then. I clamped my elbow tight against my handbag, glad I’d had the foresight to slip my pepper spray into my pocket before I’d entered the apartment building. Although I’d never been robbed, I’d witnessed plenty of sketchy shit going down in these halls. The pay-by-the-month, no-questions-asked tenement was the last stop before living on the streets.

  I hadn’t intended to dredge up memories I’d rather leave buried, but, in the end, vestiges of family ties were strong enough to pull me back. George and Ramona were my parents—at least, that’s what my birth certificate purported.

  Until this morning, I hadn’t spoken to them in years. My phone rang, and my mother’s number popped up, like the proverbial bad penny. A call from mommy dearest couldn’t be good news; it was never good news. I let it ring and ring then, cursing myself, caught it just before it went to voicemail. “Hi, Mom.”

  She didn’t bother with a greeting. “Your father has liver disease. He’s dying. He’d like to see you.”

  See what I mean?

  Kord was working today and would be waiting for me at the restaurant. At my suggestion, we’d spent the last couple of nights apart, and I still couldn’t face him. He was the open issue I had yet to solve. What did you do when you feared what you desired? I’d been running for most of my life. Why should today be any different?

  I called Holly and asked her to fill in for me. This visit served as stark testament to my confusion that I’d chosen to spend time with my no-account parents instead of the man I’d fallen in love with.

  Their unit was at the end of the dingy, smelly corridor. I still had my key from when I used to live here. Most likely, it still worked. But this wasn’t home anymore. Actually, it never had been home.

  From inside, I could hear the dings and applause of a TV game show.

  I pressed the ringer. Nothing happened. Dead as a doornail. Blowing out a huff of air, I rapped on the door hard enough to be heard over the blaring TV.

  “Just a minute!” I heard my mom call. “George! Turn that down.”

  The TV volume lowered, and the door was flung open.

  “Barbie!” My mom’s face lit up. “George, it’s Barbie!” She sounded surprised I’d shown up.

  I’d surprised myself. Why had I come? I’d worked so hard—run so fast—to get away from this. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Don’t just stand there. Come in. Come in.” She moved as if to drag me into the apartment but then caught herself and stepped back.

  They’d gotten a newer, somewhat bigger TV, but otherwise the place hadn’t changed much. They had the old saggy plaid couch, thrift store coffee tables piled high with junk, and the same battered-and-cracked table lamps.

  “One hundred people surveyed. Top eight answers on the board. Name an occasion that brings families together,” the TV game show host read from a card.

  “Weddings!” shouted the contestant.

  Ding! She got a correct answer, and the host moved on to the next player.

  My paternal parent looked as aged as the peeling faux-leather recliner he slumped in, more like my grandfather than my father. Knuckles whitening on the arms of the chair, he leveraged himself to his feet and tottered toward me, stooped and hunched.

  “Hi, honey. It’s so good to see you.” He hugged me and kissed my cheek, the brief scrape of his whiskers hurtling me back a couple of decades to him tucking me into bed. “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he’d say, and then would tiptoe out of my room. Soon after, the screaming fights would commence. Back then, he’d been a handsome man. Now, his saggy skin had taken on a yellow cast, and he appeared both emaciated and bloated at the same time.

  “Molly—what is an occasion in which families get together?”

  “Christmas!”

  Ding!

  I patted his back awkwardly. “I heard you haven’t been doing well.”

  “Been better,” he said.

  “He’s dying,” my mother chimed in. “He’s on hospice.”

  Annoyance flashed across his features. “Who asked you?”

  “She needs to know.”

  “Well, now she does.” He inched back to his chair and collapsed into it.

  “Are you in much pain?” I asked tentatively.

  “Not so much. When you reach this stage, they give you good drugs and keep you comfortable.” He picked up a can of beer and took a swig.

  Really, Dad? My gaze zeroed in on the beer.

  “Okay, Jennifer, name an occasion in which families get together.”

  “Uh, I don’t know….funerals?”

  Ding!

  With shaking hands, my father set the can on the table. “What’s it matter now?”

  “You see what I go through?” My mother looked to me for support. “This is so like him! Even after finding out he’s destroyed his liver with alcohol, he still can’t stop drinking.”

  “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” he said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my liver!”

  “That you know of.”

  “You know what your problem is—”

  “Stop it!” I clapped my hands over my ears. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” I glowered at both of them. “Is this why you called me here? So I could watch you guys fight again?”

  “Name an occasion in which families get together.”

  “And turn this damn thing off.” I grabbed the remote and clicked off the TV. “Nothing ever changes around here!”

  My parents looked shocked. “We’re not fighting,” Mom said. “We’re just talking.”

  “That’s right. We bicker a lot, but we don’t mean anything by it. It’s just our way.” Dad nodded.

  The lamp base was cracked because Mom had hit Dad with it. She’d had stitches in her head because once, when they’d both been on a bender, she’d slapped him, and he’d pushed her away hard enough that her skull slammed against the wall. Her head had been patched up, but the hole in the wall was still there.

  Like I said, nothing had changed. They attacked each other verbally—sometimes even physically—but when a perceived threat came from outside, their front couldn’t get any more united.

  Mom perched on the arm of Dad’s chair. “You’ve always misunderstood our relationship. Your dad and I love each other very much. We’re soul mates.” She smiled at him. “We were fated to be together.”

  I jerked. Kord believed the same about us. If my parents served as an example of how Cupid, the Universe, the Fates matched people, they weren’t doing them any favors. The only positi
ve about pairing Ramona and George was it prevented them from inflicting their twisted brand of love on innocents. They’d been quarantined together for the good of mankind. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been sterilized first, and they’d been able to bring a child into their world.

  This was my background. These two had shaped me, made me what I was. Escape was an illusion. I was like a dog leashed on a bungee cord. I could run only so far, before, snap, I’d be yanked back. I had no right inflicting myself on an innocent child, on an innocent partner. Kord didn’t understand what he was getting into, what I was, what I could become. Sure, I appeared to hold it all together, but who knew what would come out if I relaxed and let go of the pretense. I’d already slapped Kord once. I loved him too much to subject him to the Quintain brand of craziness. He deserved a partner who would bring him happiness and joy, normalcy.

  Mom reached for a glass of what looked like Coke, but I’d bet my restaurant a little something extra spiked her soft drink. Rum and Coke had always been her preferred poison. She took a long swig. Dad patted her knee.

  I wished I felt nothing for them. I thought I did until I came here again. That’s why I’d stayed away because distance enabled me to pretend. I was so good at pretending. It hurt Dad was going to die. He’d caused his illness himself, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t want to care, but I did. Mom would be devastated. She’d probably get drunk and stay that way for the rest of her life to cope with the grief.

  Soul mates. Fated. How wonderful.

  “I’m so glad you came, Barbie,” Mom was saying. “We’ve had our differences, and maybe we made a few mistakes in parenting—”

  “There’s no parenting manual, you know,” Dad said.

  I twisted my mouth at the stupidity of his statement. There were parenting books, and I was sure at least one of them would advise, “Don’t be a drunk.” Don’t drink until you pass out and forget to feed your child or take her to school. Remember to make arrangements to have someone pick her up if you’re too shit-faced to drive. Don’t beat up on each other. Don’t terrify your four-year-old by screaming at each other and breaking things. Don’t teach her that love can’t be trusted.

  “Families have to stick together. Family comes first,” Mom said and took another drink of “Coke.” Yeah, I knew what had come first, and it hadn’t ever been me.

  Well, I intended to sever the bungee cord, liberate myself, and free Kord. It was time to do the right thing. They couldn’t do it, but I would.

  I kissed them both goodbye and left.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kord

  Moving quickly but automatically, I cleared the table, scraping uneaten food into one bin then dumping the dirty plates into another and tossing the silverware into a third. Drinkware got emptied and deposited on my cart. With a disinfecting rag, I wiped the table then rolled my cart to the next one, a big one. Three tables had been pushed together to accommodate a large group.

  As usual, Barbie Q’s was busy. Seats filled as soon as tables were cleared. Fortunately, I didn’t need to think to do my job.

  Or maybe I did. I must not have been working fast enough because Holly came beside me and began tossing dishes into my bins. “Let me give you a hand,” she said.

  For a moment, there was only the clatter of dishes.

  Then, “Barb is slinking around like a kicked puppy, and you look even worse. What’s going on between you two?” she asked in a low voice.

  “I wish I knew.” Our trip to Disneyland had been one of the best days of my life, but soon after, everything changed. First, she’d suddenly become “busy” after the restaurant closed for the night and was unable to see me, and I could never manage to catch her alone at work. Then the posted work roster got revised so that we were almost never scheduled at the same time.

  “You didn’t have a fight?”

  “No. Everything was great until it wasn’t.”

  “You need to talk to her. Find out what’s wrong. If ever two people were meant to be together, you two are.”

  “I’ve tried. She’s almost never alone, and as soon as she sees me coming, she disappears.”

  “She’s alone now. She’s in her office.”

  I imagined I could feel Barb watching from her lookout. Had I done something to offend her? Had she stopped caring for me? It was unheard of for Fated mates to fall out of love, and my belief in our shared destiny had never wavered. Then again, Barb could be as contrary as they come, and she’d never actually said she loved me. I doubted the Fates had encountered many like her.

  However, I’d seen progress! She’d dropped her guardedness, becoming more relaxed and open, laughing and smiling more, speaking like the other Earth people in New Los Angeles.

  Then she’d snapped back into full Texas mode.

  “As soon as she sees me coming, she’ll run,” I said.

  “Yes, but I’ll bet you can run faster. Go! I’ll take care of the tables.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Go. Before she sees us talking and gets suspicious.”

  “All right. Thank you.” I started to turn, but the irony halted my step. “What’s happening between you and Braxx?” My brother had lamented over Dakonian ales at the Stellar Dust Bin that he’d hit a wall of ice in his attempt to capture Holly’s attention. She’d been freezing him out the way Barb gave me the cold shoulder.

  “Nothing!” She huffed. “Kord—go! You may not get another chance.”

  She was right. Holly was Braxx’s problem anyway. Barb was mine.

  I dashed for the stairs.

  Barb must have been watching because she came flying out of her office. I bounded up the steps and blocked her passage. She halted, two steps above me, putting us close to eye level, but she refused to meet my gaze. “I can’t talk now. I have something I need to do.”

  “What?”

  “We’re busy. I have to help wait tables.”

  “Everyone is here today. Holly has it under control.”

  “Oh, you’ve been promoted to manager now?”

  I wouldn’t be distracted by sarcasm. “Let’s go inside your office.”

  “Customers are staring. We can talk later. Let me pass.”

  Later would never come. “All the more reason to go inside.” I stepped up one stair.

  “What are you doing? I told you I had to leave.” A note of panic broke through her drawl, but with her cowboy hat on and her head bowed, I couldn’t see her face.

  “You can spare a few minutes to talk to me. I won’t go away until you do.”

  “Fine.” She scooted up the stairs.

  I followed and closed the office door behind me.

  Arms folded tight over her bosom, the hat pulled even lower over her eyes, ankles crossed, she leaned against her desk. “All right, sugar, we can chat for a spell.”

  I snatched the hat off and tossed it onto the desk.

  “You have no right to do that!” Her eyes blazed, the first real emotional display I’d seen in a week.

  “Stop hiding. Talk to me.”

  “I have nothing to say. You’re the one who wanted to talk, so you start.”

  “Okay. What the fuck is going on with you?” The curse word borrowed from her language seemed to fit the situation. All of a sudden, anger blazed through me. I’d tried to be patient, give her space and time, but none of it had worked to my advantage—or hers. Despite my fury and hurt, my horns had begun to throb in her presence, and my heart ached for her. “What happened? Why did you change? Did I do something? Stop hiding; stop running; be honest.”

  “I don’t know how! Don’t you understand?”

  Fury evaporated as I sensed truth in her cry, but I couldn’t fathom what she meant. “No, I don’t understand. Explain it to me.”

  She glanced at me before staring over my shoulder. Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down. “It’s not fair to you.”

  “What isn’t fair?”

  “Us.”

  “Us?”

&
nbsp; “Me.”

  I raked my hands through my hair in frustration. She spoke in riddles.

  “I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m not a good risk. I’ll ruin your life.”

  “You’ve improved my life.”

  “You haven’t seen the real me.”

  “Then show me.”

  She twisted her hands into a tight knot. “I’m sorry, Kord. You do deserve the truth, so here it is: I can’t be your mate, or your girlfriend, or even your date. It won’t work.”

  It felt like I’d been punched so hard, I lost my breath. For a moment, I couldn’t even speak. “You’re breaking up with me?” My voice sounded hoarse. Of course, that inkling had been in the back of my mind, but I’d discounted it as irrational. Fated mates did not separate. When problems occurred, they worked through them. Love, respect, connection, desire did not fade just because you disagreed!

  “It’s for the best.” She swallowed.

  “You’re saying you don’t love me, you don’t care for me?”

  She clenched her hands into fists and stared at the wall. “That’s what I’m saying. I don’t love you.”

  My head jerked like the time she’d slapped me. If only I’d seen the incident for the clue it was. The signs had been all around. Her need for space, for distance, her retreat into Texas. She’d been trying to tell me all along how she felt, and I’d never listened. Never heard.

  The message came through loud and clear now.

  I tore my work apron off and tossed it onto the desk. “All right then.”

  Pivoting, I stalked out of her office, slamming the door behind me, taking the stairs two at a time. Holly, who was finishing the last of my tables, looked up. Her expression shifted from hopeful curiosity to alarmed concern. She started toward me, but I veered down the hall. I couldn’t stay here. She meant well, but I couldn’t talk to her now. I shook my head and waved her away. “I have to go. I’m sorry,” I said. Let Barb find someone else to bus the tables.

  I pushed through the exit to the alley.

  “Meow?” Boots darted out from behind the dumpster and headed toward me. “Meow?”

  I reeled from my loss. I couldn’t stand to stay and play with the cat. Barb had always been the one to flee; now I was. I couldn’t remain another second at Barbie Q’s.