Chapter 10 | Kara

Chapter 10

Kara

It was amazing how quickly I got used to my new life. Rex was right: the bar was a bit rough and rowdy, but it wasn’t so bad once you got used to the noise. After three days of working as a waitress on my own, I was even starting to build rapport with the regulars. Some of them were nice and tipped well, and Rex made sure Drova didn’t take any of my tip money.

There were also clothes that actually fit me and a pair of shoes that had miraculously appeared the first evening I’d worked there. I thought some of these things might be spares that Jenny had left behind, but the shoes were brand new. I tried to ask Rex what they cost so I could pay him, but he was having none of it. When he didn’t want to talk, he turned his back and focused on his food, or he said things with sign language that I couldn’t understand.

I had a tablet thingy now, though—a datapad. It was very similar to the one I had been issued on Ker, so I knew how to use it. I had even discovered video instructions on how to learn his sign language. I’d also dared to ask one of the regulars to confirm it was the right variant. I’d asked a gargoyle-looking male, a Tarkan, because they were mentioned in the Ker safety meetings as probably being the most likely species to help us. Scary, but worth it.

Truthfully, I was settling in. I’d worked as a waitress before, and it was no different here. People ordered their drinks and food with their com devices, and I worked behind the bar to mix the drinks, deliver them, and fetch the right food from the kitchen. It was all very efficient and quick, though the lunch and dinner rushes were impressive. This spot was visited by both dockworkers and office workers alike for Rex’s fantastic food from far and wide.

I learned that the bar sat on the shady side of the border in this city, but it was tempting enough to bring in more respectable clientele during the day. To my eyes, this place had to be running a tidy profit, and I was intrigued, finding parts of my old life here. I’d been a business major, and now I wanted to know how this place was run, and see where things could be improved.

Then one evening, I picked up a drink order to mix, but Drova stopped me. He usually manned the bar, and it was normal for him to prep the drinks so I could serve them, but he’d never stopped me from mixing an order myself, and that sent my senses to high alert. Something was wrong. I wanted to duck into the kitchen and tell Rex—ask him if he knew—but it was too busy. Drova would ask questions if I did.

There was enough work at the bar to fill my time, and as I worked on rinsing glasses, I watched from the corner of my eye. Drova had to be up to no good when he ducked below the counter and fished a pouch from a shelf, stirring a brackish powder into one of the drinks on the tray. When he was done, he told me to make sure everyone got the right drink and sent me on my way.

I had a very bad feeling about this and considered whether I should drop the glasses and spill the doctored drink. With Drova staring holes into my back, I didn’t dare, and I regretted that decision ten minutes later with a vengeance. Horror filled me when the alien woman who’d received the doctored drink stumbled out of the bar on the arm of the male she was with. She was clearly inebriated, but I knew that she shouldn’t be; she’d been sober when I brought her that drink.

The incident made me feel powerless and awful. But I also felt fired up, no longer the scared mouse but the girl who’d sawed through her ropes with a shard of glass and escaped her kidnappers. Stronger, and ready for a fight the next time this happened. First order of business: get better at talking with Rex, and I knew exactly who I was going to ask for help.

Learning through videos wasn’t fast enough; I didn’t have enough hours in the day to practice. We worked late, rose early, and my nights in Rex’s hammock were often restless. My dreams were filled with erotic images of what it would be like if Rex and I did more than kiss. Not that we’d kissed again; my alien chef was very careful about keeping his distance. Respectful—too respectful, I was starting to think.

It took me an hour to work up the courage, but when the evening crowd began to thin, I saw my chance. Sidling up to Drova under the pretense of wiping down the bar, I eyed him a few times carefully to measure his mood. The Asrai was an older male, and as I’d suspected from the start, he’d lost his twin years ago in battle. According to Rex, Drova was dangerous only to himself. The male had a terrible gambling addiction and was always in one hole or another.

“Spit it out, female,” Drova said, his red eyes sparking with annoyance from within his pronounced eye sockets. I still hadn’t gotten used to his ghoulish face, which looked a bit too much like an old, yellowed skull. I hadn’t managed to hide my intentions from him; he might be unpleasant, but he wasn’t blind.

I shrugged a shoulder. “How is it that you can understand Rex’s sign language? Where did you learn?” That was the part that was bothering me. It was obvious that Drova understood what Rex signed to him, but it was hard to picture the male taking the time to learn. There was no way he’d done that. So how could he understand?

He curled his lip in distaste, as if even reminding him of how much work learning a language took made him uncomfortable. But he answered me by tapping his face beside his eye. “Perma- contacts,” he said in a tone designed to make me feel stupid and inadequate, as though I should have known. When I kept looking at him, peering into his red eyes to see if I could discover those contacts, he thankfully began to explain. “A liquid solution of very precisely programmed nanobots is injected into the eye and communicates with the optical nerve and brain. It allows you to see any visual language as though it’s your own. That covers both sign language and writing.”

My heart started pounding with excitement as I considered that. A shot in the eye, and poof, you could read anything? Any visual cues translating to English in my brain? That would make things a lot easier; it would help the world make more sense around me. Most of all, it was an instant solution for understanding Rex. I wanted it more desperately than I wanted to return to Ker. Truth be told, Ker was sounding less and less tempting by the day, because I really liked spending time with my chef.

“How do you get it?” I asked. I was making tip money; maybe I could afford to have Rex take me to a clinic so I could get the procedure done. Maybe not right away, but in a couple of weeks. How much would it even cost? Translators were installed in pretty much every person out here—the Kertinal had outfitted me with a set right away. Was it like buying a new cellphone expensive, or were we talking about paying for elective surgery?

I should have known that asking a hustling gambler like Drova such a question was bound to get me a very different answer than if I had asked Rex. His red eyes took on a cunning glint as he considered what to say, and I had a bad feeling crawl up my spine. “You want to be able to understand Rex, don’t you?” he said. That should have been obvious, and I saw no reason to hide it, so I nodded.

He glanced over the bar into the rest of his establishment, at the lingering patrons still seated at the various tables or in the darkened booths at the back. “I know a guy,” he said, his hand touching his chin as his voice took on a musing quality like he was thinking out loud. Like this wasn’t a trap.

“It’s an easy procedure to apply to oneself. Do-it-at-home kits are sold everywhere.” He nodded. “Yes, I think I can arrange something. Of course, there is the matter of payment. This guy I know, he’s very partial to humans. You can probably work something out with him.” He dipped his head to glance at me, waggling his bony brow ridges so the meaning did not get lost. Drova had never once looked at me as if he found me attractive, but he succeeded in making me feel dirty with that one look.

I met his stare flatly, disgust crawling in my stomach. I should tell him to fuck off and walk away, but the temptation of being able to fully understand Rex was huge. How could I make that happen? “How soon?” I demanded to know, shocked that I’d even consider such a thing, but a plan was forming in my mind. It was risky, probably all kinds of stupid, but I had to try. It wasn’t like a crook could go to the police anyway... and what if he didn’t remember?

Drova looked surprised, and I realized he thought I wouldn’t be willing to do such a thing. He only thought so for a moment, clearly far too used to dealing with desperate people. I looked the part—a charity case brought in by his bleeding-heart chef, the quintessential good guy. Down on my luck, in danger if not for the charity of those around me, and with no money to spend. It was only natural that I was willing to do things a normal person would never consider. He wasn’t wrong.

I was quiet as I went back to work and lost in thought when Rex closed up the kitchen that night and started to lead me back to his home. He’d taken to wrapping me in a thick, warm cloak each evening before we left, a hood drawn over my face. It kept me warm, but it also kept me hidden. My favorite part was how he’d tuck me under one of his lower arms against his side. I felt safe and protected that way, and it was the only moment during the day that he’d touch me, so I had to soak up the moment.

Not like I could forget what it felt like to be tucked against his rock-hard abs and side, how his warmth wrapped around me. I particularly loved the smell of him at the end of a workday, when his skin had a hint of sweat from the warm kitchen but had also absorbed all the savory cooking scents.