Page 19 of Love Galaxy

“That’s right,” I tell Killan. “We didn’t even know aliens existed until yesterday. We certainly didn’t know it was possible to fly between galaxies. Yet all of a sudden we’ve got translator chips in the back of our necks.”

Killan clenches his fists. I hadn’t noticed at first, but he’s missing half of one lower arm. Judging by the scars, it’s an old injury.

Roan stands too.

For a second I think the two brothers are going to start throwing punches at Mr. Smith. As much as I’d love to see that fucker with two black eyes, fist fighting isn’t going to solve anything.

“How about,” I interrupt, speaking loudly to catch everyone’s attention, “Mr. Smith explain why he thought abducting three women was a good idea?”

“I would like to know that too,” Lydia says, speaking for the first time since my entrance into the kitchen. She has a clear voice, and she’s glaring at Mr. Smith with such intensity it’s like she’s trying to read his mind. “Why’d we have to sign a contract if you were just going to kidnap us anyway?”

“Proof,” Chloe says from her position behind Mr. Smith. “Proof you agreed to come on the show and that we didn’t kidnap you.”

“There was nothing in my contract about aliens,” Lydia argues. She must be getting over the shock of waking up on an entirely different planet. Her personality is beginning to suit the vibrancy of her pink hair.

“Wasn’t there?” Chloe raises her eyebrows. “You’ve always got to read the small print. Or didn’t your mom teach you that, Lydia?”

Lydia slams her hands onto the tabletop, causing Harlee to jump. Evidently, the topic of her mother is a sore one.

Chloe, the manipulative bitch, is already opening her mouth to say something else, so I cut across her before she’s got a chance to twist the metaphorical knife she’s already stabbed Lydia with.

“Why go to so much trouble?’ I ask. “You’ve got the whole universe at your fingertips, and yet you picked us three? The three you had to drug and abduct.” Because I don’t care what any contract says. There’s no way Mr. Smith and Chloe got ourpermission. That ‘proof’ Chloe’s claiming must be for someone else’s benefit.

The police maybe? Or whatever force upholds the law in outer space.

“Why Humans?” I demand. “Wasn’t there anyone else—” I snap my mouth shut. I’d been about to ask if they’d run out of willing women, implying that Mr. Smith’s show is such crap that nobody wants to participate, but that would be more insulting to Sorin and his brothers than to Mr. Smith. And Sorin doesn’t deserve that. “Are we some sort of novelty, here to entertain your audience?” I ask instead.

“Let us get one thing straight.” Mr. Smith digs his chin into the boney collar around his neck, making him look a bit like an armadillo. “I’m the director. I’m in charge.”

I roll my eyes. He isn’t half as impressive as he thinks he is. “I bet you get a perverse pleasure from trying to play God with our lives.”

“If you want to continue on with LOVE GALAXY, you’ll do what I say,” he finishes triumphantly, with a pointed glare at me. I think he thinks he’s actually doing us a favor. I think he thinks he’s the good guy in this scenario.

“What if we don’t want to continue?” I ask the obvious question. “What if we want to go home?” I resolutely ignore the fact that, for me, returning home means once again facing unemployment and homelessness. But I can’t stop my glance toward Sorin. I’ll be sad to say goodbye after everything he’s done to help me.

“You can’t,” is Mr. Smith’s ‘comprehensive’ answer.

“Why can’t we?” Lydia wraps an arm around Harlee’s shoulders, and Harlee shuffles her chair closer to Lydia, visibly leaning on her. Of all of us, she’s the scarcest. And I hate that she’s being put through this crap.

“Do you have a ship? Do you have coordinates?” Mr. Smith makes a show of looking around the kitchen. “No.”

“Sorin—” I begin.

“The brothers don’t have a ship either.” Mr. Smith is looking smug now, the bastard. “So, if you want to return home, you’ll do what I say. And I say that you have to complete LOVE GALAXY. This newest season is going to be the best yet.”

He’s delusional, I decide. That’s the only way to describe what’s happening.

“You really don’t have a spaceship?” I ask Sorin, and he shakes his head.No.

Fuck. Well, that’s one escape plan down the drain. I’ll just have to think of another one. I’ll… I’ll… I’ll steal Mr. Smith’s spaceship instead.

“Absolutely not.” Mr. Smith’s pitchfork tail flicks. “Nobody can fly my ship but me. It has a biogenetic lock.”

I cross my arms. Had it really been so obvious what I’d been thinking? Then again, maybe everyone but Chloe had been planning the same thing. Stealing Mr. Smith’s spaceship was the next logical step.

“There are ways to break a biogenetic lock,” Killan says.

“Not this one.” Mr. Smith sets his jaw, stubbornly.

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