Page 56 of Close Encounters of the Hot Kind

"Save it. Half of Chicago saw that ship. The timeline--"

"We can fix this." I squeeze Aileen's hand. "Tell the media it was special effects. A movie shoot gone wrong."

Pyke's ridges furrow. "That... might actually work. The humans do love their science fiction."

"I'll handle the cover story, sir."

"See that you do. And Varak? No more unauthorized rescues."

The display blinks out. Aileen's lips curve into a smile.

"My hero."

The familiar scent of garlic and oregano fills my nostrils as we step into Papa Marella's. My holographic disguise flickers back on just as Sam bursts through the kitchen doors.

"Aileen!" He wraps her in a bear hug. "Where have you been? We've been worried sick!"

Selene rushes out from behind the counter, tears streaming down her face. "My baby!"

"Mom, Dad, I'm okay." Aileen squeezes them both. "Charles... I mean, Varak saved me."

Sam's eyes narrow as he looks me up and down. "So. You're really an alien?"

"Yes sir. A Vakutan, to be precise."

"Like in Star Trek?"

"Not exactly, dear." Selene pats his arm. "Let them sit down first."

We settle into a booth. Aileen takes a deep breath. "Mom, Dad... I need to tell you something. I love working here, but..."

"You want to move on." Selene reaches across the table, squeezing her daughter's hand. "We understand."

"Really?" Aileen's eyes widen.

"Of course." Sam nods. "You're young. You should follow your dreams. Besides, this alien fellow seems like a good match for you."

"You mean it? You approve?"

"He fought off evil aliens to save you." Sam grins. "That's good enough for me."

Aileen beams, throwing her arms around my neck. "See? I told you they'd understand!"

"You don't know what it's like with Sicilian parents," she adds with a laugh. "But boy, you're about to! Oh man if you thought the Grolgath were tough wait until you meet my Grandmother."

"Mama Mia," I say, earning chuckles from everyone at the table.

CHAPTER 19

AILEEN

My heels clack against the marble floor as I stride down the penthouse hallway. The Michael Kors bag swings at my side, still that new leather smell I can't get enough of. A month of living here and I still can't believe this is my life now.

"Honey, I'm home!" The words echo through the empty space.

Dad thinks it's hilarious that my "clone" works harder than I ever did. Last week he actually gave Faker an Employee of the Month plaque. The irony of an alien shapeshifter winning awards at a family pizza joint isn't lost on me.

The sunset paints the living room in shades of amber through the floor-to-ceiling windows. No sign of my favorite red-scaled boyfriend.

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