Page 55 of Sky Song
“I don’t want to be that citizen that only exists in the confines of the place she was born. I’m hoping for an adventure.”
“I think you just found it,” Cricket responded caustically.
“No shit, neighbor.” Paloma turned to Lyle and cleared her throat. “Nice to meet you, Lyle,” she addressed Lyle in halting but understandable Universal.
“Nice to meet you, Cricket’s neighbor.”
His casual mention of her nickname didn’t go unnoticed. Paloma threw her a speculative look. “I am Paloma,” she formally introduced herself.
“Charmed.”
“Is Lyle your real name?”
“Paloma!” Cricket twisted in her seat to shoot her a look.
“What? Sometimes aliens use simpler names for us to pronounce. If he has one, I want to learn to say it.” She looked so innocent.
“It is my real name,” Lyle murmured, and Cricket thought his words were meant for her.
Cricket kept her eyes on the road, tension stiffening her shoulders. What were they doing, in the company of Paloma, in a rider she couldn’t afford, heading to a club that attracted undesirables?
Just like when Lyle had convinced her to take him to the lab, Cricket found herself being manipulated into going to Atticus. It was not a pleasant realization.
“Lyle,” she was going to give him a piece of her mind.
“Don’t be angry, my hearts.” He already knew what she was going to say. “Everything has a purpose.”
“Speaking of purposes…”
“Not now,” he mildly interrupted her.
From Paloma’s strained expression, Cricket figured their rapid Universal was hard for her friend to follow.
“Damn you, Lyle.”
“Trust me.”
She laughed.
“What’s funny?” Paloma asked her.
Cricket only shook her head.
Atticus was a whole lot less impressive that she was led to believe. The club occupied a sprawling one-story gentrified warehouse, its windowless outside painted an indeterminateneutral, with a fake clay-tile roof. A modestly sized grassy field in front constituted a parking lot where several riders were dropped off willy-nilly. A single lamppost illuminated the entrance.
“Well, let’s go in,friends.” Paloma hopped out of the rider.
They headed toward the lamppost but Paloma waved them around. “We better come from the side.”
Circling the building, they approached another door. It was pitch-dark.
“The owners don’t believe in helping their employees see after the sunset?” Cricket muttered.
“Zaron believes in cost savings. If you meet him, you’ll understand.”
Paloma knocked, and the door immediately opened, revealing the most unattractive man Cricket had ever seen. His piggish close-set eyes were almost pretty compared to his droopy, badly crooked nose and teeth that stuck out of his closed mouth like tusks.
“Hey, Mark,” Paloma greeted him.
