Page 56 of Sky Song
Cricket blinked.Mark?Naberius or Bolverkr would suit him much better.
“Hey,” she also greeted him, parroting Paloma.
Mark’s tiny beads of the eyes swept over her before settling on Lyle.
“Friends of yours?” he lisped to Paloma.
“Yeah, here for the first time. Mind if we come in?”
Mark hesitated. “Need to clear with Zaron.”
“I will,” Paloma assured him. “Once we’re inside.”
“These two have to pay.”
“Yes, they know.” They didn’t. Another expense.She was gonna kill Lyle.
Mark chewed on his cheek, his bulging muscles rolling under a too-tight shirt. His eyes never left Lyle. “What is he?”
“He’s a Rix alien,” Cricket explained.
Mark smirked, the expression doing his face no favors. “No, he isn’t.”
“You sound confident. You’ve seen many Rix?”
“Girl, I’ve seen every possible alien there’s to see. Rix don’t come here, ever.”
Paloma rolled her eyes and pushed her way in. Mark let her through, and then Cricket. When Lyle cleared the threshold, Mark suddenly moved, shoving him against the wall.
“Listen up, fat boy, whatever you are,” he enunciated in a lisping but otherwise good Universal. “You even think of causing trouble, your alien ass will get shredded. In case you’re wondering, there are guys bigger and stronger than me that watch out for rule-breakers. Uglier, too. Understand, motherfucker? Nod if you do.”
Lyle nodded. He kept still and made no move to dislodge Mark’s forearm from across his neck.
Cricket’s protective instincts roared to life, but before she had an opportunity to do anything stupid, Mark frisked Lyle and let go.
“He’s only a guest because he’s with you.” Mark pointed at Paloma. “You’re responsible.”
Paloma’s mouth thinned but she said nothing. Turning, she led them into a large restaurant-style area with tables, a bar on one side, and a stage on the other. The tables were solid wood, matching the trim around the bar and stage. The majority of the tables were occupied. A band was playing a rendition of a popular melody. Not an alien was in sight.
“We’re not staying on this floor. Follow me.” Paloma led them to a door in an alcove behind the bar.
Hanging back, Cricket took Lyle’s hand. “Are you alright?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” His face, naturally, revealed no surprise, but Cricket sensed he genuinely didn’t understand why she asked.
“That saber-toothed guard didn’t hurt you?”
Lyle smiled gently. “No, my star, he didn’t hurt me. Now, watch where we’re going.”
He wrapped a steadying arm around her waist to save her from tripping over the threshold. Paloma chose this moment to turn to see if they were following, and her eyes lingered on where the two of them touched.
They descended two flights of stairs and went through a thick door guarded by another giant of a man, this one a tad more conventionally looking and a whole lot friendlier.
The set up of the downstairs mirrored that of the upstairs, with tables and a large bar and a stage with a small dance floor. Likewise, a performance was in full swing. That’s where the similarities ended.
The whole vibe of the downstairs was different. And here, there were aliens. Constituting roughly thirty percent of the clientele, they mixed evenly with the humans, occupying the tables. A decent number of them milled around the bar manned by a young man in a plaid shirt. He gave their party an intent look when they entered before going about his business. Something about him raised Cricket’s hackles, but in the overload of sensory input, she relinquished that nagging concern.
“Let’s get a table.” Paloma snagged a waiter and procured a table - a feat, since the place was pretty busy.
