Page 50 of Warrior's Captive
And in the meantime, he would talk to his father about showering babies. Because even with traffickers and the weight of his work, every day life still needed to go on.
18
Vivian rubbed her throbbing temple.Daobah, Tai’ri’s youngest sister, enjoyed conversation. Incessant conversation, without pauses for breath or contemplation, and Shira encouraged her.
“This is cosmic,” Daobah said, holding up a diaphanous swath of . . . what was it? She exuded health and energy, a girlish layer of softness over the muscles of someone who was constantly active. Thick, Vivian’s father would say. She wore an ankle length sheer pink skirt with multiple layers of fabric, and a black fitted t-shirt with a picture of an attractive snake shifter man who, Vivian had been informed, was a totally stellar vid star. The man stared out from the shirt with swirling yellow eyes and iridescent skin and every once in a while in a sultry tone said, “Bite me.”
Vivian blinked. “That’s considered appropriate attire for an infant?”
Shira considered the garment, wandering over from a different rack. She wore a pair of black leggings and an oversized white shirt in a soft material, one shoulder bare. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard tail and somewhere she’d obtained an electric blue manicure, the tips of her nails long and ruthlessly pointed. Like talons.
When Daobah had showed up at the house to take Vivian shopping, Vivian’s only requests had been that they pick up Shira, and that they go somewhere vintage. She wanted to feel and examine the clothing rather than stand in front of digital walls tabbing through endless virtual models to place an order.
“It’s cute,” Shira said. “Kinda.”
Daobah pressed the label. A mini holo advert of a bouncing baby swathed in a rainbow of sheer fabric, her lovely mother twirling her in sunlight, shimmered above the dress.
“I could be incorrect,” Vivian said, “but that doesn’t seem to reflect an accurate portrayal of the daily realities of motherhood.”
“That’s called marketing,” Shira said. “It’s the Great Lie they sell women so we’ll have babies.” She grimaced, rubbing her stomach. “By choice, preferably.”
Despite her words, Vivian knew her new friend was at peace with the idea of being a mother. Angry and exasperated, but welcoming of her upcoming child. They’d talked about it, and Vivian had tried to copy some of Shira’s sardonic optimism. Which should be an oxymoron, but Shira somehow made it work.
Daobah put the dress back on the rack. “It’s cute, though. But, yeah, the first diaper blowout and this thing will be refuse.”
“Diaper what?” Shira exclaimed as Vivian blinked.
Daobah’s pale eyes brightened with joyous malice. “Let me tell you about those.”
As Daobah ghoulishly described the upcoming pleasantries of motherhood, Vivian glimpsed a petite young woman drift close. A flowery headband held back shoulder length hair, and she wore a fitted pink jumpsuit that managed to look demure. She turned her head and gave Vivian a wink.
“Maybe we should think about lunch,” Vivian said.
“I could eat,” Shira said. “Again.”
“Right,” Daobah said. “And after a break, we need to actually buy something, Viv. Shira has four outfits already—”
“I have no standards,” Shira said. “Anything works.”
Daobah gave the woman a sour look and kept talking. “. . . and there’s a small and squally coming any week now.”
Vivian suppressed a shudder. The baby kicked, possibly in affront. “Nothing personal,” she muttered to it, rubbing her stomach.
Daobah and Shira choose meals from a kiosk specializing in Earth Italian cuisine, and Vivian went for a regional seafood, after filtering for pregnancy and human dietary restrictions.
“So, how’s Tai’ri treating you?” Daobah asked when they were seated. She dug into a heaping bowl of pasta, which disappeared at lightspeed. Vivian nibbled on her fish. “I mean, I know other girls think he’s cute and all, but . . . ugh. He farts in his sleep.” Shira snorted, inhaling her pasta, and began coughing. Daobah slapped her on the back and shoved a drink under her nose.
“Tai’ri is very kind,” Vivian said.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t understand.”
Daobah gave her a gimlet stare, then relented. “Tai’ri’s kinda touchy feely, but he keeps his hands in his pocket around you. He just hovers.”
“Our relationship will take time to develop,” Vivian said. “It’s not Tai’ri’s fault.”
Daobah rolled her eyes. “Help me out here, Shira. You do think Tai’ri is hot, right?”
