Page 25 of Loved By the Alien King
“I’m well aware of Xenoxx males’ anatomy. Plus, I always carry a thermometer for accuracy.” To prove it, she pulled one out of her skimpy, glittery top that had been tucked between two of her three boobs.
“Okay…” Bling was striking me speechless a lot today. “So you hide thermometers, and I hide guns up my dress. I’m pretty sure this has tipped the scales in our friendship’s favor. Oh, and you also carry a bejeweled dagger. Did you ever find it?”
That seemed like ages ago when I’d noticed her dagger was missing two seconds after I’d noticed it in her jacket.
Bling blinked and opened her mouth, but that was as far as she got in her explanation because here came Pete in his usual burst of energy.
“Well, everyone.” He clapped his hands once, an unnatural smile on his face. Unnatural because it looked stiff and even more fake than usual. “It turns out that a TV host using his own sexy brain and making use of old props from the networks’ old shows is frowned upon in thisAlien Love Islandestablishment.”
Murmurs rippled through the other contestants, and now I could read Pete’s fake smile loud and clear. An oh-shit clench tightened my whole body while I waited for him to continue.
He gave a single nod. “Yep, I’ve just been fired.”
“What?” Bling hissed.
“You can’t be,” someone said.
“You should sue, bro,” one of the guys shouted.
“It’ssotragic,” one of the female crewmembers sobbed.
I was on my feet before I’d even fully processed the news, my index finger pointed and shaking with anger. “Fuck.That.”
Pete looked at me, a mix of heartbreak and a healthy dose of cynicism written on his face that he tried to mask with that fake smile. “I’m sorry, Captain.”
“No. It was my idea to make the show more interesting.Ishould be fired, not you.” Fuming, I searched the beach below the stage. “Was it Umo?”
“Relax,” Umo, the producer, said as his stubby legs carried him up onto the stage. “No, it wasn’t me. I fought for the kid, but it was the network that made the final decision and gave him the ax. They said he’s too much of a liability, and with the show’s numbers, they’re not taking any chances that could hurt those numbers.”
“Buthemade those numbers,” I shouted, jabbing my finger at him. “Peteisthe show.”
Pete glanced up from the stage floor through his tousled locks of bleached hair and smiled at me, and I thought I saw a little tear in his eye. “You really think so, Captain?”
“Iknowso,” I told him. “And call me Nera.”
“Everyone knows so.” On the other side of the stage, Maxx stood too, his sheer size commanding all the attention. “Without Pete, there is no show.”
My jaw dropped at that declaration. Sure, Pete had tried to kill us a little bit with his shrinking escape room, especially my hot, selfless alien king who’d demanded everyone get out before he did. Last time I checked, Maxx had been on the hunt for Pete’s life to exact some revenge.
So what had changed?
Maxx refused to give any answers away as he fixed his glare on Umo. “Make this right.”
Shrugging, Umo brought out another of his cigars and plugged it into his mouth. “I’m not an entire network. Besides, they’re giving Pete a chance to host at least one more episode while they crunch the numbers to see if a new host partway through the show’s first season would hurt more than help.” His cigar lit automatically with a push of a button on the side, and the flaring embers on the tip blended in with Umo’s orange face. “Want my opinion?”
“Do we have a choice?” muttered a crewmember working on a fallen camera drone at the side of the stage.
“There’s no interest in a show, then mild interest, and then there’s obsession.” Umo puffed his next breath out in a thick cloud of smoke. “Alien Love Islandhas surpassed obsession to mania.” A dramatic pause while the sweaty smoking orange man surveyed all of us. “I’m not the network, but in my not so humble opinion, Pete’s not going anywhere for the first season.”
A brilliant grin broke over Pete’s face. “You really think so?”
Umo patted Pete’s stomach on his way back toward the steps. “You’re good, kid.”
Cheers erupted. Some of the crew began weeping. Manly slaps on Pete’s back came from the guys’ side while the lady contestants flung themselves at him. Even me, though I was keenly aware of the overprotective column of scaled muscle who growled at the mere idea of anyone breathing on me.
I didn’t hear a peep from him though as I one-arm hugged Pete and felt his wet cheek against my ear.
“Thank you, Nera,” Pete whispered.
