Page 9 of Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates
Ferre family tragedy. Insurgent forces shot down the business magnate’s ship as it attempted to leave Talmar’s surface. No survivors have been reported.
-Tal Tattler
Marigold
Apparently, it could get worse. A lot worse.
“I heard everything. It’s shameful, really, just shameful. Of course, I understand why a girl like you would be susceptible to such an act, but I’m shocked that Valerian didn’t sense his bad intention.” The woman attempted to frown, but the muscle relaxants injected to smooth away wrinkles left her unable to express basic human emotions. Not that Mari thought the woman capable of such vulgarity.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The crystal pendant floated off her chest in the zero-gravity room. Focusing on the feel of the silver chain around her neck, she recited the seven Tal virtues.
Humility.
Patience.
She would tune out the universe and find perfect peace.
Mari cracked an eye open. The woman was still there, whispering in hushed tones.
“I’m sorry, I’m trying to find my center,” she said.
“Oh. Oh,” The woman’s eyes went wide, suddenly realizing they were in a Zero-Gravity Yoga class and not gossiping over cocktails.
With her blood pressure at odds with the soothing music playing in the studio and her mood soured, Mari ran through the rest of the virtues: kindness, justice, fortitude, prudence, and forgiveness.
Nope. A settling sense of calm did not descend. Mari found herself as annoyed as she had been a minute ago.
The instructor moved the class through the final poses and into five minutes of meditation. Mari did her best to empty her thoughts. She floated a foot above a padded floor. Her hair, pulled back into a ponytail, drifted around her. The giant window on the far wall was open to reveal the brightly colored churning gasses of a nearby nebula, nearby being a relative term. Olympus Station offered spectacular views of the nebula.
Free from gravity, the constant ache in her shoulders eased. She should follow up with a massage to work out the last of the tension in her back and shoulders, but she wanted to enjoy the blessed silence.
The instructor thanked them for their participation and wished them all a peaceful journey. The music ended, and gravity returned with a gradual pull that dragged her back down to the padded floor.
Her chatty companion picked up her monologue right where she left off. Mari turned to dry her face with a towel, hoping the woman would realize the conversation was at an end. Any reasonable person would. She grabbed her bag and walked out of the studio.
The woman followed.
What the…
She needed help or a distraction. Heading to the refreshment table, she waved to Valerian. Yes, she did Zero-Gravity Yoga with her mother. In a few days, they’d be on a ship heading toward her prepaid and nonrefundable—she tried—honeymoon with her mother. She paid for two tickets, and she planned to use two tickets.
It wasn’tthatweird.
“Cucumber water,” Mari offered, wanting to stuff the sliced cucumbers and lemons down the woman’s throat. Instead, she handed the mouthy lady a tumbler of water and sliced whatevers that were supposed to promote…something. Detox? Energy?
“Oh, thank you.” The woman took a sip, leaving a vivid ring of lipstick on the rim of the glass. “You know,” she started.
Please, no. Just be quiet.
Mari steeled herself for whatever the woman was about to say.
“You have a lot of acid. I can see it in your pores.” The woman leaned close, as if to inspect Mari’s skin. “Massive. Like craters. Alkaline water will neutralize the acid in your stomach. A bit of lemon wouldn’t go amiss either, and help you shed a few pounds.”
Mari repeated the virtues. The repetition had always soothed her temper in the past. Not today.
“Lemon is an acid. If I added it to alkaline water, it would turn the water neutral,” she said dryly.
The problem with living on a close-knit station like Olympus was that gossip spread like wildfire. Everyone seemed to know Mari’s story, and everyone felt the need to console her. The pity, sympathy, and well-worn clichés about everything happening for a reason got real old, real fast.
