Page 10 of Lorran
“Mom.” Wyn felt herself blush. She had been practical and realistic with so much in her life. She got a day job to pay the bills because being a starving artist was bullshit, even if the day job left her drained. She could be realistic, but sheknewthe Mahdfel were great, and no one could tell her otherwise.
“If he doesn’t treat you right, you come on home.”
“Yes. Promise.”
Alana released Wyn with a kiss on the forehead like she was still a little girl. Sonia immediately hugged Wyn with everything in her being.
“I’m so mad at you right now, and there’s nothing I can do,” Sonia said, her voice muffled by Wyn’s hair.
“Everything will work out,” Wyn said. “This was going to happen. Better for it to happen on my terms.”
“Good on you for taking back your power, but this still sucks. I miss you already. You’re still here and I miss you.”
Her heart couldn’t take it. “Go spend all my alien booty money on something silly or don’t. Quit your job and make art. Make me some kick-ass art.”
Sonia pulled back, wiping at her eyes. “I’m going to art so hard. It’s gonna be like pow!”
Wyn smiled, because if she hadn’t mustered up the courage, they wouldn’t have had this moment. Wyn would have rushed out the door, nervous and slightly tipsy, without so much as a wave to her best friend.
It was better this way. Still sucked, though. There was no one in the whole universe like Sonia Redford, and Wyn would miss her friend. Plus, she made coffee and brought donuts, so an all-around good person to have. Well, unless the coffee and donuts were a trick, which they were.
“I’ll call when I get there,” Wyn said.
Sonia made a skeptical noise. “Please, you’ll be too busy choking on alien dick to call.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.”
“Bronwyn Davies, how dare you speak that way in front of your mother,” Sonia said, but Alana was right there laughing.
“Call us when you get there, baby,” her mother said.
Wyn gave a final wave. “Everything is going to be okay. It’s going to be like a luxury star cruise. I’m totally getting vibes from a muse. Maybe not mine, because the idea of a muse is so out there, but inspiration, which hasn’t happened in too damn long.” Was she smiling? Her face hurt from smiling.
“Ma’am, please sit. You don’t have to explain,” the soldier said.
“Sorry. I’m a nervous talker. You probably get that a lot. And crying.” She could totally picture the vehicle packed with wailing women. Fortunately, she had the back all to herself.
“Just so you know, they still teleport you even if you’ve been drinking.”
“Just nerves. Not looking to bend the rules.” But Sonia had. She pored over the network, sending Wyn article after article about how to cheat the test.
The whiskey wore off by the time they arrived at the testing facility. The soldier transferred Wyn into the custody of a massive red alien who looked physically incapable of smiling. He stayed by her side as her ID chip was scanned at the entry point and escorted her to a waiting room.
Wyn spotted a water cooler with teeny-tiny paper cups. She downed two easily, because the cups barely held enough for a mouthful.
“Bronwyn Davies?” A woman in medical scrubs and holding a tablet computer scanned the room. Wyn raised her hand.
Escorted into a back room, the red alien stayed as the nurse verified her information and instructed Wyn to sign the tablet.
“Alcohol does not delay your teleportation,” she said. “That gum doesn’t work on the test either, no matter what the packaging says.”
“I’m not normally a drinker. I’m nervous.”
“The contract says you have to give consent, but between you and me, they don’t give a rat’s tuchus if you’re drunk or tripping balls. They want you breathing and awake. That’s the legally mandated minimum.”
“I’m not trying to get out of going! I want to go.”
The nurse gave her a dubious look and approached with a wicked-looking needle.
