Page 41 of The Alien's Little Sister

“I need to void,” she announces, which is alien-speak for her needing to pee.

I take her basket with a, “Geez, woman, do you need a cart, or do you want to break your back hauling this through the rest of the store?” and we head for the washrooms where I park myself by the water fountains along the alcove wall that faces the women’s washroom door. Which, to denote that it’s the chicks’ room, has a spool, and for the guys across the way, there’s a needle and thread. I’m shaking my head, about to indicate to Inara which one is for ladies, but she raises her nose, sniffs, and rightly chooses the women’s, evidently by smell alone. Probably not hard—I can smell perfume from here. I guess it could be air fresheners, but I assume it’s the mingled scent trail of a billion women. Ten bucks though says if I step into the men’s washroom, it’ll smell like asparagus and urinal cakes.

While I’m standing there, my elbow ready to snap from the sheer weight of Inara’s shopping basket, two other women head past me, zooming for the ladies’ room, and normally I wouldn’t take more than a cursory notice of them, but the moment they see me, they get… shifty.

My gaze sharpens on them.

Trailing them is a man. Tall. Athletic, slim. It's hard to clock much else about him except that he’s wearing a cape. Think Bram Stoker black but with gold velvet insides. Or wait… I know this cape. It’s thePhantom of the Operacape, circa Gerard Butler.

My sisters made me watch that movie. And not just once, oh no. Istilltwitch at the word ‘musical.’

I’m not an opera kind of guy. And forgetLes Misérables.Did you know they singevery linein that movie? I mean, the songs are nice, it’s just really, really weird not to have anybody actually speak. (Still, I took Inara to Tinseltown, a local cinema that offers overpriced concession candy, red velvet-covered surfaces everywhere you look, and special viewings of select Fathom Events. We did watchLes Mis,and we’ve seen an opera and a couple ballet deals too. Inaralovedthem. She’s crazy for anything with music and costumes. But mostly music.)

“Just wait here, Jonah,” is what I think one of the women eyeing me back says. She’s watching me like I’m worrying her—and then she worriedly looks to the Jonah guy. “We’ll be back out in just a sec.” She’s in a lace top and jeans and comfortable-looking gym shoes, and her hair is in something like a Dutch crown braid.

She’s cute, throwing a very girl-next-door vibe.

The girl standing beside her—tall in heels, leggings, and long sleeve cowl neck dress and a whole lot of glossy hair blown out to perfection (Surprised I know hair things? I’ve got sisters and a mom; I know hair things)—glares at me in warning.

Okayyy…

I’m frowning as the women’s washroom door swings shut behind them. Then I look at the guy.

He’s avoiding my gaze.

“You seem nervous,” I say conversationally. I shift, crossing one ankle over the other, and I flip my wrist up to glance at my watch.

The moment I do, the guy inhales—then does a double take, inhaling more sharply, his head snapping up and his eyes locking on mine.

Also? His Phantom cape looks like itjumpsat the shoulders. Fucking. Weird.

He’s eyeing me like something about me is a shock to him though. “Have you seen a fem—a woman with…” His gaze jumps to the women’s washroom door. “With horns?”

I narrow my eyes on him. “The alien?”

His head whips back to me, eyes popped wide.

Hauling the basket without even feeling the pinch on my elbow, I move right up to him, reaching for my wallet, whipping out a card, and shoving it in his face. “She’s my employee. Ever played an escape game? If you visit our alien room and use this card—”

The washroom door opens, and the two women he came in with trot out. They were in there for like thirty seconds; they must have peed like the wind and done it worrying about me because I’m the first thing they look at. And when they see that I’m giving their guy a business card, one yelps, “Drop that, Jonoh! Don’t take anything from him!”

The guy—Jonah? Jonoh?—he drops my card immediately, obeying like he’s been trained. But then he shoots a frantic look at the woman and gestures down at the card between his feet. “Wait, no—I need this. Please. We need this information. There’s a—”

The woman in the jeans and sneakers swoops down and grabs up my card before latching on to the guy’s arm, beginning to lead him away like he’s in danger. The glossy haired beast glares at me, watching me like I’m liable to strike the moment she turns her back.

Inara steps out of the washroom then, taking my focus—

And when I look back, the strange trio is gone.

I glance to Inara again, and find her with her head angled up slightly. She’s sniffing.

She frowns. “I smell a hob.”

I feel my forehead furrow. “A what?”

Inara is visibly agitated. “Let us leave.”

“Sure,” I tell her. “I’m going to be so happy to check out with your basket. We’re going to need to hire a moving company just to get it all out to the car—”

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