Page 21 of Needed in the Night
I opened my eyes and found him beside me at the wall, hands at his sides, facing the walkway behind us. Watchful, stoic, and as far as I could tell not at all interested in the lake or waterfall or any other wonder of the cityscape.
Yes, this was his homeworld, so maybe nothing about Onat’ras seemed remarkable to him. Or maybe he was taking his job of bodyguard far more seriously than I’d intended. If I’d known he would treat our walk as a deadly serious mission, I might have come up with another excuse to get him to come with me to the market.
I should try to draw him into conversation. I hadn’t intended for this outing to be a chore for him.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” I pointed out a massive tree with purple foliage growing in a grassy park across the lake. “What kind is it? Do you know?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “It is called oth’canto,” he said very matter-of-factly. His tone softened when he added, “Theylive to be thousands of years old. They are the longest-lived organisms on this world.”
His voice was so deep and soothing. I wished I could get him to talk more, and more often.
I spotted a familiar grim-faced human woman on the walkway, pretending to study the city’s colorful skyline over our heads. I clenched my fists in irritation. Damn it. As usual, Nubo had sent someone to follow us—or to followme, anyway. I doubted he’d have any reason to keep an eye on Mikas.
This was an ongoing argument, one I had yet to win. Whenever I asked Nubo not to have someone follow me whenever I left the building where I lived and worked, he reminded me I’d expressed concern about my safety when I first applied for my singing job. He claimed he was concerned for my welfare, but we both knew this wasn’t really about my safety, or not entirely about my safety. He was controlling and possessive. He wanted to know where I was, and what I was doing, and who I was with. I hated being watched.
Once I had enough money saved up, Icouldrelocate, but I dreaded uprooting myself yet again and searching for another job. I’d auditioned for nearly a dozen gigs before Nubo hired me, and I made good money at Zaa’ga. That plus my friendship with Mikas were the primary reasons I gritted my teeth and put up with Nubo’s surveillance.
I’d given my watchers nicknames so I could tell Brae who followed me each time. This was Scar, so-called because of the jagged mark that ran along her entire jawline on the right side of her face.
I wanted to ask Mikas about the Atolani female, or even just ask what was on his mind that had made him grumpier than usual tonight. But if Scar had eavesdropping tech, we might be overheard. So instead I admired the oth’canto tree and then we resumed our walk.
Mikas had swapped his work attire for very nondescript—and even unflattering—gray pants and a plain black shirt with openings designed to accommodate his spines. Even so, his height, physique, and looks attracted admiring looks from a variety of species, sexes, and genders as we made our way from our building four streets over to my favorite market. He must have noticed all the attention, but he ignored it. But why? In my experience, men this good-looking, who clearly spent time and energy eating well, staying healthy, and maintaining their body, enjoyed being noticed.
Then again, Mikas wasn’t typical in a lot of ways.
“What is on your shopping list tonight?” he asked as the market’s enormous sign came into sight.
“Food, for one thing,” I said, waving in the direction of the market. “I’m bored with what I have in my apartment. I want to find something unusual that’s still within my ability to cook. I’d also like to buy some perfume at that little shop on the far end of the market—the one with purple lights and little trees out front.”
Mikas’s brow furrowed. “Perfume?”
Maybe I didn’t seem like the type to like perfume. “I rarely wear perfume,” I admitted. “But I’ve always dreamed of having real Engareni perfume.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to catch himself. “I am intrigued,” he said instead. “So, do you enjoy cooking?”
“I do, now that I have an apartment with a kitchen.” I smiled. “I don’t just live on brandy and jampa berries, you know.”
“I suspected as much.” He gave me a fleeting smile before returning his attention to our surroundings.
As long as I’d known him, Mikas had been about as chatty as a Bacorian monk. During our first conversation, in fact, he’d spoken only three words. And though he was always polite and thoughtful, he rarely smiled and never laughed.
On my first night working at the bar, he’d asked me aboutmyself and listened attentively to my cover story of being an orphan without family who’d drifted around the galaxy until I ended up on Fortusia. And every evening since, he’d hung on my every word, regardless of the topic I chose for our chats after I finished my sets.
Mikas had volunteered some information about his past too when I asked. He’d served as a conscripted soldier and received an honorable discharge after a serious injury in battle. Why exactly he’d chosen bartending for a civilian career, I didn’t know. And why he would work for a thug like Nubo Wex, of all people, was an even greater mystery. I certainly couldn’t ask him about it at the bar with our boss listening in.
My gut told me Mikas wasn’t as grim and humorless as he seemed. The omnipresent shadows in his eyes and a heaviness about him made it clear something weighed on him. I had yet to find a way to get him to tell me why he was so despondent. I’d give a lot to see my friend happy.
“What about you?” I asked, still hoping to draw him into a conversation despite Scar’s presence. “What are you looking for at the market? Or are you not going to buy anything?”
Mikas showed me a shopping bag he’d brought folded up in his pocket. “Like you, I am here for food. And I welcome the change of scenery.”
“Oh, yes—me too. I like peace and quiet, but I spend too much time in our building, just going back and forth between the bar and my apartment.” I smiled up at him again. “Thank you again for coming with me. I know it’s an imposition. You probably had something else planned tonight.”
“It is not an imposition,” he said, but without returning my smile. “And I had no other plans.”
That wasn’t quite true. According to the schedule, he was supposed to work tonight until 0300 hours. He had yet to mention that or explain why he wasn’t behind the bar. My guess was Nubo had been angry about something Mikas had doneand given him the rest of the night off as punishment. But if Mikas didn’t want to talk about it, I wouldn’t push the issue.
And speaking of Nubo…
