Page 18 of Seven Oars
“Gave Riel a blow job.”
Eze snickered nearby.
Fawn’s face fell.“Do you have to always make fun of me?”
“You’re so easy,” Gro replied benignly.
“Can I have a puff?”
Gro allowed Fawn to take a drag. The two of them hung out together, content.
Rosamma hovered helplessly nearby. Vent or no vent, Phex would soon catch a whiff.
Sure enough, once the first particles of smoke reached the deck, Phex, their esteemed leader, a man of few words and the embodiment of law and order in this rickety outfit, descended on them like the wrath of God.
“What are you doing?” Tight-lipped with anger, he broke his own protocol by addressing Gro and Fawn directly.
Fawn, too busy thrusting her chest at Phex, missed how absolutely furious he was.“We’re having a smoke.”
“What is this?”
“A thing you inhale smoke from. And blow it out. For fun. Like this.” Fawn blew a delicate stream of smoke into his face.
He snatched the cigarette from Fawn’s hand so fast she yelped, then brushed past them to properly dispose of it.
“Is it not allowed here? No one told us,” Fawn called to his back.“There are no signs.”
She had a point, but Phex was not in the mood for a debate.
Rosamma’s fingers twisted the end of her braid. Despite his obvious annoyance with the women, she had nothing but admiration for this alien. To her, he embodied masculine strength.
“Girl, you’re drooling,” Gro said into her ear.
Rosamma’s face burned as she tore her eyes away.“He’s mad at us,” she whispered to Gro.
“Let him stay mad.” Gro shrugged.“I’m tired of walking on eggshells around him and his bionic sidekicks. They treat us like prisoners, and I’m running out of ways to be alright with it.”
On the deck, Phex spoke briefly with the other Rix. Then, trailed by Aris and Silo, he approached Rosamma.
“Call all your Meeus females up here,” Phex ordered her.
She didn’t have to. The women had already gathered behind Gro and Fawn, the offenders. In such tight quarters, there was no chance of missing this debacle.
Phex surveyed them with disdain that was palpable.
“Bring all your belongings forward. We will search them. Translate.”
Rosamma did.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Gro exclaimed.“Let him take my cigarettes. Let him choke on them. There’s no need to search other people’s bags.”
Rosamma translated Gro’s words to Phex, smoothing over the emotion.
Phex made a cutting motion with his scarred and veined six-fingered hand.“You’ll do as you’re told. We want to know what other drugs you brought onboard.”
“There are no drugs,” Rosamma protested.
He was unconvinced.“Translate what I said.”
