Page 29 of Her Alien Neighbor

“Ah, that must be it,” she replies, though not looking convinced.

“Five?” I ask. “I thought only four of you lived next door.”

“That is true, but one of our brothers lives south of here in Salem,” Zev says. “Luka.”

I realize I still haven’t met the fourth brother who lives next door. “Who haven’t I met? Besides Luka.”

“Kyan,” Axil says with a shake of his head. “He is always working. That is why you have not seen him.”

“Very important boss man, that Kyan,” Zev says, his tone mocking.

Sam chuckles at the clear disdain for the corporate office structure. “What do you do, Zev?”

“I am a tattoo artist,” he says proudly. “I work at a shop in Tilton.”

“Very cool,” I say. It’s been years since I got my last tattoo. I’ve been eager to get another since getting a crown tattooed on my right ring finger and a pine tree on the inside of my left wrist but haven’t been able to afford it. Tattoos, as beautiful as they are, get as pricey as they are addictive.

“And you, Axil?” Sam asks.

“I build custom wood furniture, most with carved, detailed accents,” he replies, his voice quiet. Unlike the bold declaration Zev made about his job, Axil seems, not embarrassed, but humble. “I sell it on Etsy.”

Sam nods, then a moment later, lets out a gasp. “Wait, are you Forest Furniture Fella?”

I swear Axil blushes as his chin dips.

Sam slaps a hand on her knee. “My sister will not shut up about the end table you made her. She’s obsessed with it.”

“Well, I am gra––”

“Is that Sam?” a loud, grating voice shouts from across the bar. “It is!”

My hands start to shake as I hear his feet shuffle toward us. I watch Sam swallow hard before plastering on a fake smile.

It’s happening. He’s coming over here and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Trevor,” Sam says coolly, “hello.”

Axil’s entire body tenses. His fists ball at his sides as his gaze moves over Trevor. Zev notices Axil’s shift in mood and lifts a brow in my direction. I shrug, not knowing how to quickly explain the history that links me and Sam to this monster.

“Wow, been a while, eh?” he says, and I hear him lean against the bar, directly behind me. “Hey, I’m having a Cinco de Mayo party this year. You’re going to love it. I got excellent decorations for it.Muy auténtico.” Except he hits “muy” too hard and puts a pause in the middle, so it sounds like “moo eee.”

“Cool,” Sam replies, unenthused. “But I’m Puerto Rican, not Mexican. So…” she trails off with an eye-roll.

How long can I sit here before turning around? Maybe if I stay perfectly still, he won’t notice me at all.

“Who’s your friend?” he asks.

Fuck.

He taps me on the shoulder obnoxiously hard, as if he’s offended I’m not paying attention to him. I flinch at his touch. “Hello, there.”

Fine. Let’s get this over with. I grit my teeth as I turn, refusing to smile. I’m not giving him that. He gets what he gets. “Trevor,” I say, the word practically burning my tongue.

He jerks back, but not in genuine surprise. More like he discovered an old toy he used to play with, which is not unlike our situation. “The famous Vanessa Bradford, gracing us with her presence. What a treat.”

I say nothing because I have no idea what to say. If I were to open my mouth, I’m worried I’d either scream like a banshee or wretch all over his North Face jacket and ill-fitting thermal shirt.

He snags a peanut from the old man’s bowl two stools down and tosses it into his mouth. Then he smiles, and it sickens me. “Doesn’t Hollywood need you? I mean, shouldn’t you be walking the red carpet for your new movie?”

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