Page 37 of Her Alien Neighbor

Kyan grunts as he grabs a bag of kettle corn, rips it free of the plastic, and puts it into the microwave. He is quite ornery for a draxilio posing as a human. It must be the eighteen-hour days he spends at his office. He turns to face us. “Is the niece still trying to sell the house?”

So much has happened since the last time Vanessa spoke of it, I genuinely do not know. Though, after seeing Trevor, I cannot imagine her wanting to stay. Until she says otherwise, I will assume that is still her plan. “Yes, I think so.”

“If you should require assistance in keeping her here, do let me know,” Kyan says conspiratorially. “I have a guy I can send over.”

Everything about that sounds alarming, and I do not like the way he is scratching his chin as he ponders this plan of his. “To do what, exactly?”

“You said the house is in need of repair, yes?” he asks. “Repairs she cannot afford to fix.”

“Yes,” I reply. “I did say that.”

None of my brothers know about the treasure hunt or the cash Lady Norton left for Vanessa. They would have no interest in trying to claim it for themselves, of course. But currency is important to Vanessa, and her story to share if she wishes.

The microwave beeps, signaling the popcorn is done, and he takes a deep inhale as he opens the top of the bag. “Well, my guy can create more areas in need of repair, if you know what I mean.”

“No,” I say, my tone firm.

“To which part?” Zev asks, his tone bored as he traces the lines of the snake tattoo he recently added to his right arm. “No, you do not know what he means? Or no to Kyan sending a strange male over to Vanessa’s to destroy her house?”

“That,” I practically shout. “The second one.” My fists ball at my sides as I look at Kyan, playfully tossing kettle corn into the air before catching it in his mouth. “Do not send anyone to Vanessa’s. Do you hear me? If anyone she does not recognize takes a single step on her property, I will end you.”

He smiles as he looks between me and Zev. “Ah, so we have found another human mate, have we?” He pauses. “What is the expression?” his brow furrows, “two down, three to go?”

“Yes, I believe that is how the saying goes,” Zev replies, his tone mocking. “Right, Axil?”

Feeling outnumbered, I growl low in my throat and snag the bag of kettle corn out of Kyan’s grasp, knocking it to the floor. He roars grumpily as it spills onto the kitchen tiles.

“Now I need to pop another bag!” he shouts.

“You do notneedto do anything,” I point out. “What kind of draxilio eats popcorn before bed?”

“Splendid, you are all here,” Mylo mutters as he descends the stairs. “We must have our monthly meeting.”

The three of us collectively sigh.

He holds up a hand, rejecting our displeasure. “We have not had one this month, and now is a good time to do it.” He grabs his tablet off the TV stand and gestures for us to follow him into the living room. We do, dragging our feet, and take our seats: Mylo in the center of the couch in the middle of the room, Kyan and Zev on opposing loveseats, and me in the recliner in the corner. Mylo starts tapping on the screen of his tablet and Kyan lets out a loud groan.

“You do not need to keep the minutes,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Really, it is entirely unnecessary.”

Mylo pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he stares intently at the tablet, then shouts “Ah!” triumphantly. “Actually, Kyan, you complained about me keeping the minutes two meetings ago. Do you know how I know that?” Mylo asks him, smiling. “Because it is in the minutes.”

Kyan shakes his head, annoyed, as he crosses one leg over the other. “Very well, then I would like the record to reflect that these meetings are a waste of time, once again.”

“Your complaint is noted,” Mylo says as he adds a note to the document on the screen. “Now, who wishes to share their learnings first?”

Kyan uncrosses his legs and leans forward. “I will.”

Zev and I sigh at the same time, mentally preparing for another battle between him and Mylo. They have butted heads for as long as I can remember.

“I would like to trade my media assignment,” Kyan says. “Reality TV is not something I find enjoyable, and it is riddled with human slang, which is difficult for me to grasp. I do not understand why I was assigned this, and why I cannot change my assignment for a full calendar year.”

Mylo clears his throat. “Unless there is someone who wishes to trade with you, you must keep it. We have been over this.”

Kyan leans back and pouts.

“Besides, it is crucial for us to rotate these forms of media, so we all grow to understand them equally,” Mylo adds, looking at each of us. “Unless someone is willing to trade, reality TV will remain yours, just as scripted stories shall remain mine, music will remain Zev’s, and news and documentaries will remain Axil’s.”

“I do not like the news,” I say. “It is extremely depressing what these humans do to one another on a daily basis.” Kyan’s eyes widen with hope. “But I would rather have that than reality TV.”

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