Page 7 of Becoming Brandy

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She was losing her marbles.She really was.

Having no clock, no connection to the outside world, and no one to talk to, Brandy had started to lose it. Wrek hadn’t been back, and neither had Drake. Food had arrived with a non-verbal beast who set the tray on the floor, sniffed at her, and walked out. She’d even tried to engage him in conversation before he’d left, but he’d growled in her face before retreating.

She’d sang all the songs she knew, recited all the movie lines. She’d even taken to using the leftover food to decorate the walls, drawing flowers and puppies, but since the surface was a purplish-black, it wasn’t noticeable anyway.

Finally, she’d given up and fallen into a fitful sleep with dreams of floating into empty space.

When her cell wall opened again, her eyes fluttered open. Tork was leaning over her.

“Captivity does not become you,” he stated.

“What do you care?” she asked, sitting up.

He made a face that let her know he certainly did not care.

Tork was not the type to seduce. He was the type to avoid. Tall and handsome like they all were, his face held an intensity the others seemed unable to master. His scowl could shoot ice into the souls of the toughest humans, but it was his sneer, as shifty as a hyena’s, that Brandy really feared. He turned it on her now, his eyes tracing her curves like most males did when they saw her. She shivered and crossed her arms over her body protectively.

Leaning on the wall, he pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette and lit it with a human lighter.

Brandy raised her eyebrows. “I’ve never seen a Cartharian smoke before.”

He took a drag and blew the smoke out. “Human pot is nothing compared to what we grow. You want a toke?”

She shook her head.

He chuckled and took another drag.

“What are you doing here?” she asked coldly.

“Boss man says you need stimulus. The scanners indicate you are in distress. He doesn’t want his new toy upset.” He adopted a mock-scientific tone that sounded a lot like Wrek before continuing. “I’m your chaperone. Going to take you for a walk, puppy.”

“Take me for a walk?” She wanted to refuse this smug bastard, but she was going crazy. And maybe if she were out, she could figure out a way off this ship. “Fine. Where to?”

He took a step back, the cigarette pinched between his lips, and gestured for her to exit. Brandy didn’t wait. She hurried out of the room.

“Don’t think about running,” he said. “I have a stun feature on this thing I’ve been dying to try out.” He waggled one of those dark cylindrical wands in his hand.

“Where else would I rather be?” It was her turn to sneer.

“Exactly.” He took another hit of his smoke before stubbing it out beneath his boot. “This way.”

She walked beside him down the hall, feeling nervous and lightheaded. It must have been a contact buzz from whatever Tork was smoking that made her mind feel fuzzy and her limbs weak. Shaking her head a few times, she was able to gain control of most of her senses. Whatever effect it had on Tork, she could not discern anything different from his behavior. He sauntered like he owned the place. His black T-shirt, fitted snuggly to his arms and chest, flexed and relaxed as his arms swung. And his boots clomped loudly on the floor. He had the habit of pushing his dark hair back, though it would always fall forward again. The wavy locks were wild in a way that most girls would find incredibly sexy. Brandy knew better. She’d dated all kinds of guys like Tork. She knew they spent a lot of time trying to seem as if they didn’t give a shit when they cared a whole hell of a lot.

He stopped in front of a wall and pressed his hand to it, turning to her instead of watching it disintegrate. “What’s your name again?”

“Brandy.”

“From the song. Brandy, she’s a fine girl?” His half-lidded eyes watched her in amusement.

“Something like that,” she said tersely.

“Yeah, something like that.” He chuckled at his own joke and then waited for her to enter.

Stepping into the room, she was surprised, to say the least. She’d expected a park to walk around in, something natural and peaceful. What she found was an old-school gym straight out of the movie Rocky.

The floor was tacky like it hadn’t been washed in a while. The windows grimy with soot. The main feature was an old-school boxing ring with sagging ropes. Around the ring were various other workout items—speed bags, punching bags, jump ropes, and a rack of weights. There were gray dented lockers in the back and dressing rooms around the side.

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