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“I’ll be right there,” the girl said, in no particular hurry. “It’s been nice talking with you…?”
“Kal,” I said.
“Lord Kal, I take it?” she said.
“You take it right.”
“I’m glad it’s not a mouthful.”
And did her eyes track down for a fraction of a second when she said that? No. Probably just my imagination.
“Friends call me Kal-i,” I said.
“Kal-i,” the girl said. “Sounds cute.”
The Titan stagehand came jogging over again.
“Two minutes!” she said.
“Okay! Okay!” the girl said.
She downed a mouthful of her mojito and pressed a hand to her mouth to keep it from spilling down her chin.
“Wait,” I said. “What’s your name?”
She extended her hand to reach for mine. I wasn’t quite sure what I was supposed to do with it. She stretched a little further and shook my hand up and down. It seemed a very bizarre thing to do.
“This is how we greet each other on Earth,” she said. “A sign of trust. My name’s Sirena. Pleased to meet you.”
I shook her hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Sirena,” I said.
She turned and hustled toward the stage. Her drink was mostly unfinished. I gazed at the lipstick mark around the edge and ran the fleshy part of my thumb over it. I wondered what it would feel like to kiss her.
I shook myself out of it and focused on my ale.
I needed to get a grip. Nothing could happen between us. Not while I thought of my wife all the time we were together.
Sirena climbed the steps to the stage.
Boy, I could ride that ass all day and night…
Ignoring my instincts was going to be a tough gig.
It was about to get a whole lot tougher.
The tables were largely empty. Those in attendance busied themselves with quiet discussions, and when Zes’s snores became too much for those that shared his table, they haughtily removed themselves and proceeded upstairs.
I remained at the bar and ordered another mojito. For the first time since arriving at the palace, I was beginning to enjoy myself.
Sirena moved to the microphone. It was attached to a long pole. I hadn’t seen one like it before. Performers usually attached a special strip to their throats that amplified their voices. Sirena was going old school. She appeared to like having something to hold with her hands.
She was alone on the stage beside a Titan sat at a set of drums and another on a bass guitar. The bassist picked a slow rhythm and the drummer thumped the canvas only at key moments. The lights faded and a single spotlight focused on her.
I didn’t need it. My attention was already entirely on her.
The conversations turned silent as the other patrons watched the stage for the first time the entire evening.
