Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
“Do not worry, Jessica,” he says. “You don’t have to have the same understanding as I do right now. You do not need to love me yet. I love you enough for the both of us.”
“How?!” I don’t mean to exclaim so dramatically, but I am truly shocked. Usually when you sleep with a man he loses interest. All this talk of fated connections and love comes as a complete shock to me.
“Because,” he says in all his advanced alien glory. “Reasons.”
“Alright.” I take a deep breath. Not only have I gotten a job I don’t deserve, but I seem to have gotten an alien husband as well.
“Yes,” he says. “Alright. I think you’ve had enough of office work for one day. Why don’t you get me some coffee. Ask Arlo to help you.”
I am sure that aliens don’t drink coffee, but I guess he’s putting it in human terms. That’s nice of him. It occurs to me that I really don’t understand anything about Eros or the aliens I’ve agreed to work for. I just wanted a job and somewhere to live that didn’t make me physically ill with black mold and parasites. Less than twenty-four hours after shooting my shot, I’m in a world I don’t understand and I just smacked a billionaire in the face. Oh, and I got engaged, I think.
Cir ushers me out of the office, and I go and find Arlo, who is not far away.
“Hey, Arlo. Boss asked for coffee.”
“Did he,” Arlo says, casting a quick glance over at the now closed door. “Well. I suppose if he wants coffee, we will have to get him some coffee.”
“Right. So is there a pot or something nearby?”
“Relatively speaking. We’ll need to take a trip to Earth.”
“Really? We’re going all the way back down there to get him coffee? How fucking spoiled is he?”
“Boss gets what he wants,” he says. “Come along. You’ll run the errand yourself once you get comfortable with the transportation.”
“You mean the elevator?”
“I mean the shuttle. Cir’s shuttle is docked in the vehicle bay. You can use it as necessary.”
This just keeps getting better and better. “I get a company flying car?”
“Well, you get to use this shuttle in order to carry out duties assigned to you by Cir Fabian.”
We have arrived in the vehicle bay, which is basically a parking lot for little space ships that look a bit like cars. I can see Baz’s ship parked among the Cupid vehicles. It looks clunky and ugly compared to their sleek design. I bet he hates that.
Arlo directs me to a slim white shuttle. It’s not personalized in any way, and I have no idea how I’m going to work out which one is his a second time. I ask Arlo.
“See this?” Arlo points to the glowing insignia that marks the space. “This is Cir’s name in our language.”
It looks like a squiggle, but I suppose all letters look like squiggles until they start making sounds in your head. I just have to make sure that this one makes the Cir sound when I see it.
“Cir,” I murmur to myself, looking at the symbol. “Cir. Cir. Cir.”
“As much as I enjoy and support your learning of the language,” Arlo says. “We have to be getting on if he is going to get his coffee.”
“Right,” I say. “Of course. Cir.”’
Arlo snags me into the interior of the shuttle. He takes the driver’s seat, of course.
“You’re going to teach me how to fly this thing?”
“Yes. I plan to. For today, however, assuming Cir wants his coffee now, you can simply accompany me and learn the procedures.”
“Alright. I think I know how to get coffee.”
“Not for Cir.”
“Alright.”
“Put your seat belt on,” he says. I didn’t notice that the shuttle had a seat belt, but it does. It has one than connects in the way baby car seats and race car driver seats do, right across the crotch. It’s a little intimate, but I’m starting to think that the Cupid are kinky.
Now that I’m securely fastened into the seat, I have a chance to think. I’m not going to think about myself or my situation. That’s far too much to think about, so instead I ask Arlo a question.
“What’s your deal, Arlo?”
“I’m an assistant, in your terminology,” he says, his fingers dancing around the buttons and things on the control panel of the shuttle. It’s not like a car that has a steering wheel and pedals, or a plane, but somewhat similar. It’s more like a video game, I guess, one played with a keyboard. So a retro video game.
“Not even a controller,” I murmur to myself.
“Hm?”
“It’s all keys and buttons, isn’t it?”
“It’s based on coordinates and a grid system. It flies itself, essentially. All you have to know is where you want to be.”
“Okay, but what about when I get there? How do I park this thing?”