Half Share

to go to environmental, but the Lois didn’t have any slots. We followed the Duchamp into port one day and Mr. Maxwell, you know Mr. Maxwell, of course, he arranged with the Duchamp to trade me for a guy in the environmental department who was having problems.”

She used the fingers in the air around having problems. I felt a sudden and unfamiliar urge to punch a woman. Pip had wondered why Mr. Maxwell had been willing to accept the trade. I could see now that the Duchamp had gotten the short end of the deal, and my respect for Mr. Maxwell went up a couple of notches even though it was already very high.

“So, you’re in the environmental section on the Duchamp?” I asked. “Have you passed your spec rating yet?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you, honey,” she cooed. “We have a lot in common. We’re both half share and both working in environmental.”

“Oh? I thought you had passed your spec.”

“Ooh,” she squealed, “somebody’s been talking about me?”

Timing is everything and I gave it just a half beat so I knew that Brill and Diane would pick it up.

“Maybe I’m mistaken,” I said. “I thought you were the plumber.”

Brill did spew beer that time and I could see Diane’s head bow and her shoulders shake with laughter.

In the ensuing confusion and cleanup, Murdock found another target that was less problematic and moved in for the kill. I hoped she did not hurt him too much, sorta.

When we all got settled, Brill raised her glass in a silent toast and I returned it with a grin and a wink.

Al leaned in then and said, “I don’t know what happened, kid, but I like your style. If you ever get a hankering for a big, bald babe, look me up.” She winked and chuckled before calling for more beer.

One down. The real action had not begun but the night shifted into high gear.

Chapter 19

DUNSANY ROADS ORBITAL

2352-APRIL-17

With the unsavory Murdock out of the picture, I was still faced with the problem of how to get to Alicia Alvarez. She was a popular woman and with good reason. She moved like a panther and was just as sleekly beautiful. The challenge was going to be cutting her out of the pack.

I leaned over to my new friend, Al, and asked, “What’s the protocol on officers?”

She leaned down so she could hear me over the rising noise. “What you mean, Ishmael? Protocol?”

I let my eyes flicker to where Alvarez was standing with a group of spacers. “Officers? Are they eligible?”

She still seemed confused until Alvarez looked in our direction. A slow grin spread across her broad face.

“You do like a challenge, don’t ya?” Al said into the top of her beer.

“I just need to know if the worst that can happen is she turns me down.”

“Everybody here is off duty. Nobody is wearing tabs and no one is saying sar. Beyond that you’re on your own, but you’ve already got high marks in my book just for considering it. You sure you don’t wanna come back to my flop with me?” she teased. “I’ll take out the sharpest pieces.” She flicked the skull pierced through her left nipple.

“You’re tempting, Al, but I’m afraid I’m not man enough for you.”

She roared again, but the noise had built to the point where almost nobody outside of our immediate group could even hear it. She leaned down. “If you’re man enough for what you’re thinking, kid, you’re more man than three quarters of the men here.” She started to drink her beer and stopped to add, “And half the women!”

She really was a hoot. I was half tempted to take her up on the offer. I learned some time back that orgasms and laughter go well together. Especially when shared.

Still, I pondered the problem of cutting Alvarez out of the herd long enough to get her attention. Just then the band started and Alvarez’s hips moved in time to the beat. None of the men she was with seemed to notice.

I drained my drink and put the glass on the table. It was only my second and it had been ginger ale. I knew my limit on gin, and I did not want to be anywhere near it. Brill caught the movement and looked at me quizzically, and I winked back. Then I stood up and leaned over to give Al a kiss on the top of her shaved dome. “Wish me luck, Al,” I said and slipped from behind the table. As I crossed over to where Alvarez was standing, one of the tall, dark men who thought he was entertaining her saw me coming. Her hips definitely rocked to the beat and I wondered if she was even aware of it. She saw what-his-name looking and turned to see what had got his attention.

I kept focused on two thoughts. The first was that the worst she could say was no. The second was that I was wearing Henri Roubaille.

She saw me coming and her head turned before she swung her body around. I smiled and looked into her eyes. I could see the oh-gods-what-does-he-want flash across her face, but I did not let it deter me. I stopped about a meter from her, held hand, and said the word, “Dance?” I know she did not hear me over the noise. I did not even hear it, but I knew she could see it on my mouth. I nodded to the floor in invitation. Tall, dark and boring tried to get her attention back with a careful hand on her elbow. I could see it in my peripheral vision, but I did not take my eyes off hers. I kidded myself into thinking I had a choice and that I might actually have chosen not to look. I was careful not to make it a demand, but more of an offer. With the offer extended, I waited for her to make up her mind. The idiot with her tried to get her attention once more, but she drained her drink without looking away. Her eyes laughed over the rim, and she handed the empty glass to whoever-he-was before taking my outstretched hand. With a smile, she turned and led me to the dance floor, her fingers still cool and wet from the glass. She started dancing before we even made it to the floor, feet shuffling and hips shaking with intent. I did the best I could to follow. I was not a bad dancer—just not a very good one.

“It’s not how well you dance, Ishmael,” Mom had said. “It’s whether or not you mean it.”

With Alvarez, I meant it—every last bit of it. Eventually the band took a break and I finally got a chance to talk to her. She spoke first, “You’re Wang, from the Lois?”

“Guilty as charged. You’re Alvarez, from the Duchamp?”

She gave a mock salute with her index finger. “Yeah, that’s me.”

I held out a hand, to shake this time. “Pleased to meet you. You dance like a mad woman!” I told her with a grin.

She took my hand and shook it firmly but did not let go. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she said while looking me in the eyes again. Gods, but she had beautiful eyes. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Ginger ale would be good.” She still held my hand and her skin was scorching hot.

“Ginger ale? You came to a bar to drink ginger ale?” A smile danced in her eyes.

“No, I came to a bar to meet a fascinating woman. I drink ginger ale so I’ll remember her after.”

“Damn, you’re good,” she said with a delightful little laugh.

“Thanks, you’re a wonderful audience. I’ll be here till Thursday. Try the fish,” I teased her.

“Let’s see if we can find that drink.”

She did not let go of my hand as she led me off the floor and back toward the bar. As she led me past the table, Al raised her glass in toast and Brill turned, staring in disbelief. Diane saw her expression and I watched her track across to me. A huge smile erupted on her face just before the crowd closed around us and I lost sight of them all.