Chapter 20
FRIENDS OF THE EXTRATERRESTRIAL RACES
As luck would have it—if you could call it that—I’d get my chance to do both the next day.
A few minutes into my dinner shift, I stood by the employee lockers and listened to the familiar song of Oasis’s kitchen. Clanging metal, shouted orders, and the hiss of fryers rebounded around me as I twirled a lock of hair escaping my loose French braid and squinted at the schedule on the wall.
When I found what I was looking for, the ball of nerves in my stomach bounced. I rocked back on my heels, lowering my arm and rubbing my sweaty palm on my apron.
Sky was here somewhere, according to the bartender calendar scrawled in red Sharpie.
I’d decided during the sleepless hours last night that today was the day. If he was working, I’d find a way to corner him. Sky may know how to turn on the charm, but his weird obsession with recent events seemed easier to crack than solving the mystery of an alien infiltration solo.
The thought pulled a dry snort from me. I turned toward the kitchen and nearly plowed into Kelly.
“Whoa—sorry!” she said, stumbling back. When she saw it was me, she put her hands on her hips and scowled. “I was wondering if you’d be in today. Are you okay?”
“Okay?” I blinked, confused for a second…then I remembered I’d called off because of the university explosion. So much had happened in the last few days, everything was blurring together. “Oh. Yeah. I’m good. Just shaken up.”
By alien robots, I didn’t add.
She swept her blue eyes over me like she was checking for herself, then rested her pink-manicured hand on her hip. “What’s up with you today? You look different.”
“Different?” I glanced down at myself. Same hideous neon-green, patterned dress. Slightly dirty white canvas shoes. The mud from the car wreck hadn’t come out. Aside from the glowing palm glyph and robot hand-shaped bruise hidden under my sleeve, there was nothing new.
“You’re wearing makeup,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Eyeshadow.”
Oh. That. I flushed. She was right. I was. Just a little. Some smoky shadow and a swipe of lip gloss, but it had made me feel a little more in control before facing a certain bartender.
“It helps you with your tips,” I muttered, reaching back to tie my apron.
“Hah. Rae-bae. This—” she swept her hand across her expertly made-up face and body poured into a strategically buttoned dress “—helps with my tips. But hey, I’d give you an A minus for effort.”
“Gee, thanks.” I rolled my eyes.
Grinning, she fell into step beside me as I walked into the kitchen. Jackie and Tony were already arguing over the finer points of music genres, their voices raised over the screaming hair metal pulsing from the speaker.
Kelly pushed through the swinging doors and held one open with her shoulder. “So, any new stuff on the lights?”
“What lights?” I asked, tongue tucked into my cheek.
She tsked in annoyance, and I bit back a smirk. It felt good—normal—to needle her. Even now, knowing she’d been right about so much. Didn’t mean I was going to tell her, though.
Not yet. Possibly not ever.
The restaurant was still in its post-lunch lull.
Rain streaked the windows, and only a few tables were occupied.
Emily was chatting with a booth full of nerdy-looking teen boys, flipping her hair.
Across the room, Sara was tending to a pair of women in the corner booth.
With her dark complexion, she pulled off the neon dress even better than Kelly.
They all pulled it off better than I did.
I didn’t look toward the bar while I tapped my fingers on my thigh in time with the steel drum samba thumping from the speakers.
The cheerful tune was undercut by a truly unfortunate monkey sound effect.
I could feel the urge to turn my head like a phantom hand yanking at my chin, but it wasn’t time yet. I needed a plan first.
“I don’t buy that you’re still in denial about the aliens,” Kelly said, bringing me back to the conversation. She swatted my hip with her empty tray. “You can’t tell me you didn’t watch the YouTube videos.”
“I saw the videos,” I admitted at a grumble.
We reached the server station, and I busied myself with the pre-shift ritual, grabbing straws, checking my order book, counting my coins. Anything to calm the nerves coiling in my chest.
I hated confrontation. But I was determined to talk to Sky tonight.
Kelly leaned a hip against the counter. “So,” she said, dragging the word out. “You’ve got to believe me now, right? About the aliens?”
Sighing, I set my molars. “Kelly, I believe something was captured on camera that people are having trouble explaining.”
“No. It’s easy to explain.” She spread her hands. “Aliens.”
I looked away, chewing the inside of my cheek. The burning mark on my palm and the bruises on my arm were explanation enough. But I couldn’t just…roll over and admit she was right. Since I’d started my own descent into madness, though, I might as well pump her for intel.
“Let’s say I believe you,” I said, snapping my order book closed and tucking it into my apron.
I turned to her and crossed my arms. “Where’d you get your information?
You seem to know a lot about this.” Her eyes sparkled with a maniacal gleam of triumph, like me caving was the answer to unholy prayers.
I plowed ahead. “So tell me: if there really are aliens, where are they from? What do they want? Why are they here? Hypothetically,” I added, when her smile spread to Cheshire Cat-width.
It didn’t deter her. She rubbed her hands together. “I thought you’d never ask, Rae-bae. Okay. So. I have this…friend, I guess. He’s really into this stuff. He—” She broke off, glancing around.
I followed her gaze. Nobody else was nearby, and once she was satisfied, she leaned in. Instinctively, I did the same.
She dropped her voice to a whisper. “My friend is really into this stuff. He belongs to a local branch of FETR.” She paused for dramatic effect.
I stared at her blankly. When she didn’t elaborate, I raised my brows. “Okay…and what’s fetter?”
“No, not…ugh, it’s F, E, T, R. An acronym for Friends of the Extraterrestrial Races. Pronounced ‘Fetter.’”
“Friends of the…” Friendly was not the word I’d use to describe the robot that’d chased me through the lab. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She flicked her fingers dismissively, like I was the one being ridiculous. “Just listen. My friend’s in FETR. They’re this worldwide group of people who research and monitor alien activity.”
“Like, what, the Men in Black?” I snorted. Why had I thought Kelly might actually be a legitimate source of information?
“No! They’re not the government. Come on, Rae. You really think the government would be honest about aliens?”
“They had a whole hearing about it.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, and they didn’t say anything. They didn’t confirm anything. FETR’s made up of regular people, people like you and me, who actually know what’s going on. They’ve got chapters all over the place. And some of their members work at, like, radio telescope arrays. SETI and stuff.”
“SETI?” I arched a brow. “Like the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence?”
“Oh, so you do know about them.”
“Yeah, because SETI’s a real, science-backed organization.” I could see by her imperious look that I was getting nowhere. I sighed. “Never mind. Go on.”
“Thank you. So, my friend Cane? He’s in FETR.
He’s an electrical engineer. Graduated from TWU last year.
He, like, works for the city now. He’s always scanning for electrical or radio-wave anomalies, and this week?
He picked up some weird readings all over the country.
Power surges, random bursts of radio static… ”
I slumped a little. “Yeah, Kelly. That was the solar flare—”
“No, Raven.” She clamped her hand around my wrist, and I stopped short. She looked... Wow—for once, Kelly looked dead serious. Solemn, even.
“I can show you,” she whispered, eyes darting to both sides, like she was ensuring no eavesdroppers closed in.
“Come to a meeting. It’s not what the news says it is.
The signals were jumping around, erratic, but not random.
FETR cross-referenced it with grid spikes, light sightings, reported anomalies.
It followed a pattern. A path. Like a…I don’t know.
One of those scavenger hunts people do on Snapchat. ”
Like a scavenger hunt…or like a search grid? Ice chilled my veins.
The tablet flashed in my mind, glowing, humming, crumbling in my hand. My palm tingled like it remembered, too. I gently freed myself from Kelly’s grip and rubbed my thumb over the nearly invisible marks.
“They’re looking for something,” Kelly murmured, her blue eyes locked on mine.
I held her stare. She had me now. I was listening.
She nodded like she knew it, too. “Cane dug deeper. The anomalies—they led here. To One Willow.”
My lungs caught on a gasp.
Was this the proof? In case I’d had any doubts that the object, that strange tablet someone had stuffed in a Styrofoam cooler, was the actual target.
It’d been destroyed, though. I’d watched it disintegrate.
Once again, hope rose. Maybe the fact it’d blown up meant this was over.
Nobody had spotted any lights last night.
No new reels or videos had appeared in my feeds.
But that didn’t mean they’d left. There was a chance the robots were hunting down loose ends. Read: me.
Or maybe not. Maybe they’d hightailed it off Earth.
I was going to drive myself crazy worrying without any definite information. My arm ached, and my head throbbed. I found myself rubbing the markings on my palm again before catching the motion and forcing my itchy fingers to still.
Instead, I frowned at Kelly. “So what does your friend think this means?”
“Well, it gets better. There’s some kind of—”
“Hey!” Sandy’s voice cracked through the air like a gunshot. I gasped and looked up. She marched toward us, cutting through empty tables, her frown stormy and her manager’s badge glinting under the fluorescents like a sheriff’s star. “Is this social hour or a working restaurant?”
Kelly rolled her eyes again, this time with much more dramatic flair. “Well, it’s Sunday, so technically both?”
“Cute, Miss Ardmore. Don’t you have a section to cover?” Then her gaze landed on me. “And you. You need another day off or something?”
I nearly winced. “No. No, I don’t. I’m on it.”
I exchanged a glance with Kelly then ducked my head and peeled away from the server station, circling toward the restaurant’s main floor. Nobody else had wandered into my section yet.
But my thoughts were spinning.
FETR. Friends of the Extraterrestrial Races. A legit organization, albeit named like it’d been thought up by a late-night Reddit thread. But they were tracking movements. Actual patterns. And somehow, Kelly, of all people, had the goods.
How many aliens were hanging around on Earth if they had enough friends to form a damn club?
The idea sent dread slinking through my chest, dousing any remaining urge to laugh.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get more information from Kelly after all. Maybe even hear this Cane guy’s take on it.
I felt a little like Alice—except instead of chasing rabbits, I was chasing flying saucers. Lights in the sky. Possibly even evil robots from outer space. Take your pick.
God. My life was weird right now.
I blew out a breath and smoothed a hand down my braid as I rounded the far corner of the dining area. Half-hidden behind one of our surprisingly realistic palm trees, I had a clear line of sight to the bar. I peered through the silk leaves like a tiger stalking prey.
Only this prey was a cagey bartender.
It was the first glimpse I’d had of him since leaving him on the Crescent dance floor.
He leaned across the polished counter, sliding a sunset-colored mixed drink toward a middle-aged woman with too much makeup and a neckline in a fierce rivalry with gravity.
She preened, patting her hair and flashing him a coy smile.
He returned it with one of those respectful, guarded grins—reserved, but also smart enough to earn his tips. And that dark curl tumbling over his forehead didn’t hurt, either. He casually pushed it back, then strolled to the bar’s far end to check on two guys in blue coveralls hunched over beers.
Even that small walk oozed a kind of careless grace. It was a dance I was used to watching him perform. Those worn jeans did great things for his ass, too.
Disgusted with myself, I ripped my gaze away and let the branches swish back into place. I wasn’t here to ogle. Not anymore. Things had changed. I wanted answers.
And this? This was a safe place. Public, familiar. Full of people.
If it went sideways, there’d be witnesses.
Not that it could go sideways, I told myself. This was still Sky. He never raised his voice, let alone his hand. He was always polite. Cordial. A gentleman. The guy had opened my car door for me, for God’s sake.
But then I remembered the way he’d stared down Prince Charming at the club. There’d been a flash of something darker. Colder. Just like there’d been calculation in his voice when he’d asked about the accident.
He was hiding something beneath that polite mask.
Nothing was as it seemed lately. Not my life. Not the truth about aliens. Not even my hot bartender crush.
I squared my shoulders. I was sick of flinching at shadows and overanalyzing every little possibility. This, at least, was something I could control.
I was confronting Sky tonight.
I stepped out from behind the palm fronds, lifted my chin, and strode across the restaurant. The squawking calls of jungle birds formed a questionable soundtrack. Nerves leaping, I tugged my uniform dress a little lower on my thighs.
Sky looked up from wiping the counter, and I let go of my hem, inhaling sharply. Our gazes locked, and he paused in mid-swipe, straightening. My steps faltered under the weight of that stare, steady and direct. I wasn’t used to this. Eye contact. With him.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. But something flickered in his expression, quick and unreadable. A flash of tension before that too-neutral veneer slid into place.
He looked away and went back to cleaning, like I was just another customer, though I caught the shift in his posture. His broad shoulders tightened beneath his dark button-up. Like he was bracing himself.
My slow burning irritation flared into something hotter. Recklessness, maybe.
I headed straight for the bar.
Let’s do this.