The Golden Token #4
Disappointed but not discouraged, Charlie sat through the second performance before cashing out his chips and heading back to the living quarters.
After all, he had two days left on this Station.
He’d do his best to see her again. There was something special about Rose, an ease in being with her, talking to her as he’d never done with any other woman he could remember.
He craved more time with her, wondering at himself and his reactions.
Was he falling for some dancer in an out of the way casino?
His old buddies would laugh themselves sick over that, given the way he’d only ever had—or wanted—casual hookups in the past. He took a deep breath.
But he was done with the past, out of the Teams, where death could come at any moment.
He was ready to make a new life, try new things. Wasn’t he?
Next morning came too early for Rose, as it always did these days.
She refused to give in to the inevitable, scary thoughts about getting old.
Yawning, she stretched and walked into her tiny kitchen barefoot.
Last night sure had been different, with Charlie to talk to.
He was polite, entertaining and damn good to look at.
She’d seen too many good men come and go, and after the first one or two, she’d not allowed herself to grow attached to anyone.
No more grief over the inevitable separation.
Especially now, with the forced transfer in her near future.
So why not indulge herself with a fling?
Unlike that troublesome jerk Cade, this guy had manners and a future.
As she surveyed her supply of rations, she bit her lip, tempted to take a risk, make up for not allowing him to walk her home.
“It’s the only hospitable thing to do, right?
Neighbors and all?” Laughing at herself, she threw on her favorite loose dress, belted the sash, slid her feet into the waiting sandals, and sauntered into the corridor.
She flipped the door sensor on his unit and waited.
A few moments later the portal slid aside to reveal a sleepy, tousled Charlie, barefoot, clad only in sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
She tried not to stare at the rock-hard abs on his chiseled frame or the intricate tattoos on his biceps as she said, “Got plans for breakfast?”
Running one hand through his short, military-cut blond hair, he said, “Nothing more solid than going up to the restaurant at the casino later. I assume the place serves breakfast. Why?”
“There was a little trouble last night with a few of the miners. They got into an argument with Security and kinda broke up the place so it won’t be open again until tonight.
Tempers are short these days.” Why am I rambling?
He’ll think I’m an idiot. She bit her lip.
“Anyway, I’ve got a better offer than the menu at the station’s greasy dive. I’m cooking, come eat with me.”
His smile was a reward in itself. She loved the way the crow's feet around his brown eyes crinkled and the single dimple appeared in his left cheek. “A home cooked meal—how can I resist? Are you sure you can spare the rations?”
Since I’ll be leaving in two weeks, there’s no need to be sensible about hoarding food or anything else.
Suppressing a flash of pain at what the casino manager had told her privately last night, Rose maintained her pleasant expression.
None of this was Charlie’s concern. “No problem or I wouldn’t ask.
” Yeah, saving rations was one of the last things on her mind right now.
She sure wasn’t going to be taking anything with her when the Company shipped her out, frozen in cryosleep.
“Give me a few minutes to make myself civilized and I’ll be right over. “He scraped a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “I’d ask if I can bring anything but since I wasn’t expecting to be at the station long, I’m traveling light.”
“Just bring yourself.” She gave a cheery wave and headed back to her place, where she threw together a quick meal of scrambled faux eggs and synth bacon, with fried tubers from her home world, garnished with chives.
She was taking heated rolls from the cooker when the alert sounded.
Wiping her hands on her skirt, she ran to let him in.
He was fully dressed now, somewhat to her regret, in crisp utility pants, sturdy boots that had clearly seen a lot of wear, and a green knit shirt stretching tight across his broad chest.
“The food’s ready,” she said, leading him to the small dining space. “Have a seat.”
He stopped. “Are those real roses?”
She glanced at the three ruby red flowers on the table, standing haphazardly in a dragon-embossed tumbler she’d taken from the casino. “What do you think?”
He leaned closer to pick up the makeshift vase and inhale the scent. “These must have cost a fortune. Not easy to get out here in deep space.” As he lowered the glass to the table, he said, “Roses are my mother’s favorite flower in her garden at home. I haven’t seen any in a long time.”
While he piled eggs onto his plate, she touched one of the velvet petals and sank into her own chair. “Your home planet must be more hospitable than mine, if your mom can grow roses on the surface. Nothing survives on the surface of any world in this sector. Bunch of rocks.”
Charlie handed her the rolls. “My home’s pretty lush all right, lot of farms and ranches. My dad’s a veterinarian.”
“What about you?”
“Remember I told you last night I was retired military? I’m headed home to claim my veteran’s acres now.
Not sure if I’m going to farm or ranch, or pursue a trade.
First thing I intend to do is a whole lot of nothing.
” He rolled his shoulders and grimaced. “Need time and a lot of open space to decompress from twenty-five years of war. I’m going to savor the lack of anybody giving me orders. ”
She didn’t believe for a moment that he was the kind of guy to sit around inactive. “I bet you won’t make it a month before you find yourself getting restless. More tubers?”
“I’m good, thanks. Are these real chives?” He savored a forkful of the eggs. “Amazing taste.”
She sipped her synthetic coffee, debating whether to explain where the roses and fresh spices came from.
Did he really want to know, or was he just making polite conversation?
The detail about his mother was touching.
He might look like a stereotypical, lethal soldier from a popular trideo show, all muscles and tatts, but there was apparently a nice guy who loved his mom underneath.
Charlie was a breath of fresh air in a very stale life.
“This is the best breakfast I’ve had in years,” he said while she was pondering. “You have to let me buy you dinner tonight—it’s only fair.”
“It’ll have to be early, so I’m not dancing on a full stomach.” Leaning forward, she asked, “What are you doing with your day?”
“Got no plans whatsoever. I’ll be at the casino tonight, to cheer you on.
I’m guessing this station doesn’t offer much else in the way of diversion.
” He screwed his face up in a comical expression and ran his hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry—that sure came out wrong. Even if there were a hundred shows here, nothing would be better than watching you dance. ”
Laughing, she patted his hand. “Apology accepted. Would you like to tag along with me? I’ll show you where the roses and the chives come from. Of course it might be boring for someone who’s used to an adventurous life in the military.”
“Time spent with you could never be boring,” he said, voice low. “Don’t sell yourself short, lady.”
Flustered, she got to her feet, collecting the nearest dishes. He came to join her, taking the dirty plates from her. “Let me deal with these, since you cooked. Fair’s fair.”
“All right. I’ve got to change and then I’ll be right out.
” She hastened into her tiny bedroom, closed the portal, and then shed the dress in one quick motion.
Regretfully she donned her beige station uniform and practical work shoes before she re-entered the kitchen.
He was sniffing the roses again, eyes closed.
Enjoying the sight of the big soldier appreciating her flowers, she said, “You can have one, if you want. There are more where those came from.”
“Thanks, I prefer to enjoy them here, if you don’t mind.” Eyebrows raised, he seemed to be studying her attire.
“I have a day job,” she said, answering the unspoken question.
“Dancing doesn’t pay the bills, believe me.
You ready for a hike?” After retrieving her toolkit from the corner, she preceded him out the portal into the corridor.
It was a short walk deeper into the station, past his rental unit, and then she keyed open the door to the maintenance tunnels.
“Although they’re not really tunnels, we station rats fell into calling them that,” she explained.
“Works for me.” He checked both directions and followed her into the poorly lit hallway. “These run through the whole Station?”
“Pretty much. I have a schematic on the handheld in my kit if you’re interested. You can check it out while I’m doing my chores.”
“Bad habit from my old day job.” Descending a rusting ladder to the next level, he laughed. “I always like to know the full layout. How long have you been on the Station?”
“Two years. Three more to go, got a five-year contract.” She stopped in front of a door. I don’t want to talk about the damn contract. Not with him. “Ready?”