“Cool beans. So, up for watching another Brady Bunch movie tonight?”
“There’s more than one?”
“Yes, but I tell you what, how about we start marathoning the series from the beginning, then revisit the movies?”
This suggestion implied he’d already made up his mind about staying and was merely reassuring himself by doing the normal thing by checking out the job and locale. I knew him. As soon as he visited me at my job, he’d go sign on the proverbial dotted line. And seeing as the odds were indeed in our favor that he would not be matched, I agreed with his proposal.
“Sounds like a plan. Seeing as you’ve already more or less had a taco meal with your choice of Bratty Dog, should we skip picking up tacos for Taco Tuesday and have something else instead?”
He looked at me in mock horror. “As if! Who are you and what did you do with my Kit?”
I snorted. “Fine. I’ll show you to my quarters on my way back to work, and you can settle in. I’ll pick up the tacos on my way home.” Yep, totally not listening to just how domestic that had sounded. Just roommates, nothing unusual to see here, not at all, I sternly reminded myself.
“Sounds great. Add a couple chimichangas if they have them, or burritos.”
“If they don’t, we can replicate some,” I reassured him.
“Then how about I use the replicator and set us up a taco bar instead, and add plates of chicken chimichangas and beef burritos on the side? You can get home quicker that way, too. You know I used the one at your old place a few times.”
I nodded, knowing it was true. “Okay, deal.”
He stood up, ready to dispose of his trash, and I followed suit as my lunch break was nearly over. Not that anyone would say anything about my being a little late, as Xeranos would have notified everyone that I had a guest to get settled. Everyone except me, that is. Xeranos had become quite the rascal from his association with humans, but never maliciously so. This was one surprise I definitely didn't mind, so I wasn't going to complain. Though, just when had he started calling me Kit? This was the first time he’d addressed me thusly, and I liked it, but why now?
Then it hit me. The room I’d set up as my study - he was going to move in there, as my assigned roommate, after making the request when accepting his contract. I’d need to get rid of the small dinette and obtain some barstools for the bar area so we wouldn’t have to rely solely on TV tray stands and the coffee table. Roommates were even closer buddies, with little nicknames for each other. I’d seen it in the entertainment vids he’d shown me and observed it among my students and colleagues who shared domiciles. I’d have to think of one for Carl, but I wasn’t sure how, as his name didn’t shorten to anything.
15
ALEC
The league teams playing tonight turned out to be the ship’s youth teams. I helped put up bumpers for the Moms, Pops, and Tots group who enjoyed informal games without any announced winners or losers, just a bunch of kids aged four to six enjoying learning to bowl and chowing down on pizza, milk, and ready made ice cream cones from the freezer. There were a few easily handled meltdowns, with me only having to go assist once, when a four year old girl lost her mind when her ball missed the pins entirely.
“Oh wow! Your ball traveled through the wormhole! I bet it thought those pins were an asteroid belt,” I said, approaching.
She paused, looking at me for a moment before starting to bawl again.
Unfettered, I said, “You all know what that means, right? Wormholes mean gummy worms for everyone!” I held aloft a sharing sized bag from the vending machine. And you,” I held it out to the little girl whose name was apparently Cindy, “have to be the one to hand them out and make sure everyone gets their fair share, because you were driving the ball. Of course, that also means you get one extra gummy worm.”
Cindy was merely sniffling now. “Really?”
“Yes,” her grateful mother interjected. “But it only applies to the first time a ball flies through the wormhole.” She looked at me meaningfully.
“That’s right. After that, everyone just has to say, “Oh, man, I gotta make sure to pilot away from those wormholes, because there’s one on each side of the pins, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she replied, taking the now open bag of candy from me.
“Let me hold those while you take your second roll…err…flight,” her mom said. “I’ll give them right back after, okay?”
Crisis averted. I stepped away as her mom mouthed a thank you to me. I didn’t have much time to give myself a mental pat on the back about it, though, as my watch was buzzing to let me know more pizza was ready to be sliced and put on the buffet.
After that, the Pin Pilot team of six to eight year olds were ready for an ice cream break, already perched on the barstool seating at the counter where they had to eat their ice cream. This was followed up by malted milkshakes I had to whiz up myself as the nine to twelves, or Lane Conquerors, came up asking for their ice cream cones to take back to their seating area. The thirteen to fifteen year olds simply ate pizza and nachos and drank canned soft drinks they got out of the vending machine in between games. I smiled at their league designation, as well as their team name, which were Pin Smashers and Spacely Sprockets, respectively.
There were also regular bowlers coming in and out, so we also had to issue their shoes and handle their food orders, too, which meant I got to fry up some burgers while my co-worker made nachos and handled lane assignments. To my surprise, the guy I met in the elevator wandered in, but he merely waved hello and watched everyone play for around half an hour or so before wandering out.
“Hey, I meant to ask,” I said to Mark when we had a moment, “why are the kids playing here during the week while it’s school hours?”
“See the two adults with each group?”
“Yeah?”
