“I see,” Jake said. So much for his bonus. Shouldn’t have ordered dessert either.

  “And he has to like to do fun things. When I was at Orbital-42, there was a guy there. We got a set of those wing things, and went to the zero-g area.”

  She started talking about flying with him. “He thought he’d impress me with his skills, but I’ve been on ships my whole life, so he was having problems keeping up. And when I dove down the core to the next level, he tried to follow.”

  She really was pretty, Jake thought. Just a light dusting of freckles and red hair, and she seemed so alive.

  “I picked him up from the medical clinic after. Three broken fingers, a sprained ankle, and forty-two stitches. He’s been too embarrassed to comm me since.”

  Jake laughed. “It sounds like life on a Free Trader can be pretty interesting.”

  “It can sometimes. It’s fun most of the time. But it can be a bit dangerous. That’s how we lost Mom. She didn’t pay enough attention to the radiation guidelines. This was her dress,” Riley said, flaring her arms.

  “I’m sorry,” Jake said. “I know how you feel. All I have left of my dad are his boots, really.” Jake stuck a foot out.

  “Great quality. Those are very expensive boots for a Belter. More like what the high-end corporate crews use.”

  “He spent a lot of money on them. They will last forever,” Jake agreed. “I always think about him when I look at these.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He died in an accident. He cut some fuel lines to free some people in a transport. There was an explosion, and a blowout. Three others were killed, and the station was damaged by flying debris.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “It was tough for a long time on the station. A lot of people blamed Dad for it, and the families of the three who died took it out on me. Their kids did, anyway.”

  “That’s sad, Jake,” she said. She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  That doesn’t feel bad at all, he thought.

  “So, how did your microwave oven sale go?” Jake asked.

  “Microwaves?”

  “The ones your father bought from that guy. Did you sell them all?”

  “I think we did. Why?”

  “I know somebody who wants to buy a few. If he has any left, I’ll give him a good price.”

  “They’re all gone.”

  “All of them? Where did you sell them?”

  Riley shrugged. “Dad handles all that cargo stuff. I find it boring. Why are you so interested?”

  “No reason,” Jake said. “Tell me more about being a pilot.”

  “Well, look who’s here!” said a voice to Jake’s right. They had moved to the bar after dinner. Riley had walked to the other end to buy an after-dinner drink.

  “Hello, Nadine,” Jake said. He sighed. He’d tried to minimize contact until he could get this work over with, but the station wasn’t that big.

  “Timmy, you remember our mop-salesman friend?” Nadine said, turning to the man next to her.

  Timmy just nodded. Jake nodded back.

  “How is the cleaning supply market doing, Jake?”

  Jake had learned that when he was asked questions that were designed to embarrass him, it was best just to flood people with data. It didn’t take the sting away, but it did make them stop talking to him.

  “Not too bad, Nadine. Bleach products are up by 3 percent over last quarter, but that’s only for the bulk liquids, of course. The water pellets have gone up a bit more. It really depends on how you categorize them. The bulk ones are doing best, but I think there are opportunities in other packaging models.”

  Timmy looked very confused. “Water pellets?”

  “Yes, they go in the environmental system for scrubbing the water. After you run the re-circulator, you add them.” Jake had begun to describe, in detail, the operations of a water-reclamation system, when Riley returned.

  “Who are your friends, Jake?” she asked.

  “Uh, this is Nadine. She was a colleague on a different job. We were on a trading mission, sort of, but she worked for a competitor.”

  “I did most of the big work. Jake just followed along and cleaned up afterwards,” Nadine said. “He’s very good that way. I’d just give him a smile, and he’d do the grunt work for me. I didn’t trust him with anything important, of course.” Nadine gave Riley a long glance.

  Riley handed Jake the drink in her left hand. Then, she leaned into Jake, and put her left hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure exactly how she did it, but somehow, she seemed to glue the entire side of her body to him, from his ankle all the way up to his shoulder. She took a drink from her glass.

  “Oh really? That’s too bad. My family owns some Free Traders. He’s been helping us with our work here at the station.” She began to caress Jake’s shoulder. “He’s handling all of our engineering issues right now. And he’s doing an excellent job.”

  Jake wasn’t sure how good a job he was doing, but he’d be willing to do a lot more engineering if she kept running her hands over his shoulder like that.

  “Engineering? Jake’s got an engineering license? I don’t think so,” Nadine said.

  If anything, Riley melted more into Jake’s side. “The station says he does.”

  “Oh,” Nadine said, turning to Jake. “I’m impressed. If I had known that I might have given you different work.”

  “It is impressive. Jake has been very impressive with all the tasks I’ve given him,” Riley said. She smiled up at Jake, who blushed. “Drink your Calvados, dear.” Riley turned to Nadine. “It’s an apple brandy, distilled in the foothills north of Landing. Very smooth. Do you like brandy?”

  Timmy coughed. “We have it sometimes in my family.”

  Riley turned to him with a bright smile. “Perhaps Nadine will get some for you. If you are a good boy.”

  Nadine smiled back at Riley. Jake winced. For a moment, he was reminded of a video he saw in which a very angry animal was snarling and baring its teeth. Riley smiled back. Ow, Jake thought. Make that two angry animals snarling and baring their teeth at each other.

  Riley tossed her glass off. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Goodnight. Drink up, Jake, and let’s go. We’ve got things to do,” she said, and half-dragged Jake toward the door.

  Riley stayed glued to Jake’s side until they left. Then she laughed. “Oh, that was fun. Who was that bitch?”

  “A work colleague. From a competing company.”

  “Is she a former somebody?”

  “A former somebody? You mean…? No. No.”

  “But you like her.”

  “She’s very attractive, but she’s never been very interested in me.”

  “You think so? She acted pretty interested in you.”

  “How?”

  “She stopped to talk with you while she had a man with her.”

  “I don’t think that’s the case.”

  “Girls know.”

  “Um, okay. Will your dad be upset if I come back to the ship with you?”

  “No, because you’re not going there. I am. That was just to irritate your friend. But I will give you a kiss goodnight here.” She kissed him chastely on the cheek.

  “Ah, thank you. Will I see you again when you come back?”

  Riley shook her head. “Perhaps, Jake. But I’m usually pretty busy. Two guys in every port, you know.”

  “Right, sure. Well, that’s okay. I’ll probably be busy as well.”

  “Doing what?” Riley smiled.

  “Maybe I’ll ask Nadine out,” Jake said.

  Riley laughed out loud. “Of course you will, of course you will.”

  “You don’t think I’ll ask her out?”

  Riley grabbed his shoulder. “Jake, tell you what. If you ask Nadine out for a date, and she agrees, look me up when we’re latched again. Jake Stewart, mop salesman, out for the evening. I want to hear that story.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Twenty-two hours out to drop some stuff at a station, twenty-nine hours back, and depends how long we stay there. So, fifty-five hours minimum.”

  “I’ll be here,” Jake said. And I’ll be looking to see what stations are twenty-two hours away, and why they need so many microwave ovens, he thought.

  Chapter 16

  “Way to go, tiger,” the bartender said.

  “What?” Jake said. Jake had nowhere to go after Nadine and Riley left, so he had returned to the bar and ordered another beer.

  “Good job with the ladies. You are an inspiration to single men everywhere.” He shoved a beer toward Jake. Jake took a drink and grimaced. “Belter beer?” Jake said.

  “You didn’t specify, and frankly….”

  “I know. I look like a Belter. I’m dressed like a Belter. I have Belter boots on. I am a Belter. Fine,” Jake said. He drained his glass in one long swallow. “Give me another of these crappy Belter beers.”

  “Heard your conversations earlier. Saw the girls. And now you are back here alone. Which one do you like?”

  “I like both of them, but not that way.”

  “The way they look, I sure like them that way.”

  “Okay, exactly that way. But one is crazy and dangerous, and all she likes to do is tease me and yank my chain. And the other is smart and energetic, but she just likes to get my hopes up and then dash them.”

  “Which is which?”

  “I’m not sure. Does it matter?”

  “Not at all. So they both yank your chain.”

  “Well, yeah, sort of.”

  “Do each of them do this when the other is around?”

  Jake thought for a moment. “They do seem to react to the other’s presence.”

  “You, my friend, are the backup guy.” He leaned forward. “Let me explain something to you about women.”

  “And you know all about women?”

  “Yes, because A, I’m a bartender, and B, you don’t seem to be much of an expert, and C, you are sitting here by yourself, so I’m bound to know more about it than you,” the bartender said, and topped up Jake’s beer. “Every woman has four guys. Guy A, Guy B, Guy C, and Guy D.” He held up four fingers and counted them down. “The main guy she has, the main guy she wants, her side guy, and her backup guy.”

  “Four guys?”

  “Yes. First, the guy she wants. She has fun with him. She likes spending time with him, might marry him someday. She’ll introduce him to her friends, her mom. This is her main guy—Guy A.”

  “Okay.”

  “But her main guy is not perfect. He’s got a job, but not the best. She wants him to spend more money on her. Maybe he doesn’t dress well. To keep him on his toes, she brings in a little competition. Guy B. And she makes sure Guy A knows it. The two are similar, but there are some things that Guy B does better. He’s taller, or has a better job. There is real competition there between A and B. Sometimes, she dumps one for the other. Got it so far?”

  “I guess.”

  “Good. Then there’s Guy C, her side guy. He’s very good looking. Fun, kind of wild. But bad news. He has no job, or too many ex-girlfriends. When she breaks up with one of her main guys, she does a detour with her side guy. But only for a little while.”

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  “You’re the fourth guy, Guy D—the backup guy.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Women are planners. The side guy, Guy C, is for fun. Guy A and B are long-term. But what if Guy A gets tired of her and dumps her, and Guy B is busy with somebody else?”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Both main guys are taken. She doesn’t want side guy. What does she do now?”

  “Wastes her time hanging around a bar listening to confusing bartender stories?”

  “Guy D. Backup guy. That’s you. Solid. Reliable. Always available. You are both of those girls’ backup guy.”

  “I’m a backup?”

  “Right. To use an analogy, you probably have a couple good pairs of socks to wear with your skinsuit. Rotate them and clean them. But in the back of your locker….” The bartender stopped to take a drink from a glass of water.

  “What’s in the back of my locker?”

  “A worn out pair of socks. Stretched. Stained. Not much use. But you keep them there, just in case. In case you lose your other socks. ‘Cause you always need socks.”

  “So, I’m an old pair of stained socks.”

  “You got it.”

  “That is the stupidest thing I’ve heard in a while. I don’t believe you.”

  “Fine with me. Will both of these girls spend some time with you? Talk to you?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “And they talk about their other boyfriends. Or bring them along?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, they aren’t interested in you, unless the other girl is there, and then they get all touchy, grab your arm, that sort of stuff.”

  “Yeeeessss.”

  “And snipe at each other?”

  “Yesssss.”

  “There you go. They are like dogs, guarding a bone. They don’t want the bone right now. But they might later. You’re the bone.”

  “Now I’m a chewed dog bone?”

  “You probably don’t get chewed much from the looks of it. I think a bit of friendly chewing might improve your mood.”

  Jake took another drink, then spat it back into his glass. “Do you have anything other than Belter beer?”

  “You don’t like the taste? I thought all Belters loved it?” He shoved a different beer in front of Jake.

  “We don’t love it. We’re just used to it out in the Belt.”

  “Oh. What’s it like?”

  “The beer? It tastes like the water left after you wash clothes in a sink.”

  “Never washed clothes in a sink. No, I meant living in the Belt. Being by yourself, dependent on your own resources, the chance to strike it rich. It sounds great.”

  “It isn’t. Belters are poor. For five years, I only owned two shirts. Belters don’t strike it rich. You have a better chance than me.”

  “Yeah? Ever met some rich guy who said, ‘I wanted to make my fortune, so I became a bartender’? I don’t think so. Hang on,” the bartender said, sliding down the bar to serve another customer. He came back. “I’d rather be a Belter. Here I work twelve hours a day at this crappy job, six days a week. I’m going nowhere.”

  Jake shrugged. “Why don’t you go out to the Belt and seek your fortune—whatever that means.”

  “Because I’m scared of the Belt. I’m scared of change. I’m waiting for somebody else to fix it up for me.” He pulled a glass down and polished it. “Why don’t you ask one of those girls out?”

  “They might say no. As long as I don’t push it, there’s always the chance that things will get better with them. They might ask me out.”

  “That will never happen. We’re both scared of asking for what we want. Neither of us is making things happen. We’re just waiting for things to happen to us.” Another customer called, and the bartender walked away.

  Jake thought about this for a while. He had made some things happen—school, some jobs. But a lot of the time he just collected information and waited. What if he asked for what he wanted?

  He pondered that, then drank his beer down. He waved at the bartender and pointed at the vodka bottle. When the shot arrived, he drank it down.

  “I need a test—a trial run,” he said. He turned around and surveyed the bar.

  “So, it’s a bird?” Ulrike asked, propping the comm screen up against her beer.

  “Yes, it’s called a parrot,” Gwen said. “Old Earth stock. But hardy and long-lived. The specialist store on Orbital-16 has a bunch. They don’t mind low-g. They can fly around the ship, and they don’t eat much. No human-transmittable diseases, so they can come into any station.” She took a drink from a green glass beer bottle.

  “Well, they look pretty small, so no mass issues. I guess if you want a pet it’s a good one.”

  “And they can talk.”

  “The shop owner says they can talk. I’m dubious. But if it’s true, you can get it to say to you ‘Oh, Hans, Hans, kiss me again,’” Ulrike said.

  Gwen blushed. “It’s over with Hans, and it has nothing to do with him anyway.”

  “Gwen, you don’t need a pet. You need a man.”

  “Uli, I don’t want a man. Not now. I was with Hans for a long time. I don’t need a new steady.”

  “Gwen, treat getting a man like looking for a new ship. You don’t have to buy him. Just take him for a test drive. That’s all. You should have slept with his best friend after he dumped you.”

  Gwen stared at her beer and spun the glass in her hand. “Helmut was just being nice.”

  “He’s a pig. They are both pigs. Look, Gwen, we need to find you somebody new. Somebody with a sense of humor, which Hans didn’t have. What about those two over at that table?”

  “They look good. Nice hair. But they’re a little short for me, Uli,” Gwen said.

  “Why do I have to have such tall friends? Fine. What about over there?” Ulrike gestured.

  “That’s a possibility.”

  “And those three over there. They look like they would be up for something.”

  “They’re good too.”

  “And that guy at the bar who was talking to those stuck-up bitches earlier.” Ulrike pointed.

  “Yes. He’s tall enough.”

  “Lots of options then. We just need to figure out how to get them to come over here.”

  Gwen blew out her breath with a bleesh sound. “I don’t know how to do that. When I try to look alluring, I just look like I have gas.”

  “Not attractive.”

  “And when I try to talk, I sound like an idiot.”

  “Tell them work stories. Talk about engines. Guys like engines.”

  “I’m pilot on a cargo tug. Second pilot. On a rusty tug.”

  “Your tug isn’t rusty, Gwen.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No O in space, so no rust. But lots of micro-meteorite damage. And do you have to crash into the containers every time? It looks like somebody took a giant hammer to your cage.”