Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
When I’m ready to head out, I pick up the enormous sheet cake from the kitchen and then pause. It takes up both my hands, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to bring Ruth-Ann’s cake with me. Do I drag my empty cart over (and my oversized cat) and park it outside once I’ve transported the cakes? Or will someone mess with it? How am I going to handle having Pluto on a harness at the same time? The moment he sees Ruth-Ann, he’s going to bolt for her.
I stare down at the smaller cake, then decide. I’ll leave it here and invite Ruth-Ann back for a private celebration.
If she doesn’t hate me, maybe it’s time to move this thing between us forward a bit.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
SIMONE
I approach Sunrise Cantina, unsurprised to see that there’s a crowd outside already. They have a small wooden shingle sign that hangs out front, but someone’s made an enormous cloth banner and painted on it GRAND OPENING - SUNRISE CANTINA. It hangs over the face of the building, and seeing the bold, colorful English lettering gives me nostalgia. If I ignored the fact that there are some aliens standing out front, or that the moon hanging in the sky looks nothing like the moon back home, I might feel like I’m back on Earth.
Getting in line, I juggle the heavy cake in my arms. One of the a’ani, Erzah, is acting as bouncer. He notices me and gestures that I should move forward. “What’s this?” he asks, grinning. “A cake for me?”
“A cake for all of you,” I correct. “To celebrate the grand opening.”
“You’re a taint,” he says, his smile growing even broader.
“A…what?”
“Saint,” someone yells out. “Saint, not taint.”
“Oh.” He shrugs sheepishly and holds the door open for me and Pluto. “Close enough, right?”
“Super close,” I agree, then have to bite my lip not to burst into giggles. The crowd parts and lets me walk into the doorway.
The interior of the cantina is a little warmer than it is outside, but no one seems unhappy about it. The decor looks like a bistro back home. There’s a long wooden bar at the back, and every barstool is full. Every table is, too, and Jerzec is racing between them, refilling glasses of water. Something cooking smells like stir-fry, and my stomach growls. I scan the room looking for Ruth-Ann, and my heart flips momentarily at the sight of the small woman behind the bar. The spiky hair and equally spiky facial jewelry tell me that it’s Ruthie and not Ruth-Ann, though. She’s shaking drinks while Kaz pours, and it’s clear they’re working as a team.
Jerzec races past me and then skids to a stop, his eyes wide. He looks down at the cake and then up at me, grinning. “Is that for us?”
“It is!” I glance around at the crowded floor. “It’s packed in here.”
“Kef me, I noticed.” He wipes at his brow. “I’m trying to handle the floor, but Dopekh was supposed to help and bailed out. Romance troubles. You know how it goes.”
Is that a jab or just a clueless remark? I make a sound in my throat that might be assent. “Where’s Ruth-Ann?”
“In the back helping Zaemen fill orders.”
“Is it okay that Pluto is in here with me?” I tilt my head, gesturing at the carinoux at my side. “He’ll behave.”
“Sounds fine.” He shakes his empty water pitcher. “Can’t talk more, gotta run. Just take the cake in the back.”
“Will do,” I say as he races off. Poor thing. He looks frazzled, and this opening is supposed to be a fun day for them.
I scoot through the crowd, making excuses and apologies as I move toward the back of the packed cantina. Ruthie waves at me from her spot at the bar. I move to her side and gesture at Pluto. “Can you babysit for me for a few minutes?”
“Oh my god, yes! Look at this sweet boy!” She offers her hand to Pluto, and when he licks her fingers, she flings her arms around him and cuddles him, talking in a baby voice. “I bet we can get you some cheese snacks, baby boy! Yes, you’re sooo cuuute.”
“Ruthie. Drinks,” Kaz says, shaking a mixing container. “He’s not going anywhere.”
“Right!” She jumps back to her feet and points. “Ruth-Ann’s in the kitchen. That way.”
“Thanks.” There’s a swinging door to the side of the bar with a circular window, and I push through it with the cake.
The kitchen is not quite as crazy as outside. By the enormous grill, Zaemen flips what look like burgers, an enormous yellow apron covering his front. A few steps away, Ruth-Ann has her back to me, pulling fresh buns out of the oven. She turns around and her mouth parts in surprise at the sight of me. “Oh. Hi.”