Chapter Twenty-seven
~
Steppin’ out of my bedroom that I shared with Cordiz, despite her adamant refusal—ogre-trolls can be influential, la la la—I found her sittin’ in the suite’s lounge chair, wearin’ what had to be shortened, mid-thigh length, typically colorful troll pantaloons, and a tight, hurt-yar-eyes-red tanktop. She read on a tablet.
Hale sat in the armchair, leanin’ back casually, thumbin’ his phone. I knew who he was textin’. That orc hen he’s sweet on. In six days, had he gone an hour without exchangin’ a message with the hen?
“Hey,” Cordiz said. “Thought ya were gonna sleep all day.”
I studied her attire one more time. Maybe a little shocked. She’d been wearin’ her dark blazer and pants up to now.
“Too hot up here for a jacket,” she said. “Humans are more used to seein’ a cop wearin’ a gun in the open.”
I pointed at her shortened pantaloons. “Like they’ll know ya’re a cop?” Lordy she was showin’ a lot of never-seen-sun-white troll flesh. Had she ever gotten out of slacks before?
She shrugged. Dang. I could see why Hale thought about her bazoombas a lot.
Maybe I should go back and change. I thought capris, polo, and a white linen vest would fit in, here. I turned to Hale. Hadn’t maybe noticed I’d entered the room. He wore his regular loose-fit jeans and tee. Mama says she’s gonna swoon someday, the casual way he dresses. His short human-style haircut doesn't help, now.
Most ogres in the Range wouldn’t be seen dead not wearin’ a leather vest. But then at our elevation, never much gets above sixty degrees. Maybe two days, dead-summer. And I’ve walked into Hale’s studio when there’s three inches of ice on the three walls of glass, and found him bare-armed, of course barefoot. Fool doesn’t feel the cold.
“A grad student’s pickin’ us up for breakfast,” Hale mumbled without lookin’ up.
I asked him how Beky was.
“She says I need to give the North a chance. There’s plenty to embrace.”
Wow. He answered me. “She think ya’re badmouthin’ the place?”
He shrugged. Prolly the last I’d hear his voice for the day.
Cordiz was eyein’ me, maybe a concerned expression on her face. As I returned her studious look, it’s as though she mentally screamed at me, “How can he think a relationship with an orc can go anywhere?”
Hm. Maybe easier for us, havin’ an ogre papa, troll mama. But. She has a point. Hale could almost fold Beky into his pocket. I wasn’t gonna give Cordiz a shrug, though. That would imply I leaned one way or the other, maybe. And while I’m worried about Hale gettin’ hurt, I’m good with anythin’ that works for him.
Sigh. I was rethinkin’ my vest definitely, and considerin’ a tank top too. A tap at the door halted my considerin’.
Cordiz passed me in a hurry to get to the door, right hand on her automatic. Opened the door with her left. A little dramatic, considerin’ we expected someone.
A sputterin’ voice erupted, followin’ a chokin’ sound. Oh my. Someone was dyin’. I yanked the door wider to see. A bit taller human than Mikal—they call themselves males I think, men-man—eyes wider than a saucer, face blanchin’ white as I watched. Cordiz and I exchanged glances. Sensed her concerned, “He gonna live?” Wasn’t sure. Didn’t know what was wrong with him.
The tone of his chokin’ turned higher, each gaggin’ sound shorter. Face now flushed red, as he struggled for a breath between lengthenin’ dry heaves.
Even as he struggled to survive, I sensed his mind reviewin’ his first impression of Cordiz. That eye-blindin’ tank was indeed a bit to get used to. I struggled to hold in my smirk. He didn’t think of Cordiz’ attributes as bazoombas.
A hand on my shoulder made me aware of Hale’s presence. “Geeze, dude.”
Geeze? Dude? Who is this bull, and what did he do with my sibling?
Hale continued with, “Ya know how to make an entrance. Ya must be Alder.”
The human swallowed hard, eyes flickin’ back and forth between the three of us. “Alexander,” he managed.
“Too many syllables,” Hale said.
Not sure if I laughed harder or Cordiz, and certainly hope she’s the one who snorted. Alder-Alexander looked a bit peeved.
Hale told the human male, “Let’s go. We can wait for ’em downstairs. They’ll fuss over their clothes another hour.” He passed us and sorta slammed the door behind him.
“That guy was cute,” Cordiz said. “For a human. Needs a bit of weight. Hit the gym every night.”
“He was fond of yar attributes,” I said.
“How could ya tell?” she asked.
Dang. The heat flowed across my cheeks.
~
Hale
~
Every time I called him Alder he corrected me, as though he could persuade an ogre-troll to change their ways.
Despite that tiny irritation he appeared eager to tell me about himself, and list a dozen different places he could take us today. Said Dr. Antony had given him a wad of cash to cover stuff.
Hm. For several moments that last comment caught me off guard. He must be coverin’ our meals. That’s sweet.
“Who’s the Amazon?” he asked.
That threw me too. It had been a decade since I’d read Edgar Rice Burroughs, but it sunk in. Told him, “Our bodyguard.”
Alder began laughin’ without end. I asked him what was funny. He shook his head. “Why’d yar bodyguard let ya stroll out on yar own? And why do ya need a bodyguard?”
The first question caught me off guard. The latter I’d expected. I’m not smart, but not a totally un-self-aware teen. I ignored both.
“So what would ya want to see if ya were here for a short time?”
“Not anything on campus,” he said. Hm. “Seen one art studio, you’ve seen them all. When I’m not paintin’, I spend a lot of time down on the river.”
Maybe I gave him a curious look, though I never feel my face change. He did have a dark complexion. I thought it was a Northern-human thin’. Maybe not. Heard the sun can turn folk’s skin darker. Must be true.
“There’s a nice, sandy beach you can run around on, lay out, cool off taking a dip in the river.”
“Look at my face,” I said. “Ya think I can lay out in the sun?”
He laughed. “Your Amazon bodyguard could use some sun. Man. She’s hot. For a troll.”
I’m unsure what jealousy feels like, but pretty sure I didn’t appreciate his attitude. Don’t know why.
“The other. That’s your sister?”
I answered with a nod, as the elevator door slid open.
“She’s pretty cute too.”
“She’s seventeen,” I hissed.
His face changed a lot. Morphed, somehow. “You’re lying.”
Lyin’. Why would I do that? I led him to the coffee urns in the lobby. I tend to share a cup socially. Otherwise I wouldn’t touch the stuff. Though. Yeah. Papa has me used to sippin’ along with him as we sit quietly at breakfast. We don’t have to talk much. I’ve grown to embrace the time, since goin’ off to TIT.
Maybe he has some witch blood in him, because Alder immediately brought up TIT. “Heard you attend Troll Institute of Technology, now.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ve always wondered if you guys don’t, you know, think the whole, T, I, T thing is a little funny?”
Don’t know what my expression meant to him, but his face tinged red. Considered askin’ him what was wrong, but left it alone, looked for an ogre-sized cup for my coffee. Couldn’t find one. Sighed and grabbed one of the tiny ones. I watched Alder fill up a cup as though the size was sufficient. Humans.
~
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