Alien Tango

room.
    That line of thought was agonizing, so I went back to my hair. Managed to get it up and have tendrils hanging down. Looked good. I’d do it more often, but I rarely had ninety minutes to kill on hair prep.
    All ready to be first in line to sit down. How fun. I considered a wrap, but it was still pretty warm in early October in Pueblo Caliente, and, miraculously, the hotel didn’t seem over air-conditioned. My mind mentioned that if Martini were with me I’d just wear his suit jacket if I got cold. He loved to put it on me the few times we were out—it let him take care of me and mark me as his at the same time.
    Only, he didn’t care about that anymore. I tried to come up with lines of thought that didn’t lead right back to Martini. Failed, utterly. I wanted to take my purse but grabbed my handbag instead. See? I was a big girl, I could mix it up and handle change. I hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, as much to repel robbers as to pretend something fun was happening in there.
    Mercifully alone in the elevator. Stared at my reflection the whole way down and practiced smiling. Normally not an issue. Today, not doing so well.
    Elevator opened up right in front of the lounge. I didn’t drink any more because A-Cs were deadly allergic to alcohol, and I’d never wanted to risk getting alcohol into Martini’s system through kissing me. Considered the benefits of getting stinking drunk but just couldn’t do it.
    Wandered through and found the room. Signed in and had to explain that my significant other was late due to a delayed plane and so probably wouldn’t make it tonight. It was a good lie, and I was going to use it throughout the weekend. Damn those airlines. My mind tickled again—I thought about the jet but came up with nothing.
    The women checking me in looked vaguely familiar, and I realized they’d been in Student Government when we were in school. Couldn’t come up with their names, didn’t bother to try hard.
    I didn’t choose a table. I wandered the room instead. There were huge blowups of pictures I vaguely remembered as being from our Senior Yearbook. I found the track team. There I was, right next to Brian. We both looked really young and reasonably happy. I couldn’t remember if I’d broken up with him before or after this picture had been taken, but he had his arm around me and I didn’t appear to mind.
    Looked at all the pictures, studied them, really. They represented things that I might not remember all that clearly or think about too often, but these years had helped shape me into who I was now.
    I got to the Chess Club picture. I was the only girl in it. I hadn’t wanted to join, but Chuckie had begged me to, so I’d given in. I was standing next to him in the picture—it was one of the few pictures of him he’d ever allowed to be taken during these years, and only because I’d insisted on it since he’d been the Chess Club President for our entire four years of high school.
    He was shorter than me, wearing thick glasses and ravaged by acne. I laughed to myself. His acne had cleared up pretty much right after this picture was taken, he’d spurted a foot and a half in our freshman year of college, and he’d gotten contacts. He’d also matured into a pretty hot-looking adult.
    Someone was behind me, I could feel it. Close to six months of killing superbeings had honed a lot of my senses. I prepared for some kind of attack.
    “Boy, we look young.” It was a man’s voice, and extremely familiar.
    I turned around and looked up into the face of a tall, pretty handsome guy you’d never suspect had dealt with bad acne as a teenager. “Chuckie?”
    He smiled, and it was a nice smile—gentle, confident, and affectionate. “You look beautiful, Kitty.” I felt my cheeks get hot. Chuckie was making me blush? Since when?
    “I didn’t know you were going to be here.” It was lame, but better than standing there with my mouth hanging open or asking him why he’d decided to come to a reunion we’d both told each other we were going to avoid.
    “I asked your mother not to let you know I was coming. I wanted to surprise you.”
    “I’m surprised.”
    “Good. Then step one of my master plan is achieved.”

CHAPTER 65
    “YOU HERE WITH ANYBODY?”
    Wow, what a question. I was proud that I didn’t burst into tears. “I was supposed to be, but . . . I’m not.”
    “His loss.” He smiled and took my arm. “Love the dress.”
    “Thanks. Is that an Armani