Alien Tango

the door. Martini slipped my underwear back on me while I rummaged through my purse. He also took a moment to rub himself against me but stopped when I answered the phone. I was going to hate whoever was calling me.
    “Girlfriend, hope you’re dressed, because it’s time to go.”
    “I hate you, James.”
    He laughed. “I’m sure. Just hustle, we need to be in the air yesterday.”
    Reader gave me the gate number, we hung up, and I traded my phone for my brush. “James says we have to hurry.”
    Martini smoothed my skirt down, taking the opportunity to rub up against me again. “I can’t find your shoe.” He handed me one of them.
    “I kicked them off.”
    “Yeah, you really did. This one was stuck in the ceiling.”
    “Not my fault it’s a stiletto.”
    “No complaints from me. Just saying I can’t find the other one.”
    I finished brushing my hair and took a look around. “Oh, there it is.” It was stabbed into a roll of toilet paper.
    He pulled it out. “How did you get it stuck in there?”
    “No idea. I wasn’t paying attention to anything but you.”
    “Well, that’s how it should be.” He knelt down and slipped the shoe onto my foot. He looked up, and his expression was hard to read. He looked as though he wanted to tell me something. Or maybe ask me something. My heart started beating faster. I didn’t know if I was ready for what he might suggest, but at the same time, I didn’t know if I wasn’t any longer.
    Martini took a deep breath, but before he could say anything the lock turned and someone pushed against the door. He closed his eyes, and I could see disappointment flit across his face. Then he stood up and pulled me behind him.
    He put his hand against the door. A-Cs were stronger than humans, so the door stayed shut. Martini handed me my purse and slid my bag to me. He moved his away also, then looked over his shoulder. “It’s a human and doesn’t feel like a threat. You want to handle it?”
    This was the male way of admitting I’d handle any situation that required lying better. “Sure.” I let him keep the illusion he was generously giving me a chance to take the lead as opposed to mentioning that he needed me to and I’d take it anyway. My mother hadn’t raised a total idiot.
    Martini opened the door, and we were greeted by the sight of a very nervous maintenance worker with an empty cart. His eyes widened when he saw us. “What . . . what are you doing in here?”
    “Hi!” I moved from behind Martini, grabbed several rolls of toilet paper, and barreled out the door. The maintenance man moved back to let us out. “Sorry about that. Can you believe they told us to get more toilet paper for the flight ourselves? The cost-cutting is incredible when they make a pilot do this sort of thing, don’t you think?” I jerked my head toward Martini, who caught on, grabbed a couple of rolls, and stalked out behind me.
    “I went to flight school for this,” he muttered, not looking at the maintenance man.
    To me, this indicated Martini’s still almost-total lack of ability to lie. To the maintenance man, however, it showed Martini’s shame. “Oh, man, that sucks. Here, wait a sec.” The maintenance man went inside, grabbed a full carton of TP, and handed it to us. He took the single rolls back. “You guys just take that whole box. Maybe you won’t have to stock up next flight.”
    Martini gave me a “what now?” look. “Great. Jeff, can you carry the box all by yourself?”
    I got the “I may love you but I really hate you right now” look. “Sure.” He hoisted it easily. The man could lift me with one hand, a carton of rolled paper wasn’t going to pose a challenge. “Thanks,” he added to the maintenance man.
    I gave the man a quick hug. “You’re the greatest.”
    We left him smiling and shaking his head over how bad things in the airline industry were. “What the hell am I going to do with this box?” Martini asked me as we rounded the corner.
    “Um, take it with us. Our new friend won’t say a thing if he never sees the box again. But if he spots it dumped somewhere, then he might mention this to someone else.”
    “I hate my life.”
    “I think I could take that personally.”
    “Other than you. And other than at this moment.”
    “Think we were spotted coming out of the closet?”
    “Maybe. There are no alarms going off, so maybe your toilet paper ploy will mean I don’t have to have Christopher alter footage.”
    “See? My plans