Touched by an Alien

Reader reminded me. “We have more than Coke.”
    “But since your fridge was only stocked with Coke products and frozen dinners, we thought we’d be nice,” Christopher said. He looked over his shoulder at Martini. “Nothing but junk food. Good luck ever seeing a home-cooked meal from that one.”
    “I’ll manage. I’m all about the nice restaurant experience,” Martini said as he produced an iced glass bottle of Coca-Cola from the inside of the door next to him, popped the cap off, and handed it to me. “Straw?”
    “Thanks.” I decided not to question why they had bottles and not cans, nor how they were keeping them frosty in the heat. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be an answer designed to inform or comfort.
    We bumped along, me sipping my Coke and wondering just how thoroughly Christopher had searched my apartment and why. I looked behind us—all the SUVs seemed to be following. “We’re sort of a conspicuous parade, if you were wanting to stay under the radar,” I mentioned to White.
    “Never complain about having too much backup,” he said.
    “Cryptic. How refreshing.”
    “We’re here,” Reader said as he stopped the car.
    I looked around. “Not much different here than there.”
    Christopher got out and opened the rear door on Martini’s side. “We go the rest of the way on foot, princess.”
    “Nice that we have you as our official doorman,” I said. Martini and White got out, Gower indicated I should go before him. Martini and Christopher both offered me their hands to help me out. I avoided both. Martini gave me a hurt look. “Big girl, not impressing anyone, clothes already ruined. When I’m dressed up, feel free to help me out. Like this, why bother?”
    Christopher snorted. “That should be a treat. You wear a tiara when you go out, princess?”
    I gave him what I hoped was an icy stare. “I’m not really sure where you’ve gotten the ‘princess’ idea from, but stow it, manservant.”
    White looked pained. “Christopher, manners would be appreciated.”
    “Yeah, why ask her for any,” Christopher muttered as he turned away.
    “What is his problem with me?” I asked Martini under my breath as we started trudging toward what looked like more of the nothing that was around us. Christopher had stalked on ahead, Gower and White were in front of us, Reader behind. The rest of the boys in the band seemed to be staying with their cars.
    Martini actually seemed to give this some thought. “I don’t know,” he said finally. I was fairly sure he did know but didn’t want to tell me.
    “I think he likes her,” Reader said, coming up on my other side. “And he doesn’t like that he does.”
    “Great,” Martini muttered. “You know you’re mine, right?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Insofar as it matters, if it meant having to choose between you, Christopher, and marrying a tree, you’re number one.”
    “I’ll take it. I plan to grow on you.”
    “Like fungus?”
    “I was thinking more like a vine,” Reader said.
    “Not a clinging one,” Martini said. “More like a jungle vine you can enjoy swinging from.”
    “Sounds better than having to lower my intelligence level to please Mr. Personality up there.”
    I pondered this as we went along. It was odd. Martini I could understand. He’d seen me check him out. But I’d had almost no interaction with Christopher before he started being a jerk. If Reader was right, then Christopher had made his decisions about me based on, what? My car? My apartment? How would he get “princess” out of my fabulous housekeeping skills? Or my stuff?
    I decided not to care. Martini was enough to deal with on top of everything else. I’d worry about Christopher if and when he became a real issue. Besides, Reader was gay, so maybe he just thought Christopher was interested in me because he wasn’t interested in him. After all, in my experience most guys expressed interest more along Martini’s lines, not by snarling and snarking at me.
    There was another ringing noise. This time, since more than twenty aliens weren’t staring me down, I didn’t jump, just dug my phone out of my purse. “Mom, what’s up?”
    “Kitty, are you all right? Your father said that really was you I saw.”
    “Yeah, it was me, with Homeland Security now, blah, blah, blah. I’m sure Dad told you. I thought you were on a plane.”
    “I was. We sat on the runway for what seemed like hours but was probably only thirty minutes. Then they took us off