Page 60 of Space Daddy and a Boy Called Twink

Silence. Drawn-out, ever-concerning silence. That wasn’t comforting.

“Stay alive until I get there,” he rushed out.

“I really wish you had a more productive piece of advice for me right about now.”

Sheila released another sound, much louder than her initial huff—more like a snarl, the air pushing through the nostrils of her mask, hitting the back of Roger’s head, shifting his thin hairs around.

He glanced up from his phone again and looked at me, his expression saying,Can you believe this asshole?

It wasn’t lost on me that I’d only just managed to convince him there were no aliens in Harmony Springs, and now he had a nine-foot Vorcon, who could have easily torn his spine from his body, standing immediately behind him, and he was totally oblivious to this.

“Daddy?” I asked, hoping for more guidance, but I was met with silence. Frustrated as I was to be left on my own, if he couldn’t talk because he was busy getting the fuck here, that wasn’t something I could fault him for.

While Roger remained blissfully unaware of the monster standing directly behind him, the other guests seemed riveted, trying to make out what the hell was up with this character. Notrealizing she was an alien, because I figured, if they’d known that much, they would have been out of their seats, busting their asses down the street.

Eric flipped a page as I said, “Roger,” once again.

Roger finally looked up from his phone. “Everything okay with Daddy?”

“Mmm-hmmm. But I don’t think now’s a good time to make that latte for you. Maybe you should just get back to work.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Huh?”

Sheila snarled.

This time, he followed my gaze, taking in the creature towering over him. “Oh…” was as much as he could get out.

This seemed enough to catch Eric’s attention, his mouth dropping open, like half the café’s patrons.

She extended one of the gloved hands and shoved Roger so hard, he went flying across the café, into the adjoining bookstore, hitting the magazine rack.

“Fuck,” he called out as she approached the counter.

“Roger, are you okay?” I asked.

“Holy fuck, no,” he replied from the floor.

“Hello there, barista,” Sheila said, her voice strained and muffled. Like Daddy, she must’ve had the ability or technology that allowed her to quickly pick up our language.

“Hi,” was as much as I could manage. It seemed she thought this disguise was working for her, so I figured if maybe I kept on like this, she might assume I didn’t know who she was, which could buy me time to come up with a plan to get away from her. “Can I take your order?” My voice cracked, so I coughed, noticing how dry my throat had become. And now my hands were trembling. Daddy’s alien ex-girlfriend was gonna kill me.

“Yes, I would love a macchiato latte Javanilly.”

Fucking asshole. How did she know that was the most difficult item on the menu?

Of course, I was sure my reaction to that was some kind of trauma response because it wasn’t exactly my biggest concern right now.

Thinking fast, I grabbed the frothing pitcher and headed over to the carafe that had just finished brewing. I filled the pitcher, keeping Sheila in my periphery.

Eric pushed to his feet and stepped back while Roger crawled to his feet. I figured he would get the hell out of here, but he pulled out his phone.

Is he seriously recording this right now? Really?

“I think we may have a mutual friend, barista,” Sheila said.

“Oh, really?” I asked, playing along.

“There’s no need to beat around it. I saw you leaving his ship, and I can smell the stench of him on you.”