Page 20 of Jorax (Arixxia Fields #4)

Planet Hallion

Sometime in the future when Earthers can fly to the stars…

Isabella

“Thanks for coming,” I say for the third time as I check my wrist comm. “If you don’t mind, let’s just wait a few more minutes for any stragglers.”

Who am I kidding, I wonder as I look out at my audience of two people. It’s a quarter after. No one is going to straggle into the Arixxia Fields Town Hall. I’m left with the two people sitting at opposite ends of the room.

I try not to let them see all my optimism spool onto the ancient wooden plank floor, but this wasn’t what I envisioned when I cooked up what I thought was a great idea.

The blue male with what looks like a terrible white wig at the base of his fragile antennae, and the elderly female with four golden eyes looking out of her emerald green face, look like they’re going to bail in two minutes if I don’t get the show on the road.

“Well,” I say with a shrug, trying to dredge up the same enthusiasm with which I pitched this project to the mayor, “let’s get started, shall we? ”

Their lack of observable emotion makes me wonder if Mayor Alderon paid them to show up. They couldn’t be here because they’re excited about this, could they? Because they’re both glancing longingly at the exit.

“I’m Isabella Martinez, a transplant from Earth. I’m here to tell you about my favorite Earth holiday and why I want to bring it here, to Arixxia Fields.”

At least they’re giving me eye contact. That has to be a good sign, right?

“As you know, Arixxia Fields is known throughout the galaxy for our Jule celebration. We even change our name to Frosttown for the festivities. It’s an event people look forward to all year.

Because it brings so many tourists—and their money—to our small town, over the last few decades, we’ve beefed up celebrations at other times of the year. ”

Crap. I’m losing them. The four-eyed female’s eyes are drooping.

I increase my volume and continue, “Which made me wonder how much fun it would be if I brought my favorite Earth celebration to Arixxia Fields. Everyone could enjoy it, and over time, perhaps it could be a value-add to the community.”

To keep their attention, I’m pacing in the front of the room in the town hall on this Hallmark-perfect picturesque town square. If this doesn’t keep them awake, perhaps I should lead them in a quick round of calisthenics.

The door behind me bangs open, and I wonder if someone from the women’s choir arrived early.

“I’m sorry, we have this room until…” Words quit falling from my lips and the thoughts evaporate from my mind as I turn to see the handsomest male in the galaxy pause in my doorway.

“Sorry,” he says.

I should speak. I should find the brainpower to tell him not to be sorry. I should invite him to join us. The word, “Welcome,” should escape my mouth. Instead, I look at him, dumbfounded, as I take his inventory.

Why aren’t males who look as good as him required to walk shirtless on mild autumn nights like this?

I mean, really, shouldn’t all women be treated to whatever is hiding under his t-shirt?

It’s a good thing it’s tight and hugs his wide shoulders and bulging biceps.

It’s almost as good as if it revealed the contours of his manly purple chest.

With a symmetrical face like that, he could be a top-tier star on Earth vids.

“Welcome,” I force myself to say, even though it came out as a squeak. “Are you here for the Halloween planning committee?”

I can’t hide the doubt in my question. Certainly he’s not here for that. Guys who look like him have better things to do on a Friday night.

“Am I too late?” he asks, his brow furrowing like he’ll be heartbroken if I ask him to leave.

“Perfect timing! Have a seat.”

I explain my vision for the haunted house I want to organize, but I can tell by the expression on all three faces that I’m losing them.

“Excuse me?” the green female says, her arm raised.

“My husband wasn’t thrilled about me attending this empty penis meeting.

I told him it must have been a typographical error.

But the more you talk, I’m wondering if perhaps he was correct.

In which case, I want no part of this.” She grabs her voluminous purse and rises.

“Empty penis?” I tilt my head, baffled, while my brain translates and retranslates until her question finally makes sense. The translators must have gotten weenie, or penis, from ween, which made the word into hollow weenie or—empty penis.

“These subdural translators are amazing, aren’t they? But this was definitely a mistake. Halloween doesn’t translate into much, but it definitely doesn’t mean empty… um.” I try to explain while I feel my face flushing in embarrassment.

My gaze flicks to handsome purple guy, then back to the concerned matron.

I start at the beginning, glossing over the origins of the holiday, and focusing on how much fun the haunted house will be. I’m still receiving blank looks, and the woman is still standing, getting ready to make her escape when I finally recover.

“So it really doesn’t matter about the holiday’s pagan origins. Let’s call it the Spooky Fun Holiday, shall we? There’s an amusement park in nearby Brexton Woods. Remember how fun it is to feel scared out of your mind on the Durragan ride?”

Ah, that seems to smooth things over. Now that we’re all on the same page, I describe creepy looking people jumping out from dark places and making you scream, all the while you rest secure in the knowledge you’re perfectly safe.

I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to describe my favorite holiday in a way that sounded fun.

“It’s fun when ugly, scary people come to hurt you?” antennae-guy asks, his head tilted in skepticism.

I circle back one more time, referencing adrenaline and relief. When that doesn’t do it, I focus on caramel apples, decorated cupcakes, and how many credits I thought our project could raise for the Children’s Hospital. Finally, they’re all on board.

Now that I’ve got their buy-in, it only takes a few minutes to explain my vision, pass around a sign-up sheet, and beg them to get their friends and family to volunteer.

I make a mental note to pull whatever word the website used for Halloween and change it to Spooky Fun Holiday. When the mayor approved this, why didn’t he give me a heads up that it translated to porn?

When the sign-up sheet circles back to me and the three of them are filing out the door, I see only two names on it .

“Um, excuse me?” Please don’t let the handsome purple guy bail on the committee. “Who forgot to sign the sheet?”

He’s already in the doorway. By the way his shoulders hunch, it’s a dead giveaway he’s the culprit.

“You don’t want to help plan the Spooky Fun Haunted House?”

When he turns to speak to me, I realize I’ve stepped so close I’m invading his space.

Every cell of my body lights up like a circuit board on overload.

Is it his male gorgeousness? His physical perfection?

Some quirk of alien hormones? I conduct a stern internal debate to prevent myself from jumping him.

“I’m not sure I can be of much help. Perhaps it would be better if someone else takes my spot,” he says.

“Look around. Do you see other people vying for your spot?”

He looks like a trapped prey animal.

“I assumed you have dozens of people you’ve already onboarded.”

I almost laugh out loud at that. He thinks I have dozens of people waiting in the wings to step up for Spooky Fun Holiday help? “Will you help, uh… what’s your name?”

“Brekk.”

“Will you help, Brekk? Are you busy tomorrow? The mayor had a tip on an abandoned facility that might be perfect for the haunted house.”

He pauses for the longest time. So long, in fact, that I’m certain his brain is running like the galaxy’s fastest computer as he tries to figure how to extricate himself from this commitment. I’m not much of a salesman, but I’ve read a couple articles on how to close a sale.

“Terrific of you to join the team, Brekk. How about we meet here tomorrow at noon to take a drive to the abandoned meat packing plant on Terryson Road?”