Page 68 of Pets in Space 10

“Hors d’oeuvres only,” her boss said. “And drinks, of course, but you wouldn’t be handling those.

Management moved other staff around to cover the majority of the shifts but need one person for the night shift.

Get up there as soon as you can and report to Josephson, the night manager.

Maeve is generating your uniform now.” She leaned closer to the com screen.

“You don’t object to wearing one of the casino’s uniforms, do you?

It’s quite a bit different than the standard crew tee shirt and khakis, but the casino is its own world. ”

Dahlia wasn’t quite sure what the woman meant but she smiled and nodded. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Thanks, you’re a doll. I owe you one.” Mrs. DeLance signed off and Dahlia stared at her pandjinn.

“I can’t believe I’m going to work on the A Level at the casino!

Just for one shift, but still…” To her, the casino epitomized the glitz and glamor of the crowd who traveled on the Nebula Zephyr and she couldn’t believe she was going to be in the middle of it.

Competition among the floaters was stiff for anything on the top passenger level of the ship and seniority figured into the calculation heavily.

The pandjinn responded to her enthusiasm, squeaking and running in circles in the cage before coming to the bars and sticking her nose out.

Dahlia knelt on the deck and scratched the tiny creature’s head which made her new pet close her eyes and chirrup contentedly.

After a moment the pandjinn backed away, gave a full body shiver and popped off one of the sparkling turquoise scales.

As Dahlia watched in surprise, the animal clutched the scale in one paw and brought it to the bars, turning it so it would pass through.

Rather than drop the scale, the pandjinn held it steady, beady eyes fixed on her face.

“For me? You’re so sweet.” Dahlia took the offering and admired the way the opalescent sheen moved in the cabin’s lights.

“This’ll be my good luck charm for tonight for the job to go well.

You might not be an actual pandjinn from my childhood fairytales, but you’re the closest I’m ever going to get.

I think I’ll name you Petal, like my favorite stuffed animal when I was a kid. ”

Th newly named Petal made a chuffing noise and retreated to the corner where it had made a bed, curling up until only the eyes could be seen, peeking over the tail.

“And now I’ve got to run,” Dahlia said, eyeing the chrono.

In a few minutes Dahlia changed into her basic uniform, tucked Petal’s scale into a pocket with a grin for her own silliness and ran out of her quarters, jumping into the nearest antigrav lift and heading upward as fast as she could manage.

There were a lot of people traveling between decks at this hour and she was frustrated by the time she got off at Level A.

Orienting herself and working hard to slow her breathing, she jogged to the casino entrance and slipped inside, following a group of giggling Socialites and their dates.

Once inside, where she hadn’t dared to venture before, she was astounded at the noise and the crowd.

Aside from the hum of conversation and a quartet playing soft jazz in one corner, the sounds of the various gaming machines were constant, augmented by the shouts and groans of people playing the odds at all kinds of games, including roulette and a number of dice games.

Dahlia gazed at the hectic scene nervously.

She had no idea where the manager might be found so she made her way to the bar.

The bartender was jammed, besides which he was making a complicated drink using multiple containers, filling a whole line of glasses, not spilling a drop, while customers stood admiring his technique. She didn’t dare interrupt him.

Jostled by a couple trying to get seats at the bar, she stepped out of the way as a woman in a scanty, sparkly costume came out from behind the bar carrying a tray of drinks.

“Excuse me,” Dahlia said, tapping her shoulder.

The waitress paused and gave her a cursory up and down. “You lost, sweetie? Crew members aren’t allowed in here in uniform.”

“I’m supposed to work here tonight?” She hated the way her voice scaled upward. “I’m supposed to see the night manager Mr. Josephson and get my uniform and-”

“Don’t move from this spot,” the other woman said, pushing her into a corner. “Let me unload these drinks and then I’ll get you where you need to be, cause it ain’t here.”

Dahlia took advantage of the waiting time to study her surroundings and the people thronging the gaming floor.

Clearly the ship’s most high-class guests must be here tonight.

The clothes were all designer, in daring cuts and colors, and the jewels cast off a blinding glare in the lights.

The men were wearing suits for the most part, well cut, again in all the most recent styles and colors.

She felt out of place, but as she took in the costumes the various waitresses were wearing, which were classy but sexy, with low cut bodices, flirty short — short — skirts, fishnet stockings and high heels, she was confident she could carry it off.

Let the costume dictate my persona, inhabit the mindset for the night, she told herself.

She’d seen enough trideos set in Hinterlands saloons to channel one of the girls there (although they were usually more than waitresses but the CLC Line certainly didn’t allow that kind of activity).

It might even be fun. Certainly the general air in the casino was ebullient, even if most of these people were going to be losing credits all night.

The waitress in her black-and-scarlet uniform returned, reaching for Dahlia’s hand. “C’mon, sweetie, before you get in trouble.” As she drew Dahlia off to the side, to a door behind the bar, she said, “I’m Mardri.”

“Dahlia, and thank you so much for helping me.”

“Us girls gotta stick together. Now first thing is, the main entrance is off limits when you’re in uniform.

There’s an employee entrance in the corridor, unmarked but you’ll see it when you get off work.

I should still be here but if not ask anyone.

Second thing is, the guest is always right, but if there’s a problem, get one of the bouncers to help you.

The security staff are real good at handling the problem people. Remington only hires the best.”

Dahlia was almost running to keep up with her, wondering how she managed to be so nimble in the high heels.

They were making their way through a narrow corridor, lined by closed doors.

Mardri opened one finally and ushered her inside, where a whole group of women were getting dressed and primping.

“Dressing room,” she announced unnecessarily.

“For us, not for the talent.” Hands on her hips, she surveyed the room and then steered Dahlia to a station in the middle.

She plucked a “Floater” label off the mirror and stuck it onto Dahlia’s tee shirt with a laugh.

“This must be you.” Putting her fingers to her lips, she let out a piercing whistle and all movement and sound in the room ceased as the group turned to stare at her.

“New girl on the floor tonight, be nice to her.”

People called out greetings, waved, or outright ignored Dahlia. Blushing, she picked up a costume laid over the back of the chair. It was black and lime green with cherry pink accents. “This must be mine too. Mrs. DeLance said the Ship was generating a uniform for me.”

“OK, get dressed as quick as you can,” Mardri advised.

“Standard makeup applicator is on the left, can’t do much with your hair on short notice so I’d put it up in a twist and add a headband and feather.

Evening check is in ten minutes so you gotta hustle.

Follow the girls to the conference room.

Good luck tonight.” She wrapped Dahlia in a quick hug and was gone, heels clattering on the bare floor.

Feeling as if she’d been caught in a whirlwind, Dahlia was embarrassed to change clothes in the middle of the room but everyone else was doing it.

The clothing was straightforward and fit her perfectly, of course, since the Ship had her exact measurements.

She knew her feet would be killing her by the end of the night but the shoes certainly were sexy.

The makeup applicator was top of the line and in ten seconds she was a glamor girl and hardly recognized herself in the mirror.

“Come on, you can’t be late to evening check,” said a girl as she passed by Dahlia’s station. “Grab your headband and let’s go.”

There’d been no time to do anything with her hair, which hung down her back in a shiny curtain, so she did as ordered, plucking a sparkly headband from a pile on the counter and hastened in the wake of the others. Their destination was close by and she crowded into the room.

“All right, settle down,” said a raspy male voice. Going on tiptoe she saw two men standing at the front of the room. The one who’d spoken had on a sharp suit and was handsome enough, but the second man captured her attention immediately.

He was tall and good looking enough to be a star in major trideos, with dark hair, clean shaven strong chin, high cheekbones and icy blue eyes.

His suit was perfectly fitted to his broad shoulders and Dahlia thought she’d never seen such an appealing man outside of the trideos.

When he spoke, his voice was a smooth baritone and she shivered.

Way above your pay grade, girl, she said to herself. Pay attention to what he’s saying.

“Who is he?” she whispered to the woman standing next to her.

The other waitress gave her an incredulous glance. “Mike Remington, General Manager.” Then she turned a cold shoulder to Dahlia, obviously not wanting to get into trouble for talking.