Page 80 of Pets in Space 10

Dahlia didn’t get called in to work at the casino again during the week, for which she was grateful.

Working in housekeeping supervising robo cleaners and providing the personal human touch the guests enjoyed suited her fine after the upheaval of the luck-puller auction.

She consulted with Maeve about the dress and shoes she wanted for the gala and they had a long conversation about her dreams to work in the retail shops on Level A.

She also began work on a special project creating a painting for Mike.

She used the beautiful dawn holos Maeve created on the beach deck as a starting point for her inspiration and then did her own fantastical take on the scene, which she hoped would please him and fit into the décor of his office.

Petal continued to be an excellent companion, although her appetite was all over the place, one day ravenous and the next day turning up her adorable nose at even the special treats, which worried Dahlia enough to com Tyrelle and apologetically consult the empath for advice.

“As long as her fur stays soft and clean and her scales aren’t falling off more than normal, she’s probably fine,” Tyrelle had said reassuringly. “If she acts distressed or ill, then please call me and I’ll come see her to check her aura. Pregnancy is hard on anyone, even a tiny pet like her.”

The day of the big date finally arrived and Dahlia pampered herself with a long bubble bath before doing her makeup and hair and then putting on the dress Maeve had created for her, which had been delivered by a ship’s robo the day before.

Dahlia had hung it up where she could see it from her bed, unable to believe she now owned such a garment and for such a small dent in her credit balance.

Maeve had insisted she enjoyed creating fashion and refused to charge anything close to what Dahlia was sure the dress was worth.

It was a soft cloud of pastel colors, which highlighted Dahlia’s complexion perfectly, low cut but not too daring, with a slit up the side, again not too risque.

After all this was a high-class event, and the captain would be in attendance.

She’d studied the dress and decided what mood and role it would help her assume for the evening, to get herself to relax and enjoy every moment.

It was princess like but in a dreamy way and she hoped Mike would like it.

There was a bit of subtle sparkle along the hemline and on the bodice, which matched the shoes.

She’d had to laugh when she saw the shoes Maeve crafted were low heeled but it was a relief.

“You remembered I don’t like high heels,” she said to the AI. “I hope I won’t be too short for Mike.”

“He’ll be so busy admiring you in the dress he won’t be concerned about the height difference,” Maeve said.

The AI had also provided a small evening purse, with a matching design and a pair of dangling earrings that contrasted nicely and provided a splash of brighter color to accent her face.

Dahlia was completely satisfied with her purchases.

“Not even Twilka herself could curate a better look for me,” she said as she twirled in front of the mirror. “Maeve, you’re a genius at design.”

The chime at her cabin door sounded and suddenly she had mad butterflies in her gut. “Wish me luck,” she said to Petal and then hastened to the door. Dahlia was too keyed up to make Mike wait so she opened the portal in a rush.

He blinked, before letting out a low whistle as she pulled him into the cabin. “Doll, you’re gorgeous. I’m a lucky man to have you on my arm tonight.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Dahlia thought he was astonishingly handsome in his suit. And sexier than any man I’ve ever seen. She felt the need to fan herself but Mike was leaning in for a quick kiss. Their bodies fit together as if they were made for each other.

“If we were going to anything but the gala for the damned tournament tonight, I’d suggest we order in and set the privacy locks,” he said in a husky voice.

“But I want to show off my pretty dress,” she said in a teasing voice, going to collect her purse and a light shawl her mother had given for her, beautifully tatted lace from their planet of origin, preserved as one of the few items the family had managed to take when they fled.

Mike helped her arrange the shawl over her bare shoulders, his touch further igniting her desire.

“Our dinner reservation is in twenty minutes. It’s a bit early to be dining, but we have to mingle at the theater before the show.

I asked Chef Stephanie to do something special for us — I hope you don’t mind. ”

“How could I object to being served a delicacy by a five-star chef when a year ago I was eating expired survival rations?” Dahlia asked, thrilled by the whole idea. “I’m sure whatever she decides to give us will be exceptional. It’s so considerate of you to arrange this special meal.”

He offered his elbow and they walked to the gravlift.

Dahlia ignored the sideways glances from other crew members.

She was dressed to impress for once and was proud of the man who’d asked her out for a special evening.

She didn’t have any close friends among the crew but she was sure the few she did know would have all kinds of questions for her later.

Level A was fairly busy at this hour, although it was a bit early for dinner and they didn’t have to wait at all for their table at the restaurant Mike had selected.

As soon as they were seated the waiters began bringing the dishes and the chef stopped by herself for a brief chat.

Dahlia raved about the food, which was exceptional, even if she wasn’t a hundred percent sure what some of it was, despite the server’s description of each new course.

The conversation flowed easily between her and Mike — she told him a bit of her life growing up in the refugee camp and he shared a few carefully selected anecdotes from his boyhood, which she gathered had been hardscrabble and rough until he enlisted in the Sectors military.

“It was a priceless opportunity,” he said with sarcasm, “To travel the garden spots of the galaxy, mostly on the frontier, and learn new games of chance from my buddies and new ways to cheat, also from my pals. A perfect setup for moving into casino work when I was released after my tour was up.”

“But if you don’t like to gamble, why stay in this line of work?” she asked, sipping her wine.

“Because I know it, backwards and forwards. I know all the scams, all the ploys, all the strategies and the lies gamblers tell themselves — as I told you, my father was addicted and he believed the big score was waiting at the next turn of the cards or roll of the dice. And if he did by chance win a good purse, he’d bet it all before the night was over.

I’m the perfect person to run a casino, if I do say so myself, because I’m not tempted for one second to place a bet. ”

“Do you intervene if you can tell someone’s going to lose it all?” she asked curiously.

Mike took a healthy swallow of his drink.

“Not here on the Zephyr. We have a totally different clientele. But once or twice in my earlier days I threw a guy or two out before we’d won back all their credits.

My bosses didn’t like my actions much because a casino isn’t a charity or a do-gooder.

But yeah, there were a couple gamblers over the years who reminded me too much of my dad and I could see their suffering families in my mind’s eye.

Listen, are you done? Did you want dessert? ”

Accepting his change of subject, Dahlia shook her head. “No, thanks, I’m fine. There was so much food tonight and I had to try it all. Maybe we could do dessert after the performance.”

They strolled through Level A towards the theater.

“It seems wrong not to enter the casino,” Mike said as he passed the entrance. “I’m there every night.”

“No nights off?” Dahlia asked in surprise.

“Never had a good reason to do anything else,” he said with a meaningful glance at her. “Until now.”

She knew tonight was basically a work night for him despite their date, since the gala they were now going to was connected to the tournament and the casino. “We’ll have to do something about that,” she teased. “It can’t be good for you to think about the casino all the time.”

“I think about other things on occasion.” He squeezed her hand and gave her a sideways look, raising one eyebrow.

At the theater, the lobby was set up for the event, with a bar in the back and wait staff already circulating with hors d’oeuvres. Dahlia waved off the approaching waiter. “We just came from dinner, but thank you.”

There were only a few people there yet and Dahia stood beside Mike as he chatted with Madame Cartajj, the director of the Comettes, and his own staff person in charge of the event.

She was excited to have met the renowned Madame Cartajj, but the real thrill was going to be her chat with Mrs. Benfield, founder of the charity which had brought her here to work on the Nebula Zephyr.

“All right,” Mike said, breaking her out of her reflection on how she arrived on this ship. “Time to mingle. Ready?”

Dahlia swirled her diaphanous skirt a bit. “I’ve got my costume on and my mind is set — tonight I’m a glamorous lady in a designer dress who fits into this scene, especially with her debonair and devastating escort.”

He smiled but asked, “Do you role-play everything? I remember you said something about our night waitress uniform helping you cope.”

“Not everything,” she said hastily, afraid he would think she was being fake with him right now.

“It’s a tool to manage my anxiety, which can get way out of hand if I overthink things too much.

” She swallowed hard. “Life in the camps was hard, unstable, and not secure. My parents did their best to provide for us, but let’s just say my childhood left scars. ”