Zoraida Cordova - A Crash of Fate

She felt the doors to Dok’s den shutting behind her and Jules standing beside her. Part of her wanted to be alone if she was going to have to speak to Damar. The other part—the petty, selfish part that made up too much of her being—was glad Jules was at her side. It was not to cause Damar jealousy, though the way his gray eyes took in Jules’s considerable size did please her. It was because with Jules there, she had a reason to keep walking away.

Damar anticipated her direction and stepped in front of her.

“What?” she asked.

“Don’t be like that, Iz,” Damar said, extending his arms dramatically. He liked to think that there were always eyes on him, and hadn’t she been one of his many admirers only a day before? “If you’re mad about Actlyon City, I know you’re a good shot. I wouldn’t have left if I thought you couldn’t take care of yourself.”

She felt Jules move beside her, but she caught his eye. This was her problem to deal with.

“You must be the farm boy I’ve heard so much about,” Damar said, extending a hand, which Jules did not accept. She bit down hard, her mouth dry at the thought of Damar repeating the words she had said to Ana Tolla. The only reason she’d said those things about Jules was because she’d wanted to discourage Ana Tolla’s interest in him.

“Julen,” he said, not giving his nickname to Damar.

Her fingers twitched like they had a consciousness of their own, wanting to reach for her weapon. When she’d been a girl, her mother had always slept with her blaster beneath her pillow, and when Izzy had asked why, she’d said, “The same reason you sleep with your stuffed bantha, darling.” Those words held new meaning.

“Ana Tolla and I had an agreement,” she said. “Stay out of each other’s way.”

“About that…” His smile was twisted, beautiful—cruel. “I convinced the others that we acted too rashly.”

She laughed. “Did you?”

“I did. Ana Tolla sent me to ask you to come back.”

Izzy crossed her arms over her chest. She recalled her conversation with Ana Tolla that morning. Then she’d seen the woman skulking in Smuggler’s Alley before Oga’s men had picked them up. What had changed since they’d spoken?

“I’m surprised Ana would take a job she couldn’t see through,” she said, lowering her gaze. She bit her lip and chanced a look at Damar.

He seemed delighted. “You see? It was all Safwan’s fault. Went and got himself trampled by the riots earlier.” Damar smoothed the front of his fine shirt, picking off a green leaf that had the misfortune of landing on his shoulder. “I told Ana you’d be perfect. You too, Jupen.”

“Julen.” His voice was dark, almost hurt when he turned to her. “You’re not considering this, are you?”

Of course she wasn’t. But she wanted to know what they were planning. Oga Garra had believed Izzy was looking to make deals with the locals. Had she confused her with Ana Tolla? Maybe not—there were plenty of young women new to the Outpost. But Izzy also knew Ana well enough to know that her jobs usually required a local or two.

“I’m going to have to pass,” Izzy said, and shrugged. She enjoyed the way Damar had swallowed his pride. No doubt he hadn’t wanted to be the one to come get her. But Ana Tolla’s word was their personal law. Perhaps Izzy did have lucky stars on her side, because the only person she had to answer to was herself. And, well, Dok-Ondar at the moment.

Damar held his hands up, a thread of panic lacing his voice. “I don’t think you understand what kind of payout we’re talking about. It’s more than whatever drop-off you’ve got going on. You’ve been here all morning, and all you’ve managed to do is run around with the fa—” He considered Jules. Damar was tall but slender, and she knew quite well how useless he was in a fight that didn’t involve blasters. “Julen.”

“If it’s so much money, why couldn’t you find someone in Smuggler’s Alley earlier?” she asked, and looked at her nails. There was dirt under them, just like there used to be under her father’s. Even when they’d left the planet, he couldn’t get them clean for weeks. But not her mother. Her hands were always clean. “Let me guess. No one in town will take a job that might mean upsetting the Outpost boss.”

Damar scowled but recovered quickly. He scratched his temple, the glittering gem on that finger nearly blinding her when it caught the light. “You know, Izzy. I’m a little bit hurt that you’re over me so soon.”

That was low, even for him. “What did you think I was going to do? Cry over you for six moons and send you holos if I got lonely in the middle of the night?”

He grinned, exposing a sharp canine. “I thought our time together would take you longer to get over than a single night of sleep. But I always knew you were a little bit ruthless.”

She leaned forward, her mouth forming a smile she did not feel in her heart. “You think too highly of yourself, Damar. The answer is no.”

“Perhaps now,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. She was surprised to find that it made her sad…until he finished: “But eventually you’ll change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m certain of one thing when it comes to you, and it is that you loathe being alone.”

She wrapped her hand around her blaster. “Leave.”

Damar waved and started to walk away. “Oh, and, Julen,” he said, training a finger at Jules’s head like the barrel of a blaster. “Make sure you take her somewhere nice to celebrate.”

A spike of anger drove through her, and she drew her pistol. The shot burned a spot on the ground at Damar’s feet. His electric gray eyes were all that much brighter with rage. He muttered a curse they couldn’t quite hear as he ran . Though a few vendors had looked up at the sound of the blast, they lost interest in a blink.

Jules turned on Izzy. “I have more than a couple of questions, Izzy, but maybe we can talk about why you keep shooting at people.”

She holstered her blaster and shrugged. Her mother wouldn’t have missed on purpose. Would she? “Jules, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

But they stayed there in the shadow of the tree behind Dok’s den for a moment longer.

“I wish you hadn’t seen that,” she said finally.

“Between the snakeskin boots and the flashy jewelry, he’s hard to miss.” Jules tried to laugh it off, but there was an awkwardness that hadn’t been there before. “What did he mean about celebrating?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

He leaned in close, smiling playfully like he was trying to draw her out of a shell of her own creation. His voice was a whisper surrounded by the cacophony of vendors calling out to them. “I thought we were done with lies, Izzy.”

She leveled her eyes at him and was surprised when she recalled her mother’s words. “Lying is a skill.”

They made quick work of getting back to the cantina, where Jules’s speeder was parked. Though Izzy’s infuriating former boyfriend had gone in a different direction, Jules couldn’t help feeling like they were being followed. He checked the favored hiding places for pickpockets, but they were clear. The entire Outpost seemed quiet as the day stretched into late afternoon.

The silence between them gave Jules space to think about Damar, with his hair a shade of blue Jules had only seen on the tongues of underwater animals. Everything about him was polished. His snakeskin boots were new, his pants were wrinkle-free like the clothes of the high-class dignitaries who liked to spend their time gambling at Oga’s. But Jules couldn’t give a Kowakian monkey-lizard’s ass about what he was wearing. It was the smirk on his face as he spoke to Izzy that drove an ugly, hot sensation through his core. At least she’d gotten the last word—or the last shot, rather.