Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 01_ The Paradise Snare - A. C. Crispin [57]
It was the usual stuff, about a girl who lost her lover to the lure of the space lanes, and how she waited but he never came home—but the singer’s voice was so pure, so unaffected, that she lent the clichéd words true emotion and dignity.
When she’d finished, Han, along with the other patrons, clapped enthusiastically. The girl sang another song, then stepped down off the stage and walked straight toward Han. For a moment he thought—hoped!—that she was coming over to sit with him, but no such luck. She slid into a seat at the next table.
Since the tavern was evidently a popular hangout, the tables were crowded close together; the girl wound up sitting within arm’s length of Han. The other person at the table was a round-faced young man a year or two older than the pilot. Probably her boyfriend, Han thought, covertly eyeing the young man. He had light brown hair and pale, hazel-green eyes. Unlike the girl, who wore a simple, ankle-length blue dress and sandals, her escort was a tribute to modern fashion.
His purple tunic was belted with a wide, orange belt that clashed with his knee-high red boots. His yellow britches clung to his legs like a second skin. Han, in his worn, gray coverall, felt like a house-warbler next to a paradise bird.
As the singer shook back her hair and smiled triumphantly, Han managed to catch her eye. He mimed clapping, and she grinned and bowed. “You were great!” he told her.
“Thank you!” she said. “That was the first time I’ve gotten up my nerve to sing in front of a crowd!” The girl was flushed, breathless, and very charming. Han smiled back at her. I wouldn’t mind spending the evening—and the night—with her …
Aloud, he said, “We’re a very lucky audience, then. Witnessing the beginning of a great career.”
“Thank you!” She held out her hand. “I’m Aryn Dro, and this is Bornan Thul.”
Han took her hand and, instead of shaking it, bowed over it, as though she were Corellian nobility. His lips didn’t touch the back of her hand, but he came close enough so she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. “I’m honored, Aryn,” he said. “Vykk Draygo.”
When he released her hand and turned to greet her escort, Han could tell the young man was irked, and making no effort to hide it. “Greetings …” Han said, since he wasn’t sure what honorific, if any, was proper on Alderaan.
“Greetings,” Thul said. “Aryn, you were magnificent. Would you care to go somewhere else to celebrate your triumph?”
Can’t stand competition … Han thought, smothering a mischievous grin. He, too, had seen Aryn’s blue eyes light up when he’d introduced himself.
“Listen, I won’t intrude,” he said, flashing his most charming smile at the singer. “I just had to tell you how much I enjoyed your singing. But I won’t take up any more of your time.”
Thul looked as though he’d have liked to say “Good!” but didn’t quite dare.
Aryn shook her head and put a reassuring hand on Han’s arm. “Oh, no! Of course you’re not intruding … Vykk.” She eyed his coverall. “I was going to ask you if you went to school here, but you don’t, do you?”
Han shook his head. “No, I’m only here for tonight. Flew in this morning for repairs. Got in a fight with some pirates and damaged my ship.”
The wide blue eyes grew even wider. “Flew? Pirates? Are you a star pilot?”
Han shrugged modestly. “Yeah.”
Bornan Thul was getting hot under the collar, the Corellian noted. Doesn’t like the idea of his girl talking to a working-class guy like me, the stuck-up so-and-so … well, tough, brother Bornan …
“Oh, my …” Aryn breathed. “That’s so … exciting. Real pirates? What happened?”
Han shrugged again. “Came out of hyperspace, and they were on me quicker than stink on a Skeeg. Two of ’em. Blasted one, but between them, they damaged my hyperdrive. So I