Unification - Jeri Taylor [59]
Now, as his voice droned on and on, she looked down at the afflicted fingernail, concentrating on it with fierce intensity, as though it were the most important thing in the galaxy at that moment.
I’ll have to redo the polish before tonight, she thought, dimly aware that Shern’s voice continued to rasp in her ears. She tried not to look at his smooth, bloodless face, or that unblinking eye.
If l have time I’ll redo all four hands… if not 1 can do a patch job on the one… or maybe just trim it down…
These irrelevancies ran through her mind as Shern’s voice filled the room, an endless sound. For someone who tortured the language, he sure loved to talk.
“Many times I this message to you have delivered,” he was saying. “Possible it not is a musician having for reasons that described have been.”
Amarie snuck a glance at him through lowered lids. The owner of Shern’s Palace was agit, .ed, pacing back and forth as he talked and talked. He was such a disgusting-looking thing. Did it ever occur to him that maybe the reason no one came to his runey little bar was because they couldn’t stand to look at this pale, waxy thing with an eye that never blinked? That maybe she was the only reason the place had any customers at all? That she was saving Shern from going under because she had talent and people came to hear her intricate four-handed music?
“… night one more having,” Shern was saying. Then he stopped and looked at her with a certain finality, as though expecting a response, and she had to admit she hadn’t been listening. “Sorry, Shern, go over that once more, will you?” Shern’s sallow complexion went to a peculiar yellow shade; she had learned this was the onset of anger. “To be listening necessary is,” he spat. “Not do I talk for listening pleasure myself.”
Amarie sighed. Part of her said, what the rune, get this miserable creature out of your life forever; but the other part ordered her to do anything—anything—to please Shern so he wouldn’t cast her out without a job. I can make him like me, flashed desperately across her mind; I can never like him followed soon after. Sometimes she thought honesty was one of her most troublesome traits.
“Shern,” she said, “if you used the runey Universal Translator maybe I could figure out what you’re trying to say, but since you don’t, just butcher it one more time for me. All right?”
Shern’s eye bored into her. “Clear making was, night one more having you are.”
“Shem, maybe to you that’s clear making, but to me it’s confusing being. You telling me tonight’s my last night?” “Simple it is,” said Shern, shrugging disdainfully. “You mean to say that after all I’ve done for you, after I’ve built a clientele, a loyal following, people who come to the bar night after night just to hear me—you’re going to get rid of me? The only attrac-tion you have to offer?”
And then Shem smiled. At least that’s what she thought it was—on Shem it looked like a grimace. But he was clearly quite self-satisfied when he announced, “Amazing talent finding am I. Dancer she is—with many legs having.” Shem looked at her smugly.
Amarie stared at him. Was he kidding? This was his big idea for building business? A four-armed musician hadn’t put Shern’s place on the map of the sector, so he thought a multi-legged dancer was the answer? Amarie found herself laughing, a big, throaty, gutsy laugh—a bray, actually—that clearly caught Shem by surprise.
“Why laughing are7” he asked nervously. Shern hated being left out of things, and a joke he didn’t get was always upsetting to him. That thought only made Amarie laugh harder.
“You runey little rune,” she said when she had finally caught her breath. “I am so runey glad to be getting out of your runey bar. I hope you and your runey dancer are miserable together.”
And, still chuckling, she stood and walked out of his office. She knew Shern was staring after her, duInb-founded by her reaction—and that was a liberating thought. I’ll redo all my nails before tonight, she thought, and give myself a facial and maybe try that new