Chapter 6

"What am I doing here?" Ferro asked himself for the third time. Regardless of what he had done in the last three weeks, this club was far outside his comfort zone. He was an engineering geek and for him, places like this were always intimidating. He had been in a club or two in his college years but he had always felt uncomfortable. He wasn't comfortable being so forward and acting more confident than he really was. He liked those safe drinking places with plants and cushy seats and cute drink suggestions on the menu and umbrellas in the glasses.

Sure, everyone was dressed for business just like he was, but Ferro knew the clothes were just a façade. Everyone was here to fuck and to, well, find someone to fuck. He didn't want to believe that adults were comfortable with everyone else knowing their sex life. The panic he felt was like that adolescent dream of showing up to school dressed only in his underwear.

His leg still smarted from the deep muscle knit, which the doctor had diagnosed a quick heal. Ferro was glad for the dull pain at the moment though because it kept him from bolting out the door. While he was excited about his first successful knife-fighting lesson, this room unnerved him. Another knife fight would be easier to face than this place.

He was sure everyone else here was comfortable. Everyone else belonged here and knew what they were doing. He was the new kid, the outsider who didn't have a clue. Even if he ... even if he what?

The anxiety was paralyzing him and he needed a drink. Ferro unfroze himself from the wall near the doorway and walked with a forced calmness to the bar. With anesthesia still swirling in his veins, he didn't want to chance a headache from drinking alcohol. The doctor had mentioned it as a possibility and even if it was hypochondria, he was sticking to the doctor's suggestion. He was more afraid of a headache now than a knife stabbing then. Why was this so difficult? He needed a drink.

"What can I get you," the bartender asked him. The man was older and his right eye was yellow while his left one was a healthy white. Ferro tried not to stare.

"The doctor said no alcohol tonight," Ferro said. "You got bubbly water?"

"STD?" the bartender said.

"Deep muscle knit and anesthesia," Ferro said softly even though he wanted to shout it at the top of lungs.

"You the guy who took down Chumeng today?"

"Yeah. It was a good day," Ferro admitted more to himself than the guy behind the bar. The tension eased a touch. "How did you hear?"

"I'm a bartender and Chumeng was a regular."

"Does this mean that if you know about my win already then everyone knows?" Ferro asked. He was desperate for the bartender to make conversation with him.

"Let's just say the club is going to be quieter for awhile and some of us think that's a good thing," the bartender said.

He placed a straight glass on top of the bar and poured from a spout attached to a tube. Next he reached under and brought out a funny looking fruit that he sliced into thin, exactly even slices.

Ferro watched in fascination as the bartender worked his knife.

"I'd like to be able to cut like that."

The older man smiled. "It isn't as easy as it looks." He slipped the knife back under the bar and dropped one slice in the glass. "Begarrin fruit is tough on the outside but soft on the inside. Too much pressure from the blade and the pulp becomes mush. Not enough and the skin will never give."

"Just like a space station," Ferro said as he picked up one of the slices. The world around him disappeared as he squeezed the ends to test the compression strength of the skin while watching to see how easily he could squeeze liquid from the pulp.

"What is he doing?" A female voice next to him asked.

"Destroying a space station, I think," the bartender said. "Damned if I know. He is the spaceship designer that the patriarch sent us to the station to grab."

"They didn't grab me. We negotiated a contract," Ferro said, using his fingertip to test the mushiness of the fruit pulp. "It won't go down in history as the best contract I ever agreed to, but I wasn't grabbed either."

"Quiyo grabbed him by the balls. She told me herself," the woman said.

"She grabs everybody by the balls," the bartender said. "Except me. She never grabs me by the balls."

"Eww," the female said, protesting. "I wouldn't grab your balls either, not that I could bend that low without stretching out my muscles first."

Ferro laughed and put down the fruit slice.

"It takes a lot of gall to insult the bartender," Ferro said, looking at the woman for the first time. She had an Eastern cast to her looks with a brown skin tone and black, straight hair. She had an easy smile on her face.

"What does it matter if I insult the bartender?" she asked.

"Bartenders know more about what is important to know, than any other person in this room," Ferro said. "That's one of the laws of the universe."

"Nimsa, biologist," she said, holding out her hand to shake.

Ferro took her hand.

"Ferro, ship designer, gullible,"

"I like gullible men. It makes them so much easier to kick out of bed in the morning," Nimsa said.

Ferro looked at her wondering what sort of comeback was witty and appropriate without sounding like a fool. Small talk with strangers wasn't one of his strengths.

"I'd make it easy for you. If you promise not to kick, I'd go quietly."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth then he realized what he had said. His cheeks felt hot. He had just told this woman with whom he had exchanged only a few remarks that he expected to have sex with her. Now she would know for sure what a jerk he was. He wanted to run for the door.

"It's nice to hear someone tell me what they want without being crude about it," Nimsa said, stirring her drink with her finger.

Ferro stared at her face trying to see if she was being truthful or just sparing him the humiliation. He couldn't find a reason not to believe her.

"Thank you," he said.

All of the anxiety suddenly collapsed into a small wave of fatigue and Ferro bent to take a good draw of his drink.

"Blggh," was his response to the begarrin fruit. "This tastes like dirty socks," Ferro said.