“Appointment,” he muttered, as the lift banged into its topside lock. “Captain’s office. “ The door was opening. He wanted out. Fast. “Excuse me.”
A hand caught his shoulder.
“Hold it, Hawkins.”
He saw seniority in the grey hair. He said, “Yessir,” and figured he’d just routed himself back in the brig. The guy shoved him against the wall by the lift doors.
“Appointment, is it?”
“My brother’s supposed to be up here. I need to talk to him.”
“Is that so?” The officer—Travis, the pocket emblem said—turned him back to the next arriving lift. “Right back downside, mister. Stay to lower decks.”
Second lift opened. He faced, suddenly, blond hair, bruises, scowling face.
“Inside,” the officer said, and jerked at him by the arm, sending him past Christian, into that lift. “Downside. Go. Now.”
Hand propelled him inside. Christian dived in beside him, mad. The lift doors shut, on the two of them alone, and the lift sank.
“So?” Christian asked.
“I didn’t want what happened. I’m sorry. I don’t want to get in your way…”
“You had a good time, you and Saby?”
“We—” He couldn’t justify anything. Christian was looking for offense, and his face and his ribs were already sore. “We didn’t plan anything. We ran into each other—”
The lift hit bottom. Crew jammed aboard, pinning them to the back of the car.
“I don’t want another fight,” he said. They were face-to-face against the back wall of the lift car as the door shut and the lift started up again. “I don’t want to argue with you.”
“Yeah. Keep your concern.”
“He didn’t do right. He wasn’t right, lighting into you like that—”
“Just shut up, Family Boy. I don’t need your damn condescension, all right?”
The door opened. The crowd in front vacated the lift. Christian shoved his way through and he tried to follow, but Christian turned around, furious, the other side of the threshold. “Get to hell out of my life, Hawkins!”
Shocked faces, around Christian. He’d started forward, to leave the lift. It seemed useless, then, with Christian opposed, to pursue anything with anyone in command.
Downbound crew flooded in, pushing him back against the rail. The doors shut, the lift went down and let out downside. The other passengers got off. He did.
Straight face-on into Saby.
“Tink said—” Saby began, and grabbed his arm as they worked their way outward, against the five or six upbounds trying to get in the doors.
He wasn’t coherent. He waved a hand, made a helpless gesture as they got clear, back at the corridor wall. “No luck. Waste of time.”
“I could have told you,” Saby said. “Tom, let me talk to him.”
“Not Austin. Christian. Damn him. Attitudinal son of a bitch. “
“Him, too. “ Saby made a flustered gesture and punched the lift button. One car had gone. The other was downbound. “He’s being a fool.”
“You don’t go up there!”
Saby turned around with a furious stare. “I’m going up there because this is my shift, and I’m late!—And leave it to me who I talk to!”
“It’s my life, dammit!”
The lift arrived. Saby ducked in with a last few upbound crew. The doors shut. He stood there, having embarrassed himself, generally, having made a public scene with Christian, up and down the lift system, and disagreed with Saby, in public.
There was nothing but a shut door to talk to. There was nothing to do but walk back to the galley where he’d agreed to be. Forever.
Right now he wanted to strangle Christian. He’d blamed Saby. He’d blamed himself. He’d blamed Marie and Austin and fate.
But right now he saw only one person responsible for what had happened to Christian, and to him, and for the misunderstanding with Saby, and every damn thing else.
Wasn’t Saby’s fault she’d been drafted as surrogate mama to a jealous brat whose universe insisted every problem was somebody else’s fault.
He slammed his fist into the paneling as he walked. It hurt as much as he remembered. He pounded it two, three, four, five times, until the corridor thundered and the pain outside equalled the explosion inside his chest.