Broken Wings Read Online Free PDF Page B

not look the beer type. She
probably drank wine. Rye reluctantly took a second note and promised herself
that she would forgo next week’s beer ration.
    Rye tapped on Holly’s bedroom door. Holly made no attempt to disguise her
surprise.
    “What are you dressed like a normal person for?” Holly asked.
    “I’m… um, I’m going out for an hour or two.”
    Holly smiled. “Yeah? And here I’ve been thinking you’re dead from the neck
down.”
    Rye tugged nervously at her shirt sleeve. “Um. One of the blokes at work is
having a bachelor party. I told you.”
    “No, you didn’t.”
    “You probably weren’t paying attention. It’s Spike. He’s getting married. So…
Um. I won’t be gone long. Will you be okay? If you’d rather I stayed, I will.”
    “Go! I’m not three years old. I can throw a wild party.”
    Rye stiffened.
    “Joking,” Holly said. “Shit, you can be hard work. I’ll quietly decay here on my
own and finish my homework, okay? I’ll keep the chain across and not open the
door to anyone strange until you come back.”
    Rye frowned and strode to the front door.
    “Wait!” Holly called. “Those pants. You can’t go in them.”
    “What’s wrong with them? They don’t have holes.”
    “Gods of fashion, see my martyrdom! Come and put these on.”
    Rye poked her head into Holly’s room and saw a pair of new black pants thrust at
her. “Where did you get those?”
    “I showed you them earlier. I bought them with my prize money.”
    To Rye’s surprise, the pants were a good fit. They were baggy enough in the back
of the legs that her wing membranes didn’t show and they were exactly the right
length. Rye took a critical look at Holly.
    Her little sister was as tall as she was. When had that happened?
    “Much better,” Holly said. “If you get any stains on them, I’ll kill you.
Slowly. With blunt instruments. And eyebrow tweezers.”
    Rye should not have been surprised when Flora flew past the grimy bridge
district, with its docks, warehouses, and seedy bars. They continued to the
trendy north side of the bridge. None of the streetlights had any broken lamps.
Rye had no real idea where they were, except that she was out of her natural
habitat. The carpet lowered into a parking lot. Rye made out the name Owl’s Nest
on the wall sign.
    They stepped into a world wholly alien to the Ball and Chain Pub. Instead of
smoke, a blaring jukebox, and tables sticky with spilled beer, this place was
subdued lighting, tasteful music, and chic décor. Rye’s attention quickly slid
from the booths and bar to her companion. This was the first good look she had
of Flora in decent lighting. She wore a slinky little black dress. Rye’s wing
buds twitched.
    “Good evening, Ms. Withe.” A well-dressed woman nodded to them. “Can I show you
to a place at the bar or a booth?”
    Rye trailed them to a booth. She tried not to be so conscious of Flora’s body.
She didn’t realise that she had agreed to a drink until a waitress brought them
each one. Before Rye could dig out her wallet, Flora dropped a crisp twenty on
the waitress’s tray. The size of the bill for two drinks made Rye blink. She
sipped her drink, which contained a strong spirit, and made a mental note to eke
this one out because she could only afford one round.
    “You… you come here often?” Rye asked.
    “I used to. When I was younger. I’m slowing down. I must be getting old.”
    Rye didn’t think she looked very old. Although, it was harder to pick the ages
of some species than others. She looked sleek and firm, with no hint of brown or
autumnal reds or gold in her dark green hair. If Rye had to guess, she would go
for early thirties.
    “I seem to have lost most of my appetite for loud music and nonstop dancing all
night long,” Flora said. “I’ve noticed that when I do come here now, it’s
usually on nights when they don’t have a live band. I’d rather talk and get to
know someone. I suppose that’s a rather sad