Earth Husbands are Odd (Earth Fathers #2) - Lyn Gala Page 0,22

for delivery of messages and packages.”

They weren’t far from the trader now, and Max started down the alley again. “Great. So we're going to have to resort to calling them Trader One, Trader Two, and Trader Three.”

“If you choose an appropriate name, I can have the translation computer link the human name with the official designation within his own language,” Xander offered.

Oh, that was so tempting. There were so many names that Max could assign this asshole. His sarcasm button itched. However, the aliens had managed to grab samples of earth languages during their little drive-by police chase. And Max couldn’t afford to offend anyone that he might still need to manipulate.

So he needed something subtle. Nuanced.

He needed something that other people wouldn’t recognize, but something that would let Max get enough sadistic pleasure that he could curb his urge to punch the asshole’s oversized lips. Oh, there were so many possibilities. Max finally settled on his favorite. “Let's program his name as Al Bundy.”

Xander blew a huge raspberry into the air, and little spittle spots appeared on the sidewalk underneath him.

“Don't you start,” Max warned.

“Max Father is unkind.” After a second, Xander added. “I like unkindness.”

“You’re more and more like your namesake every day,” Max said. “But it’s not technically unkind. It's sarcastic.” He stopped in front of a familiar door. “This is it,” he said. Then he turned his translator unit on before he touched the screen to request entrance. Cinnamon Carter from Mission Impossible had always looked so cool and collected when she was working undercover as a super-secret spy. But Max was fairly sure he was going to throw up. He hadn’t been this nervous the day before his first solo flight. Come to think of it, he’d thrown up that morning, and right now he regretted not taking a detour down a less populated alley so he could privately vomit.

However, Al Bundy was opening the door, so it was too late for his Linda Blair impression.

Chapter Eight

Al Bundy led them up the back stairs without even glancing back to see if Xander needed help guiding the sample cart. He didn’t, but Max resented that Bundy hadn’t even checked. Asshole.

Instead of leading them toward the office where he’d talked to Max and Rick, Bundy turned in the opposite direction and headed deeper into the building. The hallway widened and the clutter vanished from the corners, so Max wasn’t surprised when Bundy opened the door to reveal a room full of aliens. Pajekh and Chosen and People of Red, oh my. Max still thought it weird that the People of Red were sort of lavender-purpley, but he assumed “Red” referred to something less literal than skin color.

“This is quite the gathering.” Max studied the gathering.

A Chosen slid forward. They were more humanoid than most aliens with an oversized upper lip and too many nostrils. If any species deserved to get called ugly, this one was up there. “Introduce person from undeveloped planet,” it said in a wailing voice. The business communicator was on because the voice pitched up and down. However, since Max hadn’t given Bundy access to the English database, the modulations were all translated into Hidden People whale song.

“That’s me,” Max said cheerfully. “Bundy, would you like to connect the English translator to the business communication facilitator? I brought the computer.” He turned to get the equipment from the cart, and he heard several hisses and thumps behind him. Xander flinched back and his tentacles stiffened in a desperate attempt to avoid curling them. Only one thing would inspire that reaction, and Max didn’t need a translation computer to figure it out.

Max whirled around. “Do not insult Xander.” Max searched the crowd for someone to challenge him. He’d expected this. Every time he’d gone to a new base, he’d needed to prove himself to a room full of assholes who didn’t trust him. Max had never backed down, and most of the time, those people had become his closest friends—the men and women he’d trusted at his back. He assumed any species that could become the dominant species of their planet would have a similar urge toward challenging each other. The aliens all stared back, silent and unmoving.

“Xander, plug in the English translation program,” Max ordered.

“Yes, Max Father,” Xander said. He came as close as any Hidden One could to whispering.

“It calls you father,” the larger pith helmet Pajekh said.

That caused several tentacles to twitch, although none of them curled the way Rick’s or the