Switched: Brides of the Kindred 17 (2 page)

“
You were so perfect together in school,
mi hija.”
Her mother had looked at her reproachfully.
“And I know Carlos still loves you.” She had nodded at Carlos, who
sat at the end of the table making sad eyes in Frankie’s
direction.

Frankie had been unable to contain her surge of irritation.
“What he loved was being my boss—running my life,” she muttered to
her mother under her breath. “But I don’t want anyone else running
my life. It’s
my
life—so
let me live it. I want to try new things—to experience the world on
my own terms and be open to anything—
anything at all.”

If
only she had known that her wish was soon to be granted—and
not
in the way that she’d
imagined.

But for now, she was blissfully ignorant. She hummed as she
grabbed a mango-kiwi-chia seed smoothie from the fridge she’d
whipped up the night before. Frankie was a strict
vegetarian—another change she’d made as soon as she got away from
Carlos. She wasn’t a vegan or anything extreme—she just didn’t eat
meat. She felt better and healthier and
lighter
somehow, even though when she went home for family
dinners, her new diet earned her many concerned looks from her
mother and grandmother.

“
But don’t you want any
puerco asado
? Just try a
little
piece,” her mother would wheedle.

“
I
made your favorite
chicharones
,”
her abuela would say. She was still deeply disapproving of
Frankie’s divorced status and lit a candle for her daily in church,
praying to the Blessed Virgin that her granddaughter would see
sense and come back to her rightful husband.

“
No thank you, mom,
abuelita,”
Frankie always said, giving her grandmother a kiss on
the cheek. “I feel better and healthier when I don’t eat meat. But
I’d love more rice, please.”

Her grandmother
always shook her head but she couldn’t argue that Frankie was
wasting away. Despite her vegetarian diet and regular exercise,
Frankie’s J-Lo booty stuck stubbornly with her and refused to
melt—which seemed really unfair. Neither of her sisters had such a
big butt, even after having multiple children apiece.

Not that she needed
to be like her sisters, Frankie reminded herself as she got into
her ancient Honda Civic and started it up. She’d tried that for
years—now it was time to embrace her own identity and get
comfortable inside her own skin.

It was a short drive
from her low rent apartment in the Carlton Arms complex to the USF
campus. Living on campus itself was too expensive. Though she had
to take loans to cover her classes and books, Frankie tried her
best to pay her own living expenses. This meant living in a less
than safe part of town and working a series of crappy jobs, even
though students in the Masters programs were encouraged to focus
exclusively on their studies.

She didn’t usually
mind her apartment—it might look ugly on the outside but inside
Frankie had transformed the tiny space into a neat, pretty little
nest. However, the crappy job thing was beginning to get her down.
If only there were enough TA positions to go around! But it seemed
like every professor on campus already had all the help they
needed. Which meant that Frankie was stuck doing time in retail,
working at Victoria’s Secret in the University Square mall. In
fact, she had a shift right after her morning class, Women in
Modern Literature.

Frankie sighed when
she thought of it. She was sure some of her fellow Women’s Studies
students would scoff at her for working in a place that glorified
the objectification and sexualization of women’s bodies. But at the
time she’d taken the job, she’d been desperate to get away from
Carlos and make it on her own. Victoria’s Secret was the only place
that was hiring so Frankie had applied. Now she was stuck selling
overpriced panties and bras—at least until she got a job teaching
yoga.

Soon,
she
promised herself, bouncing up the stairs of the Humanities
building.
Soon
I’ll be out of retail for good.

In fact, she’d
completed her two hundred hour certification recently, but she had
a final test coming up and she was trying to get in as many classes
between now and then as she could, both to practice and to calm her
nerves. The two hundred hour certification was enough to teach in
most studios but Shelia Landrace, the owner of the Lotus Pond where
Frankie took her teacher training, was very particular. She had a
test that was legendary for being tough to pass. But Frankie knew
she was ready. If she could only pass, Sheila had promised she
could teach several beginner’s classes a week to start out.

“
Focus on your breathing,”
Frankie imagined herself telling her students.
“Feel the breath flow in
and out of you…breath is life…breathe into any tight spaces and as
you exhale, rid yourself of anything that does not serve
you…”

“
Oh, Francesca—I was hoping to see you here this
morning.”

The soft, male voice
interrupted her thoughts and Frankie turned quickly, her heart
pounding.

“
Oh, Professor Ramlow.” She smoothed her fly-away hair
nervously, wishing she’d gotten up in time to wash it. “Good
morning.”

“
Now, Francesca, how often do I have to tell you to call me
Todd?” He smiled at her benevolently.

“
Of course…Todd.” Frankie smiled at him shyly. Professor Ramlow
was one of the few males teaching in the Women’s Studies department
and he also happened to be very handsome—in a generic, white guy
kind of way. But that was fine with Frankie—she’d had enough Latin
machismo bullshit to last her a lifetime with Carlos. She was sick
of male posturing—she could definitely see herself with a
sensitive, enlightened, emotionally intelligent man. Even if he was
white and Protestant, which would undoubtedly give her
abuela
another fainting
fit.

Frankie sighed inwardly. Too bad, Professor Ramlow was married
because there was
definitely
some kind of attraction between them. She had taken his
course,
Literature
by Women of Color,
and had stayed after one day to argue about a Maya Angelou
poem. Ever since, he made it a point to talk to her and pay her
special attention whenever he saw her.

Even though she knew
he was married, Frankie couldn’t help feeling flattered by the way
he singled her out. She was older than the traditional student,
after all, and she wasn’t Barbie-doll pretty like most of the
nineteen-year-old co-eds running around campus. Her fly-away hair
and big behind were the exact opposite of the slim girls with their
long, straight hair she saw all around her. Yet Professor
Ramlow—Todd—seemed interested in her—seemed to respect her
intellect. And after years of living with a man who only cared
about her cooking and cleaning skills, it was refreshing to find
someone who liked the fact that she had a brain.

“
I’m so glad I caught you,” Todd said, smiling at her. “I know
you’ve been looking for a TA position and something has just opened
up.”

“
It has?” Frankie couldn’t keep the eagerness out of her voice.
“With you?” Though teaching Yoga classes would help her leave
retail hell, it still wouldn’t make her enough to move into a
nicer, safer place. But being a TA
and
teaching some classes on the side would certainly pay enough
to get her out of the starving-student gutter.

Todd nodded. “Yes,
with me. So I was wondering if we could have dinner tomorrow night
and discuss it?”

Frankie felt her heart flutter.
Stop it,
she told herself sternly.
It’s only a job he’s talking about and
besides, he’s married!
Still, it was flattering that he would come looking for her
because he wanted her especially as his new TA.

“
I’d love that…Todd,” she said, smiling shyly. “Where and what
time?”

“
Well, I was hoping maybe we could go to your place.” He
shifted uneasily, his genial smile slipping just a little. “You
see, Nancy—my wife—and I are, er, going through a rather messy
divorce. And I don’t need to give her any more ammunition by
letting myself be seen with such a beautiful woman out in
public.”

“
Oh, well…” Frankie could feel herself blushing. “My place
isn’t in the best part of town, you know. I really can’t
afford—”

“
I
don’t care about the location,” Todd assured her quickly. “All I’m
interested in is the
company.”
He
took Frankie’s hand and squeezed it gently, looking into her eyes.
“What do you say? I can bring take-out from Lemongrass—they were
just voted the best Thai restaurant in the Bay area.”

Frankie’s pulse was
racing so hard she wondered if he could feel it as he held her
hand.

“
I
think that would be great,” she said softly. “Um…should I give you
my address?”

“
I’d love that.” Todd brought out his cell phone and tapped it
in as she recited it. Then he tucked it back in his pocket and
flashed her a grin. “See you tomorrow at eight,
Francesca.”

“
See you then.” Frankie smiled and headed off to class. She was
going to be walking in late at this point but she barely cared. A
new TA position
and
an
evening alone with the handsome Professor Ramlow—could this day get
any better?

* *
* * *

Commander Kerov Volx
sighed with satisfaction and armed sweat off his forehead. Could
his day get any better? The fighting had been particularly rough of
late, but his battalion had repelled the enemy yet again and the
Ministry wasn’t predicting another swarm for a week at least. Which
was good. It meant he could have some time off—a few days when he
didn’t have to sleep in the barracks and live on war rations.

Kerov looked around
the large, cavernous holding facility with satisfaction. Everywhere
males and females in black and scarlet uniforms were busy—breaking
down equipment, servicing transports, cleaning and checking
weapons. His people knew they had a whole solar week off but before
they could leave, every piece of equipment had to be in top shape,
ready for the next swarm. There was an air of suppressed excitement
and a hum of contentment all around. Though the battle had been
even more arduous than usual, they hadn’t lost a single soldier. It
had been a good day.

“
Kerov.” A hand clapped him on the back and he turned to see
Jorn, the commander of another unit similar to his own.

Jorn was tall and
slim with narrow shoulders, a shock of white-blond hair, and
blackish-purple eyes. His build, as well as his long, angular face,
betokened the fact that he was pure bred Tarsian with no Kindred
DNA in his gene pool. Kerov was the opposite—his broad shoulders
and heavy musculature gave away his Kindred origins as unmistakably
as his pale gray eyes.

Yet, despite their
differences and the fact that those with Kindred DNA weren’t always
smiled upon in Tarsian society, the two males were good
friends.

“
Greetings,” Kerov said heartily, clapping the other male on
the back in return. “How goes the battle?” It was a standard
greeting but his friend laughed anyway.

“
You tell me! I heard you repelled a swarm twice as large as
usual and yet didn’t lose a single man. That’s good work, my
friend.”

Kerov shrugged
modestly. “It’s all in knowing the strengths and weaknesses of
those under your command. I have a good group.”

“
And they have a good Commander—which hasn’t gone without
notice. Brigadier Tlox has requested your presence at the General’s
Banquet at the Ministry of War tomorrow night after the
review.”

“
Really?” Kerov’s heart pounded a little faster though he
tried to keep his face impassive. “I wonder what he wants with
me?”

“
He wants to promote you, of course,” Jorn said. “That’s my
guess, anyway. What else would he want from the most successful
Commander in the Quadrex sector?”

“
I
doubt that.” Kerov ran a hand through his short, dark blond
hair—much darker than his friend’s white-blond shade and another
giveaway as to his ancestry. “You know those in the upper echelon
are all pure bred Tarsians. When was the last time anyone with
Kindred genes rose above the rank of Commander?”

“
That’s just holdover from the early days when the Kindred
first joined our society,” Jorn objected. “Back before the need to
Switch or Trade had been bred out. Everyone knows such prejudices
are outdated now.”

“
Some bigotry never dies,” Kerov said darkly. “Sometimes I
think I’ll never live down my ancestors’ shameful proclivity for
Trading bodies with their mates.”

“
You will—you
have,”
his
friend insisted. “All the old thoughts are dying as younger
commanders rise to take the places of our sires and grandsires. Do
you know that Brigadier Tlox is only five cycles older than you and
me?”

“
And
a pure
Tarsian with no Kindred blood to sully his pedigree,” Kerov pointed
out. But secretly, he couldn’t help feeling excited. Could Jorn be
right? Was he really being singled out for promotion?