Big Julie Says

Bea retired early.
Portia tried lounging in her cabin. The bed was comfy. The comforter shimmered and changed colors according to the occupant’s mood. Currently it was green. According to the instruction card on the bedside table, green signified anxiety, which was pretty accurate. Portia was anxious.
She played the Crosby’s message again on her data pad. She up linked the data pad to see if there was new message but there was none. Either the Crosby did not feel the need to continue transmitting messages about the mysterious missing Hope colony, or her alternations to the Crosby’s terminal were discovered. Probably the latter.
Portia tried watching the news feeds, an old holo, but she aimlessly flicked through the channels. Cloister was sleeping peacefully. His section of the comforter was a deep blue.
“Computer, locate Franklin Linkenfelter.”
“Franklin Linkenfelter is on the casino floor. Shall I patch you through?”
“No.”
Portia put her boots back on and left the cabin.
The casino was always packed with people, always busy, and always a headache-inducing onslaught of lights and sounds.
It didn’t take long to find Franklin. He was shadowing Big Julie and Big Julie was always the center of attention.
They were at the craps table. Big Julie was indeed a big man. Tall, wide, muscular and not fat, and dressed nattily in a very old-fashioned mid-twentieth century suit.
Big appeared to be doing very well for himself. A crowded had gathered around the table. On either side of Big Julie were two very attractive women in typical dress for Laredo: next to nothing.
Big Julie held out the dice to brunette on his right. She giggled and then blew on the dice. For luck, Portia imagined.
Franklin was two girls away down the table. He had a small stack of chips in front of himself but he seemed bored.
Portia waved to get his attention.
If Franklin saw her, she’d never know. She turned away and drifted to the brightly flashing slot machines. She hadn’t been to a casino before and didn’t understand the gambling games, but any person with a button pushing finger could play the slots. She found a nice looking machine, Western themed with old Earth cowboys and horses, and settled in to loose money.
Portia entered a UGO and pushed the button to bet. No win.
A man, thin and weasely in demeanor, and also dressed in a ridiculously old fashioned suit, leaned heavily on the machine. He cleared his throat and pushed his hat back with his thumb.
“Can I help you?”
“Big Julie says you should come stand over there.”
“He does?”
“Big Julie appreciates beauty in all its forms.”
“Big Julie seems to already have enough in the way of beauty.”
“Big Julie appreciates a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind, but he also appreciates a woman who knows how to accept a gracious invitation.”
“Perhaps Big Julie can appreciate that he can not always have what he wants.”
“Big Julie won’t be happy, miss.”
“You’re breaking my heart, now scram.” Portia entered another UGO and pushed the button.
No win.
“Is this man bothering you?”
Portia smiled at Franklin. “It seems I’m a disappointment to Big Julie, not wanting to be one of his admirers.”
Franklin jerked his head to one side to indicate that the weasel man should leave. “Tell Big Julie that some things at Laredo are off limits.”
“He won’t like that.”
“Then he can take it up with Turkish.”
The weasel man scurried off.
Franklin turned towards Portia. “What are you doing, playing on a sucker machine?”
Portia shrugged. “Guess I don’t know how to play anything else.”
“Really, because with a mind like yours, I’d think you’d make a killing at the Twenty One table.”
“And how does one play this Twenty One?”
Franklin explained as they made their way to the table. They started at a low bet table.
Five hands later, Portia was mastering the game.
“The house has seventeen.”
“I won again?”
“Looks it, Gizmo.”
Portia was so happy with her winnings that she didn’t notice the code name.
“And know I need to tell you the biggest secret to gambling.
“Hmm? What’s that?”
“Walk away.”
“But I’m winning.”
“Just walk away.”
Portia pointed to her stack of chips. “Winning,” she repeated.
“For how long?” Franklin pointed towards Big Julie. The crowded had vanished and clearly he was no longer participating in the great night he was having an hour ago. “Walking away is what makes the difference between a good gambler and someone Turkish needs to have babysat. Let’s go visit our friend.”
“He’s not my friend.”
“Come on. Big Julie appreciates beauty in all its many delightful forms.”
Portia’s winnings were added to her credit stick. She followed Franklin across the floor to Big Julie’s table.
Big Julie spotted her and nodded a greeting. “How are you, precious? Having a good night.”
“I found out tonight that my father was the illegitimate grandson of Boone Fabulous. I don’t know if it’s been a good night, though. Interesting.”
“What are you drinking?” Big Julie asked. “Are you old enough to drink?”
“I’m twenty eight,” she said automatically. Then she leaned into Franklin and whispered, “What am I drinking?”
“Zombie. You drink Zombies. Zombies all around.”
“I don’t think I drink Zombies.”
“Of course you do,” Franklin said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
The Zombie arrived, dark and wicked looking. She took an experimental first sip. It was deceptively sweet. She liked it.
Alcohol really goes to your head faster in space. After two drinks Portia was having a hard time walking in a straight line as the group left the casino. She was also laughing loudly. Big Julie was really funny when she was drunk.
“I likes you, kid,” Big Julie said, placing a meaty hand on her shoulder.
“I’m not a kid,” Portia said.
“Why are you doing in a place like this, anyway?”
“Beatrice. You have to go find hope. We lost hope, you see? And Bea really, really wants to find it on account of Kate, who’s her sister.”
Big Julie looked over Portia’s head and at Franklin. “What’s the reason she’s here?”
“Going to visit family on a colony.”
“Oh, good. Family’s important. You okay to get back to your cabin?”
“I’ll take her back,” Franklin said.
“Take care of her,” Big Julie said. The Weasel Man followed Big Julie down their corridor.
Franklin put his arm around Portia for support. “We’re nearly at your cabin,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“For being such a messy drunk. I hardly ever get drunk on Earth.”
“Happens to the best of us.”
“Not to you.”
Franklin smirked. “Yeah, well, what you going to do? I suppose I was a messy drunk once upon a time, too.”
“You’re cute.”
“So are you.” His finger lightly brushed her nose.
“You treat me like your kid sister.”
“Nothing wrong with that. You’re supposed to love your sister.”
A door slide open as Portia approached it; must be her cabin.
“Come inside,” she asked, smirking. She wanted to act calm but ended up giggling.
“I better or you’ll just fall asleep on the floor.”




“What did you think when you first met me?” Portia asked.
“I thought,” Franklin said, settling next to her on the couch, “she’s pretty cute but doesn’t look like she knows how to have a good time.”
“And can you show me a good time?” She batted her eyelids in poor flirtation.
“You don’t call this fun?”
The vid screen was on a music video channel. The latest pop princess was shaking her bare legal, barely clad body in a provocative manner.
“Courtney Gears is rubbish,” Portia said. She leaned her head on his shoulder, curling up next to him. “She can’t even stay in tune. Is it me, or were pop stars actually better when we were younger?”
“They were rubbish, too, but we where too young to know the difference.”
“So,” Portia said. “Here we are.”
“Yes,” Franklin agreed. “Here we are.”
“Swank cabin. Beautiful stars.”
“Mmm,” Franklin agreed.
“Because when I first saw you, I thought you were about the single most beautiful person I ever saw in real life.”
Portia could feel Franklin stiffen.
“I see,” he said.
Portia sat upright. “You see.”
“I’m flattered you feel that way but…”
“Oh no,” Portia said, leaping from the couch. “Don’t give me the I just don’t feel that way about you speech because I know better.”
“You know better?”
“We have chemistry,” she said.
“What we have are two different personalities that irate each other. That is not chemistry.” Franklin was now standing toe to toe with Portia, eyes locked.
“Then why did you come here?”
“Because you’re so drunk you could pass out on the floor.”
“Not here,” Portia said. “Here!” She gestured wildly with her arms. “Why did you insist on following me, weaseling your way on board my ship, if you weren’t secretly planning to get some?”
“Doesn’t this strike you as a hell of a lot of work just to get some?”
“You’re the one who keeps finding ways to barge in on me when I’m naked!”
“That was an accident!”
“Sure, a naked accident, the happiest of all the accidents!”
“I wasn’t hitting on you,” Franklin said.
Portia crossed her arms. She felt vain and silly and angry and embarrassed that she had shamelessly thrown herself at Franklin and he was standing there acting disgusting because he might catch the girl cooties. “Then what is it that you want, exactly, Franklin Linkenfelter?”
“I want to know why you’re always so angry at me,” Franklin said.
“Because when I met you, I thought you liked me, appreciated me. Now I know you regard me as just another commodity. A venture.”
“I do like you,” he said. He grabbed both her hands and stepped closer. “But I have a policy regarding relations with…”
“With your investments?”
“True, but I’m not in your employ. I’m not your Entourage. And when I saw you at the rally, I thought you were spectacularly cute.”
“I am cute,” Portia confirmed. “But I have other qualities.”
“And did I mention how well that dress shows off your brains? Very fetching.”
Franklin was close now, his hands firmly grasping her own. Portia recognized the electricity in the air; she knew they were moments from a kiss.
“Now I know you’re just teasing me,” she said.
“I would never tease. I’m my own man now and I never tease.”
His own man.
Portia pulled away. “What’s your angle?”
“I don’t have an angle.”
“You have an angle somewhere. When we met, you wanted to celebrate a new venture. I know it’s not me, so who is it?”
“There’ no venture. My own man!”
“Everything good a shiny, what are you planning to do with my grandmother?”
“Beatrice?”
“Yeah, Bea. You’ve watched the holo more than a hundred times, you’re a huge fan, you said so yourself.”
“I’m doing you a favor by tagging along. If anything, you’re my Entourage,” Franklin said.
“I don’t want you to do me any favors.”
“I got us this far. You’d still be back on Earth wringing your hands, not sure what to do.”
“You don’t know so much,” Portia said. “I would have figured something out.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. You see, I problem solve for a living. I see something’s that broken, I think about, and then I fix it. I don’t live off the fame of others, cannibalizing the left over scrapes of their fame, cleaning up after Big Julies!”
“If that’s what you think I do,” Franklin began to say.
“Yeah, that what I think you do.”
Franklin’s eyes seemed to grow cold. “We have an early meeting tomorrow.”