Guilty Diamond Hands

Chapter 11: Familiar Faces

"Do you really think I would go somewhere without being prepared?"

You were grateful for what Qi'ra did, but you wanted to be left alone where you could have some time for yourself. You really needed this. A peaceful place where you could be around people without being glued to your shoe like a piece of chewing gum.

You raised your brows and leaned your head against the cold window.

October has never looked so colorful on the trees as it did this year. The cash register at Starbucks rang already with the most successful, warm-filled pumpkin spice latte. Dogs rummaged through the piles of leaves and creepy jack-o'-lantern faces sat by the front doors. While little kids ran around the neighborhood dressed as ghosts with their white sheets, the adults dressed up in their traditional folk costumes. Everyone prepared themselves for the Munich beer festival or, as you liked to call it, the 'drunk festival.' During this time, beer became the fresh water, and sleep was for the weak.

After a short drive, you arrived at the sports arena and climbed out of the car.

"Trust me, if it wouldn't be for your mother, I would literally have no problem letting you go all by yourself. And although I would rather be somewhere else, I'm only doing this because," — Qi'ra paused, eyebrows down and furrowed in doubt — "I truly need a break from that woman."

You laughed aloud in wonder at her confession as you placed the hat on your head.

"Why didn't you say that! Okay, hear me out. You go where you want to be, and in four hours, you come and pick me up, and we simply tell my mom that you've been with me the whole time. Deal?" you proposed with a grin.

"Nice try, Smurf," she sneered, locking the door.

"Oh c'mon, not you too! Stop giving me nicknames! They really piss me off!" you chided, marching behind her.

First Chipmunk and Granny, then sweetie plus love. Not to forget, the nickname you hated the most was 'little witch.'

With one hand, Qi'ra effortlessly opened the front door of the arena. She made it seem so easy and signed for you to walk in.

When you entered the building, the first thing your eyes caught was the painful color yellow. It was like a sting in the eye.

In front of you, next to the stairs, stood Lando Calrissian with his back turned to you. It seemed as if he was speaking on the phone, and the slamming of the door made him turn around. It didn't look like he recognized you. For a second, he looked mystified, so you smiled and waved at him in the hope he might remember you. Or at least your hat. He put away his phone and gradually approached you while rubbing his hands together.

"Well, hello, what have we here?"

Lando took Qi'ra's hand gently like a soft feather and pressed a kiss on it, to which she softly chuckled.

"Qi'ra, my dear, you look exactly the way I remember you. After all those years, you still look ... phenomenal as always," he complimented her in a flirty tone.

"You don't look too bad yourself. I always wondered if you were born with that mustache of yours. It's still the same, but more ... greyish. You truly aged like fine wine."

"Oh, Qi'ra," Lando let out a wicked laugh. "You really haven't aged at all."

You felt a little stupid, being in the middle of a reunion as it seems of so—called old friends. You nearly forgot your own existence by standing next to them like a stupid decoration.

"Tell me. What are you doing here, with," — Lando indented with his head to you — "Luke's bartender?"

You elevated your jaw, ready to say something, and just in that second, Qi'ra stopped you by holding her hand in front of your face. This was a rude gesture of her, but at least she didn't tell you, "The adults are talking."