"KNOW WHAT SUCKS?"
 
"What?" With Patrick snuggled under his arm, Rafael pointed the remote at the DVD player and switched off the power. He wondered if Patrick would insist on watching another Star Wars movie.
 
"Nobody, like, hugs the kid or anything. They drag him halfway across the galaxy and argue that he's the wrong age and gonna be evil, but nobody hugs him or asks him if he's okay. No wonder he goes to the dark side." Patrick pulled out of their embrace and pushed a stray bit of blond hair out of his eyes. "What would you do if I went to the dark side?"
 
Rafael leaned close. Patrick backed against the arm of the couch, his blue eyes widening. Rafael made his voice a low whisper. "Then I would have to kill you."
 
"You aren't supposed to say 'kill me,'" Patrick huffed.
 
"You have gone to the dark side. What am I supposed to do?"
 
"Rescue me. Make me come back to the good side."
 
"Ah." Rafael pretended to consider it then impatiently waved away the suggestion. "No, that would take too much time. Much easier to kill you."
 
"That makes you an evil Jedi."
 
"I am on the good side and you are on the dark side. That means you are trying to kill me. Why am I not supposed to kill you?"
 
"You're supposed to know I'm worth saving and rescue me."
 
Rafael shrugged. "I have an entire galaxy to save. I don't have time to waste rescuing one confused Paduan apprentice."
 
Patrick looked thoughtful. "I'm faster than you. I'd win."
 
"I am stronger. I would win."
 
"Nope." Patrick's eyes glinted with the challenge.
 
Rafael glanced at his watch. Still early. The inn was empty and there was nothing to be done before the evening's meeting. He stretched. "Get the lightsabers."
 
Patrick shot off the couch and into the spare bedroom. Rafael found an elastic band in his pocket and pulled his dark hair back into a ponytail. Patrick returned with two gray-handled lightsabers. He tossed one to Rafael and struck a combative stance. Rafael flipped his plastic blade out. Patrick's lighted blade swung at him.
 
He deflected it and stepped back, banging against the couch. He held up a hand. "Wait. We need more space." Pretending to study the room, he moved toward the door.
 
Patrick lowered his weapon. Rafael leapt into the hall, pulling the door closed. He dashed to the inn's empty lobby and pressed against the wall, waiting. He heard the door open. No footsteps. Patrick was probably barefoot. Rafael readied his lightsaber. Patrick surprised him by diving low and sliding across the polished wood floor.
 
"You anticipate my moves well, apprentice," Rafael intoned in his best Jedi voice.
 
Patrick's lightsaber slashed out. "My skill surpasses yours, master."
 
Rafael leapt back, pulling his stomach in. Patrick was fast, and a couple inches taller than him. "Remind me to choose shorter apprentices in the future."
 
"What!" Patrick swung again. "You'll not live to choose another apprentice."
 
Rafael swung back. As his lightsaber thunked against Patrick's, he edged toward the stairs.
 
"Retreating?" Patrick slashed forward. His socks slid on the polished wood floor, and he fell to his knees.
 
Rafael flew up the stairs and down the hallway. He hid again, waiting. He heard the floor squeak. Patrick was moving slowly. Time to go on the offensive. He leapt from his hiding spot.
 
"Defend yourself." He swung his lightsaber.
 
Patrick took a step back.
 
Rafael pressed forward. "Think you have learned all there is to know, apprentice?" He swung hard, hitting Patrick's weapon. The blade shattered, sending the plastic sections spinning.
 
Rafael laughed. "Now, you are mine."
 
Patrick tossed away his broken handle and ran. "Gotta catch me first."
 
Rafael thudded after him. When he reached the stairs, Patrick was already halfway down. He glanced at the fleeing form, then the banister. He leapt, letting his jeans slide along the polished wood. "Ah hah!" he yelled, and Patrick dove forward.
 
Patrick hit the floor just as the inn door opened. Rafael landed, more or less, on his feet. Myra stood in the doorway, staring.
 
"A Sith Lord." Patrick rolled. He pushed to his feet and dodged behind Rafael. "Save me, master!"
 
"I thought you were going over to the dark side," Rafael whispered, wondering if Myra ever bothered to watch Star Wars.
 
"Too scary," Patrick whispered back.
 
Myra crossed her arms. "Why can't you behave yourself? What if I'd been a client? Good Lord, what if I had been Ambrose Lunan?" She glared at Rafael. "You should know better than to let him act like this."
 
"You came here to offer this advice?"
 
"I came to find out if you've seen the terms for Lunan's seminar yet."
 
"No," Rafael said. "I have not."
 
"Joshua is gonna tell everyone at tonight's meeting," Patrick said. "So we can talk about it."
 
"I don't see how your opinion could matter. You're not a member of the board."
 
"Patrick and I will both be there," Rafael said.
 
Myra's gaze snapped back to him. "You do realize how much Ambrose Lunan's support could mean for our seminar business? I'm sure you understand that we must be willing to accommodate his demands."
 
Patrick let out a ragged half-laugh.
 
"What do you find so funny?" Myra asked.
 
"You're psychic. Figure it out."
 
"I don't expect to hear you making smart-ass comments like that to Ambrose Lunan."
 
"Enough." Rafael placed himself squarely between Patrick and Myra. "I will discuss Ambrose at the meeting. Not now."
 
"Joshua hasn't told you what Ambrose expects?"
 
"No."
 
Rafael felt Patrick's chin rest on his shoulder. "But I know," he whispered.
 
"I can't imagine how you would," Myra said. "And I don't have time to play your games. I have to get back to the bookstore. Rafael, I would fire him for insolence if he worked for me."
 
Rafael waited until the door closed behind her, then turned to Patrick. His head was down, blond mane hiding his face. Rafael reached out to push back the hair. Patrick's cheeks were flushed a deep crimson. "Tonight, I will tell them that I do not wish to hold the seminar here."
 
Patrick's head lifted. "You can't. Myra will kill you. No, she'll kill me 'cause she'll think it's my fault."
 
"I will make sure she knows it is not your fault."
 
"She'll still blame it on me."
 
Patrick was right, but other issues were more important. "I do not want Ambrose Lunan at this inn."
 
"I don't want Myra pissed at me. Besides, we need the money. How many bookings do we have?"
 
"We're a little slow," he admitted.
 
"Then let Ambrose give us some money. Know what'll happen if you don't?"
 
"He will find another place to hold his seminar."
 
"Nope," Patrick said. "He'll still come here. He'll just stay somewhere else 'cause Myra will help him. Then he'll show up everyday, and you won't get any money."
 
"I do not need his money."
 
"I don't need everyone mad at me. Please, Rafe. You think it's easy 'cause you just go to the meeting and say no and nobody bugs you. They'll go after me. Do you think I want everyone asking me why Ambrose can't stay here? What am I supposed to say?"
 
"What are we going to tell them if Ambrose stays?"
 
"Nothing. It's not like he's going to blab. He's too busy being famous. He'll be all secretive and make sure Myra and his fans don't suspect anything."
 
Rafael brushed back Patrick's bangs. "I don't want you hurt."
 
"I won't be. 'Cause we're together."