16. Yellow Flag #2
My dad, being a race car driver, always put himself in danger.
It didn’t help that my mom insisted on drag racing with him in the underground circuit.
They were the ultimate thrill seekers. Leaving Holt, Rose and me behind to chase whatever adrenaline rush they could find.
They didn’t need to. They were filthy rich oil barons.
Apparently that wasn’t enough for them. Hell, being parents wasn’t enough for them.
And now the girl whose hand I’m holding wants to strap herself to a rocket.
A shudder races down my spine and I try to play it off by shrugging my shoulders and reaching for my beer.
It was a long time ago, but I remember when our parents died.
Racing with a bunch of other adrenaline junkie motorheads, taking risks they had no right to take with three kids at home.
It was an underground street race, so all it took was one pothole at high speed, and the car my dad had lovingly restored spun out and flipped until it resembled nothing more than a crushed beer can.
My mother had been a gold-digger. There’s no getting around that.
But the one thing my mom and dad had in common, besides a love of money, was their love of racing.
My dad loved the cars and my mom loved the thrill.
And the expense of the sport, no doubt. They weren’t the most stable parental presence, but they were our parents and they had died doing something selfish and dangerous.
I may not know much about aerospace engineering, but I know if a simple pothole can kill so easily, riding a rocket to the Space Station has to be a hell of a lot more dangerous.
All the talking and laughing around us distracts me, which is good, because as Gramps would say, worrying about the future is as effective as pissing in the wind.
Jackie blushes her way through the NASA group chit-chat, using a weird mix of acronyms and engineering terms like a second language.
I don’t understand most of it, but I do understand passion, and Jackie has it in spades when it comes to NASA.
I’m not about to ruin this for her with my own insecurities or my family’s shit.
I ignore the anxiety building in my chest at the thought of Jackie in space, and I ignore my brother. Maybe Jackie won’t get offered the astronaut position. And maybe it’s time for Holt and me to move beyond the past.
Maybe.
Jackie
I have a hot auto mechanic wrapped around me while sitting in a bar on a Sunday.
I’ve spent the last half hour introducing my co-workers to my friends and Flynn.
A girl from work actually high-fived me when I introduced her to Flynn.
Jules even got them all to stand in front of the camera so she could ‘get a better look.’
I thought it especially interesting how much Jules relished making Holt blush.
I don’t question everyone’s interest. The Wests are one good-looking bunch of siblings.
Flynn with his blue-green eyes and light brown hair.
Rose’s ironic sweet country beauty. And now Holt, all tall, dark and handsome complete with a Southern twang and a cowboy hat.
Flynn nuzzles my neck and I see Rebecca from Payloads sigh. I can’t get over that this is my life now. Operation Social Life is working. Mental fist pump.
“Earth to Jackie?” Rose calls from across the table.
I blink, refocusing. “Mmm?”
“Trish has decided that Holt is not her type.” Holt sputters into his beer glass while Trish sends him an apologetic shrug. “Where be all the hot man astronauts?” Rose jerks her thumb to the screen. “You know, the ones currently on land who are more easily doable.”
“Christ, Rose,” Flynn mutters. His breath tickles my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
My glasses slip down my nose, but before I can adjust them, Flynn’s index finger pushes the frames back into place.
He’s been staring at Rose, shaking his head in exasperation when he adjusted my glasses.
I know I’m making more of it than I should.
But it’s just that the movement was so fluid, so second nature, that it made me feel… I don’t know, important to him somehow.
Annnnnd, I need to stop thinking like this. Emotional rationale is not a thing, no matter how much I want it to be. Flynn probably has good reflexes or something.
“Holt, we’re out of beer. Go get us a new pitcher.” Rose pushes the empty one toward her brother.
I jump up, ready to change my train of thought. “I’ll get it!” Flynn starts to object, but I cut him off. “No, really. The astronauts are buying, remember? I just need to show them my badge.” I pull my lanyard out from my pocket and slip it over my head.
“Geek chic, girl.” Rose nods at my badge.
“Oh yeah. We’re real fashion conscious at NASA.” I swing my leg over the bench.
Rose clucks. “So you decided not to go for the thong, huh?”
I freeze mid-step . Dang it .
“Rose!” Trish smacks Rose’s arm.
“What? I was just saying...”
The surface of Mars has nothing on the current shade my face is turning, I’m sure. I make to hustle off and get the beer when Flynn pulls on my arm, bringing my face level to his. The first kiss is light. The second, not so much.
“Get it, girl!” someone shouts.
At the end, I can’t dredge up any embarrassment over having flashed my underwear. In fact, I would probably strip down to my bra and panties for another kiss.
Instead, I rein in my newly raging hormones and head toward the porch bar. It’s jam-packed so I decide to try my luck inside.
The rush of air conditioning chills my sweaty skin. People say you get used to the Texas heat.
They lie.
I lean forward on the less crowded bar, badge in hand. NASA throws a lot of business Boondoggle’s way, so even though it’s kind of shameless, I wave my badge around in order to get faster service.
I have a hot auto mechanic to get back to. A hot mechanic who likes me.
Lost in daydreams, I don’t realize someone’s stepped into the space next to me until they speak.
“Well, aren’t you cute!”
I glance over my shoulder to see a woman worthy of a Victoria’s Secret commercial standing a few inches away, leaning on the bar like she owns it.
Sleek, shiny blond hair falls in a precise, angled bob.
She reminds me of a Barbie doll, especially with the insanely high stiletto heels.
And her dress is reminiscent of the outfit I wore to Big Texas, except hers is actually shorter and tighter and she isn’t wearing a jacket.
Thinking in Flynn terms, I’d describe it as not exactly street legal.
Not a single freckle mars this woman’s deeply tanned skin. Her left brow arches over a heavily made-up eye as she returns my study of her person with her own of mine. All I can think is—who’d wear that to lunch at a family restaurant/bar?
I look around, thinking she’s talking to someone else. But I don’t think she was calling the pot-bellied, long-bearded man on my other side cute.
“Excuse me?” I ask, turning back to her.
“I said, ‘aren’t you cute?’” Her smile looks stiff and mean while the tanned skin of her forehead and around her eyes is tight and unnaturally smooth.
“Thank you?” I search for something nice to say back, as I’m pretty sure that’s correct social protocol, but I definitely don’t think she’s cute, nor do I think comparing her to a Barbie doll will go over too well. I settle for, “You must have exceptionally toned legs to walk in such high heels.”
Her lips twist, as if she can’t tell if I’m being a smartass or not. Honestly, I don’t know myself. I just know I’m extremely uncomfortable talking to her. And for someone who is usually uncomfortable in social situations, that’s saying something.
“You must be his flavor of the month.” She pouts, her thick lip gloss melding her lips together.
Huh?
“Flynn,” she continues, when it’s obvious I’m not grasping her insinuation.
“I can see how a woman of your...style?... might attract him for a bit.” She flashes her teeth.
“He always did like unique models. But after he fixes them up and drives them for a while, he gets bored and trades them in. Looks like he got himself a real fixer-upper this time.” She gives me another once-over.
“Oh, darling, are those sneakers?” She laughs. Not kindly.
My hands bunch into fists at ‘darling.’ I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to hit someone in my entire life, but I desperately want to take a swing at her overly plumped lips. “Who are you?”
“Me? I’m Beth.” She pauses, like I’m supposed to know what that means.
“Beth who?”
Her expression falls for a moment, but she recovers quickly. “I’m the girl Flynn West wants to marry.”
My mouth drops open and it’s enough to bring that smug look back to her face.
“Marry?”
“That’s right, little girl.” She waves her pointy, polished talons at me.
“You might interest him enough for him to want to pop your hood and figure out how you tick, but I’m the classic he’ll keep coming back to.
” She runs both of her hands down the sides of her body, then looks pointedly at my shoes and laughs again. It’s soft and deep and sexy. And mean.
Mean enough that I don’t correct her on her faulty metaphor. Cars don’t tick, clocks do.
“Flynn is just slumming, sweetie. He’ll come around and realize his place is with me. He always does.”
The bar tunnels around me and suddenly I’m back in college, listening to the guy I liked joke with his friends about me, about how he finally bagged the nerd. Only now Brian’s face is Flynn’s and the laughter sounds like a woman’s high-pitched giggle.
“Here’s your pitcher.” The bartender sets it down, the noise making me jump. He looks to Beth, smiling. “And what can I get you ?”
Beth licks her lips and angles forward, effectively turning her back on me.
And just like that, I’m forgotten.
Looking at the weirdly symmetrical everything on this woman, I wonder how long it will take Flynn to forget me too.
I pick up the pitcher and make my way outside.
I stand there for a moment taking in the scene.
Trish is talking to Ian. Holt watches the screen while Jules shows off, doing flips in zero gravity.
Flynn sits facing away from his brother but smiling at Rose.
It’s a scene that a moment ago would’ve made me feel like I was living the dream.
Someone bumps me hard from behind and half the pitcher of beer spills, soaking my Chucks.
“Oops. Sorry.” Beth has her hand over her mouth, but she can’t quite hide the smile behind it. She brushes past me and struts toward the steps.
I wiggle my toes in my sopping shoes, tears burning behind my eyes.
“Jackie?” Rose stands, looking at me. Her attention snaps over to where Beth is grouped next to another blonde. “What. The. Fuck.” Gone is the usual affable, sweet smile. Rose looks frightening, and with how the blonde next to Beth straightens and backs up, I’m sure she thinks the same.
Rose is up and over the bench, striding toward the two women before I can take a deep breath and collect myself.
Flynn stands as well, looking at the women Rose just charged up to. “What the hell, Holt? Isn’t it enough you fucked my ex, now you invite her out? What the hell is wrong with you?”
All of my co-workers’ heads swivel around the bar, taking in the new drama I’ve brought to their door.
Holt opens his mouth, but never gets a chance to speak.
Because right then, all hell breaks loose on the ISS.
Sirens wail from the speakers by the bar. Everyone flinches and covers their ears. The small LED emergency lights flash yellow across the white station on the screen.
I forget about Beth and my squishy shoes. I put the pitcher down and run over to the camera.
“Jules!” I shout into the microphone.
The astronauts have started pulling themselves in different directions, zooming across the TV, and Jules grabs onto one of the wall handles to steady herself, looking into the camera.
“Gotta go, hooker. But if you’d get yourself to MCC to sort this shit out, I’d appreciate it.
” Her head turns for a moment as she talks to Bodie off screen.
“Yeah, got it.” She turns to me. “Looks like the second EXT isn’t syncing like we hoped.
” Her words sound like her, but her tone makes the back of my neck itch.
She blows me a kiss, reaches past the camera and then the feed goes dead.
I spin and scan the crowd of people now fumbling for their phones or making for the parking lot. I see Ian on his cell near the stairs. He catches my eye and waves me over. I maneuver through the chaos, but Trish waylays me halfway there.
She grabs hold of my shoulders in her hands. “Jackie. What’s happening? You okay?”
“Something’s wrong on the station. I have to go.”
She looks down to my wet shoes for a beat before looking me in the eye and squeezing my shoulders briefly. “Okay, good luck, sweetie.” She pulls me in for a quick hug and steps out of my way.
“Thanks,” I say, already on the move to Ian. When I get there we both jog down the stairs to his car. I glance over my shoulder and see Flynn shoving Holt while Rose is rolling on the porch floor with Beth and the other blonde.
“Jackie, you coming?” Ian asks.
I pull my gaze from Flynn and back to Ian. He’s holding the passenger door open.
“Yeah. I’m coming.”