3. Low Orbit #2
Finding his voice, Ian follows me back into the garage. “You’re really going to stay in your trailer? In my garage?” The disbelief in his voice is both amusing and insulting.
I rest the gas can on the floor of the garage, just by the threshold. “Yep.”
His response is a shake of his head and another lost look.
He’s so cute, I can’t help but tease him as I swing open my trailer door. “But Ian, honey, anytime you feel like a visit, you're more than welcome to come a’knocking.” With a wink, I step inside, closing the door behind me.
It’s true, me staying in my trailer when there is a five-thousand-plus-square-foot house offered to me is silly. However, my mind may know I’m safe here from my past, but my heart needs my trailer to keep it safe from Ian Kincaid.
“That looks like a Halloween costume.”
Rose looks down at the coral gown wrapped around her body. Turning in front of the mirror, she examines every possible angle. “How can a pastel chiffon bridesmaid dress look like a Halloween costume?”
“You know how Halloween has turned into a ridiculous contest for who can make normal costumes appear slutty?” I ask.
“Slutty cat, slutty cop,” Jules adds, leaning back on the dress shop’s antique sofa. “I even saw a slutty Care Bear last year.” She shakes her head sadly. “That’ll distort your childhood memories.”
“What the hell does a slutty Care Bear have to do with the dress I picked?” Rose asks.
Nose in the air, I do my best Rhett Butler. “Because you, my dear, look like the slutty version of a bridesmaid.”
Jules snickers.
I circle around Rose, who’s standing on a platform in front of the three-way mirrors. “Could you have picked a shorter or tighter style?”
Hands on hips, Rose looks every inch the southern spitfire that she is.
“Hey. I have assets .” She runs her hands along the side seams of her dress.
“Assets I want to exploit. Weddings are like a smorgasbord for single people.” Her hip kicks out, stretching the limits of the usually lightweight and flowy material.
“Don’t think I’m not going to make the most of this wedding. ”
“My wedding isn’t going to be a smorgasbord,” Jackie intervenes, having come back to the present from whatever problem she was solving in that genius head of hers as she stared into space.
Next to Jules, who’s man-spreading her jean clad legs on the petite white sofa, Jackie looks positively prim sitting up straight in her nerd T-shirt and Converse sneakers.
We’ve been here for the past hour, drinking mimosas and looking through dresses.
We all Ubered here, knowing that we’d make full use of the free drinks the bridal salon offered.
The salespeople gave up on serving us a few minutes ago and just left a few bottles and the jug of OJ with us.
Or it could’ve been the hundred-dollar bill I saw Rose slip the manager.
“I said you could pick your own style of dress.” Pushing up her glasses, Jackie’s tipsy gaze goes from Rose’s breasts, nearly spilling out of the strapless heart-shaped neckline, down to the upper thigh hemline that neatly tucks under her backside. “But I still have veto power.”
“The nerd has spoken,” Jules says before leaning forward and resting her elbows on her widely spread knees, phone in hand.
“Are you still looking up information on humane cattle raising?” I ask. It’s funny seeing the normally bad-ass astronaut concerned about cow rearing. I nearly choked on my tongue when she bought a rhinestone collar for her pet cow, Cookie.
Jules shakes her head. “I was, but all those asshole agriculturalists think it’s just fine and dandy to let your pet cow roam across the fields all willy-nilly like.
” She snorts, disgusted. “I mean honestly, they have no heart.” Raising her phone, she takes a picture of Rose before bending back over, thumbs flying across the screen.
“Now I’m texting the wedding planner.” As maid of honor, Jules takes her role very seriously.
No sooner do Jules’ thumbs stop moving than her phone dings.
“Yeah, that’s a no-go on the dress from Rebecca.” Jules slides her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “Overruled, Rodeo Barbie. Pick another.”
Rolling her eyes as only a practiced little sister can, Rose, who can only take tiny steps in the tight dress, minces over to the dress rack.
“Fine,” she says, sliding hangers across the metal pole, searching through the pre-selected dresses.
“But I’m not wearing some peasant style dress.
I don’t do billowy. I’m not a freaking hippie. ”
“Heavens no, sugar.” I wink. “No true red-blooded Texan is.”
Rose pauses in her perusal. “Unless you’re from Austin.”
“True dat,” Jules adds.
“Isn’t Ian from Austin?” Jackie asks before taking another sip of her drink.
“No. Dallas.” I answer without thinking.
All three of them look like the cats that ate the canaries.
“Oh yes, that’s right.” Jackie’s smile belies her innocence.
I’m not so sure we’ve been the best influence on our once na?ve and pure-hearted friend.
Jules laughs. “Nice one, Jackie.”
Rose plucks a hanger from the rack, looking over the dress more closely. It’s still strapless, but at least this one is full-length. “I don’t know why you don’t just hog-tie the man and ride him into the sunset.”
When she looks up at me expectantly, I realize she’s talking to me. “Who, me?”
“Uh, yes. You and Ian.”
“I don’t hog-tie,” I say, trying to deflect.
“You’re mistaking me for the West groupies over there.
” I point to Jules and Jackie. “I’m from Georgia.
” I study the coral fabric draped over my shoulders, not pleased with how the one-shoulder strap style makes my boobs look lopsided.
“Besides,” I say, brushing off invisible lint on the thick strap, “I’m not interested. ”
No one holds back their laughter.
I stomp my foot, and the narrow, spiked stiletto slamming into the carpet sends a shock of pain up my calf. “Dang it.”
“Watch yourself there, Shortstack.” Jules can’t stop laughing. “You’ll break a heel, and then where will you be?”
“In Munchkin Land with the rest of the Lollipop Guild,” Rose mutters, sending all of them into another fit of giggles.
I narrow my eyes. “I hate all of you.” Trying to walk in a dignified manner and not give in to a limp, I grab two dresses off the rack and storm into a fitting room.
Over time, they’ve gotten more and more of a kick out of teasing me about Ian.
Jules is the only one who knows I’m staying with him.
She’s surprisingly good at keeping secrets.
Heaven knows what the other two would say if they knew my trailer was parked in Ian’s boat garage. I’d never hear the end of it.
But then again, I won’t have to. Jules is already setting up house with her boyfriend Holt and their pet cow, soon Jackie will be hitched, and Rose—well, I’m pretty sure Rose is well on her way to taking over the world.
And I’ll be… somewhere. Somewhere that isn’t here. Even Jules doesn’t know I’m set on leaving after the wedding.
I shake off my momentary blues and leave the dressing room, a smile plastered on my face and yet another god-awful dress threatening to trip me.
Five mimosas later and still no closer to a decision on bridesmaid dresses, we’re sprawled out on the floor in a cloud of varying shades of coral chiffon.
Well, all but Jackie, who’s still in her trademark ripped jeans and T-shirt.
She flipped off her sneakers after her second mimosa.
I’m sure the sales staff would normally be appalled if it weren’t for the West family name keeping them at bay.
“I love my brothers,” Rose says, “but I’ll take you guys as sisters over them any day of the week.”
Jackie, lying star-fish style, smiles. “I will be your sister, by law, in a few weeks. So there’s that.”
“Yeah, that’s cool.” Rose nods, eyes closed. “Always wanted a sister.”
“Only child here,” Jules adds, arms behind her head. “Don’t even know what having a brother is like.”
“I just always wanted a family.” Sugar . Why did I say that?
“Really?” Rose props herself on her elbows. “You mean you’re an only child too?”
I nod. “No parents either.” I shrug, my shoulders dragging across the plush carpet I’m sprawled out on.
“I get the no siblings, but how do you not have parents?” Jackie pushes up her glasses. “Oh, was the egg you grew from fertilized in a petrie dish?”
“What, like a test tube baby?” Rose asks, the question a bit slurred.
I snort, loving how Jackie’s mind works and how Rose’s filter doesn’t. “I don’t mean biologically.” I flick my high heels off. “I mean after I was born my mom left me with my grandparents. They raised me until they both died right after I graduated high school.”
In the following silence, I watch the chiffon fabric billow a little from the air conditioning vent blowing down from above us.
“That is some seriously depressing shit,” Jules finally deadpans. “I mean, I don’t get along with my parents, but at least I know where they are at all times. First rule of war, know where your enemy camps.”
“What about your dad?” Rose presses, eyes not leaving me.
I’m not sure what it is. The champagne, the girlfriend bonding, or the burr twitching under my skin that reminds me moments like this, with these women I’ve come to love, will be ending soon.
But for once I don’t change the subject.
Instead, I answer honestly. “Mom never told me who he was. And she never got in contact with Pops and Nana after she left.”
“Oh.” Rose’s eyes are as wide as her mouth.
“We need more alcohol,” Jules states, making me smile. “And FYI, you’re the winner of worst childhood. While we’re at it, let’s also blame your mother for your vertical challenges as well. Make her a well-rounded villain.”
Laughing, I flip her off before grabbing the champagne bottle from Rose.
“Did you ever look for her?” Jackie’s voice is soft.
Filling up my glass, I try for an unaffected tone. “Nope.”
Rose grabs the bottle back. “Her loss.”
“Our gain,” Jules adds, popping the cork.
Jackie side-hugs me awkwardly on the floor.
I’m going to miss these girls.