Page 62 of Space Junk: Houston, We Have a Hottie
“I see. Well, hello there, Jackie’s date.” She winks again. “I’m Jules.” Her eyes track beside me to my brother. “And what’s your name, cowboy?”
“Holt West, ma’am.” He tips his hat again, this time toward the camera.
“Mmmm… me likey.” Jules blows a kiss and I’m shocked as shit to see my brother’s cheeks turn red. Jules’ eyes move back to Jackie. “Well done, hooker, well done.”
Everyone at the bar laughs while muscles I didn’t realize were tense relax a bit.
Jackie blushes and narrows her eyes at the screen. “I’m going to kill her so hard when she gets back to Earth,” she mumbles.
“Sweet Jehoshaphat.” Trish’s wide eyes meet Jackie’s. “Can astronauts say hooker?”
“This is a private feed, it isn’t broadcasted or anything. They can basically say what they want,” Ian says, stepping up to the table, still staring at Trish.
Jackie leans into me. “Which Jules definitely takes advantage of.”
I smell her hair while my fingers glide over the exposed skin at her waist. “So that’s the blackmailer, huh?”
The camera zooms out and the rest of the crew, floating in air, comes into view. There’s one woman besides Jules, and three men. They all wear polo shirts with NASA patches and cargo pants. Cheers go up, people shouting hello while raising their glasses.
“Hopefully that will be me someday,” Jackie whispers, throwing a shy smile my way.
I make myself nod, though I can’t help but hope it doesn’t happen. Jackie may have her statistics and be able to brush off concerns for safety, but I remember the Challenger and Columbia tragedies.
I try to shake off the doom and gloom when we sit back down, and Rose, Trish, Ian and Holt follow. Everyone starts grabbing glasses, pouring beer from the pitchers on the center of the tables and talking. Only in Texas are beer pitchers a staple of brunch. But in the midst of all the activity, I catch Rose’s eyes bouncing back and forth between Holt and me, like she’s waiting for a throw-down. Even Jackie’s brow furrows as if she, too, realizes something doesn’t feel right.
I wait for old anger and resentment to surge through me. And it does, no surprise, since Holt never even fucking apologized. But what does surprise me is the realization that the pain has dulled. No longer a sharp spike to the chest, but more like the ache of scar tissue being prodded. I’m really too preoccupied with Jackie. With this new feeling of contentment that I haven’t had since, well, ever. It’s a little disconcerting how much impact this blond genius already has over my life after just one week.
But Jackie wants to be an astronaut. I mean, she sure as shit is smart enough. How many people have a doctorate at twenty-nine? And all those awards stacked up against the wall at her place. But… space?
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?”
