Page 17 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
“Yes, but what is it you want todo?”
“I…” I’ve got nothing.
I’m saved from awkward silence when my boob vibrates. Reaching into my cleavage, I pull out my phone and shut off the reminder alert.
I shake off the feelings of uncertainty that have been plaguing me for months and that John just made worse. “At the moment this girl wants to go learn how to pole dance.” I shove my phone back in my boobs and stand, a living disco ball.
I leave to the sound of his fingers drumming across his desk.
Vance
I’m takingmy mother to a strip club.
My flight had barely touched down on the runway when she called. And it wasn’t to ask how my trip to Germany went. No. It was to tell me she needed a ride. To a strip club.
It’s my fault really. I left her too long without a call or visit.
So when she called, the guilt was already there to lay on, making it impossible for me to say no. And now here I am, jet-lagged, irritated, and guilted, pulling my 4Runner into the near empty parking lot of Heartbreakers.
A few cars from people too drunk to drive home last night are scattered like stars in the night sky. One in particular catches my eye. A gold Aston Martin. What idiot leaves a car like that in a strip club over night?
“There’s a spot.”
I say nothing, just raise my eyebrows at my mother and her outstretched arm thrusting toward one of the many parking spots available. But if she wants that one, then that one it will be. “Thanks.” I nod and pull in.
Mom smiles.
I’ve learned not to argue with my mother. It’s useless. Probably what makes me such a good fit to work with Jules in space. Between my mother and older sister, I’m used to being around commanding women. I pause after throwing the gear shift in park. Huh. Maybethat’swhy Jules likes my mom so much.
Shaking my head at the thought, I hop out.
Like every time I drive my mother, I circle the front of my car to open her door for her. The small, old-fashioned gesture reminds me of my dad. Whether it’s from time passing or how young I was when he died, I only have a few memories of him. But I do remember waiting in the backseat on multiple occasions, watching him circle the car to open the passenger side door for my mother. It fascinated me.
Although, if he’d had to help my mom out while she wore platform stripper shoes, I probably would’ve been scarred instead.
Once my mom’s steady on her teetering shoes, I hold out my arm for her to take.
“Helen?”
I glance up, my chin dropping to my chest.
Rose,myRose, the woman I haven’t been able to purge from my mind, or found the stones to text or call, is… is standing there. Dressed like Mom, but with higher platform heels, way less clothing, and a lot more glitter.
My mother beams. “Rosie, dear. So glad you made it today.” She steps forward, frowning when I don’t move.
I try clearing my throat, but it doesn’t help me speak. My eyes feel ten times their size as I take in her blue spandex one-piece that clings to all her curves. At least, I think it’s blue. It’s hard to tell with the morning light reflecting off her like a disco ball due to the copious amounts of body glitter.
But whereas I can’t seem to look away from her, Rose can’t be bothered to spare me a glance. Instead she plants her hands on her belted waist and narrows her eyes at Mom. “And justhowdo you know Bodie?”
“Bodie?” My mother’s eyes ping-pong between Rose and me. “You mean Vance?”
That pulls Rose up short. I’d laugh if it wasn’t for the brief flash of hurt I saw cross her face. “Vance?”
“We met at Jackie’s wedding,” I say, finally finding my voice. “She’s the groom’s sister.”
Rose’s eyebrows shoot up. “Finally figured it out, huh?”
I shrug, not wanting to admit that I couldn’t get her off my mind. Especially since it’s clear she hadn’t felt the same since she doesn’t even know Bodie’s my nickname.
