Page 32 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
The assistant races forward. “Miss Pearl! Please, let me help—”
“Don’t touch me.” She pushes the young girl away. “You’ve already done quite enough.”
Jules is fighting a laugh, and I find myself wanting to join in. But really, I can’t see a woman down and not help her, even if I’m keen to watch her go. In two strides I have Pearl’s elbow in my hand, helping her off the floor. As soon as she’s able she yanks it back and hobbles out of the room and through the front door.
I stand there for a moment, listening to her car peel out of the drive, wondering what to do now, when Jules pipes up.
“Well, now that that’s taken care of”—she brushes her hands together—“let’s get this shit sorted.”
The flash of her bright smile and the gleam in her eye has me forgetting the throbbing in my foot, my brain now focused on an entirely different sort of throbbing.
And I wonder if I’ve simply traded one evil for another.
* * *
Jules
When Holt turnsback to the room, his expression looks a bit lost, and for the first time since I’d heard Miss-Pretty-in-Pink-and-Pearls’ condescending voice, I wonder if I overstepped.
After the hour we spent clicking through fancy barn weddings, his worried look had morphed into one of determination. Determined to remodel his outdated decor so that Jackie and Flynn’s wedding is flawless. Even on our already tight deadline.
I wouldn’t have been able to talk him out of it, nor did I try. The houseisa bit of a relic.
To get this done we have to be focused. True, I may have taken yesterday’s frustration from my flight drama out on Pearl, but we’re gonna have to make hard choices and not be afraid to hurt feelings.
Me? I do that on the daily. Holt? Well…
Holt is toonice.
If left to his own devices with Pearl, his windows would be covered in horse printed shrouds, all because he can’t tell a lady to take a hike.
Except, apparently, me. I haven’t forgotten about Holt’s little jab at me the other day. But then again, that might have to do with me bringing out the worst in him.
’Cause me? I amnottoo nice.
Niceat allis probably up for debate, depending on who you talk to.
FYI, don’t talk to my high school calculus teacher. I swear I didn’t superglue all his office supplies to his desk the day after he’d given me detention for talking in class. I may have supervised, but I didn’t actually do it.
Moving on.
The assistant is still clutching her clipboard like her boss had her pearls. Let’s hope she has more gumption than her stance suggests.
I square up to her, looking her straight in the eye. “First things first. Can you handle this?” I gesture to her board and then the rest of the house. “Or do we need to call in another firm?”
The assistant bites her lip but says nothing.
Deep breath, Jules. Just because you’re still shaken from yesterday doesn’t mean you need to yell at a co-ed. “Okay, let’s start this again.” I walk over to her and stick out my hand. “I’m Julie Starr. And you’re Missy?”
“Melissa,” she answers, standing up straighter, chin out.
I nod my head at her firm tone.
“My name is Melissa. Miss Pearl just liked to call me Missy. Even though I repeatedly told her my name is Melissa.”
Pleased to see some fire under her ass, I smile. “Missy is a stupid name anyway. Melissa is way better.” I’m rewarded with a return smile, and some of tension I’ve been carrying since jumping into this shit show eases from my shoulders.
“And what’s your name?” I ask the guy who was also too chickenshit to say anything to Pearl.
