Page 5 of Space Oddities

I look behind me, searching for whatever it is that has Trish spooked. “Jules sent me.”

That inspires a long, heavy sigh. “I told that meddler I was fine.” Contradicting her words, her eyes still flit back and forth along the road. “No need to worry.”

“Is that why you’re scanning the horizon with a loaded shotgun in your hand?”

She looks down, as if startled at the gun she’s holding. “Oh. This.” She unlocks it with ease, a graceful movement that only someone used to handling large guns can do. “A girl living alone can’t be too careful. That’s all.”

“Uh huh.”

Expertly manicured fingers pluck out the shells before re-locking the gun shaft and leaning it against the kitchen counter. The same counter I sat her on a few weeks ago as we devoured each other’s mouths.

I swallow hard. “I’m here to pick up Jules’ bag she left when she crashed here.”

Pursing her lips, she nods. “Fine.” Another sigh. “I was going to do that myself, but since you’re already here…” She hesitates, as if fighting herself on what to say. “Would you like something to drink? Iced tea? Lemonade?”

“Iced tea works.” I’m not particularly thirsty, but if the woman who’s blocked my phone number and ignored all my attempts to explain my actions the last time we were together wants to go Martha Stewart on me, I’m not going to say no.

Her nostrils flare, and I can tell she was hoping I’d decline.

God bless southern hospitality.

“Come on in, then.” She turns, and in one step has the refrigerator open.

Shit. And therein lies the problem.

Taking a deep breath, I step halfway onto the threshold she just vacated, leaving the door open.

With quick, efficient movements, Trish fills a tall glass with ice and pours the tea. She holds it out to me, frowning. “Close the door, sugar. You’re letting out all my cool air.”

I grab the glass but remain in my halfway-in-halfway-out position. “Yeah, about that.”

Her frown turns mutinous. “Are you telling me you can’t even debase yourself long enough to have a glass of iced tea? You’re that far above me and my trailer?”

Debase? “No. It’s not that. I—”

“Horsefeathers.” She yanks the glass out of my hands, some of the tea sloshing over. “Just leave. I’ll get Jules’ stuff back to her myself.”

I wipe my hand on my jeans. “Trish, would you just let me—”

“Trish, dear! Trish!”

We both turn to see an older woman power-walking toward the trailer. Trish’s hand flicks toward the shotgun for a moment before she seems to recognize the woman.

“Myra.” She lets out a breath and smiles. “How are things?”

“Great, girl. Just great.” The woman, looking to be in her sixties and dressed in a pink and light blue tracksuit with matching braided headband, marches in place once she reaches the trailer. “You’ll be glad to know I found a renter to take over your lease, so you won’t have to be charged when you leave this week.” She smiles, her lipstick the same shade of vibrant pink as her outfit. “Isn’t that wonderful, dear?”

Trish’s eyes cut to mine before shifting away. “Uh, yeah, it is. Thanks, Myra.”

“Of course, dear, of course.” She begins marching backward toward the road. “Us single gals have to look out for each other now, don’t we?” Spinning on her thick-soled white sneakers, Myra power-walks away. “But don’t you leave without saying good-bye now!” she throws over her shoulder. “Toodles!” And off she goes, the fingers of one hand wiggling farewell in the air.

I watch the powerful oscillation of Myra’s parachute pants sway like a fast-paced metronome. I have to blink to look away. Trish’s eyes are still on Myra’s hypnotizing backside.

“You’re leaving?” My voice is rougher than I planned.

Blinking, Trish frowns once more before backing farther into her trailer. “None of your business.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands. “Now get.”

Yeah. I don’t think so.

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