Page 9 of Space Oddities

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 haveassets.” 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 naïve and pure-hearted friend.

Jules laughs. “Nice one, Jackie.”

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