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Shelly studied Anisa. “Weren’t you on the last season of Make Me a Supermodel? That’s one of my favorite shows.”
It was odd to see Shelly smile at Anisa. Her smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds. Since she’d only given him stormy days, he hadn’t known she was capable of producing sunshine. He was amazed at how much it softened her face, but the fact that she’d been withholding that softness from him set his temper off again.
While Anisa and Shelly exchanged pleasantries, Linc couldn’t take his eyes off the broad reddish stain on Shelly’s blouse. “I see you had some of Moe’s famous barbecue sauce.”
Shelly fingered the stain without looking down. “That’s right. I liked it so much, I had to take some home with me.”
Anisa cackled like a chicken and then started rummaging through her tiny purse. “I think I have something for that,” she said, pulling out a bleach stick. “This should take that right out.”
Shelly leaned over, and Anisa swabbed the stick over the stain. Right before their eyes, it started disappearing. “Will you look at that,” Shelly exclaimed. “I’m going to have to get one of those.”
“You can have mine. I have tons of them at home,” said Anisa.
Linc watched their exchange in disbelief. Within minutes, Shelly slid into the booth next to his date. She then began plugging the number for Anisa’s hair salon into her cell phone.
Anisa and Shelly were getting along great…to the point where they’d completely forgotten his existence.
He never would have pegged Shelly and Anisa as fast friends. They couldn’t have less in common. If Anisa was a peacock, then Shelly was a brown peahen. From what he could see, in the short time they’d been around one another, she never did anything special with her hair and always wore clothes that were dull and colorless.
Of course, Anisa probably could stand to wear a little less makeup. And sometimes her clothes were so fashion-forward that Linc felt a bit embarrassed for her.
Snapping out of his reverie, Linc realized he had to get rid of Shelly before she threw his date completely off track.
“Well, Shelly, we don’t want to keep you. After all, it’s Friday, and you must have plans,” he said.
Refusing to take the bait, Shelly leveled her eyes at him. “No, no plans. Unless you count a date with my pillow and blanket,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “It was great meeting you, Anisa. Thanks for the hair salon tip. I’m going to check it out.”
Linc watched Shelly walk out of the restaurant, wishing he’d let her sneak away unnoticed, after all.
True to her word, Shelly went straight to bed when she got home. But going to bed a hair before ten o’clock threw off her internal clock, and she was wide awake at five in the morning.
She’d gone to bed feeling proud and confident at the way she’d handled her potentially uncomfortable run-in with Linc. But this morning, in the dawning light of day, she realized how she must have looked to him—like a single woman who desperately needed a bib when she dined alone on Friday nights.
It was only the fact that Shelly knew Linc already held her in fairly low regard that had allowed her to keep her composure through his teasing jabs at her appearance and empty social calendar. It was a tool she’d developed in high school, when the popular girls made fun of her lack of designer handbags and stylish clothes.
In high school she’d been a nerd, and she’d known it. There had been little point in trying to impress girls she had no chance of competing with. But in college she’d started wearing makeup, and she’d had a roommate who talked her into growing her hair long so she could teach her how to do fun things with it. Her whole life had changed then. Men had started asking her out, and she began to realize that she was an attractive woman.
She hadn’t felt otherwise until now. She knew what Linc saw when he looked at her. He saw the plain, unpopular girl she’d been in high school. He had no idea that she’d learned to work with what she had. He didn’t know that she’d just been too busy to put in the effort since she’d come to Houston.
Staring in her bathroom mirror, Shelly blanched when she realized that she was actually worrying over what Lincoln Ripley thought of her. Why should she care if he saw her as attractive? She certainly didn’t think of him in that way.
Well, he was attractive—if you liked movie-star handsome. But that didn’t mean she wanted to date him. Even if they didn’t work together, they’d never get along. Two dates and they’d probably kill each other.
Running her hands through her frizzled mess, Shelly almost convinced herself that she shouldn’t improve her image, just to spite Linc. But she quickly reminded herself that not fixing herself up for fear of what Linc might think was just as bad.
Even though it was Saturday, Shelly had planned to pull out her laptop and finish up the training procedures for Monday’s session. Instead, she found herself looking up Anisa’s hair salon online. It looked like a very swanky place in the photographs, and a quick click on the services page showed that their prices reflected as much.
Shelly made a very healthy salary, and truth be told, she could probably afford to pay a couple hundred dollars for her hair. But her common sense wouldn’t let her do it.
Exiting to her Web browser, Shelly searched for a more sensible option. She found a reasonably priced salon that was only ten minutes from her house. And they even allowed her to make an appointment online.
After requesting an appointment for mid-morning, Shelly headed for the shower, vowing to unpack the rest of her clothes when she returned. It wouldn’t hurt to have some more stylish options for work now that training was getting under way.
Miss Celia’s Salon was not quite what Shelly was expecting when she arrived for her appointment later that morning. From the polished Web site and the high-tech online appointment system, Shelly was expecting the building to possess a degree of sophistication.
Unfortunately, Miss Celia’s Salon had seen better days. Paint-chipped walls and torn leather chairs underscored the salon’s need for a face-lift. Still, Shelly remained optimistic. It didn’t matter what the shop looked like as long as Miss Celia could do some hair.
“Can I help you?” an older woman asked.
“I’m Shelly London. I’m here for my ten o’clock appointment.”
“I’m Miss Celia,” the older woman said, clasping Shelly’s hand between both of hers. The older woman had warm dark eyes and short salt-and-pepper curls. “I know this is your first time here, but we hope it won’t be your last.”
Miss Celia’s pleasant demeanor put Shelly at ease. The woman slipped behind the reception desk and started typing on her computer. “It looks like Tonya will be doing your hair today. Please help yourself to some coffee, and she’ll be right with you.”
The prospect of finally having her hair done properly put Shelly in a good mood. “I really loved your Web site. It’s what convinced me to give your shop a try.”
Miss Celia’s face lit up. “Thank you. My grandson Troy designed it for me. He’s a computer science major at the University of Houston. He swore to me it would bring in new business. Now I can sure enough tell him he was right.”
After Shelly finished her coffee, Tonya escorted her back to the shampoo bowl. A young stylist, Tonya seemed nice enough as she made small talk with Shelly. And she gave her a fantastic scalp massage.
“I’m just going to put in your conditioner,” Tonya said. “Then you can sit up for about ten minutes before I wash it out.”
Just as Tonya started working the conditioner through Shelly’s scalp, Miss Celia, who was shampooing a client two bowls over, said, “Hey, is that my Silky Tresses moisturizing conditioner?”
Shelly’s eyes snapped open at Miss Celia’s tone. Tonya looked at the bottle in her hand. “Yeah. I borrowed yours because mine ran out.”
“What did I tell you about borrowing my supplies?” Miss Celia scolded. “Each stylist is responsible for buying her own products.”
Tonya’s neck swiveled as she spoke, her anger rising. “I didn’t have time to buy my own supplies, because you’ve been overbooking my clients.”
Now Miss Celia, who had seemed so sweet just moments ago, had her hands on her hips as she shouted back at Tonya. “If you can’t handle the work, you know what to do.”
Before Shelly could take that in, a bottle of conditioner whizzed past her face.
“Here! Take your funky conditioner. Too bad your mamma never taught you to share,” screeched Tonya.
Shelly lifted her soaking-wet head out of the bowl in time to see Miss Celia duck the flying bottle. “Oh, it’s on now!” shouted the older woman.
Shelly sat up, openmouthed, as the two women lunged at each other. Tonya had Miss Celia by the waist and was pushing her backward into the wall. Miss Celia reached down, grabbed a chunk of Tonya’s hair and pulled.
Two more stylists rushed around the corner, and Shelly clutched her chest in relief. Finally, someone was going to break this up.
Instead, the two women stopped a safe distance away, and one said to the other, “Aw shucks, there they go again.”
Shelly had seen enough. Without looking back, she stood up and headed straight for the door. Without bothering to remove her cape, she ran across the parking lot to her car, with her wet hair dripping down her back.
Spacecraft simulator maneuvers began Monday morning, and Linc made sure he was early for the pre-training briefing. He couldn’t give Shelly yet another reason to question his commitment to the mission.
He showed up at a quarter to the hour, expecting Shelly to already be there or show up minutes later. He sat down on the table at the head of the room, near where she would likely sit. Propping his heel on the table so he could rest his arm on his knee, he was strategically situated to be the first thing she would see when she walked in.
The effect was lost when the rest of the team started filing in, and Shelly was still nowhere to be found. “Hey, Randy. Hi, Mitch,” Linc said, exchanging hand slaps first with the copilot and then with the mission specialist on the Alpha team.
“There he is, Lightning himself,” Dustin Chambers said, pausing in the doorway. “You know what they say, though, don’t you? Lightning never strikes twice.”
Linc resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the commander of the Beta team, the team that would take over flying Draco if something happened to his team. “It’s just a nickname. Like yours. After all, just because they call you Dusty doesn’t mean they think that you’re old.”
Dusty was ten years older than Linc’s thirty-six years, and Linc always felt the two of them couldn’t get along because the older man resented all that Linc had accomplished in such a short period of time.
That and the fact that if it weren’t for Linc’s space shuttle heroics eighteen months ago, Dusty would have been leading the Alpha team.
After Dusty, the rest of the Beta team–—namely, Vince and Paul—trailed in, followed by Quincy, Jason and Raj from Shelly’s engineering team.
But it wasn’t until nearly twenty minutes later that Shelly finally appeared. She flew over the threshold with two overstuffed binders in her arms.
Linc looked at his watch and clucked in disappointment. “I was starting to think that I was going to have to run this meeting myself. Ms. London, I’d hate to think you weren’t taking this mission seriously, as being late for the first day of training clearly shows.”
Some of the other guys in the room gasped or oohed under their breath.
Shelly glared at Linc, muttering, “My alarm clock never went off.” Setting her binders on the corner of the table, she pushed them until Linc was forced to slip off the edge. “I apologize for being late, team. We have a lot to cover, so let’s not waste any more time.”
Choking down her fluster, Shelly tried not to lose control of the briefing before it started. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how she’d become such a total spaz since arriving in Houston. Back in D.C. everyone had respected her. Here, no matter how hard she tried to get one step ahead, she kept falling behind. Shelly was starting to think that Houston was just bad luck.
After her disaster at the hair salon, she’d been forced to wash out the sticky conditioner the hairdresser had half applied to her hair. Since it hadn’t been applied evenly, it created two strangely different textures in her hair. Where the conditioner had been concentrated, her hair was extra wavy; the rest was tangled and matted.
It had taken two washings to get her hair halfway back to normal. But, as a result, she had to wear it in another gel-slicked bun. Because she’d been preoccupied with her hair all day Saturday, she’d been up late Sunday night, going over her training procedures.
She’d forgotten to set her alarm clock, and the rest was history. Linc had lain in wait, ready to mock her. But she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting in her head.
“Okay, team. We all know that we’re on a tough deadline for GRM. You all have flown on space shuttle missions in the past, and you’re here because you’re the best at what you do. Therefore, our training is going to focus only on the areas where Draco is different from the space shuttle. Unfortunately, there are many significant differences, and we’re going to have to account for them during these sessions.” Shelly looked from one astronaut to another. “Let’s talk about the most significant difference. Anybody?”
Vince Patrecchio, the Beta team copilot, nodded to her. “The air launch. Draco is going to be strapped to the bottom of a B-52 aircraft and launched from forty thousand feet.”
“That’s right,” said Shelly. “This allows us to keep this mission secret, since there won’t be a high-profile rocket launch. Since we have to cram several months of training events into the next eight weeks, training has been divided into three phases. The computer simulations for launch, docking and landing, which we’re starting today. Practice related to the maneuverability of Draco’s extension arm will take place in the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, and finally, we’ll be doing flight testing at Edwards Air Force Base in the Mojave Desert.”
Shelly walked to the blackboard and wrote out the launch simulator exercises for the day. “One difference between Draco and the space shuttle is the thrusters. So we’re going to practice—”
Randy snickered next to Linc. “The last thing this team needs to practice is thrusting. Lightning definitely has that down.”
Shelly gritted her teeth. Normally, she didn’t have trouble getting her peers to respect her authority. But Linc had already set a tone of disrespect, and it was only natural that his team would follow suit.
Before Shelly could figure out the best way to handle Randy’s remark, Dusty Chambers spoke up. “Give me a break, guys. You wouldn’t say things like that if Colonel Murphy was in the room, so don’t start mouthing off now. Let’s show Shelly how professional we are in the air force.”
“Thank you, Dusty,” Shelly said gratefully.
Dusty gave her a wide smile in return. And, judging by the sudden scowl on Linc’s face, he didn’t appreciate his rival coming to her rescue. She knew all about the tension between them, and a sudden burst of wisdom had told her that she could use it to her advantage.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Apparently, Dusty subscribed to that same philosophy. During the twenty-minute break between the briefing and the walk to the hangar where the flight simulations would take place, he fell into step beside her.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” he said.
Shelly stopped in the corridor and turned to face him. He was handsome, with spiky blond hair and a lined, weathered face from spending a lot of time outdoors. “Sure. What’s on your mind, Dusty?”
“I’m just curious. Did you really try to get Lightning pulled off the mission?”
Shelly sighed. “He blew that out of proportion. It’s not that I tried to get him pulled from the mission so much as I inquired if there were other astronauts that would have been a better fit.”
Dusty laughed out loud. “He must have loved that.”
She shrugged. “It seems Colonel Murphy is really sold on Linc as the best man for the job. Even though I don’t agree, I have to respect his judgment.”
“I gotta tell you, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who thinks Lightning is all hype.”
“If that’s what you think, why do you call him Lightning? I refuse to indulge his ego.”
Dusty scoffed. “It’s mocking when I say it. Sure, he had a moment. I can’t take away the fact that he pulled a heroic stunt, but there’s more to being an astronaut than one moment. He’s getting a whole career’s mileage from one good mission. Most astronauts put in years of hard work and never get one newspaper article or magazine cover. But does that make them lesser astronauts?”
Shelly nodded in agreement. “You won’t get any argument from me.”
“Good. It’s nice to know we’re on the same page,” Dusty said.
Shelly turned to look after him as he walked away. Just what had he meant by that?
The airplane hangar had been equipped with an exact replica of Draco and all its parts. A series of training exercises had been scheduled, with first the Alpha and then the Beta team running through each maneuver.
Right away the Alpha and Beta teams took on the roles of rival sports teams, talking trash and bragging about which one would outperform the other.
Colonel Murphy was in attendance to supervise the exercises, and Shelly expected him to intervene. Instead, he told her that the military encouraged healthy competition because it would push each team to perform at its best.
While Shelly found herself secretly rooting for the Beta team, it was the Alpha team, and Linc specifically, that performed better. Dusty and Linc were clearly well-matched, but Linc was just a bit more of a risk taker, which allowed him to clock better times.
As a result, Linc was almost impossible to stomach during their lunch break. Colonel Murphy encouraged them all to eat together in the cafeteria to establish team unity.
But Shelly didn’t see that happening at all. There was so much back and forth between the two teams, she didn’t understand how they’d make it through the rest of the week.
Hoping to give her ears a rest so she could finish her turkey sandwich in peace, she poked Quincy in the ribs. “Change the subject. I can’t take any more of this.”
Quincy was a short, stocky guy with sandy-red hair and freckles. He looked at least ten years younger than his thirty-two years. He was one of the engineers who had moved out to Houston with her from D.C. Of all the engineers on her team, she was closest to him.
“Hey, Lightning, I heard you had a date with a girl from Make Me a Supermodel. How did it go?” said Quincy.
Shelly cringed. He would pick that topic. This was going to be a long day.
“It was great,” Linc said, then dug into his bowl of chili.
Shelly studied Linc’s reaction and wondered why he was reluctant to talk about his date. He’d certainly proven that he wasn’t the modest type, and this was the perfect audience to listen to him brag.
