Open Skies

by Marysol James

  “Yes!” Julie pointed to a pile of slithery material.

  “All silk?”

  “No,” Julie said pulling out a slinky tank top with spaghetti straps and delicate brocade work along the top. “Cotton, too.”

  “Yeah, much better.” Tammy sighed. “And your shoes? What will you be wearing when you go tromping through stables full of horse manure and over the Rocky Mountains?”

  They both looked at the shoes lining the closet floor. Designer high heels; knee-high boots with stiletto heels; sparkly details and open toes; buttery leather and delicate stitch-work. No, not very practical at all. Even Julie had to concede that.

  “I guess I can wear my gym shoes?” Julie said doubtfully.

  “In the winter?”

  “I have winter boots.”

  “Yeah. Black leather ones with platform heels. Perfect when you take taxis everywhere. Not so great for walking through snow up to your waist. You’ll break your damn ankles.”

  “So I’ll buy a pair over there. Maybe at the local cowboy store.”

  Tammy took a big swig of wine and grinned. “Speaking of cowboys… we haven’t really talked about the fact that you’ll soon be surrounded by hot men riding horses…”

  “Urgh,” Julie said, folding a print dress and packing it in one of her four Louis Vuitton suitcases in fiery orange. “Don’t even talk to me about men.”

  “But cowboys are just so sexy!” Tammy’s eyes were sparkling. “They’re all tall and muscular and they look amazing in their jeans when they’re walking away.”

  “How do you know?” Julie finished her wine and poured some more. Tammy held her glass out and she refilled it. “What do you know about cowboys, exactly?”

  “Well, they’re all named Storm or Colt or Dallas,” Tammy said enthusiastically. “I absolutely want to hear that you’re having a torrid romance with a guy named Slade who has huge hands and who wears a cowboy hat in bed and calls you ‘ma’am’ when he’s driving his wild stallion deep inside your hot, wet…”

  “Yeah, OK, Tammy. I get the picture.”

  “I’m serious, Jules.” Tammy sat up. “Think of the next six months as a – a holiday. And why not have a holiday fling? You’re going to sell the place, anyway, and come back here soon enough. Just enjoy lots of hot sex with a random guy named Texas and then leave and forget all about him. I mean, why not?”

  “Because cowboys smell of horses,” Julie said. “I just can’t even imagine getting in to bed with a guy who smells of hay and horse crap and who-knows-what-else.”

  Tammy looked at her seriously. “You know, they do have showers in Colorado. Soap, too, I think.”

  “Look, Tammy. I just – I just want to go out there and get rid of this place. I don’t want to keep anything from the man who was supposedly my father, and I don’t want anything to do with guys. I just want my money in my account. That’s it.” She shrugged. “I’ll take the cash and come back here and start again.”

  “OK, OK,” Tammy said swinging back her long, shiny black hair. “But I do want to hear about the guys working for you.”

  Julie grinned and then picked up a file from the bedside table. “I went through the staff information that Hawkins gave me.” She opened the folder and flipped through a few pages. “Guess what, Tammy? The staff that work with the horses are as follows: a woman named Mathilda Velasquez. She’s sixty-two. There’s a guy named Phillip Dobson, who’s forty-six. A woman named Rose-Anne Yates, twenty-seven. A few kids from the local high school who hang around getting work experience because they actually like the filthy beasts, if you can believe that. And that’s it.” She closed the file. “Those are my cowboys, Tammy: two women, a guy who’s nearing fifty, and a bunch of pimply teenagers. Sexy, huh?”

  Tammy slumped, bitterly disappointed. “Crap.” Then she brightened. “Maybe the restaurant or hotel staff? Maybe there’s a hot chef, who specializes in spicy food and who will pour syrup all over your body and lick it off. Chefs have nice hands, you know….” She thought for a second. “Or – ooooh! – a front desk kind of guy who knows all the hidden rooms in the hotel. You can have secret trysts all over the place, on every piece of furniture and in every position.”

  Julie laughed out loud. “Oh, my God. You just don’t stop, do you?”

  “Nope.”

  “OK, OK.” Julie threw a few cardigans in to the suitcase. “I promise to have a torrid affair with a totally unsuitable guy. Happy now?”

  “Deliriously.”

  Julie laughed and glanced down at the list in her hand. Forty-one items listed on it, and she’d only crossed out twelve. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be helping me pack?” Julie said. “Instead of sitting on your butt and fantasizing about my love life?”

  “Alright, alright. You and your lists, girl.” Tammy got to her feet and opened the second suitcase. “I’m helping.” She looked at the pile of clothes dubiously and pulled out several silk scarves. “I guess these would be OK with your jeans and a shirt?”

  “And my new cowboy boots.”

  Tammy’s face lit up. “I totally forgot! I got you a present!”

  “You what?” Julie asked her retreating back as Tammy rushed out of the bedroom. “Why’d you do that? I’ll be back in a few months… it’s not like I’m moving there.”

  “I know!” Tammy shouted from the living room. “But I saw it and couldn’t pass it up. OK, ready?”

  Julie sat down. Knowing Tammy’s taste in surprises, God only knows what might be coming through the door at her. “Ready.”

  Tammy pranced back in to the bedroom. A bright pink cowboy hat was perched on her head. She struck a pose in the doorway and blew on her fingers, pretending that they were six-shooters. “Want me to blow on your sex-shooter, baby?” she purred.

  “Oh, God.” Julie stared in horror. “That will clash horribly with my hair!”

  “I know!” Tammy was delighted. “That’s why I bought it!”

  Julie burst in to laughter. “You’re crazy.” She shook her head at her friend as affection rose in her chest. She reached out. “OK, hand it over. Let me try it on.”

  Tammy tossed the hat over and Julie jammed it down over her curls. “How’s it look?”

  “Stunning,” Tammy said. “Totally fab.”

  Julie looked at herself in the mirror and laughed. “It’s as dreadful as I thought it would be… possibly slightly worse.”

  “You’ll take it? To remember me by?”

  “Come on, Tammy. What’s six months?”

  “It’s a long time,” Tammy said. “When you’re dealing with people who knew your biological father, and when you’re living where he lived, and when you’re dealing with all the fall-out of a cheating fiancé.” Her violet eyes were serious in her round face. “Jules, I’m worried about you, and I’ll keep being worried about you. You’ve got a lot going on, and I won’t be there to help if things get to be too much.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Julie took off the hat and smoothed down her hair.

  “If you need me, I’ll come. You just call.” Tammy shrugged. “I already checked: it’s less than four hours to fly from here to Denver.”

  “Yeah, but, the expense…”

  “I found cheap tickets for around two hundred dollars.”

  Julie looked at her friend, smiling at the determined look on Tammy’s face. “Tammy. You don’t have two hundred dollars.”

  “If you need me, I’ll come,” Tammy repeated. “Don’t worry about the money.”

  “OK, how about this? If I need you, I’ll call you and pay for your flight. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  The two friends looked at each other for a minute and then hugged, spontaneously. They broke apart and Julie grinned.

  “Now, how about this packing?”

  “OK, OK,” Tammy sighed. “I’ll go through the bathroom. You want everything, right?”

  “Right.”

  Tammy took the matching fiery orange Louis Vuitton cosmetics bags and headed i
n to the bathroom to start packing Julie’s makeup. She’d be in there for a while, she knew: Julie adored beauty products.

  “Hey,” she called from the bathroom. “What about your offer from Plum Designs? Has it arrived yet?”

  “Yeah. I got it yesterday afternoon.” It had felt good to cross that one off her list.

  Tammy reappeared in the doorway. “And?”

  “And… it was great.”

  “How great?”

  “The total of five months’ salary after all deductions.”

  Tammy gaped. “Really? I never thought that dickhead would be so generous.”

  “Well, the thing is that I found out from Tricia who was replacing me as Head of NBD.”

  “OK. Who?”

  “The dickhead’s son-in-law. Fresh out of Harvard, with no work experience and who knows nothing at all about design.”

  “Hoo-boy. That sounds like one hell of a stupid move.”

  Julie shrugged. “Maybe. But the point is that if word got out that a respected and known designer got demoted under such conditions – I mean, it’s blatant nepotism – Plum would lose credibility, I can promise you.”

  “And you pointed that out to Timmy-boy, did you?”

  “Well, discreetly. You know.”

  “You bitch.” Tammy shook her head in admiration. “You have got guts.”

  “And now I’ve got a bit of a cushion. I won’t be freaking out about money for a couple of months, at least.”

  “Awesome.” Tammy went back in to the bathroom, chuckling.

  Julie looked around the bedroom, and it suddenly hit her exactly what she was doing. She was leaving this apartment tomorrow, this place that she’d called home for almost eight years. At the very first viewing, she’d fallen in love with the fireplace in the living room and the hand-painted tiles in the kitchen. Moving in here had been such an amazing declaration of independence and success: she’d paid her first and last month’s rent with the first bonus she’d ever been awarded at Plum Designs, given to her for her work on the Campbell Law Offices. After that job, she’d written her own ticket in terms of clients and projects and fees. It had been an amazing time. It was all over, now.

  The leasing agent had a dozen people interested in sub-letting the apartment while she was gone, but she couldn’t stand the thought of having a stranger in here for the next six months. She bit her lip, calculating the cost of the rent payments to the landlord. With the severance from Plum Designs, maybe she could swing it?

  “Tammy?” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you want to move in here for six months?”

  Her friend stared at her, stunned. “Jules. You know I can’t afford the rent on this place…”

  “I know, I know. I’m just thinking – what if you paid me the same rent that you’re paying now, and I cover the difference?”

  “What? Really?”

  “Yeah.” She looked around again. “I just don’t want to have to worry about a sub-let while I’m so far away. I don’t want to deal with problems and complaints and pet violations, since legally, I’m on the hook for anything that might happen here. You know? I can trust you.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t!” Tammy said merrily. “I’ll have Marco over every night, and I’ll dance for him on the marble table tops and gyrate all over the white leather sofa… I’ll cover myself in glitter and screw him on the bathroom counter and on the balcony…scandalize the snooty neighbour in 5B.”

  “Seriously, Tammy. I’m asking seriously.”

  Tammy squinted at Julie. “OK, sorry.” She paused and thought about it. “Yeah, OK. I mean, the lease is up on my place in less than two weeks, so the timing is perfect. And I can always find another scuzzy walk-up in six months’ time. That’s never a problem.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Julie felt light-years better. “That’s great.”

  “No, thank you. This place is incredible. Nicest place I’ve ever been in, really.”

  “Just one thing, Tammy…”

  “I know. I know what you’re going to say: Marco can’t move in. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “I know you can’t stand him, Jules, but he’s not as bad as you think. You should give him a chance.”

  Julie barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Why couldn’t Tammy find a nice guy, one who would treat her with some respect and love? She just picked loser after loser and was shocked and hurt when he wasn’t invested in the relationship, or cheated on her, or used her for money or her car or a place to crash.

  “You like him, Tammy, and that’s all that matters. I mean, you’re dating the guy, not me.”

  “OK, OK. Let’s drop it. So, back to the apartment. I’d love to stay here and I promise to take good care of it. It’s great of you to ask me.”

  Julie grinned. “Yeah, well. This way, I don’t have to pack all my clothes in boxes and stick them in storage down in the basement – they can stay in one of the closets. You can even wear my clothes, if you want.”

  Tammy looked her friend up and down. “Oh, right. All the legs on your pants would end at my knee and your dresses would barely cover my crotch.”

  “Hey!” Julie said, mocking indignation. “It’s not my fault that you have those long legs that go up past my chin…”

  “Well. I can borrow your crazy high-heeled shoes, if I feel like banging my head on the ceiling. And your purses.” She gave Julie a pleading look. “You will leave the red Coach purse, right? I’ve always wanted to show up at work with it…”

  “Absolutely. Consider it yours for the next six months.” Julie nodded at the bathroom door. “OK. Back to it.”

  Tammy saluted smartly. “Yes, ma’am!”

  Julie crossed two more things off her list: ‘sub-let apartment’ and ‘put clothes in storage downstairs’. She sighed.

  Chapter Two

  Flying business-class had always been an enjoyable experience for her, but this time, Julie couldn’t relax.

  Not that anything was wrong, at all. The window seat was roomy and very comfortable; the complimentary Champagne was delightful; the meal was excellent. The man next to Julie was mercifully quiet and after a cursory glance over his glasses down at her legs and up at her breasts he’d focused his attention on his laptop. Spreadsheets and figures dominated the screen as he scrolled up and down and sideways. He also sighed a lot, and shook his head. Once he laughed under his breath and muttered, "As if. Blockheads.”

  Julie tried to stay calm. She was sure that she looked perfectly composed, as she sat there in her tailored grey dress pants and white blouse with three-quarter sleeves and a forest-green blazer. Her feet were encased in black, strappy high heels and emeralds glittered on her ears, around her neck, and on her finger. She was determined to look like a woman of means, a woman with money of her own, a woman who could make it in the world and stand on her own two feet. The thought that a bunch of horse-riding yahoos from Nowhere, Colorado might see her as a gold-digger or – even worse – as some pathetic poor relation of David Asshole Reid burned her.

  She glanced out of the window at the mountains below. Julie had lived in New York her entire life, and even though she’d been to the Swiss Alps with Steve, she’d never seen the Rockies. She stared down at them, her thoughts full of nightmare scenarios and things that she’d now have to learn to deal with, one way or the other.

  A hotel with guests who would have terrifying requests for things like heat and electricity and entertainment and staff competence. Clean sheets, scrubbed toilets, streak-free windows facing the mountains.

  A restaurant which had to be kept to a certain standard of cleanliness and hygiene. Permits and certifications and inspections and insurance. Menus, wines, daily specials, a food budget, maybe a temperamental chef who shouted at everyone in a French accent (either real or affected), waitstaff who forgot crucial pieces of cutlery and spilled things on the diners.

  A staff of people that she’d possibly have to fire in six months, no
matter how well they performed, one of whom was over sixty. Who’d hire Mathilda Velasquez, once Julie handed her that pink slip? What if she started to like the staff? How would she actually fire a group of people that she liked? She’d never fired anyone in her life – let alone a team of twenty-five.

  And, worst of all, the biggest worry of all, a stable full of horses. Gigantic, stinking, vile creatures who could stomp her to death without a second thought.

  “So, are you from Denver?”

  It took Julie a second to realize that the spreadsheet man had taken off his glasses, picked up his wine glass, and was speaking to her.

  “Oh. Oh, no. I’m not. Are you?”

  He shook his head. “No. Just there on business.”

  She nodded politely.

  “And you? On business?”

  “Well, yes. Kind of.” How to explain how she had ended up in this seat next to him?

  “What kind of business? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “A hotel,” she said reluctantly. “Right near the mountains. It’s quite a tourist attraction, I guess.”

  “You guess?” He peered at her, his head cocked to one side. “So, have you never been there before?”

  “No. It’s my first time.” She was tired of this conversation now, and gave him her coolest smile. “If you’ll excuse me, please.”

  He obliged and stood up, and she sashayed off to the restroom. In the flattering light of the first-class restroom area, she brushed her teeth and redid her makeup. She shook her hair out before pulling it back again with an elegant tortoise-shell clip. She moisturized her hands and spritzed herself with JAR Bolt of Lightning perfume. The scent of rose and citrus filled the air and she closed her eyes, trying to relax. They were landing in less than thirty minutes.

  At the thought, her breath started to get short, her throat started to close. Panic and fear were rising, and her body was shaking.

  Blue. Blue. I’m in the blue room. It’s safe and calm and everything is OK.

  She opened her eyes again, meeting her own cool, detached gaze in the mirror. She could do this. She could.

  After all, it wouldn’t be the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life; not even close.