MoonRush (11 page)

“How much to lease?”

Simon burst out laughing. “Whoa! No lease. Quarter of a mil to purchase.”

“Right!” Jarod retorted. He might be desperate enough to lease this bucket
of
bolts
,
but
buy
it
?

“See the article in the
New York
Times
this morning?” Simon asked probably knowing full well that Jarod had. It was the only reason he’d even consider wandering into this Hell Garage. “Who knew the moon was so small? Looks like they’re running out of stakes.” Simon shrugged, as if it meant nothing to him one way or another. “Or so they say.”

Jarod
’s
mouth tasted sour. “Yeah. Or so they say.”

“But hey, go shop around
,
” Simon urged. “I’m sure you’ll find something that meets your Armani standards.”

Armani standards? Dude. He would be happy with Kmart,
or
make that the Dollar Store at this point. But this abomination before him? This spaceship that the other spaceship
owners
called “freak”
?
um, no. Just no.

Jarod stalked off, smacking his head against the roof of the Ford truck as he left
the “gate” to the launchpad.

He rubbed at the injury with more force than needed. Damn it
!
Why was the universe making it so damned hard to get to the moon
?

With Gil here, constantly lurking, waiting to poach, even the moon was barely far enough away for Jarod’s tastes. There was nothing here for the Rogues while that slimy eel was around.

But that ship…

Jarod could almost hear Cleo’s voice, coming from a perch on his right shoulder, whispering…actually
,
she was kind of yelling…into his ear.

“Are you kidding me, Jarod? That ship can’t make it out of this yard, much less get us to the moon
!
Don’t be so irresponsible.” Yep. Definitely Cleo. Cutting logic followed up with a guilt
-
inducing insult.

Buton’s voice wasn’t far behind hers. “In order to
ensure
our safe arrival on the moon, a craft that can withstand the rigors of atmospheric exit and reentry would be far preferable to this… less safe model.” Ah, Buton. The big words mixed with politeness that almost masked the fact that he had just called you an idiot.

Even Rob wasn’t really on board here. “Ummm…
Uncle Jare
. Not exactly a babe magnet, is it?”

Right on cue, Brandi Broadhope
showed up in his subconscious, all flaming
-
red hair and sexy curves. “You were pretty hot, Jarod. Too bad you don’t have any money.” Ouch. That one stung.

What his brain served up next was even worse. Slinking up behind Brandi, Gil slung his arm over her hip. “Come on, Jarod. You know who the real predator is here. You were never man enough for this one.”

That was it.

Jarod spun around to find Simon standing next to him. “Do you know a pilot?”

“Cash up front?” the little man asked.

Jarod swallowed. No, no he did not have cash up front. Maybe he had something equally valuable. “Did you see the Porsche out front?” Simo
n
nodded. Dear God
,
was he really considering this? Putting his baby down as collateral? But he had to have faith. Faith they could make it to the moon. Faith they would find star diamonds. Faith that they would make enough to buy Jarod’s car back
—
and so much more. “How do you feel about bartering?”

Simon’s grin looked like it would leap off his face. He pulled out a baseball cap and shoved it onto his head. When he lowered his hands, the NASA emblem blazed
. I
ts white lettering
was
stark against the bright blue background.

Jarod’s jaw drop
ped
, one word managing to escape past his shock. “You?”

The little person pointed to the symbol on his hat. “Passed everything but the height requirement.” He pivoted on his heel and swaggered back to the gate.

Jarod could do nothing bu
t follow in his tiny footsteps.

* * *

Cleo stared out
of
the motel room window, her hand resting on the sill. She could almost see the sign outside from where she
stood
. What was the name of this place? The Sunshine Mountain? No. The Sunshine was back in Ohio. Mountain Light? Not quite. Wasn’t there a Terrace Light in Arizona? Mountain View. Of course. How could she forget the name Mountain View
when
there wasn’t so much as a bump in the road for as far as the eye could see? West Texas was not only flat
—
it was hot, dry and, from what Cleo could see, entirely composed of dust.

As she stepped back from the window,
she
pulled peeled paint away
as she lifted her hand
. Taking a closer look, Cleo realized it wasn’t just paint. A black smear of what looked to be
A
spergillus terreus
, a common house mold. It wasn’t generally toxic, but, combined with the three other species she had found in the bathroom, it didn’t make Cleo want to spend
any
more time here.

Turning back toward the room, Cleo saw Rob on the bed, one of his prosthetics in his lap, tinkering with one of the many gadgets he had designed
for
the false limb. If airport security had any idea of what those attachments were capable of, they never would have been able to catch a flight on time.

Buton was at the desk
.
H
is fingers flowed over his laptop, working on a paper for publication, consulting for some bigwig somewhere, or possibly even researching their upcoming trip to the moon. He rarely shared much about what he was up to. Cleo supposed that should make him a bad traveling companion, but it gave her space to think.

Just as she was about to give up on her vigil and eat some reheated Pizza Rolls before digging into outfitting the med kit, Cleo caught the sound of a car engine revving behind her and glanced back. So, she was the first and only member of the crew to watch the bright red Porsche pull up to the curb…way too fast…and kick up a huge spray of gravel as Jarod slammed on the brakes.

Jarod leapt out of the car almost before the hydraulic door had finished gliding open. He flicked his hand to start the lock mechanism. He was halfway across the street when he glanced around at his surroundings. Jarod seemed to take stock, stopp
ing
dead in his tracks and return
ing
to his car, undoing and then redoing the locks, his hands flapping with apparent fervor.

From the spring in Jarod’s step, Cleo was hopeful that this might be the one they’d been waiting for. Although there was something furtive in his look. But when hadn’t there been since the Caribbean?

Jarod banged open the motel room door with a flourish, his hip cocked at a jaunty angle.

Cleo asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Find a ship?”

“
You
can thank
me
later,” Jarod said pointing his finger at her like a toy gun.

Wow. Red flag
on the play
. Whenever Jarod got all cockeyed confident, there was a problem. A big problem. She seriously doubted
that
she would be thanking him
—
quite the opposite
,
in fact. Before she could open her mouth to grill him, Buton and Rob swarmed over Jarod. Their enthusiasm nearly bowl
ed
him over.

“What are the stress point vectors?” Buton quizzed.

“What’s the backup protocol for internal power
outage?” Rob jumped in on Buton’s heels.

In answer, Jarod threw down what looked like a roll of toilet paper. A roll of toilet paper that had been scribbled over.

“There ya go,” he said
,
acting as if that roll could answer all their
questions and trepidation
.

Cleo looked closer. It didn’t just
look
like a roll
.
I
t
was
one.

“This is on toilet paper,” she said, completely dumbfounded.

This was beginning to feel like Boca. He’d been sent out for batteries and came back with a 10,000
-
watt stereo system for the boat
—
10,000 watt. If they hadn’t found that schooner with the  silver serving set
from the 1800
s…well they couldn’t have even afforded batteries.

“Let’s just say his copier was down,” Jarod said, brushing off Cleo’s comment. Then he gave her that devil-may-care grin of his. Second red flag. This would not end well.

Buton and Rob proceeded to devour the information on the tattered roll of bathroom tissue. Rob glanced up from his perusal to query, “Did you get our launch window,
Uncle
Jar
e
?”

Jarod paused before answering. He infused his voice with what Cleo guessed was his attempt at humor. “You
’d
better get your beauty sleep
,
because it’s tomorrow, first thing.”

The room erupted.

“What?” Buton questioned.

“You’re kidding,” Rob said, his voice ticking up an octave. “Right?”

“Are you
insane
?” Cleo was somewhat pleased with her restraint on that last one.

Jarod seemed to take it all in stride. Cleo guessed that he had spent the whole ride back to the motel preparing himself for their reaction
s
. “Look, do you know how long I stood in line at the DMV just to get the ship’s registration straightened out?”

Cleo wasn’t about to let him
get
off that
easily
. “Do you have any idea how much time we need to be space-ready?”