Truehearts & The Escape From Pirate Moon Jake Macklem (classic romance novels TXT) 📖

her training? The glowing dots of light looked like stars in a yellow nebula. “I see things like this Gwen, and I think of you. I’m coming home.” He turned the device off and stashed it in his pack. “Thanks for being so pleasant with my family. You made me sound like a hero.”

“Cowboy, you’re getting me off this rock, that makes you my hero. And besides, now I know you’re just like me.” She smiled coyly.

“What do you mean?” Cam asked.

“I heard that filthy word come out of your mouth. And you’re going to kiss your wife with it. Shame.” She grinned.

“So,“ Cam began as they watched the lights, “is Ace a call sign?”

“No.”

Cam waited, but realized that was the end of the conversation. The two sat, drifting in silence.

  14: Ace

In the secret halls winding throughout the club, the little redheaded girl walked somberly with her doll. “I really wish it wouldn’t have come to this, Mr. Puddles.”

I loved that doll. I was like eight. The brightly colored face of the clown looked surprised, but the girl was stern and disapproving. “No. Don’t bother trying to talk your way out of it. It was you. It had to be you. It couldn’t have been anyone but you.” She stopped in front of a door and slowly turned the handle. “You be quiet, Mr. Puddles, and this will go a lot easier on you.” She pushed the door in and peeked around the edge. The dark room stank of sex, sweat, and stale smoke.

With exaggerated steps, she tip-toed barefoot across the room to the other side of the bed and dropped to the floor. Looking under the bed she saw one of the shoes. She grabbed it and crawled up onto the mattress. Under a pair of pants and underwear, she found the other one. Smiling, she sat back and put on her pretty pink shoes with a one-inch heel.

“What are you doing in here kid?” Mick’s voice was deep and gravelly, more than normal.

“I needed my shoes Mick,” The little girl whispered as she slipped off the bed.

He rolled over and looked at her, his hair curly and unkempt. “Why?”

She got close and spoke softly, “Well, Mr. Puddles is gonna have a little accident with the trash incid… incid… incinerator.” She gave her best somber face. “I wanted to wear my best shoes.”

Mick nodded his understanding. “You’ve known Mr. Puddles a long time. It would only be respectful.”

She nodded back.

Mick always did get me.

“He must have done something real bad.” Mick reached for the almost empty glass of bourbon.

With tight lips, she nodded again.

“What was it?”

“He stole my favorite skirt and I can’t find it,” she said. The clown’s shocked expression pleaded his innocence.

Shifting, he tilted the glass back and swished the brown liquor before swallowing. “I think you got the wrong clown, kid,” he chuckled.

“I wish. But Mr. Puddles was the only one there. I left it spread out in the middle of the floor so it wouldn’t have any wrinkles and this morning when I got up,” she huffed, “it was gone! The only ones there were me and Mr. Puddles.” She covered the clown's face. “I don’t want to believe it either,” she said, her voice trembling, “but I don’t know who else it could be, Mick.”

“Why don’t you go tell Glitter to make pancakes, then after breakfast, we can go down to the spaceport and the park. That sounds like fun, right? Let's do that.” Mick smiled.

“That sounds great Mick, but I gotta find my skirt and have a long chat with Mr. Puddles.” The little girl sounded disappointed.

“What if I told you I knew where your skirt was? Then would you go get breakfast started?” Mick asked slyly.

The little girl looked very suspicious. “Why would you know where my skirt is?” She walked around the bed, stepping over stray piles of discarded clothes and a forgotten liquor bottle, and searched around the dresser. Bunched in a ball was her skirt. “What the shank, Shonda!” She stomped over and grabbed the skirt. “It’s all wrinkled now!” She shouted holding it out as proof.

Shonda sat up in bed, looking confused. As her awareness started to grow, her eyes settled on the little girl. “What the are you doing in here?”

“Why’d you take my skirt,” demanded the girl, shaking her wrinkled skirt at the dazed older woman.

“I told you not to leave your shit on the floor,” Shonda snipped.

“It was fine, now it’s wrinkled. You’re a real hussy, Shonda!” The little girl spun and marched out of the room. “I’m having Glitter make pancakes, then Mick and I are leaving.” Stopping in the doorway she glared at the couple on the bed. “You better hope I’m in a better mood when I get back, Shonda!” She stormed out but could hear the rising pitch of shouting.

“You need to do something with that little hussy,” Shonda screamed. “I won’t be talked to like that. Waking us up! It’s 7:30 Mick. 7:30 in the shanking morning! We went to bed what, four hours ago?”

“For shank’s sake, she’s a little kid and you're taking her stuff? You’re lucky she’s just screaming at you. Go back to bed, Shonda!”

“She needs to go to school Mick, or she’ll just end up on her back like the rest of us!”

That’s why I went to school. Shonda wanted to sleep.

The dreamscape shifted. Now Ace wore her red hair in a thick braid. She sat at a desk. As the teacher started lecturing about the arrival of The Last Predecessor, the classroom became more detailed. Light spilled in the windows and across the off-yellow walls. A thick mud-orange stripe went around the room. A flag of United Sol hung in the corner. Children’s drawings of planets