Rock Chick Redemption by Kristen Ashley
Man, oh man, I was undoubtedly, seriously, officially in trouble.
“Uncle Tex—”
His big, beefy hand came out and enveloped mine. “Just got you in my life, darlin’ girl, ain’t no weasely-assed motherfucker gonna take you back out. He’ll have to split my skull open with that fuckin’ sledgehammer before that happens.”
The fear crawled up my throat again mainly because I was worried Billy’d do it.
“Uncle Tex—”
“Don’t worry, Roxie. Before he cracked open my skull, he’d have to crack open half a dozen other ones. Trust me, I know how these fuckin’ guys work. He wouldn’t get through the first wave.”
“I don’t know these people and you barely do.”
“Don’t need to know much more of them to know what they’re made of. Seen a lot of it these past months.” He squeezed my hand. “You came to the right place.” Then he leaned back in his seat and tipped his head back, “Bring it on!” he boomed.
Good grief.
Yes, I was undoubtedly, seriously, officially in trouble.
Chapter Five
Phone Calls
Uncle Tex took me to my car and I followed him to his house and I helped him clean litter trays. After, we went down to the corner store where he introduced me to Mr. Kumar, his friend and grocery supplier. Then, I found out Uncle Tex needed to get ready for his date with Nancy.
On the way back from Mr. Kumar’s store, I sang the “Uncle Tex and Nancy, Sitting in a Tree” song again and he picked me up, carried me to my car, set me down on the street, turned around and, without a backward glance, walked back into his house.
Hee hee.
* * * * *
I went to my hotel and tore through my suitcases (yes, I had two, I was high maintenance and high maintenance women didn’t go anywhere without at least two suitcases) looking for an outfit to wear for my date. I was staring at the exploded suitcases in despair because, even though I had more clothes in those two suitcases than most of the earth’s population would own in their lifetimes, I did not have an outfit to wear on my date with Whisky.
My cell phone rang.
I tensed and stared at my purse like it was a living thing out for my blood and I yanked the phone out of my bag, expecting it to tell me Billy was calling.
Instead, it told me Daisy was calling.
In shock, I flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Hey Sugar Bunch, what’re you wearin’ for your date?” Daisy asked.
I sat on the edge of the bed. I’d known this woman for less than twenty-four hours and she acted like she’d known me for twenty-four years.
“I’ve no idea,” I told her.
“Call Indy, she’ll know. She’s good at that stuff. Listen, you gonna be in town awhile?”
What now?
“I don’t know,” I answered.
“Well, me and Marcus are havin’ a party, not this Thursday but next. Would love for you to come.”
That was so sweet of her.
“I don’t know if I’ll be here but if I am, I’ll come,” I said.
“I don’t need exact numbers, it’s a charity do so it’ll be finger food. The people comin’ own most of Denver. They can afford to fill their bellies before they show up at The Castle.”
The Castle?
Daisy went on. “It’s black tie, you got something sparkly to wear?”
“Um…” I didn’t. Billy and I didn’t normally attend black tie affairs.
“Don’t worry, Tod will loan you somethin’. He’s a drag queen. He has the best closet. Oh! Gotta go, my masseuse is here. Ta-ta!”
“Bye,” I said to dead air. She’d already hung up.
I flipped the phone closed and tried to flip off the switch that was making me feel welcome and safe and weirdly at home (the switch didn’t work).
I washed my face in order to prepare for my nighttime makeup regime and I was drying it when my phone rang. I looked at it on the vanity, certain that it would be Billy, but instead it said it was Tod, Indy’s neighbor.
Holy cow. I knew that Daisy had programmed in Tod and Stevie when she was fiddling with my phone. How Tod got my number, I did not know.
I flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Hey girlie. It’s Tod. Daisy called, said you might need something to wear to her big bash. Come over, we’ll go through my closet,” Tod invited.
Oh my God, that was so sweet.
“I’m not sure I’m going to be here,” I told him.
“You have to be here! It’s gonna be the party of the decade!” Tod screeched like I just told him I turned down a marriage proposal from Prince William.
“Um…” I said.
“Come over anyway. I’ll get out a bottle of sparkling wine and the Yahtzee game.”
“I’m going on a date with Hank.”
Silence.
Then, “Shit, those boys don’t fuck around.”
He could say that again.
Because I needed help, I took a deep breath and confided, “I’m not sure what to wear.”
Tod answered immediately, “Tell me what you’ve got.”
I described the contents of my suitcases. The whole time I spoke, he muttered, “Mm hmm. Mm hmm.” Then, when I described my black top with the wide, scoop neck, he yelled, “That! With jeans and heels and a rock ‘n’ roll scarf. Do you have a good belt? Forget it. I’m coming over with belts… and scarves. Be there in ten.”
Then he disconnected.
I stared at the phone.
Was he serious?
Holy cow.
He couldn’t be serious.
I couldn’t worry about it. Time was ticking by and I’d only just begun my preparations. I started on my makeup and just got through the first phase of a five phase production when the phone went again.
My body didn’t tense this time, I could see the display saying “Ally Calling”.
I was no longer surprised by this bizarre string of phone calls.
“Hi,” I answered.
“Hey chickie, Daisy texted me your number. You got an outfit for your date with Hank?”
Good grief.
“No, but I think Tod’s coming over with belts and scarves.”
“Good to hear, Tod’ll sort you out. How long you staying in Denver?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, it’s October and the Haunted Houses are opening and we’re going, all of us, Indy, Jet, Daisy and me. You gotta go. It’s hilarious.”
“I don’t do scary,” I informed her, thinking she’d understand.
She didn’t understand.
“Perfect. Don’t worry. The chainsaw man never has a chain on his saw. We’ll keep you in the loop. Gotta go. Later.”
Chainsaw man?
Before I could ask, she disconnected.
I was staring at the dead phone in my hand when the hotel phone rang. I walked over and picked it up, this time worried that Billy’d found me too soon. Or worse, Hank had come early.
“Hello?”
“It’s Tod, what room number are you?”
I was silent a second.
He was serious. How did he even know where I was?
I didn’t want to know.
“Three thirty-three,” I said.
Disconnect.
Good God.
Now I knew how Uncle Tex had been so well, truly and quickly ensconced in the fold. These people acted as fast as lightening.
There was a knock on the door and I opened it. Tod walked in carrying enough scarves and belts to accessorize the entirety of the Purdue Boiler Babes Dance Team.
He charged in tossing everything on the bed.
I closed the door and walked back into the room.
“Tod, he’s going to be here in…” I looked at my watch. Then I let out a little scream.
“Calm, calm,” Tod said, his hands out in front of him, palms down, pressing the air. “Let’s get crackin’. Finish your face, I’ll sort through this.”
&nb
I didn’t have time to flip out that some guy I barely knew was digging through my suitcases. Hank was going to be there in twenty minutes and I hadn’t even moved to phase two of makeup.
I was shading and blending through phase four when Tod walked into the bathroom. “Outfit’s on the bed, I unpacked you because, girlie, you’re getting wrinkles in some of your fab-you-las blouses. So I hung them up, unmentionables and PJs in the drawers. You can return the belt and scarf to Indy and I’m borrowing those Manolo Mary Janes for my act this weekend if you’re still in town. They fit like they were made for me.”
“Sure,” I said, even though it wasn’t a request.
We air-kissed and he took off.
I finished the makeup, fluffed out my hair and put on the black top, jeans, a black belt of Tod’s, the Manolo Mary Janes and looped once around my neck a thin, long rock ‘n’ roll scarf made entirely out of silver bugle beads stitched together. I put a wide silver cuff on my wrist, my Raymond Weil on my other wrist and some seriously long hoops dangling at my ears. I was spritzing with Boucheron at six twenty-nine and trying to breathe calmly and reach my zen zone (and failing) when my cell rang again.
It said, “Jet Calling.”
I flipped open the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey Roxie, Daisy gave me your number.”
Daisy was a busy little beaver.
“How’s your Dad?” I asked.
Jet’s Dad had been shot, stabbed, beaten, then thrown out of a moving car on Broadway outside of Fortnum’s just days before. They moved him out of ICU that morning and Jet spent the day in the hospital with him.
“A lot better. Breathing, talking, conscious.”
I smiled. “I’m glad.”
“I hear you’re going out with Hank tonight, you got something to wear?”
Cripes! I had four new best friends and I’d known them only a day. Next thing, Indy was going to be calling, asking me to a slumber party.
Before I could answer, the hotel phone rang.
I let out another little scream.
I heard Jet laugh.
“Hank’s there,” she surmised.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod,” I chanted.
“Deep breaths,” Jet said.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod,” I chanted.
“It might help if you answer the phone,” Jet suggested but I could tell it was through a smile.
“Hang on” I said to her, took the cell from my ear and picked up the room phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
It was Hank.
My legs gave out and I sat on the bed.
“Hey,” I replied.
“I’m at reception. What room are you in?”
I did not want Hank in my room. I wanted Hank nowhere near my room. In fact, Hank was already nearer to my room than I ever wanted him to be.
“I’ll come down.”
He ignored me.
“What room are you in?” he repeated.
“I’ll be right down,” I said.
His voice dropped low. “Sunshine, I’m gonna ask one more time. What room are you in?”
His voice shivered through me.
“Three thirty-three,” I replied.
Disconnect.
I put the cell back to my ear, “Ohmigod, ohmigod,” I said to Jet.
She was laughing. “Word of advice?” she offered.
“Anything.”
“Don’t fight it.”
Shit.
“Jet… there are things…” I stopped. Then I started again, “I can’t –”
She interrupted me. “I can’t either but I really don’t need to because Eddie can. It, like, totally freaks me out,” she confided.
“Eddie adores you. I could tell that the minute I saw you two, and Uncle Tex said so,” I said to her.
“Yeah. I’m beginning to believe it. It still, like, totally freaks me out.”
There was a knock on the door. My eyes swung to the door and I stared at it.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod,” I chanted.
Jet laughed again. “Get the door.”
I nodded, got off the bed and walked to the door. Then, to focus on something, anything that was not what was behind the door, I said, “Uncle Tex is taking your Mom out tonight.”
“I know,” she replied. “That works out, we could be related.”
I knew in an instant I’d like that.
I opened the door and looked at Hank.
He smiled at me.
My knees went weak and I wasn’t thinking about anything but Hank.
“Gotta go,” I said to Jet.
“Tell Hank I said hi.”
“Sure.”
She disconnected and I flipped the phone shut.
Hank’s eyes went to the phone.
“Jet,” I told him.
Without a word, he walked forward, even though I was in his way.
He seemed bigger than I remembered, taller, broader of shoulder. His presence seemed to invade the room. He was wearing a black leather jacket, a dark gray turtleneck sweater, jeans and black boots.
He looked fantastic.
I quickly moved out of his way, he finished entering and turned. I stood in the door.
“She says hi,” I shared.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the doorway and then shut the door behind me. I watched the door close and just (barely) stopped myself from screaming again.
“Uncle Tex is going out on a date with her mom tonight,” I kept sharing.
His hand was still on my arm and now he was pulling me to him. He still didn’t say anything.
“If this works out, Jet and I could end up related,” I went on, completely unable to stop talking.
He pulled me closer, then his hand left my arm and went around my waist. The other hand went to the side of my neck.
“We’ll be, like, cousins or something,” I carried on.
His face came toward mine. His lips weren’t smiling but his eyes were.
My lips and eyes weren’t smiling, my body was preparing to have a heart attack.
“Is it cousins? Or would I be her niece? How does that go?” I asked, desperately re-designing my family tree in an effort to avoid what was happening in real time.
“Sunshine?” he said against my mouth.
“Yeah?” I breathed.
“Shut up.”
I did.
Then he kissed me.
It was just like the night before, just as serious, just as hot, just as quick to scramble my brain and make me go dizzy.
He lifted his head.
When I could think straight again, I said, “You’re supposed to do that after the date is over.”
“I’m gonna do it then too,” he returned, his arm still around me, his hand still at my neck.
Holy cow.
“I’m sorry but you Denver people are nuts. I’ve known you all, like, a day and I just got calls from Daisy, Ally and Jet. Tod actually came over bringing half of Neiman Marcus’s accessory department with him to help me get dressed. The entire Denver experience is weird. Beyond weird. Denver is “The Twilight Zone,” I told him.
“We’re friendly.”
“You can say that again.”
He ignored my comment and asked, “You hungry?”
I wasn’t hungry, I’d eaten a mountain of food only a few hours before.
If I said no, I wasn’t certain what my options were and since we were in a room that consisted mainly of furniture on which a girl could only find trouble (or, in my case, more trouble), I lied.
“Starving.”
It was then, the smile in his eyes hit his mouth.
Holy cow.
My phone rang.
“Shit!” I cried, pulling out of his arms and lifting the phone to look at it. “Who could it be now? It has to be Indy.”
I stopped talking when Hank plucked the phone out of my hand, flipped it open and
I stared at him in disbelief.
“Yeah?” he said into the phone.
“Whisky, you can’t just answer my phone,” I snapped, sounding a lot like Jet when she snapped at Eddie, that was to say, full of shit. I reached to take it away from him but he jerked his head away from my reach.
“Hello?” he said, sounding far more serious.
My body froze and my heart stopped.
Billy.
This was not good. I thought it would be Indy, Duke, Stevie, Lee, Eddie and half dozen other people I barely knew who were all of a sudden my friends. Not Billy.
He took the phone from his ear and flipped it shut.
“Who was it?” I asked, wondering if I should ask for CPR pre-heart attack and deciding Hank’s lips on mine (again) was not a good idea.
“No answer.”
The phone rang again.
I reached for it, knowing now who it was and feeling panic spreading through my body but Hank stepped away, flipped it open and put it to his ear. “Hello?” he said.
I moved toward him and got in his space. “Hank,” I whispered.
“Is someone there?” Hank said into the phone.
I closed my eyes.
This was not happening.
I opened my eyes again and Hank was watching me. He took the phone from his ear and flipped it shut. “No answer,” Hank informed me. He opened it and started pressing buttons.
I knew what he was doing, looking at the received calls. Normally, I would have been angry at his nerve but I was too busy freaking out at what he might find.
“Give me my phone, Hank.”
He got to what he was looking for. “It says unknown caller.”
Shit.
Billy was on the road and likely his cell had run out of juice.
“Give me the phone,” I repeated.
It rang again.
Without delay, he flipped it open and put it to his ear.
“Hank!” I yelled, making a play for it but he caught me, snatching me around the waist with his arm and he pulled me up against his body.
“This is Detective Hank Nightingale. Who’s calling?” he said in a voice that rang with so much authority, if it was me on the other side, I would have answered in a flash.
Billy was going to have a shit hemorrhage: a man answering my phone, a man with a deep, sexy, authoritative, no-nonsense voice and a police title.
“Identify yourself,” Hank demanded.