Rock Chick Regret by Kristen Ashley
Kitty Sue looked at Malcolm and she swallowed before looking back to me. “Lizzie used to say she sometimes wondered if you knew she existed. She told me, when you were a baby, Seth used to get up and give you your bottles in the night because you’d cry if she went to you but you’d settle if she handed you to him so he just did it all the time. She said he didn’t mind. She thought he secretly loved it. Anytime you’d fall over, bang yourself on something, you’d always go running to him –”
I shook my head and Kitty Sue stopped talking.
That couldn’t be true.
It was my Mom. It was always my Mom.
“No,” I breathed.
I pulled fully away from Hector and took a few steps into the room.
“Sadie, come here,” Hector called softly.
I turned to him and it all came to me, stuff I hadn’t remembered in years.
I closed my eyes tight against the memories, the strongest of which was how he’d come in after Mom brushed my hair at night and kiss the top of my head, just like Hector.
He’d tuck the bedclothes tight around me and turn out the light.
“‘Night, my beautiful, sweet Sadie,” he’d whisper.
“‘Night, Daddy,” I’d whisper back.
Oh. My. God.
How could I forget?
How?
“I informed on him,” I said to Hector.
Hector jumped down from the counter and came at me but I backed away, putting up a hand.
“When you were undercover and… and… just a few days ago!” I shouted.
“Mi amor, come here.”
I shook my head, still backing away.
“He wanted to be sure I was safe, taken care of, he asked Jerry –”
“He did make sure you were safe,” Hector told me. “If he hadn’t helped, we wouldn’t have flushed the Balduccis out yesterday. It would have taken days, maybe weeks before we got them.”
I stopped my retreat and stared at Hector, not sure I heard him correctly.
“What?” I asked.
Hector stopped too but he kept talking. “Vance and I went to see him yesterday.”
At this announcement, my mouth dropped open but Hector kept going.
“Jerry had aligned himself with Donny. I told Seth that and he gave us everything. They were hidin’ in one of his safe houses, he has three. Vance and I hit one. Lee and Luke another one. Mace and Monty hit the third, where they were stayin’, but they must have got word and they cleared out before Mace and Monty got there. Then they panicked. Ricky came after me. Thinkin’ that Marty gave them up, Donny shot him but he got away, came to us for protection. Donny followed but knowin’ they were fucked, he played out a last ditch effort at vengeance, guessin’, correctly, we had you.”
I was stuck on an earlier point.
“You went to see my father?” I asked.
Hector nodded. “Yeah.”
“He talked to you?”
“He gave me everything.”
I couldn’t believe this because, frankly, it was absolutely, positively, unbelievable.
“He helped you?”
Hector nodded again, watching me closely.
“You?” I repeated.
“Me,” Hector replied.
“For me,” I whispered.
“For you.”
I pulled in my lips and I felt the tears hit the back of my eyes, stinging there.
“I’m not going to cry!” I yelled then, damn and blast, blast, blast, I promptly burst into tears. “Fuck!” I shouted and found myself in Hector’s arms. “I’m crying,” I told Hector’s chest unnecessarily, my arms wrapping around his waist and my body pressing against his.
“Cry, mi cielo, who gives a fuck?” Hector said over my head.
“I do! I’m sick of crying! But he’s been… he’s been…” I choked then hiccupped. “He’s been trying to get hold of me and I haven’t even gone to see him!” Even though the last bout of tears hadn’t yet gone stale, I burst into fresh ones all the same.
Hector’s arms grew tighter.
“We’ll go next visiting day. I’ll take you.”
I was shocked at this offer, so much, my tears ceased immediately. I tilted my head back, looked at Hector through blurry eyes and asked, “You will?”
I was pretty certain he nodded.
“I can’t believe he helped you,” I whispered.
“He helped you,” Hector amended. “He didn’t help me and he didn’t like seein’ me either. It wasn’t like he invited me to Christmas dinner at the big house.”
I couldn’t help it, what he said was funny, so, through my waning tears, I burst out laughing.
“Christmas dinner at the big house?” I repeated, still giggling.
One of Hector’s hands came up and wiped at my tears. He grinned but he didn’t respond.
“Do you think he knows I informed on him with you?”
Hector’s gaze went from my cheeks to my eyes. “No.”
“Why wasn’t he angry that my Mom betrayed him?” I asked, as if Hector would know.
Apparently Hector did know because he answered.
“Because he loved her. You love someone, you forgive a lot of shit. She wasn’t exactly doin’ the wrong thing, mamita, he was.”
Hector was right.
I pulled in breath, looked at him a second then two then let the breath go and leaned into him, pressing my cheek against his chest and giving him a tight squeeze.
Then I moved, doing a circle so his arms were still around me but my back was to his front.
I looked at the room to see everyone was watching.
“I’m okay,” I announced to the room and surprisingly I was.
I looked at Vance and my voice went soft.
“Thank you,” I said and he gave me a chin lift which I took to mean “you’re welcome”.
My eyes skimmed across Malcolm, Kitty Sue and Tom and then rested on Blanca.
“Unless someone else wants to rock my world, I think we can have breakfast now,” I told her. “Can I help?”
Blanca gave me a close look. Then she must have approved of what she saw because she smiled and declared, “Today, I’ll teach you to scramble eggs.”
I knew how to scramble eggs but I decided not to tell Blanca that, it might spoil the fun.
And heaven knew, I needed some fun.
I felt Hector lean into me and he whispered in my ear so only I could hear, “Will of fuckin’ steel.”
The warm, snugly, comfy, lovely feeling was back with the happy glow and I knew part of it had to do with what I learned that morning.
And the fact that Hector had given me that too.
Now, in my bizarre world of bizarre events that happened every day, that was the bizarrest of all. My boyfriend, who happened bizarrely to be the ex-DEA agent that brought down my Drug Kingpin father, also, in a bizarre way, brought my father back to me.
Blooming heck.
How totally bizarre was that?
I could be my own soap opera!
Instead of sharing any of this with Hector, I turned to look at him, leaned in and touched my mouth to his. Even though his arms flexed around me and his eyes flashed at my mouth touch, I gave him a small smile, pulled away and headed toward Blanca.
Kitty Sue grabbed a bag of bread and the toaster.
Tom moved to make another pot of coffee.
Then Blanca taught me something I already knew.
And after breakfast, I walked hand-in-hand with Hector, following Vance to the door, and I asked Vance if he had time that day to take me to my mother’s stuff.
Vance said he did.
That’s when I knew that day was definitely going to beat out yesterday and the day before as my second best day ever.
Though, nothing was going to beat The Day of Hector and The S’mores.
Nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mr. Edge
Sadie
As all others around me clapped, hoot
Roxie leaned into me and screamed, “She’s the shit, isn’t she?”
Still too stunned to look away from the stage, I just nodded.
* * * * *
After the traumatic pre-breakfast events and relearning to make scrambled eggs with Blanca, Ralphie called and told me that the news of the Balduccis going down was so good, he’d changed that evening from a cozy dinner for four to “A Big Ol’ Blowout” (Ralphie’s words). All the Rock Chicks (plus Tod and Stevie, Duke and Tex) were invited to Ralphie and Buddy’s for a “The Balducci Brothers Have Finally Been Brought Down Blowout”. We ate Ralphie’s hors d’ouevres (which were actually really good). Jet brought some chocolate, caramel brownies that were to-die-for, Indy brought a humungous bag of whole, salted cashews and the rest of the girls brought enough booze for fifteen Balducci Brothers Blowouts.
Hector and the Hot Bunch, all busy with other activities (likely cleaning up my problems, I still didn’t know what this meant and didn’t ask, not because I didn’t want to know, because I’d had a hectic day, what with sorting through my thoughts, my Mom’s stuff and helping Ralphie and Buddy with the party), managed to show their faces even if it was for a few minutes. They shifted through, eating, having a soda, toasting to one of the gazillion boisterous Balducci Brothers Have Finally Been Brought Down Toasts (the Rock Chicks started a competition for the best toast, Ally declared Shirleen the winner with her “Burn Motherfuckers Burn” toast) and then sliding out again.
Later, when we got bored with the toasts and were full up with food, it was time to consider alternate party activities and Stevie suggested a Yahtzee marathon (too many people). Ralphie suggested a Veronica Mars marathon (not active enough). Ally suggested travelling up to Fort Collins to see Stella’s gig (we were drinking too much, it was too far away and the gig had already started). Then Jet suggested we go to Smithie’s, a strip club.
Everyone agreed to Smithie’s.
In my sheltered life, I’d never had cause to think of strip clubs or strippers much less consider the possibility I’d ever go to a club and see a stripper. Since Daisy had stripped there in a past life, Jet had worked there as a cocktail waitress when her thing was going on with Eddie and the bad guys and Jet’s sister was currently the top dancer for Smithie and, Jet told me (with pride), she was the finest stripper in the Rocky Mountain Region, I thought it best not to pass judgment.
Though, I wasn’t certain sure about hanging out at a strip club.
* * * * *
At Indy’s request, I phoned Jack at the offices to ask him to put a callout for rides to the club as we’d already been drinking heavily and apparently the Hot Bunch didn’t only act as protectors and bad business cleaner-uppers, they were also on call to be designated drivers when the Rock Chicks were tying one on.
This, by the way, was my fourth call to Jack that day.
This was how the last call went:
Me: “Jack?”
Jack (loud and angry): “Would you quit fuckin’ callin’? I was just clipped. It took six measly stitches to close it up. For the last time, I’m fuckin’ fine!”
Me (snappy and impatient): “Well! Don’t blame me for worrying! No one has ever been shot keeping me safe before!”
Jack (after an angry sigh): “I’m beginnin’ to wish I hadn’t put on the vest.”
Me (full of attitude): “Jack, you’re just going to have to deal. It’s like they do when someone saves someone’s life and for the rest of that someone’s life, the other someone looks out for them.”
Jack (now angry and confused): “What?”
Me (just confused): “I don’t know. I think it’s Asian. Maybe the samurai?”
Jack (muttering): “Jesus. Chavez owes me big for this.”
Me (deciding to move on): “Anyway, we need designated drivers. We’re going to Smithie’s.”
Jack: “I’m on it.”
Disconnect (without a good-bye).
Well!
* * * * *
Hector, Matt and Bobby showed up, everyone squeezed into SUVs (tightly) and we rolled out to the strip club. Hector took Ralphie, Buddy, Daisy, Ally and I in his Bronco. The men escorted us in, right past the long line outside that was standing at the velvet rope (without the doorman even looking twice at us) and through the doors. We’d barely cleared the doors when a big, on the good side of middle aged black man approached and, just like Tex, he cleared a path through the club and shoved some men away from tables at the front, left side of the stage. We followed in his wake.
“VIPs, fuckin’ move,” he shouted at the men at the tables and they scurried immediately.
Wow, the Rock Chicks were something!
Jumping the velvet rope and front row seats at a strip club!
How bizarre (and cool) was that?
Then he turned to me and opened his mouth but before he said a word, Jet was there.
“No, Smithie, she doesn’t dance.”
Smithie turned wide eyes to Jet. “What? You think I’m crazy? Askin’ Seth Townsend’s daughter to strip for me? He’d have my balls for dinner, battered and fried.”
Oh my.
Me?
Stripping?
Oh.
My.
Jet looked like she was going to mouth off so I intervened.
“I’m Sadie,” I told him unnecessarily and put my hand out.
My small hand was engulfed in his big one and he squeezed.
“I’m Smithie and I know who you are. Heard about you. Thought all the talk was bullshit but you actually do look like a fuckin’ fairy princess.”
I smiled at him and leaned in. “That’s nice but I know it’s not really true.”
He’d leaned in to listen but leaned back, brows drawn and said, “Bitch, look in a mirror. You’re right out of a fuckin’ movie.”
I was a little shocked he called me a bitch but by the way he spoke I didn’t think he meant anything bad by it.
Then he leaned back in and proved me right when he went on, “It’s too fuckin’ bad they don’t fry men for what Ricky Balducci did to you. He got the chair, I’d be happy to flip the fuckin’ switch.”
My eyes got big at what he said but not the part about him obviously knowing I’d been raped. I’d realized by that time the Rock Chicks didn’t keep secrets, not even personal ones. He pulled away again, dropped my hand and looked at Hector.
“You stayin’?” he asked Hector.
“Nope. Lenny on tonight?” Hector replied.
Smithie nodded, said (bizarrely), “He’s on her,” then he left.
Hector curled me into his heat with an arm around my neck and I looked up at him.
“Boys’re busy but you’ll have rides home,” he told me. “Lenny is one of Smithie’s bouncers. He’s good. Lee tried to recruit him but he couldn’t work for Lee and study for his Master’s at DU at the same time. Even though he’s good, he’s untrained so don’t make it tough on him, keep him in sight at all times and don’t let the girls talk you into anything stupid.”
I nodded. Hector kept talking.
“I get done before you leave, I’ll come get you, we’ll sleep at my place. You get done before I get here, you go home with Ralphie and Buddy and I’ll be there later.”
I tilted my head to the side and asked, “Do you want me to wait up for you?”
He shook his head and answered with a demand, “Give me your keys.”
I gave him my brownstone keys and the alarm code. He kissed me quick and hard and he was gone, leaving me swaying.
Then we sat. Lenny, a huge, tall, muscular, midnight-skinned black man materialized and positioned himself behind my chair. Shirleen talked me into trying appletinis (they were fab). We gossiped, giggled and sometimes watched the strippers.
I sat there thinking it was definitely my second best day ever.
Not just my friends and the Balducci Blowout party but also because, that afternoon,
Vance opened the locker and, with a hand on the small of my back, pushed me in walking in behind me. He turned on the light but it hit me before the unit was illuminated.
The smell.
My mother’s perfume, White Shoulders.
I hadn’t smelled that smell in years.
I took a step back and my shoulder ran into Vance’s hard body.
I stopped, frozen for a moment then twisted my head to look up at Vance.
“Her perfume,” I whispered, tears stinging the backs of my eyes.
His hand slid up my back to my neck and his fingers curled there, giving me a squeeze.
“We can come back,” he told me, his voice and eyes soft.
I took in a deep breath, shook my head and Vance and I walked in, the weird, warm, reassurance of Vance’s hand didn’t leave my neck until I dropped to my knees at the first box.
We stayed there an hour, all of us going through boxes (except Vance who, after helping me through my initial weird out, stood outside). I cried a little bit and Daisy held me. Kitty Sue cried a little bit and I held her.
When we left, I had a list in my purse of the things I’d come back and get later but there were two things I took then.
I’d uncovered a framed photo, a photo I’d forgotten existed but it used to sit, pride of place, on our mantel. It was a picture unlike anything the Seth Townsend of now would allow. It was taken when I was six, out in our backyard, by a professional photographer. However the setting was casual, my Mom’s flower-filled garden in the background, and the pose was natural. My father sat in a garden chair and had Mom in his lap, his arm around her waist, his fingers curled at her hip. Both her arms were around his shoulders and she had her cheek against his. I was standing, pressed into his other side, his other arm wrapped around my little kid body, my head leaning into his chest. Mom and I were laughing at the camera, I didn’t remember why. My father wasn’t laughing but he was smiling, not like something amused him but like he was happy and precisely where he wanted to be.