Rock Chick Renegade by Kristen Ashley
This time I answered with a nod.
“He pop your cherry?” she asked.
Daisy gave a tinkly bell laugh while I closed my eyes in despair
“Shee-it. Every girl wished the likes of Vance Crowe popped their cherry. You’re livin’ the dream,” Shirleen continued when I opened my eyes.
She wasn’t wrong, I was living the dream.
“Was he gentle?” Shirleen pushed, nosy as all hell.
“Um… no,” I answered and her brows flew together.
“He hurt you?” she snapped.
“Um… no.” I was beginning to get uncomfortable.
The waitress put our drinks on the table and I smiled at her in hopes that the current discussion would end now that Shirleen had her appletini.
My hopes were soon dashed.
“You come?” Shirleen kept at it.
“Oh for goodness sake,” Stevie muttered the words that I was thinking.
“Well, did you?” Shirleen pressed when I didn’t answer.
“I don’t think –” I started.
Shirleen leaned forward, not to be denied. “Did you?”
“Three times,” I gave in.
Shirleen’s brows flew apart and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Three times in one go?” she breathed as if she, personally, was going to find Vance and give him an award for Best Cherry Popping in the History of the World.
“Two, um… goes,” I answered.
“Still…” she sat back and gave me a huge smile, “hold on to that one,” she commanded.
I nodded again. That I would try my damnedest to do.
“We’re with them,” we heard from behind us and everyone turned to look as a bouncer was trying to keep Heavy and Zip away from our table.
“Hey guys!” I called, thankful the menstrual-cycle-slash-sex-talk was done before Heavy and Zip got there.
“See!” Zip snapped at the bouncer and he and Heavy pushed through.
I got out of my chair and made introductions. Neither Heavy nor Zip looked too happy to be sharing libations with the ex (hopefully) drug dealer Shirleen but they kept their mouths shut, sat down, ordered drinks and trained their eyes to the stage making it clear they weren’t there for small talk at a strip club with a gaggle of women and two gay guys.
“Ain’t this fun?” Daisy said, wiggling in her chair, happy as a lark.
I couldn’t help myself, even after the cherry-popping-third-degree, I smiled at her.
“Yeah,” I said low.
Daisy’s eyes came to me, they got soft and she winked.
My pug liked Daisy’s wink. He got all squirmy happy and gave me tons of sloppy puppy kisses.
We drank, we chatted, we drank more, we watched the strippers, we drank more (getting tipsy), we laughed and giggled (because we were getting tipsy), we drank more, Lottie came on and we all went as nuts for her as the rest of the audience.
We were settling in our seats with fresh drinks, the other strippers had started to do their thing post-Lottie when I heard, “You!”
This was a high-pitched, female screech and I turned to look.
“Oh shit,” I muttered when I saw Jackie, Vance’s ex… whatever, pushing through the crowd toward us. What on earth was she doing there?
Considering the fact she was a woman and she was gorgeous, the bouncer didn’t even try to hold her back.
I came out of my chair.
Jackie got right into my space and right into my face and my body went still.
“You bitch!” she screamed.
“Uh-oh,” Ally muttered.
“What the fuck?” Heavy asked. I could feel him moving behind me, coming in close.
“Move away,” I warned. I didn’t want Smithie to get mad at me and I didn’t want our fun night to end by being ejected from a strip club because I had to kick one of Vance’s ex-bimbo’s asses (again).
Four other girls pushed in around Jackie and Jackie swung her head (and hair) around to them.
“This is the bitch I told you about,” Jackie informed her friends and all five of them turned to glare at me, mouths in girlie-bitch-pouts, hands on hips.
I feared I wasn’t going to get my earlier wish.
“Who you callin’ a bitch?” Daisy was up and even though she was at least five inches shorter than any of the women confronting us, she was all bitch-pout, hand-on-hip, attitude right back at them and it must be said, a lot scarier than any of them.
“Stay out of it,” one of Jackie’s friends snapped at Daisy.
Um.
I didn’t think that was good.
“Don’t tell her what to do,” Ally entered the fray, she was up and moving around the table.
Fuck.
That definitely wasn’t good.
“You stay out of it too,” another of Jackie’s friends disengaged from the pack, getting ready to confront Ally.
Indy was up and tense, so were Jet and Roxie.
I didn’t figure Lee, Eddie and Hank would pat me on the back for getting their women into a catfight at a strip club even if it was against a bitch, bimbo, skank-from-hell.
“Ladies –” Stevie tried to play peacemaker and I had the fleeting hope that Stevie’s quiet magic would work.
“Shut up, homo,” Jackie sneered at Stevie and she barely got out the “mo” part of “homo” when I lost all thoughts of peacemaking and worrying about my friends.
It was then that my head crackin’ mamma jamma snapped into place and I moved.
I took Jackie by the wrist, swung it in a wide arc, spinning her around. I ducked, positioning myself and her, I bounced her off my back and she went flying into the tables. She crashed, as did the tables and all of our drinks (and a number of empties) to the floor.
I watched Jackie struggle amongst the overturned tables, her arms and legs pumping, soaked with appletinis, cosmopolitans and rum and Cokes when I felt my hair being tugged backwards.
I reached back, grabbed both wrists of the hands that were in my ponytail and whipped one of Jackie’s friends around to my front. I felt another girl grab at me but I stayed focused and planted my feet, dropped one of her wrists and flipped her on her back using what had become my signature move. She landed with a thud of flesh on flesh, right on top of Jackie and both women grunted in very unladylike ways.
Then I dealt with the next one who was pulling at my shirt. I tagged her with a calf in the back of her knees, she teetered, I gave her a nasty shove in chest and she landed on Jackie and the other girl with a high-pitched screech.
I spun around and confronted the last two, lifting my hands and wriggling my fingers at them. I was too focused to notice that everyone had stopped to stare. Everyone, even the strippers.
“You want a piece of this?” I taunted and jumped forward once. They jumped back, bitch-pouty looks gone, their eyes were wide with fear.
I smiled at them and came back around. Jackie’s friends were up and were helping Jackie up too.
I pushed forward, shoved her friends out of the way and grabbed onto Jackie’s sweater, taking a bunch of it in both of my fists. I advanced, forcing her backward until she was at the stage. I leaned in and she had no choice but to arch her back over the stage.
“Stevie come here,” I yelled, my face in Jackie’s, her eyes wide and freaked out, my hands not leaving her sweater.
“Girlie, I’m here,” Stevie said quietly from my side, “you can let the skank go.”
“Apologize,” I snapped at Jackie, not listening to Stevie.
“I… I’m sorry,” she stammered, not taking her eyes off me.
“Not to me, you stupid bitch, to him. Apologize!”
“Holy crap,” I heard Indy say from behind me.
“You got that right, sister,” Jet muttered from behind me too.
Jackie’s eyes moved to Stevie and she repeated her apology.
“You ever gonna use that word again?” I asked when her eyes came back to me.
She shook her head (and hair). I moved
“Am I ever going to see you again?” I kept at her.
She shook her head (and hair) again.
“Go!” I clipped.
She stood frozen.
I took a step into her. “Move!”
She moved, her friends moved, they moved as fast as their high heels would take them. I watched them go until they disappeared.
I straightened my back and cocked my head to the side quickly as I turned back to the room. The whole place, not just my posse but everyone, was staring at me.
Smithie was close, standing by Daisy, arms crossed, eyes on me.
Fuck.
We were going to be ejected, I was sure of it.
“Sorry, I’ll pay for any damage,” I said to him.
“Shit, bitch. I’m thinkin’ about askin’ you to make that a regular feature at Smithie’s.” He shocked me by saying. “Hot babe kicks ass. They’ll line up to see it.”
“Fuck yeah!” Shirleen yelled. “Girl, you are the shit.”
“Righteous,” Ally shouted.
Jet started clapping. So did Tod. Roxie did too. Indy joined in and then so did everyone else including the audience and the strippers. Daisy gave a whooping shout and Stevie hugged me.
The bouncers righted the tables and Smithie shouted, “Get these bitches some drinks!”
I was about to sit down as the applause died away when I caught Zip and Heavy’s eyes.
“You do a man proud,” Heavy said to me and the look on his face echoed his words.
Zip nodded.
I smiled and my pug wiggled in close, proud of me too.
I sat down and ordered another cosmopolitan.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Home Part Two
I’d barely got Boo and I settled in bed when my phone rang.
After Lottie’s third act we all left Smithie’s. Daisy was too drunk to drive so she left her Mercedes at Smithie’s, one of Marcus’s men came to get her and Shirleen grabbed a ride with them. Since I was in the ‘hood, I caught a ride with Lee who came in one of the company’s Explorers to get Indy, Tod and Stevie. Roxie was designated driver for Jet and Ally.
We all hugged and told each other we loved each other, waxed on about how great the night was and that we’d be best friends forever for about ten minutes before Lee grabbed Indy and my upper arms and steered us to the Explorer.
They dropped me first (if you can call Lee walking me to the door and making sure I got safely inside “dropping me”) and they took off. As I watched out the window, Indy, Tod and Stevie waved at me as Lee drove.
I weaved a bit and giggled to myself, cooing to Boo, “Mommy’s drunk!” as I walked to the bathroom, washed my face, slathered it with moisturizer, changed into a nightgown and Boo and I climbed somewhat gracelessly up into the bed.
Then the phone rang so I grabbed it.
“Hello,” I sang happily (okay, more like drunkenly).
“Go set your alarm,” Vance said in my ear.
“What?”
“Bobby just called me, told me you got home, Lee walked you to the door but you didn’t set your alarm. Go set it.”
“Okay,” I said, again happily (yes, more appropriately drunkenly) and scooted to the end of the bed.
I took the phone with me and held it to my ear as I jumped down, stumbled a little and muttered, “Shit,” before giggling.
Throughout this there was silence in my ear. Then, “Are you drunk?”
Shit.
“Um…”
Vance was an alcoholic. I was a social worker so I knew all about alcoholics. Still, I’d never read a book about how to deal with one when he was your shit-hot boyfriend (actually, I was pretty sure I had but I was forgetting in my drunken state what it said).
Therefore I stayed silent after my initial “um”.
“How drunk are you?” Vance asked as I made it to the alarm keypad in the living room.
I didn’t answer intent on the task at hand. I punched in some numbers and the keypad started beeping angrily.
“Whoops,” I said and narrowed my eyes at the keypad.
“Jules,” Vance said in my ear.
“Quiet, I’m concentrating,” and I was.
I heard him chuckle.
“Quiet!” I demanded.
His amusement still came at me as I punched the right code in and the alarm stopped beeping.
“Did it!” I announced as if I’d just cracked the code to the security system protecting the Hope Diamond.
I started walking back to the bed as Vance asked again, “All right, Princess, now tell me, how drunk are you?”
Oh well, honesty, Auntie Reba and Nick always told me, was the best policy.
“Five cosmos drunk,” I told him.
“Five?”
I decided to fib by omission and leave out mentioning the shots when I started up the steps to the bed platform and cracked my head against the hall ceiling.
“Ouch!”
“Jules?” Vance said in my ear.
“Okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. Everyone’s okay,” I declared as I shoved myself in the opening and collapsed on the bed.
Vance was laughing again.
“You aren’t mad?” I asked.
“Fuck no. Five cosmos drunk means you’ll still be drunk when I get back.”
“Is that good?”
“Yeah, Princess, it’s good.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer, he just said, “The skip was wanted in C Springs. I’ve just processed him at a station there and I’m passing the Academy now. I’ll be home in a little over an hour.”
“Okay,” I replied happily (this time more happily than drunkenly).
“Take off your underwear.”
My breath caught and I went instantly sober. “What?” I whispered.
“Go to sleep without any underwear.”
“Vance,” I was still whispering.
“Princess, do it.” His voice was silk and it slid through the phone and across my skin like it was alive.
“Okay.” Yes, still whispering.
“See you soon,” he said.
“Okay.”
Disconnect.
I laid there a second, wondering if I could sleep without my underwear. Considering the fact that I was seriously turned on, I figured I wouldn’t sleep anyway so I took off my underwear, turned off the light and settled in, cuddling Boo and waiting for Vance.
In about two minutes, I was asleep.
* * * * *
I was yanked off the edge of the bed with hands at my ankles.
I let out a surprised gasp, Boo went flying, I landed hard on the floor and an arm came around my waist while a hand went over my mouth.
I stared up, thinking (or, more like hoping) I’d be seeing Vance, but in the darkness I saw Hector Chavez.
I screamed against his hand and started struggling.
He pushed me into the bed platform, his body hard against mine and again I felt his immense heat.
“Quiet. Roam’s in trouble,” he hissed at me. I stopped struggling immediately at his words and he dropped his hand and stepped away from me. “Get dressed, get your gun. Now.”
Without asking a single question and flying through the house, I grabbed my clothes and shoes then ran into the bathroom and dressed.
I thanked my lucky stars I had worn a longish nightgown to bed because I was still panty-less when Hector pulled me out. I also thanked my luckier stars that fear for one of my boys made me sober as a nun. Vance wouldn’t be happy I was sober but maybe I’d do a shot or two of tequila when I got done with this gig.
After I dressed I exited the bathroom, knelt in the hall and put my black Pumas on. “What’s happening?”
“Cordova got him,” Hector answered.
“God dammit,” I snapped.
I went to the sliding doors under my bed, opened a drawer and rooted through my underwe
As I looked for my gun, I asked, “Why?”
“Fuck knows. He’s pissed at you. Maybe he thinks he can use Roam to make you pay.”
“I thought Cordova was in jail,” I said while I tucked my gun into the back waistband of my cords.
“Bonded out.”
“Fuck,” I muttered.
“Let’s go,” he said.
We went.
* * * * *
It’s important to note at this point there were a lot of things I should have done.
I should have taken my purse. I had my panic button and phone in my purse. Not to mention a tracking device.
I should have called Vance, told him where I was going so he wouldn’t worry.
Not doing that, I should have left a note.
I should also have called the surveillance room at Nightingale Investigations. Even the Nightingale Men didn’t go into a situation without backup.
But I had Hector. Hector was deep cover DEA which meant he was his own brand of badass mother, perhaps scarier than them all and this was Sal Cordova we were talking about. Sal was an idiot.
So I didn’t do any of these things.
I should have.
* * * * *
Bobby
Bobby Zanzinski hated night-time surveillance. All of the Nightingale Men hated night-time surveillance (except Jack, though Jack was kind of a weird guy).
Night-time surveillance was boring as hell. It meant Fortnum’s was closed and Vance was normally at Jules’s (or Jules was asleep) so you couldn’t watch her wandering around saying stupid shit to her cat.
Bobby could watch Jules for hours, any of them could, that woman was smokin’.
He sat in the surveillance room and came instantly alert when Hector Chavez approached the house. Bobby watched Hector break into Law’s duplex then disable her alarm.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
He knew who Hector was but Bobby was still alarmed. Those deep cover DEA guys were nuts, pure and simple. Fuck knew why Hector was breaking in, so Bobby leaned forward and turned up the volume to her speakers and got ready to call Vance.
As he reached for the phone, on another monitor Bobby saw Vance drive into the underground parking area. Vance would come up and drop the keys.