Rock Chick Redemption Page 27

“Hank,” I said again and even though I didn’t mean to let it show, a lot could be heard through my saying his name.

  “See you later, Sweetheart.”

  Then he disconnected.

  I flipped the phone shut and noticed Duke looking at me.

  “You’re all right,” Duke told me on an approving nod.

  “I am?” I asked.

  He turned to me, leaned a hip on the counter and crossed his arms over his black, leather vest.

  “You are. These boys need women who can take the heat without meltin’ like butter, and sometimes that heat is fiery. They need women who can give back their shit so they don’t walk all over ‘em and get bored out of their fucking skulls. And they need women who can go soft when the situation demands because they get hard knocks on a regular basis, sometimes literally, and comin’ home to somethin’ soft is the only way to cope.”

  Holy fucking cow.

  “You think I’m a woman like that?” I asked him.

  “I think there are a fair few women like that in the whole fuckin’ world. And yeah, you’re one of them.”

  Um… wow.

  “I’m not, you know,” I whispered.

  He glared at me. “You made a mistake with your old boyfriend. Don’t make another one.”

  “Duke –”

  “You told Hank that Flynn wasn’t gonna control your life and still, you’re lettin’ him.”

  I felt the wind go out of me, like I’d been punched in the stomach.

  He leaned into me. “Get smart girl. You don’t, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

  Before I could retort, the bell over the door went and Tod and Stevie waltzed in.

  Tod was carrying what looked like a scrapbook gone amok. It was way overstuffed and there were bits of paper and other stuff sticking out of it everywhere. He walked to the book counter and slammed it down.

  “Glad you’re okay, girlie,” he said, giving me an across-the-counter air-kiss. Then, obviously on a mission, he yelled, “Indy, get over here!”

  Stevie came around the counter and gave me a genuine cheek kiss.

  I was feeling funny about my conversation with Duke. Where everyone else had failed, somehow, what Duke said got to me. No one ever likes it when someone thinks badly of them, and, of all the folks I’d met in the last week, outside Jane, I knew Duke the least. Yet I found this driving need not to disappoint him and I felt I had.

  Indy, Daisy, Jet and Annette walked up to the counter. Jason had long ago disappeared into the bowels of bookshelves and had not returned.

  Tod flipped open the book. Where he opened it, one page was full of fabric swatches stapled to it, the other one had only two, an orange and a brown.

  “Ally tells me you settled on pink and ivory for your wedding colors,” Tod said to Indy accusingly.

  “Yes,” Indy said. “And?”

  Tod pointed at the orange and brown swatches. “I thought we’d decided on tangerine and chocolate.”

  I made a gagging noise at the very idea of a tangerine and chocolate wedding.

  Stevie gave me a look that said both, “I agree” and “Not now”.

  I felt a touch on my shoulder and saw a hand there. I followed the arm attached to the hand and saw Duke was beside me, he gave me a shoulder squeeze and walked away.

  I felt relief slide through me, Duke wasn’t angry with me. I closed my eyes and leaned against the counter. I opened them when Tod started speaking again.

  “I’m calling an Emergency Wedding Summit. Tomorrow night,” Tod announced, then his eyes shifted to Annette. “Who’re you?”

  “I’m Roxie’s friend, Annette.”

  He took her in, top-to-toe. “You going to Daisy’s gathering?”

  She nodded.

  “Got something to wear? It’s formal,” Tod went on.

  She shook her head.

  Tod swung his eyes to me

  “Do you have something to wear yet? Or have you had time to shop in between shoot-outs and running for your life?”

  I shook my head too. I wondered how Luke was going to feel about shopping tomorrow. I was pretty certain Luke wouldn’t be too happy about that. Furthermore, according to Luke Rules, I was not to be anywhere that I couldn’t see him or wasn’t close enough to touch him. That meant Luke would have to sit in the dressing room with me.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I shoved the thought aside, deciding to worry about it later and looked to Annette. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”

  “Fuck that,” Tod cut in. “You’re shopping at The House of Burgundy. Tomorrow night.” Tod glared at Indy. “They’re coming to the Wedding Summit, after that, we’ll get everyone situated with party outfits. Do not even argue, we have to have a meeting of the minds about this pink and ivory business.”

  “It’s my wedding, Tod,” Indy pointed out.

  “Girlie, you think I’ve been supplying you with champagne, shoes and accessories for the last God knows for how many years for my health?” Tod snapped. “It’s payback time.”

  “Oh dear,” Jet said.

  Annette laughed.

  Daisy emitted a tinkly giggle.

  I sent Indy a commiserating look. She didn’t catch my look; she was glaring at Tod.

  I figured Luke would probably like the Wedding Summit slash Drag Queen Closet Trawl a helluva lot less than shopping.

  For the first time that day, I smiled.

  The bell over the door went and we all turned to see who it was.

  Luke was standing there.

  “Oh my,” Tod whispered. “I think I just creamed my pants.”

  “Tell me about it,” Annette agreed.

  “Dinner,” Luke declared in Luke Speak.

  “Gotta go,” I said, grabbing my purse.

  “We’re meeting at Smithie’s, nine o’clock,” Jet called after me.

  I nodded to her, waved at everyone and stopped in front of Luke. “I’m ready,” I told him.

  He did a full body scan.

  Then he did his sexy half-grin.

  Then I heard some noises that sounded like moans behind me.

  Then Luke wrapped his fingers around my elbow and propelled me to the door.

  “Wear something sparkly!” Daisy yelled as the door swung closed.

  Shit, but I was in trouble.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Denver Men Are Men

  Luke took me to Lincoln’s Road House (clearly the Nightingale Investigation Team hang out) for dinner, where not surprisingly, he didn’t say much

  Also not surprisingly, I babbled on enough for the both of us.

  Then he took me to Indy’s to get Hank’s key.

  She was in a bit of a dither about the evening’s dress code as demanded by Daisy, and loathe to ask Tod for another loaner for fear her Tangerine and Chocolate Wedding would turn into an even bigger nightmare.

  We spent half an hour sorting through Indy’s closet and drawers for something “sparkly” for her to wear. We’d almost cracked it when Luke walked in.

  Without a word, he grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the house to the company black Explorer.

  Guess he was done waiting.

  * * * * *

  I, on the other hand, did not have trouble with sparkle. I was the Sparkle Queen.

  At Hank’s, I washed my face and put on Drama Night Makeup; heavy on the charcoal eye shadow and black kohl eye liner, dark raspberry lipstick on lined lips and glitter dust on my collarbone and shoulders.

  I wore a black top that was tight across the midriff and bosom, loose around the waist. The thin sleeves and low, scooped neckline were designed to look torn, not finished. One sleeve fit over my shoulder, the other one fell off by design. The torn bits were adorned here and there with glittery jet beads, a hint of sparkle. I put on a pair of tailored, slightly tight, wide-leg, low-rider, black trousers with a sharp crease. The trousers had a thick line of black beading all the way around my upper hips. I wore a bunch of spangly, thin black bracelets and da
ngly jet earring. I put my hair up in a messy knot, secured with bobby pins on the ends of which were baby, black rhinestones and I let lots of tendrils float down. I finished off with a spritz of Boucheron.

  I walked out of the bathroom, all done up, to see Luke’s long, lean body stretched out on Hank’s bed, his hands crossed behind his head, eyes closed.

  Shamus was sprawled and asleep beside him.

  “Good God,” I whispered.

  His eyes opened, his head turned and he did a slow body scan.

  Then his lids lowered to half-mast. “Fuck,” he murmured low.

  I pulled myself sternly into recovery.

  “You ready?” I asked.

  His eyes went to my feet. “You aren’t wearing shoes.”

  “Damn! I knew I forgot something, hang on.”

  I ran to the weight room slash junk room and tore through boxes and suitcases until I found what I wanted.

  I walked into the living room carrying my shoes, a little red suede bag and wrap. Into the bag I transferred the necessities, running back to the bathroom for lipstick, lip liner and extra sparkle powder for emergency re-application, and put in credit cards, money, phone and the VIP passes Jet gave me.

  I sat on a couch and slid on one of my (four) pairs of sexy, Jimmy Choo shoes (online auction, brand new, nearly full retail price but worth every penny). These were pumps, pointed, red suede toe and matching suede four-inch spiked heel, the body of the shoe was red snakeskin.

  The shoes were hot.

  I settled a red pashmina around my shoulders, flipping an end around my neck.

  Luke was standing at the door.

  “Ready,” I said.

  Luke didn’t move.

  Then he asked, “You know what I said in the store today?”

  “You said a lot in the store,” I told him. He hadn’t said a lot of words, but all of them had a lot of meaning.

  “The last part.”

  My eyes got big and I nodded.

  “I was fuckin’ with you,” he told me.

  I let out a breath. “I thought so,” I said.

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  I wasn’t keeping up with him. He wasn’t exactly going fast but I still wasn’t keeping up with him.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve decided I wasn’t fuckin’ with you.”

  Holy Mary, Mother of God.

  “Are you flirting with me in Hank’s living room?”

  “I don’t flirt.”

  I crossed my arms on my chest. “Seems like flirting to me.”

  “Flirtin’ is me tellin’ you that you have pretty eyes. I’m not tellin’ you that. I’m tellin’ you, it doesn’t work with Hank, I want you in my bed. That isn’t flirtin’.”

  I stared at him.

  He was right, that sure as hell wasn’t flirting.

  Then I scowled at him.

  He was entirely unaffected by the scowl.

  Then I looked to the ceiling.

  “Denver men are nuts,” I told the ceiling.

  He walked forward, grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door.

  “Denver men are men,” he declared.

  Good grief.

  * * * * *

  There was a line out the door and around the building when we arrived at Smithie’s. It was controlled by big, black leather jacket-wearing bouncers and a red velvet rope.

  Luke parked illegally right at the front door.

  “Hey! You can’t park there,” a bouncer, clearly feeling the need to risk his life, said to Luke, peeling away from his station to confront us.

  I opened my purse to pull out the VIP passes and noticed the bouncer got close to me. Luke’s hand went flat against his chest, keeping him at a distance, while his other hand went to my arm and he moved me close to his side.

  “Don’t,” Luke said, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.

  I could only see Luke’s profile but whatever the bouncer saw made him say, “I guess you can park there.”

  I pulled out the passes and showed them to the bouncer. He escorted us to the doors and opened them for us.

  The minute the doors closed behind us, I rounded on Luke. “He was only doing his job,” I snapped.

  “So am I,” Luke replied.

  Not much I could say to that.

  “Yoo hoo!” we heard. “Over here!”

  Tod was waving at us.

  I took in the club, thinking it would be seedy and gross.

  It was actually nice, clean, new furniture, expensive, flashing disco lights, shiny, reflective stage, gleaming silver poles, red neon behind the bar and stage. All the male staff were dressed in neck to toe black and looked like they could work for Lee.

  The place was packed; wall-to-wall people. There was loud music and dancers on the stage, gorgeous girls with oiled, mostly-naked, spectacular bodies. They were making a killing, bills poking out, willy-nilly from their g-strings.

  The only women I saw in the room, other than myself (and the dancers), were my friends.

  Luke’s fingers curled around my hip and he propelled me, part in front of him part beside him, to the tables occupied by our party, situated at the right side of the stage.

  Indy, Ally, Daisy, Annette, Jason, Jet, Tod and Stevie were at two connected round tables. Nancy, Uncle Tex and Nancy’s friends Trixie and Ada were at two others with three people I didn’t know. One was a tiny woman with dyed black hair with one-inch, steel-gray roots and a cigarette dangling from her lip. The other a huge, hairy man who made Tex look sane and civilized. The last was a big black woman with an enormous Afro and tawny brown eyes.

  I pulled the wrap off and Daisy squealed, “Sugar, you sure can put the sparkle on.”

  “Thanks,” I grinned at her. “So can you.”

  And she could, she was sitting and all I could see was her head to her cleavage but she was covered in sparkle, her hair was even sprayed with glitter-spray.

  “Are those Jimmy Choo’s?” Tod asked, staring at my feet.

  “Yeah,” I told him.

  “I have the perfect song for those shoes. I don’t know what it is yet, but I know I have it.”

  “You can borrow them,” I said.

  “Girlie, you are my new best friend,” he sent me an air-kiss then aimed a meaningful glance at Indy.

  I saw Uncle Tex glaring at me, clearly thinking a night out at a strip club was also not the chosen past time for a woman being stalked by a lunatic ex-boyfriend.

  Nancy appeared not to agree, she gave me a wink and a wave.

  I called my hellos to everyone else and Jet got up and grabbed my hand.

  “These are my friends, Lavonne, Bear and Shirleen,” Jet said and then turned to the table. “This is Roxie and Luke.”

  “Holy shit but you girls go for the gusto. Look at this fuckin’ guy. Sorry, honey but you ain’t hard on the eyes,” Lavonne said to Luke. Then she squinted toward me through the smoke, “Well done, girlfriend.”

  “We’re not together,” I told her.

  She blinked. Her eyes lowered to Luke’s hand, which was still at my waist. Then she squinted back at me.

  “You aren’t?”

  “Bodyguard,” Luke said.

  Lavonne’s eyes got huge. “You famous?”

  “No, I just have a stalker ex-boyfriend who keeps trying to kidnap me and bad guys who are after him. Luke’s here to make sure I don’t get caught in the crossfire.”

  “You gonna make sure we all don’t get caught in the crossfire?” Bear asked Luke, butting into the conversation.

  “My only focus is Roxie,” Luke answered with brutal honesty.

  Bear grunted and rolled his eyes.

  “That’s plain enough to see,” Lavonne said, her lips curling up in a grimacing smile, the cigarette still dangling precariously there.

  Before I could say anything, Luke’s fingers bit into my hip and he pulled me back and stepped in front of me. Around Luke’s body, I could see a big, black guy joggin
g up to us, his eyes on Jet.

  “Your sister’s gettin’ cold fuckin’ feet. You gotta go back there and talk to her. I got fuckin’ important people here. I got a fuckin’ senator here. She can’t back out. She can’t…” he trailed off when he caught sight of Luke in his peripheral vision and he turned, full body, to face Luke. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “This is Luke. He’s –” Jet started.

  “I know who he fuckin’ is. He’s fuckin’ trouble,” the black guy said, not taking his eyes off Luke. “Get the fuck outta here.”

  I could swear I saw the air around Luke start shimmering.

  Oh shit.

  I stepped around Luke and (do not ask me why) said in a girlie, airhead voice (in other words, using lingo punctuated by exclamation and question marks where they did not need to be). “Hi! I’m Roxie! Jet’s friend?” I put my arm through Luke’s and leaned into him, resting my head briefly on his shoulder. “This is my fiancé, Luke? He’s not here to watch the dancers! Really!” I smiled up at Luke. “Are you, pookie?”

  Luke looked down at me and gave one of his half-grins and shifted his body, so instead of my side leaning into him, half of my chest was pressed against him.

  I pursed my lips, gave him a quick scowl, then rearranged my face and looked back at the black guy with a smile.

  “We’re just here to watch Lottie’s fantabulous debut!” I announced.

  The black guy stared at me.

  “I know who you fuckin’ are too. Lottie’s been talkin’. Shit, everyone in Denver knows who you are. This ain’t your fuckin’ fiancé. You’re sleepin’ with Nightingale. Fuck!” he shouted. Then he turned to Jet and pointed a finger in her face. “Somethin’ happens, I blame you.”

  Then he stalked off.

  Jet looked at me. “That’s Smithie. He’s really a big softie.”

  Maybe Uncle Tex was right; maybe Jet was a bit loopy.

  Then Smithie came jogging back with his finger pointed at me.

  “You dance?” he asked.

  I stared at him. “Dance?”

  He jerked a thumb to the stage.

  “Holy cow,” I breathed.

  “She doesn’t fuckin’ dance,” Luke answered for me.

  Smithie threw up his hands and looked at Jet again. “Another fuckin’ one of these guys. What’s wrong with strippin’? Fuck!”