Rock Chick Revenge Page 3

  My other sister, Sofia, moved to San Diego and became a cheerleader for the San Diego Chargers. Sofia worked her way through the offensive line and then the defensive line of the Chargers (something, I might add, she also did as a cheerleader in high school). Now, retired from her career as an active cheerleader and football player groupie, she was running a cheerleading camp and engaged to a sports agent who was more of a slimeball than both of Marilyn’s husbands put together and that was quite a feat, considering Marilyn’s husbands were seriously the scum of the earth.

  By the way, my Mom had named us all, with high hopes, after Hollywood bombshells. My sisters had both been bombshells from puberty, all thick, dark, shining hair, big boobs, tight asses, flat stomachs, long legs and sultry eyes. I had to work hard at bombshell status, and even then didn’t quite make it because I was a big dork.

  It was safe to say my sisters and I weren’t close.

  Sissy Whitchurch was another story.

  * * * * *

  Sissy and I had been best friends since second grade and we were close. She was the bestest, best friend in the world. Good at keeping secrets, happy to rip my silly and sometimes mean sisters to shreds with me, loyal to the core and always up for an adventure.

  One problem with Sissy, she had shit taste in men.

  Though, considering good men were non-existent, all women didn’t have much choice.

  However, Sissy’s husband, Dominic, was beyond the pale in the shit-men stakes. Dom was a world-class asshole.

  Dominic Vincetti was very good-looking (and knew it), made his money dubiously (and didn’t hide it) and treated Sissy like shit (and never apologized). He didn’t hit her, but he cheated on her (openly), walked all over her and talked down to her in a way that made my teeth go on edge.

  Before Dom, Sissy was funny and sweet and there was no one in the world who was better to go to a rock concert with. She loved music like I did and she went wild at concerts, dancing, screaming, she always knew all the words to the songs and sang them loud.

  After five years of marriage, Dom had forced all that good stuff out of Sissy, making her quiet, shy, uncertain and a homebody and Sissy didn’t even notice it was happening.

  I noticed and it pissed me off.

  Sissy loved him though and put up with it and it wasn’t my place to say anything. If she wanted him then I was there. My only other choice was to stop spending time with her and a life without Sissy, well, I couldn’t imagine it.

  But when I changed, lost weight, dyed my hair, Dom noticed.

  In fact, a lot of people noticed.

  In fact, even though I’d dated when I was heavy, I started to get some serious male attention as the weight dropped off then more then more. Since Luke’s Dad’s funeral, I’d had my first three longish-term boyfriends. I must admit, in the dream world I had in the back of my head, they were all practice for Luke. Of course, I never told them that and I could have fallen in love with any one of them, if they hadn’t all turned out to be jerks.

  There was Rick, who cheated on me (um, no).

  Then there was Dave, who had a collection of pornography so big he could have opened his own store. And he called phone sex lines, like, a lot. Neither of these were bad things, as such. Except, phone bills over five hundred dollars month after month were a bit much. Not to mention, he wanted to have sex, like, twelve times a day, walked around naked at all times and tried to get me to go to swingers parties (um, no again).

  Then there was Noah who took my Auntie Ella’s jewelry and pawned it. This, I didn’t find out until he also took my ATM card, found out my PIN number and cleaned out my checking and savings accounts before he disappeared. Luckily, I had the inheritance money my Aunt Ella gave me in a different account. She gave me her jewelry and a shitload of money, but only gave Marilyn and Sofia a token, which pissed them off big time but they’d always been mean to her and I hadn’t, so fuck them.

  See? All men were scum.

  I wasn’t a bitter, twisted spinster. I’d put myself out there and I had reasons to think that, what with my choices, Sissy’s choices and my sisters’ choices, not to mention my fucking Dad, who’d left and never came back, that all men were scum.

  * * * * *

  After Noah took off, Dom started to flirt with me right in front of Sissy. I couldn’t believe it and did my absolute best not to rip his face off with my fingernails. However, there were a lot of times I wanted to rip Dom’s face off with my fingernails, not just when he was flirting with me but when he’d ask Sissy if she really should be eating that second slice of pizza, giving her a shitty look when he didn’t quite like the outfit she put on causing her to go and change it, getting pissy when he was served leftovers and the like.

  Sissy ignored the flirting. So did I, passing it off as a joke.

  Dom took this as a challenge. Dom was the kind of guy girls responded to mainly because he was really handsome which sucked, I figured he could use a scar or two, put there by my fingernails of course.

  When I didn’t respond, he flirted more, started touching and, just two weeks ago he backed me into the corner of their kitchen and kissed me, open-mouthed.

  I bit his tongue.

  “What the fuck!” he hissed, hand swiping at his mouth and glaring at me.

  He was hot – all macho, Italian bad boy, dark, wavy hair, dark eyes, slim hips, broad shoulders.

  When we’d first seen him, Sissy and I had both fallen in lust. Sissy had been over the moon when he asked her out. Sissy had never been heavy, she had blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair and was pretty, petite and dainty, like a gown up, human-sized fairy, without the pointy ears.

  “Get away from me,” I snapped at Dom.

  His face changed from angry, to calculating. “You want it, Ava, you know you do. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

  Like I said, he was hot, so he probably wasn’t wrong. But he was also my best friend’s husband.

  “Get over yourself,” I told him.

  “I’d rather get on top of you.”

  I wanted to laugh in his face. That was a really bad line. Dom, I knew, because I’d seen it, could do a lot better.

  Instead, I said, “Fuck off, Dom. Sissy’s in the other room!”

  “I get what I want,” he said and something about the way he said it kind of freaked me out. He said it like he meant it and he was looking at me in a way that made my scalp tingle and not in a good way. I didn’t know what he did for a living but I didn’t think it was good and Sissy never talked about it which was concerning, Sissy and I talked about everything. He struck me as a bad guy, not only because he was a cheat and a jerk but also for other reasons.

  “Dom, fuck… off,” I snapped, but he kissed me again, arms going around me, tongue sliding in my mouth. I struggled, pushed and Dom pinned me against the wall, his hand going up my shirt.

  Then we both heard a noise, Dom let me go and stepped back and we saw Sissy standing in the door.

  “Sis, girl…” Dom said, his voice conciliatory and I wanted to kick him. I mean, what did he expect to happen?

  I didn’t kick him though mainly because I was horrified and scared through to my fucking soul that I might have just lost my best friend.

  But Sissy looked at me and said, “Ava, would you help me pack?”

  Then she walked out of the room.

  Halle-fucking-lujah.

  I shoved Dom’s shoulder as I walked by him and glared but he just repeated, staring at me with an intensity that I did… not… like, “Ava, I get what I want.”

  I rolled my eyes, left the room, helped Sissy pack and she moved in with me for a few days. She cried a lot and I listened a lot and I quietly seethed a lot more. Then she went to her Mom’s place in Wyoming. But not until after we’d hatched our plan.

  Sissy was going to move away and I was going to get the goods on Dom so Sissy could divorce him and take him to the cleaners.

  That was the plan.

  I wasn’t sure how to get the good
s on Dom, that was where tough guy, mercenary, bounty hunter, private eye Luke Stark was supposed to come into the scenario.

  * * * * *

  Sissy knew Luke, had met him several times and had stood beside me at my bedroom window checking him out on numerous occasions while he lifted weights in his Dad’s garage.

  She also knew how I felt about him (read: big, huge, twenty-one-year old crush).

  Dragging Luke into the deal was her idea.

  Sissy also knew about the funeral, what happened there, in fact, she knew everything about Luke.

  She knew, when I was nine and was walking home from school, that three boys I detested had caught up with me, calling me Fatty, Fatty, Four Eyes (not original but it hurt anyway). She knew how Luke, thirteen and already a tough customer, came out of nowhere and punched one of them in the nose, bloodying it and making all three run away. She also knew after that was over that I made some smart comment making Luke laugh because, being teased all the time for being fat and ugly, one only had two choices, go silent and shy, or become a smartass, I chose the latter, and he’d walked me home.

  She also knew, after that, no kids ever teased me. Not ever again.

  Further, she knew about when Luke was fourteen and I was ten, he’d had one of many humdinger fights with his Dad that I heard all the way across the street. He’d torn out of the house and I’d gone after him. I found him in a park, ass to the ground, back against a tree, head bent, wrists resting on his cocked knees. I’d sat beside him and started telling jokes until he came out of his mood and started laughing.

  She also knew about when I was twelve and Luke was sixteen and Luke, his Dad and Mom had come over for dinner. My mother, an aging beauty queen who still had two shelves full of trophies and ribbons from “the good old days”, got tipsy and announced to the table, “I’m so lucky. I have two beautiful daughters and one smart one.” Marilyn and Sofia grinned at each other. My father got red in the face and looked like he was going to hit the roof. Luke’s Dad chuckled uncomfortably in a way that sounded strangled but his Mom stared at me with concern.

  I squirmed.

  Luke leaned back in his chair, looked at Sofia and said, “Congratulations, you must have made the honor roll.” Sofia’s mouth dropped open in horror (I wasn’t the only Barlow girl with a crush on Luke, all three of us had the hots for him). I immediately stopped squirming and laughed so hard at Sofia’s horrified expression, I snorted.

  Sissy also knew about the time, only five days before he graduated from high school, when I was fourteen and Luke was eighteen and it had become clear my Dad had left and wasn’t coming back – I was sitting on our front stoop, you could hear my mother crying and carrying on inside while my sisters argued with each other over a curling iron or something idiotic. I saw Luke come out of his house on his way to his motorcycle. He saw me, changed directions, crossed the street and sat down beside me. He didn’t say a word and neither did I. I just stared at his boots and wished he was my boyfriend, not for the first or the last time. It would have been a lot easier to cope with losing Dad if I’d had Luke as a boyfriend or anyone for that matter, but especially Luke.

  I was close with my Dad, I thought we had a bond. I always thought it was the two of us against the other silly bitches in the house. I knew he found it trying to his patience, my mother, flighty, naggy, demanding, wanting a better life, house, car, curtains, whatever and always going on about it and going on about all the men she didn’t chose so she could be with Dad, rubbing his nose in it constantly. I knew, too, that he lamented where he went wrong with snotty, bitchy, catty Marilyn and Sofia though, he didn’t have to look too far, my Mom was a good teacher.

  Dad had come into my bedroom late at night the day before he left and said, “Sorry, Ava, darlin’, but I just can’t take it anymore.” He’d woken me up and I didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t explain and he didn’t say anything more.

  The next day he was gone.

  “I thought…” I said to Luke and then stopped because I didn’t know what I thought.

  Luke slid his arm around my waist and pulled me to his side. I put my head on his shoulder and we sat there a long time before Luke bumped his foot against mine. I got the hint and pulled back. He got up, leaned down, touched my nose then he was gone.

  A few days later, like my Dad, he was really gone.

  Luke came back every once in awhile though, visiting his Mom, fighting with his Dad and popping by to say hi to me.

  Then he disappeared for eight years. I didn’t know where he went and his mother wasn’t talking or I would have found out because, normally, she told my mother everything.

  Lastly, Sissy knew about Luke’s father’s funeral. I was twenty-four, Luke was twenty-eight. After the funeral, still at graveside, the Barlow Girl Brigade walked up to Luke and his Mom. Hugs and cheek kisses were passed around, both Marilyn and Sofia going for the gusto with Luke but his body went stiff when they pressed against him, which was embarrassing for me, having to watch it and knowing they were my sisters. As gorgeous as they were, Luke was totally aloof from the Bombshell Barlow Girls. That was until his eyes moved to me and I leaned in to kiss his cheek. His arms came around me and he pulled me into a close hug, pressing his bearded jaw against my temple.

  “Good to see you, Ava,” he murmured and it sounded like he meant it.

  “You too, Luke,” I said, pulling back a bit and looking at him. “Hanging in there?” I asked softly.

  His eyes were warm, his face was hard and he was so fucking handsome, it took my breath away.

  He kept his arms around me and looked down at me. “Yeah,” he answered.

  “Wanna get drunk?” I asked, mostly teasing.

  “Yeah,” he answered, definitely not teasing.

  “I can probably arrange that,” I told him, still trying to keep the tone light but wanting to help ease his pain all the same. He and his Dad never got along, I knew that. Still, his Dad had been youngish and it was a shock. Massive heart attack. Not good, even if they didn’t get along.

  “I’ll take you up on that,” Luke said. Then his eyes moved to his mother, he let me go and touched my nose. “I’ll call you.”

  I nodded. “It’s a deal,” I promised.

  Then we moved away and more mourners moved into our space to offer their condolences. I walked away slowly, wanting to be in his presence for as long as I could drag it out.

  It was later I overheard my sisters talking in our living room.

  “God, it was sick, seeing her pressed up to him like that. All her fat, like, bulging,” Marilyn said.

  “I know, I think I threw up a little bit looking at them. He could barely get his arms around her,” Sofia replied.

  “I came all this way just to see him and he barely looked at me. But he hugged Ava. How fucking weird is that?” Marilyn went on.

  “Maybe he’s gay,” Sofia suggested.

  Then they’d laughed, thinking they were hilarious.

  Okay, it was safe to say that not only weren’t my sisters and I close, I kinda didn’t like them, as in really didn’t like them.

  But for me, hearing what they said, that was it. The final straw.

  That was when I made my decision, my vow, that the next time I saw Lucas Stark and if he hugged me or touched me, no one who was looking at us would think it was sick, gross or throw up a little at the sight of us.

  That was why I didn’t take his calls and go out and get drunk with him like I promised I would.

  Instead I went and found a personal trainer, had a mortifying fitness test, was put on a program, dumped all the shit food out of my house and started reading Self and Shape magazines religiously. I lost twenty pounds in the first month (water weight), the next fifty-five were a lot harder. My trainer changed my program every six weeks and drilled me like a Nazi. His name was Riley, he was always tan (not sunbed tan, he’s outside a lot, even in the winter). He had blond hair, brown eyes and a great body and he told me I was going t
o be his Mona Lisa. I wasn’t going for Mona Lisa, I was going for Jennifer Aniston but I decided not to share that with Riley.

  Riley was a good guy, though likely a total jerk to his girlfriends, how was I to know? Regardless, I didn’t want to let him or myself down. I was dedicated and motivated and living, cycling, treadmilling, stair climbing, ab curling and weight training for the day when Luke saw me again.

  Though it didn’t turn out like I’d planned. Mainly because, even with partial bombshell status, I became an asshole-magnet and realized it wasn’t just Sissy, Marilyn, Sofia and Mom’s bad taste it men. It was just that men weren’t worth the effort.

  So by the time I was ready for Luke, mentally and physically prepared to seek him out, I’d gone off men. I made a new vow that I was dedicated to just as much as fitness.