Rock Chick Redemption Page 36

  “Means I owe you a beer,” Dad said quietly.

  “I’d like that,” Malcolm replied.

  “I know. Let’s have a party!” Ally announced.

  I was beginning to realize Ally didn’t need much of an excuse for a party.

  “My party is tonight,” Daisy pointed out.

  “We’ll have it Friday night,” Ally said.

  “Works for me,” Indy put in.

  “Me too,” Jet said.

  “You makin’ those caramel chocolate brownies?” Uncle Tex asked Jet.

  “What caramel chocolate brownies?” Dad asked.

  Uncle Tex turned to Dad. “Loopy Loo’s brownies beat the fuckin’ shit out of your turtle custard sundaes any day.”

  “Them’s big words, big man,” Dad threw down the gauntlet.

  “Fuckin’ better believe it,” Uncle Tex declared.

  “You’re on,” Dad replied.

  “I better make the brownies,” Jet mumbled.

  I noticed everyone had drifted over, Lee, Eddie and the rest of the Hot Pack.

  “You boys have tuxedos?” Daisy asked.

  All their eyes turned to her.

  Even Daisy blinked under the force of the Hot Pack Stare.

  “Okay,” she gave in. “I’ll let you all in with suits.”

  “Tuxedos?” Mom asked.

  “Formal party, my house, tonight,” Daisy announced. “Everyone’s invited.”

  Mom gasped, then she uttered the immortal feminine words, “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “That’s okay, Trish. I’ll take you shopping,” Kitty Sue offered, having missed most of the show and not having any idea what she was letting herself in for. I should probably have warned her but there was no time, Mom was forging ahead.

  “Herb, we better go now. We need to get you a suit. I hope we can find somewhere that does one-day tailoring,” she said to Kitty Sue, linking her arm through Kitty Sue’s and leading her to the door. “We need to go somewhere to get logs and blankets. And we need to find a big grocery store. Maybe a Kmart, or better yet, a Target. They have ritzier stuff. Hank needs some stocking up.”

  “Logs?” Kitty Sue asked.

  “I don’t want Roxie freezing to death during one of your blizzards,” Mom explained.

  The bell over the door jingled as they walked out, Dad throwing an eye roll over his shoulder as he followed, carrying his latte.

  Once they’d gone, Hank curled me so I was facing him and I looked up.

  “I gotta go to work,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “What time’s Daisy’s party?” he asked me.

  “Seven o’clock. Come with your belly empty, I’m havin’ a secret buffet in the kitchen for VIPs,” Daisy answered before walking away.

  I put my arms around Hank as he watched Daisy walking away.

  “The Rock Chicks have claimed you. You’re stuck now,” he said, looking down at me.

  “Funny, I was thinking that about you, being stuck I mean.”

  He rubbed his nose against mine, clearly not feeling stuck.

  When his head came away I said, “I need to talk to Annette, tell her what’s going on and I need to call my clients. I don’t think I’ll lose any of them. I don’t need to be in Chicago to do my work. After I got that award I recruited clients outside Chicago, in Des Moines and Cincinnati. They should be cool. I need –”

  “Award?” Hank cut in.

  I waved my hand between us. “Nothing, it was just some design award.”

  He grinned at me.

  The way he was grinning made me feel funny, all warm inside, like I’d done something great.

  “Stop grinning at me, Whisky. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Any award is a big deal.”

  “This one wasn’t.”

  “Sorry, didn’t you say you recruited two clients because of it?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Then it was a big deal.”

  “Whisky –”

  “Sunshine, quiet,” he said, then he gave me a light kiss so I’d do as I was told. “I’ll see you, and your folks, at my house at six thirty.”

  “Do you have a suit?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  He gave me a squeeze and started to let go but I held on.

  “You hear anything about Billy –”

  His eyes locked on mine and he interrupted me. “Yeah.”

  I sighed. “For a while there, I forgot about him.”

  Hank’s arms tightened and his face dipped close. “Sweetheart, I promise, soon he’ll be a memory.”

  I nodded because I believed him.

  My body fitted itself close to his.

  Hank’s head came down the rest of the way, this time, not for a light kiss but for a deeper one.

  When I was dizzy, he let me go and then he was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mom Bombed

  I was looking out the window of the black Explorer processing my day and preparing for my night.

  I was in Fortnum’s when Luke walked in ten minutes ago, eyes on me and he said one word, “Home.”

  I guessed that meant he was my ride.

  Annette and Jason had been spending the day casing the other head shops to check out the competition. I called to tell her Hank and I had sorted things out and I was moving to Denver. She was ecstatic. We’d been trailing each other for seven years, Indianapolis to Chicago and now to Denver.

  “Bitch,” she said. “With you and me in the ‘hood, Denver isn’t going to know what hit it!”

  I thought it was more the other way around but I didn’t tell Annette that.

  I’d also called all my clients and my landlord.

  My clients were cool; they didn’t care where I worked, just as long as I worked. My landlord was freaked out. The cops had called him about the break in and he thought my mutilated body was buried six feet deep in some woods somewhere. I calmed him down and convinced him I wasn’t a voice from the grave. He wasn’t too upset I was leaving, considering he’d never had a tenant who’d had their furniture torn apart and went missing for two weeks, presumed (by him) dead. Anyway, I was month-to-month and he was going to let me out of the lease at the end of November.

  Simple as that.

  In fact, everything seemed simple.

  All that had to be done was find Billy.

  No word from Hank, which I figured meant no good news. Also, there was no bad news so I decided that no bad news was actually good news and I went with it.

  “Babe,” Luke said, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I turned to him. “Yeah?”

  His chin went up, pointing over my shoulder, and I realized we were parked in front of Hank’s house. I looked toward the house, my hand going to the door handle, and I stopped dead.

  “Good God,” I whispered.

  The air in the Explorer changed as Luke went into alert mode.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Look at the house,” I breathed.

  “What?” he repeated.

  “Look at the house!” This time, I yelled.

  I got out of the car, slammed my door and stood on the sidewalk staring at the house.

  “Roxie,” Luke, suddenly beside me, said, his fingers curling into the waistband of my cords. “Talk to me. What?”

  “Pumpkins,” I said.

  He looked at the house.

  On the front stoop were two carved pumpkins. Also, resting against one side of the door was a bunch of dried corn stalks bound together with more (these not carved) pumpkins and some gourds nestled at the bottom. On the other side was a decoration, attached to the house, made up of three painted wooden slats dangling from wire. The top slat was a witch flying in front of a quarter moon, the middle one said “Happy Halloween” and the bottom one was a black cat with its back arched.

  I looked to Luke. “Hank’s house has been Mom Bombed,” I told him.

  Luke looked at me for a second t
hen his eyes went to his boots.

  He wasn’t fast enough; I saw the half-grin.

  “This is not funny. Hank’s going to freak.”

  The door opened and Mom stood there. “Hey there, sweetie. Why are you standing on the sidewalk?” her eyes went to Luke. “Luke, is it? Come in, I’ll make you some cocoa.”

  “Oh my God,” I whispered, horrified that my Mom offered hot cocoa to Badass, Super Cool Luke. I turned to Luke. “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want you to shoot me, I want you to shoot her.”

  His fingers came out of my waistband and pressed against my lower back, pushing me forward. The half-grin had gone full-fledged.

  “I don’t know why everyone thinks this is funny. This isn’t funny,” I grumbled on the way up the walk.

  “It isn’t funny because they’re your parents,” Luke explained. “To everyone else, it’s just fuckin’ funny.”

  We walked into the house and Shamus rushed me, took in Luke, went into a skid and slammed into me, knocking me backwards into Luke’s (very solid) body. Luke’s hands came to my hips and normally I would have stepped away immediately, considering I was plastered against him, but I was too horrified by what I saw.

  There were huge, empty, plastic shopping bags everywhere. Three new blankets and four fluffy pillows were stacked on the couch. The lamp Billy and I had broken had been replaced by another one, which now threw a soft glow on the room. In one corner, there was a four foot tall wrought iron candle holder with six, thick, green candles in the top, all lit and giving out the scent of bay. There were more candles in black holders on the coffee table, also lit. There were candles on the dining room table, ensconced in decorative corn husks and miniature gourds. On the corner of the bar, separating the dining area from the kitchen, sat an enormous Halloween bowl filled to almost overflowing with Halloween candy. I saw a new canister set for flour, sugar and coffee (I had no doubt all of them filled) against the back kitchen counter. Last, I could smell something cooking.

  “What have you done to Hank’s house?” I asked Mom.

  “Just made it cozy. Kind of a thank you gift for letting us stay and for taking care of you,” Mom answered and she looked to Luke. “You want cocoa?” she asked.

  “No,” he replied.

  “Coffee?” Mom went on.

  “No,” he said.

  “Tea?” she continued in dogged pursuit of being both a Mom and a good hostess, even though it wasn’t her house. She was now sounding slightly surprised at the idea that Luke drank something as un-macho as tea (like he’d drink cocoa).

  “No,” Luke repeated.

  “Oh, I know. A beer?”

  He shook his head.

  I cut in. “Jeez, Mom. He doesn’t want anything. Leave him alone.”

  “Roxie, don’t be rude,” Mom told me. Then a buzzer went off. “I know what he’ll want!” she shouted and she whirled, threw on a (new) oven mitt, opened the oven and took out a cookie tray. “Right here, hot and good. Fresh roasted pumpkin seeds. Come and get ‘em.”

  I looked at Mom as she shook the seeds on the tray to Luke and me.

  I ignored the seeds.

  So did Luke.

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked.

  “Negotiating with the log man. They say they don’t do deliveries. Your father intends on getting those logs delivered. He brought me home and went back. He’ll be here in time to get ready.”

  Dad thought he could negotiate anything with just a hint of good ole boy charm and a few off-color jokes. Most of the time, he wasn’t wrong. I suspected the logs would be delivered tomorrow.

  I threw off thoughts of logs.

  Instead, I focused on getting ready. Getting ready sounded like a good idea, it meant escape and escape was good.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” I announced and made to move away.

  Luke’s hand curled into my waistband again. He pulled me deeper into him and his mouth came to my ear.

  “Leave me with her, I will shoot you,” he whispered in my ear.

  I looked over my shoulder at him and realized how close we were as his face was less than an inch from mine. I stepped forward and his hand dropped away.

  Mom, undeterred by us ignoring her offering, tilted the seeds into a waiting bowl and walked them to the coffee table. Once she set down the bowl, she started to gather up bags.

  “Luke, be a sweetheart and get rid of these,” she said, shoving them into his arms and starting away before she realized he hadn’t actually taken them.

  I caught them before they fell to the floor and turned to Mom.

  “Mom, I don’t mean to alarm you but Luke’s here to protect me, so you have to leave him alone so he can do… whatever it is he does. What he doesn’t do is clean up, drink cocoa or chitchat. Okay?”

  Mom slowly turned and looked at Luke with rounded eyes, then she nodded.

  I twisted and said to Luke, “Come with me.”

  I shoved the bags in Mom’s arms, gave her a peck on the cheek then walked by her, through the kitchen and into Hank’s room.

  Luke followed.

  So did Shamus.

  I closed the door and turned to him.

  “I’m going to take a shower. You’re going to be good, try not to be sexy or freak me out or anything like that. I’ve got to concentrate, preparing for a formal party is serious business. I don’t need distractions.”

  His eyes went half-mast and his half-grin appeared.

  “You’re doing it!” I accused.

  His eyebrows went up.

  I shook my head. “Never mind.”

  Then I stomped to the shower.

  * * * * *

  Over an hour later, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

  I’d had my shower, done my formal party makeup and was putting the finishing touches on my hair (loads of soft twists and up in a messy knot). I was wearing Hank’s bathrobe. My dress, undies, jewelry, purse and shoes had been gathered and were all lying on the bed next to Luke (well, my undies were hidden under the dress, Luke didn’t need to get any ideas).

  Luke seemed to have no problem slipping into a Luke Zen Zone, lying stretched on Hank’s bed, Shamus at his side, eyes closed, saying nothing but seeming totally alert.

  I opened the door, expecting it to be Luke.

  It wasn’t Luke. It was Hank.

  Shit.

  Before he could open his mouth, I said, “I’m sorry about your house.”

  “Roxie –”

  “I should have called to warn you but I’m running late getting ready.”

  “Roxie –”

  “She’s doing it to be nice, to say thank you for all you’ve done.”

  “Roxanne, let me –”

  “She can be a little overpowering, I know, but I swear it isn’t normally this bad. I think she’s worried about me but doesn’t want to say.”

  “Roxanne –”

  “We can move the stuff she bought to my new apartment when I find one and I’ll get rid of the stuff at the front stoop the minute they leave.”

  His hands shot out and grabbed me at the waist. He yanked me to him and his mouth came down on mine.

  Then he kissed me deep.

  When he lifted his head I was dizzy and had forgotten my place in my jabbering apologetic explanation of Mom’s craziness.

  “What was that for?” I asked.

  “To shut you up. You wouldn’t stop talking.”

  “Oh.”

  I probably should have been angry but I wasn’t. He was a good kisser and if I had to be shut up, that was a damn fine way to do it.

  “I don’t mind about the house, it looks nice,” he told me.

  “Okay.”

  “And I don’t mind your parents. They’re interesting and they care about you.”

  “Okay.”

  “And we’ll talk about your apartment later.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  He shifted me to the side and moved into the bathroom.

  “Are you d
one in the bathroom? I need to shower.”

  He bent over and pulled off a boot, then twisted to throw it in the bedroom.

  I watched it go, moving my body as the boot sailed by me. When I turned back, he did the same with the other boot.

  “What about my apartment?” I asked.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” he replied.

  He started to pull off his sweater but I grabbed his arms and stopped him.

  He looked at me.

  I felt something strange and unpleasant crawl along my skin.

  “Don’t you want me to move to Denver?” I asked quietly.

  “Yeah, I want you to move to Denver.”

  I blinked at him again, confused. “Then, what about my apartment?” I repeated my question.

  “Roxanne, we’ll talk about it later.”

  Then, it hit me. “As in, we’ll have a ‘conversation’?” I asked, thinking about what Jet said earlier about Eddie’s chats and the fact that she’d moved in with him, making them the fastest relationship in history.

  Hank stared at me as if he was considering checking my forehead to see if I had a fever.

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “Two people talking is the same as two people having a conversation.”

  “Do you mean, a Hank Conversation? The kind with a capital ‘H’ and a capital ‘C’?”

  His brows drew together. “Have you been drinking?” he asked.

  “No, I haven’t been drinking!”

  He sighed and straightened, giving me his full attention. “Maybe you should tell me what’s on your mind.”

  I didn’t actually have anything on my mind other than what was on his.

  “Nothing’s on my mind,” I admitted. “Except, when we have this conversation, we aren’t having it in bed.”

  After I made my declaration, he watched me for a beat then shook his head. “Jesus, you’re a nut,” he muttered, pulling off his sweater.

  “I’m not a nut!”

  He tossed his sweater in the direction of his boots, then his arm came around my waist and he pulled me to him again.

  He bent his head to mine and, with his lips twitching he said, “I mean that in good way.”

  “How is calling someone a nut good?” I flashed.

  “Sweetheart, are you done in the bathroom?” he asked patiently.