Rock Chick 02 Rescue (4 page)

“No, that didn’t sound right. You don’t understand,” I said.

“No. I
don’t
understand,” Indy said, leaning into me.

I tried to explain, “I just have a problem with his kind, his type. I always have. It isn’t only him, I have a problem with Lee’s guy, you know, the Native American one, Vance.” Indy looked like her head would explode.

Indy looked like her head would explode.

“No!” I yel ed, “That didn’t sound right either. I have kind of a problem with Lee, and Hank too!”

“What the fuck’s the matter with you!” Al y yel ed.

“It isn’t their ancestry. It’s that they’re hot!” I shouted.

Everyone went silent and stared at me.

I felt like an idiot, but I had to keep going.

“They’re hot, Eddie especial y. I get stupid and shy around good looking guys. I always did. Nothing I ever do is right, nothing I ever say. I try to avoid them; I found it’s the best way. The thing is, Eddie and I got caught alone in the kitchen and he was being kinda weird with me. I started panicking and I tried to explain that he was hot but it came out al wrong, ‘cause how do you tel a guy he’s hot? He got the wrong idea, got mad and left, and… um, that’s it.”

“Are you fuckin’ shittin’ me?” Tex said.

I shook my head and bit my lip.

“You like him,” Indy said. She wasn’t looking at me like she wanted to strangle me anymore, which I took as a good sign.

“Wel … ” I said, “… yeah.”

Liked him, no. Loved him and wanted to have his babies, um, shit yeah.

Indy smiled. “I knew it!” she yel ed. “That’s great! You have to tel him, I think he—”

“No!” I shouted, “No, I can’t tel him,
you
can’t tel him either.”

Al y came around by Indy; she was smiling too, “You
have
to tel him.”

“I’m not going to tel him. No one can tel him.”

“No one can tel who what?”

The voice came from behind us. It was Lee. He was looking at me like I’d crawled out from under a rock.

“Jet’s not a racist, she’s got a big ole crush on Eddie,” Indy announced, al smiles.

I closed my eyes and I felt my face heat up.

When I opened my eyes, Lee was looking at me.

“Strange way of showin’ it,” he said.

“She’s fuckin’ shy. Gets tongue-tied. Says stupid shit,” Tex summed it up quickly.

“Please, can we stop talking about this?” I asked.

“No way!” Al y said, “I’ve been watching Eddie with you and I’m pretty certain—”

“Al y,” Lee cut her off.

“Please!” I cried. “Can we stop talking about this and you al have to promise not to say anything to Eddie.”

“You want him to think you’re a racist?” Indy stared at me like I just beamed down from Mars.

“No! Of course not but… um, yeah. It would make avoiding him easier.”

“You’re loopy-loo,” Tex said.

“Shut up Tex.” Al y came up and put her hand on my arm,

“Seriously, Jet…”

“Please,” I said (or kinda begged).

Luckily, Lee came to my rescue and when he talked, people listened. “Let her be.”

“Lee!” Al y dropped her hand from my arm.

“You al have to promise not to say anything,” I said.

“Sure!” Indy replied quickly, so quickly I thought maybe she was lying. I also saw Lee’s eyes narrow on her and then he shook his head and the crinkles by his eyes deepened. I got the impression that I was in more serious trouble than I’d been in when they thought I was a racist, but that wasn’t even the half of it.

* * * * *

I didn’t expect him to, I thought he would avoid me too but there he was.

He walked in, his eyes scanned the room cutting across me like I wasn’t even there, and I immediately changed my mind that I didn’t want him to think I was a racist.

He looked good; worn Levi’s that fit real wel (tight in al the right places, loose in al the right places), black cowboy boots, a black, long-sleeved t-shirt that was snug on his chest and biceps, and a big silver belt buckle on his black leather belt. His black hair was kind of messy from something, the wind, his hand running through it, whatever.

He made my mouth water.

I was behind the espresso counter with Tex and Indy was behind the book counter. Eddie saw Indy and walked right to her, ignoring everyone else.

I was terrified Indy would say something, even more so when Tex elbowed me.

“You should go talk to him,” Tex stage whispered.

“I’m not going to talk to him!” I hissed back.

“You’re loopy-loo,” Tex told me.

Then the bel over the door rang again and as I was concentrating on semi-arguing with Tex, I didn’t look up.

At first.

Then I heard someone sing.

“Jet! Jet!”

I looked up.

Tex looked up.

Indy looked up.

Al y walked to the front from the back where al the bookshelves were.

Eddie turned around.

And there was Ray McAlister, my Dad, standing in the middle of Fortnum’s, banging his head and playing air guitar while he hummed, loudly.

My mouth dropped open.

Then Dad went on, singing the Paul McCartney and Wings song “Jet”.

He was real y going at it. Dad was. Singing al the lyrics, the “oo-oo’s”, jamming on his air guitar like there was no tomorrow, snapping his head around so hard I thought he’d give himself whiplash.

When the lyrics included the word “father”, he got a big, goofy grin on his face, put his hands on his heart and, I couldn’t help it, I started around the counter toward him.

“Dad,” I whispered.

Everyone was staring. Tex in avid fascination with a huge grin on his face. Indy was giggling. Al y was nodding her head. Eddie’s arms were crossed on his chest, watching, blank-faced, with his hip leaned against the book counter.

Dad wasn’t quite done. More air guitar. More “oo-oo’s”.

Then, when I made it to him, he grabbed me in his arms, pul ed me close and started dancing with me, flipping me around, stil singing, but louder this time.

In fact, he was at the part where McCartney begs Jet to love him and Dad was kind of yel ing (as he always did when he sang this song to me, which was a lot, in fact, it was every time he came back to town and first saw me).

He did the catcal and I started laughing, I couldn’t help it.

My Dad may have been a crap Dad but he was crazy and he was funny and even though he’d only been in my life for what amounted to hours in the past fourteen years, he was stil my Dad.

“Dad!” I shouted over him humming the musical part.

He was half swinging me around, half dancing with me, total y ignoring me, and he kept going. He ended the song as usual, on a hug, swaying me side to side and humming the sad saxophone finale.

“Dad,” I whispered again, my cheek pressed against his stubbly one and he stopped swaying and held me close.

“Jet,” he whispered back and tears stung my eyes, a couple leaking out the corners.

We stood that way for a few seconds, holding on to each other and then he pushed me back, stil holding my arms.

“How’d you find me?” I asked, wiping my cheeks.

“Went to that place you used to work. Sweet-talked the old biddy behind the counter into tel ing me where you were. Why’d you give up a cushy job like that?” He was wearing an old army jacket, a t-shirt with a Mack truck on the front, a pair of worn out jeans and construction boots. His graying, sandy blond hair was too long and (if I was honest) a bit dirty. His hazel eyes were dancing, as usual.

I ignored his question.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see my girl.” His eyes scanned my face, and then went to my hair.

His hand came up and he yanked the ponytail holder out with a tug. Without looking where it was going, he tossed it over his shoulder. I watched it fly, and, stil watching, saw Eddie’s hand reach out and nab it in midair.

“Shee-it. Your mother gave you a beautiful head of hair, don’t know why you’re always hidin’ it.” He arranged my hair around my face, “Much better.” he said.

“Dad.”

He snatched me in his arms again and gave me a tight squeeze.

“Fuck!” He shouted. “You feel good. Been missin’ my girl.”

When he let me go, Eddie was right there. Indy and Al y were staring at us, not even trying to pretend they weren’t and I didn’t have to turn around to know Tex was watching.

Eddie held out my ponytail holder.

“Thanks Eddie,” I said, taking the band and I could feel the heat coming into my face.

Dad looked between Eddie and me.

“Who’s this? Your boyfriend?”

My lungs froze and my mouth went dry.

Eddie just stood there.

Dad looked between Eddie and me, again.

“Wel ? Are you gonna introduce me?” Dad asked me.

My mind disengaged.

Dad took matters into his own hands.

“I’m Ray McAlister, Jet’s Dad.”

“Eddie Chavez,” Eddie replied and shook Dad’s hand.

Dad nodded and smiled, “Figures. Jet’s always had a thing for our Southern brothers.”

Oh Lord, please save me.

“Dad.”

I could have happily died at that moment.

“What?” Dad asked, al innocent.

“Funny, Jet’s explained she has a little trouble with my kind,” Eddie said.

Dad turned to me, his eyes comical y wide.

“Since when? Every boyfriend you’ve ever had was Mexican.”

Nope, I was wrong. It was this moment when I could have happily died.

“Is that so?” Eddie asked, his eyes moving to me and I could swear I heard both Indy and Al y gulping back laughter.

“Yeah. Thought I’d have me some sweet, dark-headed grandbabies way before now but Jet’s taking her fuckin’

time. You know, I’m not getting any younger,” Dad told me,

“Least you final y got a job in a cool place,” he said, looking around. “The old one might have been cushy but… hel o?

Boring!
”

“Maybe we should go somewhere and talk,” I suggested.

“What’s wrong with right here?” he asked, looking at the espresso counter, “I could do with a coffee.”

“What’l it be?” Tex boomed.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Dad was already headed toward the coffee and al I could see was Eddie.

He wasn’t smiling, as such, but the dimple was in his cheek.

Guess I didn’t have to worry about him thinking I was a racist anymore.

Before I could come unstuck from mortification, Eddie’s hand came up and he tucked some hair behind my ear. He scanned my face and hair, then his eyes locked on mine and he said, “I like it.”

My stomach lurched.

Without a word, I turned my back on him, pul ing my hair into another ponytail and fol owed Dad who was ordering from Tex. When I got to him, he hooked an arm around my neck and kissed the top of my head.

“Ain’t she gorgeous?” he asked Tex.

“She’s a nut,” Tex answered.

Dad threw his head back and laughed.

“Ain’t that right?”

Indy and Al y both materialized behind the counter, I did introductions and there was general chitchat while Dad sucked back a latte.

They al drifted away, but not far enough away that they couldn’t hear everything we said. I guess this was my payback for being so cagey. People were going to get curious.

Eddie planted himself at the end of the espresso counter and didn’t even pretend to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping.

I turned to Dad.

“What’re you real y doing here?” I asked quietly.

“What? Can’t I come see my girl?”

I looked at him.

He smiled.

“Okay, you got me. I need a place to crash for a couple of nights.”

Panic fil ed me. Mom plus Dad plus the same apartment equal ed disaster.

“I’m not living in the same place,” I told him.

“That’s okay,” he said.

“I don’t real y have the room.”

“You didn’t real y have the room before, but you let me stay,” he said, looking at me closer and knowing I was holding back.

“There’s something…” I couldn’t finish. Eddie was right there, I could feel his eyes on me. Dad didn’t know about Mom and I didn’t want to tel him. I didn’t want al the big ears around me to hear either. And Mom would have had a conniption if I invited Dad to stay. One-armed or not, she’d throw everything in the apartment at him and chase him around in her wheelchair.

“Princess Jet, your ole Dad has to crash. Been on the road too long.”

“We’l get you a hotel.”

His eyes flashed, and then shut down.

Damn.

He didn’t have any money.

I didn’t have any money either. Every dol ar was pinched for every penny I could squeeze out of it.

I stared at my Dad. He looked tired, he needed a bath and last, but not least, he was my Dad. This was gonna hurt, in more ways than one.

“We’l go to the bank machine,” I said on a sigh.

I could pick up more shifts at Smithie’s.

Maybe.

If Smithie was in a good mood.

“I’l pay you back,” he told me.

I’d heard that before.

I turned to Indy and saw Eddie, stil leaning on the counter and stil watching me. His eyes were sharp and I knew he heard every word. I felt humiliated, this time for myself and for my Dad.

“Indy, Dad and I are gonna…,” I didn’t even finish.

“You know we make our own hours, girl. Go be with your Dad,” Indy said.

I turned back to Dad, trying to ignore Eddie and everyone. I put my arm through his. “Had lunch?” I asked, pretending to be bright and cheerful and someone who could afford to go out to lunch.

“Nope,” he said on a big grin. “Your ole Dad is starved.”