Rock Chick 06 Reckoning (6 page)

Okay, I had groupies. I was in a band, a somewhat successful band at least local y. Groupies came with the territory.

However I wasn’t a col ector of groupies. I had enough to deal with considering Pong and Hugo were both in my band because they were dedicating their life to perfecting the art of col ecting groupies.

And anyway, when did Mace turn into such an asshole?

“He’s not a groupie!” I yel ed.

“Discussion about
Eric
just ended.” He said Eric’s name like it tasted bad. If I was smart, I would have read something into that. Instead, I was seething that he was being so bossy. “Now you and I are gonna get things straight –”

“No we aren’t,” I interrupted him.

He ignored me. “You and Juno are movin’ in with me.” Uh…
what?

“No we aren’t!” I shouted

“Okay,” Mace said amicably. “Then I’m movin’ in with you and Juno.”

“No you aren’t!” I screeched.

He kept ignoring my outbursts. “You don’t go anywhere unless I’m with you or I know where you’re goin’ and I got a man on you. Got me?”

I decided to extricate myself from the current conversation and start my own.

“You’re a jerk.”

“I’l tel Pong, Leo, Buzz and Hugo that you’re out of commission as their twenty-four-seven babysitter.” What he said pissed me off but I ignored it in order to stay with my own theme. “You’re not a jerk, you’re an asshole.”

“I’l cal Floyd and tel him what’s goin’ down and he’l back me with the band.”

Effing hel , he was pul ing out the big guns.

My eyes narrowed again and I hissed, “Don’t you dare.”

“Floyd knows I can keep you safe and Floyd won’t take any shit from the band.”

“Don’t you dare!” I shouted.

“And when this is al over, you and me gotta talk.” I did
not
like the sound of that.

“This
is
al over. I’m not your woman, just let it be known to Sid’s boys that you don’t give a fuck about me and I can go about my life –”

“You and I both know that’s bul shit and, obviously, so does Sid.”

“It isn’t bul shit.”

“We’re over but that doesn’t mean you weren’t once my woman.”

“I’m not now.”

“No, you aren’t, but that doesn’t stop the fact that I’d care, a great fuckin’ deal, if you got fil ed with bul ets.” I had nothing to say to that. Nothing at al . I was trying not even to think of that.

“You fight me, Kitten, then I’l take you and them on at the same time. I don’t give a fuck and I always win. Always.” He wasn’t wrong. He always won. He’d once been a professional surfer, the best. He’d moved on to become a professional snowboarder and he was the best at that too.

Now he was a PI and, from what I could tel by the respect he got from the tough guys around him, he was pretty damn good at that too.

I decided it was high time to give up and battle on when Mace and I were not in bed and Mace’s body was not on mine.

My eyes slid away from his face.

“Please get off me,” I asked, softly, quietly, politely.

“Kitten,” he cal ed and my eyes slid back. “Something else you should know.”

“What?”

“This is a serious situation. You gettin’ soft and sweet isn’t gonna work on me, not like it used to.” I decided it was the perfect time to battle on. “Thanks for sharing. Now, get
off!
”

I bucked. Mace slid off.

I rol ed off the bed then rounded it, Juno at my heels ready for her morning bathroom break. I grabbed Daisy’s track bottoms and tugged them on. I chanced a glance at Mace and he was on his side, elbow in the pil ows, head in hand, watching me.

I felt the gut kick. He’d done that before, lots when we were together. Lying in bed, on his side, head in hand, watching me put on clothes, watching me feed Juno, watching me play guitar, the way he looked at me making me feel warm, pretty and interesting.

What I did for a living meant people were always watching me. I was onstage in front of a crowd a lot, singing watching me. I was onstage in front of a crowd a lot, singing and playing. I loved it, fed off it, especial y when the crowd found the groove and came along for the ride.

But not even our best groove felt as good as Mace watching me, his eyes lazy, his face soft, his thoughts, I knew, al about me.

Inexplicably, even though we were over, even though I was not his woman, even though he admitted that, I knew the way he was looking at me now was no different than al the times before.

What was going on?

“I don’t like this,” I told him.

He moved, fast, lithe, graceful and he was out of bed, standing in front of me wearing nothing but a pair of white boxers. I hated to admit it but his body was even more delicious than I remembered and I’d touched it, tasted it, almost every inch of it and I thought I’d never forget how good it looked… or tasted.

But I forgot.

Effing hel .

His hand came to my hip and his long fingers bit in gently.

“First up for you, this Eric guy gets a cal .” I clenched my teeth.

Mace must have seen the clench or just knew it was there. Whatever, for some reason, it made him smile.

Stella

“Spil ,” Al y said to me.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to spil ,” Stevie put in. “You ever thought of that? You know, keeping things to yourself, as in
private?
”

“Listen, Stel a and me have been friends for ages,” Al y said to Stevie. “She dated one of my brother’s boys for months and didn’t say a word. Now she’s getting shot at like the rest of us. You aren’t getting shot at because of the Hot Bunch boys; you can have your privacy. You
are
you official y become a member of the club. Therefore, it’s time to spil .”

“The logic is a bit loco but I have to admit, it makes sense,” Indy muttered.

“I think she should spil when she feels like spil ing,” Jules threw in, sitting across from me, her hand on her smal pregnant bel y bump, her black hair gleaming, her violet eyes on me. They were warm and there was a contentedness behind them that was both beautiful and made me jealous as hel .

“Fuck that. We’re not a secret keeping group. It al hangs out with us,” Al y stated.

“Except for when Jules kept her pregnancy secret.” Daisy’s eyes narrowed on Jules.

“Wel , you can understand that,” Jet noted.

“And when you kept your engagement secret,” Roxie said to Jet.

“I only kept it a secret for a few days!” Jet exclaimed.

“Yeah, but you didn’t share. We had to cal you out, girlie.” Tod sounded pouty.

My eyes wandered around the big round table in Daisy’s huge, fantastic kitchen and, for your information, I would
love
the chance to cook in that kitchen. Top of the line appliances, plenty of counter space, expensive knives and shining pots on display; it was an amateur cook’s nirvana.

Seeing the girls al together, talking about secrets instead of freaking out about getting shot at by ful y automatic weapons, it hit me why the Nightingale Men claimed these women.

They didn’t seem at al flipped out that they’d been the victims of violence last night. They were just hanging out, doing girl talk over coffee.

Honest to God, it was bizarre.

Indy, redheaded, blue-eyed and built; Al y, dark-haired, brown-eyed and slim; Jet, honey blonde, green-eyed and pretty; Roxie, also blonde but darker, blue-eyed and seriously stylish; Ava, another blonde, total y knockout, bombshel gorgeous with light brown eyes and I’d already described Jules’s movie star glamour. These weren’t exactly your average women.

But I suspected their attraction for the Hot Bunch had nothing (or, if not nothing, than not everything) to do with the fact that their looks ranged from classical y beautiful (Jules), to sultry (Indy), to girl-next-door hot (Jet), to sassy-girl-next-door luscious (Al y), to sophisticated elegance (Roxie), to downright sexy (Ava), to in-your-face stunning (Daisy). I suspected it had more to do with the fact that this crazy, scary life didn’t faze them, not even a little bit.

And if it did, they didn’t let it show.

They kept bickering and I looked out the widow, letting them fight amongst themselves and letting my thoughts move elsewhere. My wound was beginning to ache and my mind was fil ing with thoughts of Linnie, thoughts such as wondering if her parents had been told yet or if we’d need to do a fundraising gig to pay for her funeral.

Then I decided not to think about Linnie because it might make me cry and thus ruin girl talk and instead I decided to think about the current state of affairs.

It was early afternoon after a wild night, late to bed sleep in. We’d just finished the Big Ole Stick to Your Ribs Southern Breakfast of eggs, homemade biscuits, sausage gravy, sausage patties and grits.

For your information, I’d never seen so much white food on one plate in my life and never wanted to again.

Now, waiting for our “orders” from Lee (whenever they were going to come), we were finishing up yet another pot of coffee.

Earlier, after letting Juno out, brushing my teeth and washing my face, Mace found me and handed me my phone.

“Eric,” was al he said.

“Later,” was al I said.

“Now,” he finished.

I figured he might leave me alone if I did as I was told, so I cal ed Eric and told him I’d be unavailable for awhile. Eric asked why. I told him I wasn’t at liberty to say. Eric asked if I was okay. I told him that I was fine. Eric told me I didn’t sound fine. I told him not to worry, I was. Eric told me he couldn’t help it, he was worried. I told him
please
not to worry, I’d be okay and I’d cal him in a few days. Eric said he didn’t like it, could he see me now? I opened my mouth to speak and Mace yanked the phone out of my hand.

Then he said into it, “She’s done talkin’. She said she’d cal you. End of conversation.”

Then he flipped my phone shut.

I stared at my phone in his hand because I was relatively certain if I looked in his eyes, I’d scream in his face.

He tucked it in his back pocket and without a word he turned and walked away.

I stared daggers into his back and when daggers didn’t actual y form from the lethal energy emanating from my eyes, I gave up and Juno and I went into breakfast.

The boys were gone. We had an in-house bodyguard standing in the kitchen, wearing a suit, a gun in a holster at one side of his belt and a walkie-talkie at the other side.

Roxie, an animal lover, claimed Juno’s attention by lavishing my big dog with pets, kisses and surreptitious scraps of leftover sausage patties.

I ate and then got put on the hot seat.

“Hel o? Stel a? You in the room?” Ava asked.

“Sorry, my mind wandered,” I said.

“I’l bet.” Stevie smiled kindly at me. “After last night there are lots of places for it to wander.”

I smiled back at him for his quiet understanding.

“Are you gonna spil or what?” Al y was getting impatient, interrupting Stevie and my moment and not having the time for quiet understanding.

“Al y –” Jules started softly.

“I’l spil ,” I suddenly announced.

Everyone’s eyes turned to me and, deciding to get it over with quickly and get them off my back, I started talking.

“It isn’t that interesting. Mace and I met, he asked me out, I went and we connected. It went fast, got intense quickly. It was good. No, it was great. Then he broke up with me. The end.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to everyone else.

Then Al y said, “Give me a break.”

“No, real y. That’s it, in a nutshel ,” I told her and it was.

“Why did he break up with you if it was great?” Roxie asked.

“I used him up,” I explained.

“What?” Jet asked.

“I used him up. I needed him too much. Took too much and didn’t give enough.”

“These boys have got a lot to give,” Daisy replied, sounding confused.

“Yes, I know and he did give a lot and I took al he gave.

The band always cal ing and me…” I stopped, looked back out the window and started again, “He had a job, he was always working something for Lee then he’d come to me, someone would cal and he’d be out again, doing something for Pong or Buzz or Linnie or whoever. I’d stay home while Mace took care of my business. I was so tired of it.”

My gaze swung back to the gang and I continued.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my band but sometimes, wel , let’s just say I needed a break. Mace gave it to me.

We were together for five months. He always took the cal s, dealt with the crises. I slept. I never said, ‘You sleep, I’l deal with it.’”

”Or, better yet, tel your band to sort it out their damn self,” Daisy cut in.

“They can’t,” I told Daisy.

“They won’t if someone keeps doing it for them,” Indy told me, making it sound simple.

I closed my mouth and looked out the window again. She didn’t get it. I was the leader of a moderately successful local band. The leader of the band did what they could to keep the band together. It was an Unwritten Rock Band Law. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But if a band was good, especial y as good as The Gypsies, you did al you could to make it work before you ever considered cal ing it quits.

“Seems to me that was something you could talk about, work on,” Ava suggested.

“It wasn’t just that. It was more,” I told Ava.