Rock Chick Reckoning

by Kristen Ashley

  I ignored how that made me feel and kept my eyes on him while I threw the covers back.

  Juno woofed again, just to remind us of her presence, her need for a bathroom break and, probably, her desire to have breakfast. I got out of bed as Mace ruffled the fur on Juno’s head then walked to the edge of the platform, grabbed his jeans and pulled them on commando.

  There was something very sexy about Mace going commando.

  Very sexy.

  Down Mace Slut! My brain commanded.

  I shook thoughts of Mace going commando out of my head and went to the closet. I yanked on a pair of jeans, a bra and a purple t-shirt that read “Olde Town Pickin’ Parlor” over the headstock and neck of a guitar. While I was dressing, I heard Mace open the door and greet Hector.

  By the time I came out of the walk-in closet, Mace and Hector were in my small kitchen and both were standing, hips against the counter. Mace had pulled on a white tee, had a copy of the Denver Post in his hands and he was reading the front page.

  “Hey Hector,” I said, speaking to him directly for the first time in my life.

  His hot black eyes came to me and I felt their scorch like a physical touch on my skin.

  “Stella,” he replied.

  Wow.

  It must be said, Hector had great eyes.

  Mace’s head came up from the paper and he looked between Hector and me. Hector didn’t take his eyes off me nor did those eyes cool.

  My body did another involuntary shiver.

  Mace’s mouth got tight right before he said, “Could you make coffee, babe?”

  At that moment, I thought coffee was an excellent idea, even better than I normally thought of the idea coffee and let’s just say I liked my coffee (a lot). Making it would give me something to do other than think of Mace (and Hector).

  I nodded, mumbled, “Sure,” and scooted toward the coffeepot through what small kitchen space was left with two tall, muscled men in it.

  I started to prepare coffee and heard the paper rustling.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Front page news,” Hector answered what I thought was nonsensically.

  I turned to him, empty coffeepot in my hand, my mind on how to get to the sink Hector was leaning against without coming into contact with Hector and I said, “What?”

  He jerked his head to the paper Mace now had opened and I saw the front page.

  I looked at it and my eyes widened in shock when I saw me on the cover.

  It was a half-body shot from the hips up, guitar in my hands, the mic in front of me, my head tilted down and to the side to look at my guitar, a small smile on my face. The photo was taken at a gig that I suspected (from the t-shirt I had on, which I hadn’t worn in ages) was at least a year ago.

  Next to my photo was the same size picture of a younger-looking Mace at the bottom of a snowy mountain in full-snowboarder gear, hair tousled and wet with sweat, board under his arm, other photographers surrounding him, he was ignoring them and caught on the move by the cameras.

  The headline read, Local Celebrities under Fire.

  “Effing hell,” I breathed right when the phone rang.

  “Damn it,” Mace muttered, tossing the paper on the counter and reaching up to the ledge where I kept my phone. He put it to his ear and barked, “What?”

  I was too much in a dither to mind Mace being rude while answering my phone. I was focused on being front page news and being referred to as a “celebrity”.

  I knew Mace had been famous but when did I become a celebrity?

  “She has no comment,” Mace said into the phone, hesitated then continued, “I have no comment either,” then he beeped it off and put it on the counter.

  I stared at him a beat, letting the words “no comment” permeate my stunned brain and with effort came unstuck, handed the empty pot to Mace and snatched the paper off the counter.

  I was beginning to feel weird. Way weird. Panic weird. I didn’t know why but it didn’t feel good.

  “Stella…” Mace started to say but I wasn’t listening.

  I wandered out of the kitchen area. Juno got close and gave a little whine.

  “In a minute, Juno,” I mumbled, my eyes scanning the page.

  “I’ll take the dog out.” I heard Hector say but I didn’t pay attention.

  I arrived at the end of the bed platform and sat. I no sooner got my ass on the platform when the paper was snatched from my hands before I’d been able to read a single word.

  My head snapped up.

  “Hey! I was reading that,” I semi-lied to Mace who was standing over me.

  The door closed behind Hector and Juno.

  “Fuck it, Stella. We need to stay focused,” Mace replied.

  I stood. ‘Focused on what?”

  When I stood, it brought me close to Mace. He didn’t move out of my space, just kept looking down at me.

  “Focused on what’s important,” he answered calmly.

  “Being front page news isn’t important?” I retorted, not calm at all.

  I’d never been front page news. I didn’t know how it made me feel. It was both weirdly thrilling and scary-as-shit. But also that strange panic was still encroaching. I still didn’t get it and I didn’t want to. I had enough to panic about as it was.

  “No,” Mace broke into my thoughts.

  “Then what’s important?”

  “Keepin’ you alive. Workin’ out our shit. Movin’ on together. That’s what’s important.”

  I shook my head at his words, not awake enough or together enough after last night’s drama and this morning’s position on page one to go there.

  I changed subjects. “Who was on the phone?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Who was on the phone, Mace?” I asked again.

  He opened his mouth to speak and the phone rang again. My eyes moved to it. Mace’s upper body twisted and he looked over his shoulder to look at it too.

  It rang a second time and Mace turned back to me just as I launched myself, moving quickly around him, toward the phone.

  I was almost there when Mace hooked an arm around my waist, hauled me into his body and reached around me. I was reaching too but his effing arms were longer and he tagged the phone.

  He beeped it on and put it to his ear.

  “Yeah?” he clipped just as I shouted, “Mace!”

  He listened for two seconds then said, “We have nothing to say,” then he beeped it off again.

  “I cannot believe you just did that! It’s my phone!” I yelled, struggling against his arm which was still tight at my waist.

  He shook me. “Stella, calm down and listen to me.”

  “Let go!”

  He did but only so I could take a step forward. Once I did, he grabbed my hand, twirled me and brought me back to him, front-to-front.

  He placed the phone on the counter, put both arms around my struggling body and tilted his head down to look at me.

  “Listen,” he ordered.

  I stopped pulling away from him and looked at his face.

  “This is unreal,” I stated the obvious.

  “Reporters are fuckwads. We don’t talk to them. Ignore it. Don’t read it. Say nothing. Don’t pay any fuckin’ attention. This’ll be over and they’ll move on to new meat.”

  “I can’t ignore it!” I snapped.

  “Why the fuck not?”

  I didn’t know why not. My life was so out-of-control, it didn’t feel like I knew anything anymore.

  “I know you have experience with this, Mace, but I don’t,” I told him.

  “That’s why you need to listen to me,” Mace returned.

  Then it came out. It came from someplace buried deep. Someplace I thought was locked away for good, never to be opened again.

  The panic overwhelmed me and my body started trembling. It was so huge, I quit fighting and melted into Mace. My head tilting back further, I put my hands to his chest and my shaking fingers curled into his whit
e tee.

  I heard the tremor in my voice when I asked, “What if my mother sees that?”

  Mace’s face had been hard with determination but at my words his face and his green eyes went soft.

  “Kitten,” he murmured.

  “I’m not big news but maybe you still are,” I told him. “What if it makes the news where she is? I need to talk to the reporters, tell them I’m okay, tell them you and Lee and the boys know what you’re doing. Tell them the police are involved. The Feds too. Tell them that Sid’s a prick and he killed Linnie and we’re doing the right thing.”

  “Stella, we can’t tell them any of that shit.”

  My fists grew tighter on Mace’s shirt.

  “She has to know we’re doing the right thing.”

  Mace studied my face a beat and his head dipped closer to mine.

  Then, quietly, he asked, “Your Mom does or your Dad does?”

  I blinked.

  “What?”

  “You want your Mom to know you’re doin’ the right thing? Or you want your Dad to know?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t care about Dad.”

  “Kitten –”

  My body went still and I shouted, “I don’t!” right in his face.

  I didn’t know why I shouted, I just did.

  I also didn’t know why I was trembling and feeling panicked, I just was.

  Big time.

  I started to pull away again, thinking only of escape. Where to, I had no idea but I had to get there, right… effing… now.

  Unfortunately, Mace was ready for me.

  He turned us, picked me up with his hands at my waist and planted my ass on the counter. Then he moved in with so much determination his hips forced my legs open at the knees and he kept coming until he was ultra-close. We were chest-to-chest, privates-to-privates, nose-to-nose. He put his hands on the counter on either side of me.

  “Talk to me, babe,” he demanded softly.

  I turned my face to the side and stared at the counter.

  Something was happening to me, something very frightening and there was only one thing I knew – I couldn’t deal.

  I needed to lock it down.

  Mace didn’t feel like letting me lock it down. His hands came to my neck and he moved my head to face him. His thumbs at my jaw, he forced me to look up at him.

  “Talk to me,” he repeated and his eyes looked strange. He was looking at me in a way he’d never looked at me before. It was a warm look but, if I was reading it right, it was filled with concern, so much concern it looked a lot like worry. And all that was mingled with such tenderness, at the sight of it, my breath didn’t take a flight, it beamed to another galaxy.

  “I can’t,” I whispered.

  The phone rang again and we let it, staring at each other.

  Mace didn’t move, neither did I.

  The phone stopped ringing and Mace’s face came closer, his forehead resting on mine.

  “They don’t know where you are,” he said and it wasn’t a question.

  I didn’t answer but my non-answer was an answer.

  “You don’t want them to know where you are.” Mace made another statement and I kept quiet. “You don’t want them to know,” he repeated. “You don’t want them to know so much that you’d sabotage your career by turning down the scouts. Keepin’ yourself secluded here doin’ small-time gigs rather than lettin’ yourself be what you’re supposed to be.”

  I swallowed.

  He was digging deep into a place he wasn’t allowed to be. A place I didn’t let anyone visit, not even myself and my trembling body started shaking.

  I put my hands to his chest and pushed.

  He didn’t budge.

  “Move away, Mace,” I whispered.

  “You lied to Daisy. You aren’t just scarred. You’re broken.”

  I was beginning to breathe heavily.

  “Move away.”

  Mace changed tactics. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

  I felt them then, the tears sliding up the back of my throat, my sinuses tingling.

  I swallowed again, this time it hurt.

  “Please, move away.”

  “I won’t let them. Floyd won’t let them. Fuck, if Hugo heard them say one nasty thing against you, he’d tear them apart. You have people who care about you now, Kitten. They can’t get at you. You can let it go. You can shine.”

  For some reason, I said, “They can get at me.”

  “Kitten.”

  At his soft, deep voice uttering his sweet, special name for me with his face so close, his eyes all I could see, I exposed myself in a way I’d never exposed myself to anyone. Not friends, not bandmates, not even Floyd.

  “He can get at me,” I said, so softly I could barely hear myself.

  Mace closed his eyes and his hands moved from my neck, down my back and he wrapped his arms around me but he didn’t take his forehead from mine.

  I hated to admit it but his arms around me like that felt good.

  No, if I was honest, they felt great.

  I couldn’t deal with that either.

  His eyes opened again and they drilled into mine. “He can’t.”

  I nodded my head.

  Mace shook his.

  I put my hands on either side of his neck and squeezed gently.

  “You don’t get it,” I whispered.

  “I get it.”

  “You can’t.”

  He pressed even closer, his voice got lower and I watched in horrified fascination as something tremendously frightening happened.

  Earth-shatteringly frightening.

  World-rockingly frightening.

  I watched, my breath held, as the guard I never knew Mace kept firmly in place faded clean away.

  “Babe,” he murmured fiercely. “I can.”

  That’s when I slid out of my pain, out of my panic and I saw them, clear as day, dancing malevolently behind his beautiful eyes.

  Demons.

  Mace had demons.

  And they were far worse than anything I could even imagine.

  Sinister tingles slithered down my back as a savage, steel-toed boot hit me straight in the gut. It was so savage, my body jerked with it and I sucked in breath, staring speechless at the open torment in Mace’s eyes.

  Before I could say anything (not that I knew what to say), the phone rang and the buzzer went on the door.

  The moment was lost.

  The guard slammed down over his features and he stepped away. Snatching the phone off the counter, he stalked to the door.

  What was THAT? My brain asked me.

  I was still trembling, now for a different reason.

  I have no idea, I told my brain.

  Juno bounded in before Hector and Mace muttered, “No comment,” into the phone again while I watched.

  What are we gonna do? My brain asked.

  I swallowed, more scared now than when bullets were pounding in the dirt all around me. More scared than I’d ever been in my whole fucking life.

  I have no effing idea, I answered.

  Chapter Eleven

  First World Tour

  Stella

  I had no time to figure it out.

  Juno butted my calf with her nose with such strength my whole body shifted to the side, telling me in no uncertain terms it was breakfast time.

  I’d already left her in the clutches of an unknown, but hot (not that “hot” factored in Juno’s choice for companions, still, it must be said), Hispanic guy for her morning bathroom break. I was heading for Worst Doggie Mom of the Year if I didn’t at least take care of the bare necessities.

  “All right, baby,” I murmured, jumping down from the counter.

  Juno knew what my motion meant. She wagged her tail in response and her whole body went with it.

  “We gotta roll.” I heard Hector say as I nabbed Juno’s bowl from the floor.

  “Yeah,” Mace replied. “Give me a second.”

  I looked up to see him co
ming my way.

  I straightened and backed up two steps still in the throes of a jumble of strong emotions, none of which I could process at the moment considering my dog was starving.

  “I got things to do,” Mace told me, stopping close and I tilted my head back to look up at him.

  “Okay.”

  Mace going was good. No, it was great. It meant I could nap. It meant I could play my guitar. It meant I could call Ally and process every second of the last twelve hours. Or, better yet, pull together a clever disguise and skip town.

  He took the bowl from my hand and put it on the counter.

  Juno whined, unhappy with this turn of events.

  “I have to feed Juno,” I informed Mace.

  “In a second.”

  My poor Juno.

  Mace continued speaking. “You answer the phone, it’s a reporter, you say ‘no comment’ and hang up. Got me?”

  “Mace –”

  “Stella, no comment. I don’t want that shit in my life. Not again.”

  My head jerked a bit to the side and I felt a mini-gut kick at his words and the harsh undercurrent with which he said them.

  I wondered what he meant but I didn’t ask because I was telling myself I didn’t want to know (when, in reality, I did).

  Do you see how messed up my head was?

  “Stella, tell me you got me,” Mace pressed.

  “I got you,” I muttered, giving in so I could feed my dog and because I didn’t want that in Mace’s life either (and, unfortunately for Juno, not in that order).

  It seemed my luck was going to be even shittier than normal that morning because we weren’t done.

  Mace got closer and shifted. He did this so his back was to Hector and I was hidden from him. Mace put his hand to my neck and dipped his face toward mine.

  His eyes were back to guarded but they were still warm when they looked deep into mine.

  “We good?” he asked softly.

  I didn’t know if he was asking if we were good about what happened onstage last night. Or if we were good about what happened with Eric. Or if we were good about the interrupted bed action that morning. Or if we were good about the crazy-scary shit that happened in the kitchen five minutes ago.

  Since the answer was the same for all of them, I said, “No.”

  This made him smile.