“So it goes.” Detective Marker looked at me, “The Balduccis are all talkin’. Pointin’ fingers at each other. It’s confusin’ as hell and most of it’s lies but far’s I can read it, they been gettin’ pressure from outside factions.” Detective Marker’s eyes slid to Hector then to Marcus and I could tell he was lying when he went on, “Don’t know who. Don’t care.” His eyes came back to me. “Those boys never trusted each other anyway. For weeks they been establishin’ and breakin’ allegiances to each other and outside the fold. Marty was the smart one, pullin’ ahead of the pack, feignin’ loyalty to the brothers but makin’ outside deals. Donny felt the pressure, allied with Ricky and he knew where Jerry’s head was at regardin’ Seth and you. He used it, fed Jerry some of Marty’s potions so he would take out Harvey, the weak link, but also so he’d cast suspicion on Marty. Don’t know where Glover and Cordell fit into all this but Cordell has always been loyal to Seth, I’m surprised he was involved.”
“I think Jerry lied to him about what he was doing. Neither he nor Glover seemed to know what was happening. They didn’t even know Jerry roofied me. They thought they were doing something for me on my father’s orders,” I told Detective Marker.
Detective Marker nodded. “At least that makes sense,” he said then he got closer. “Ricky, Donny and Jerry obviously are goin’ down. But you gotta know, we don’t have shit on Marty, nothin’ that’ll stick anyway. He’s doin’ okay and he’ll be released without charge.”
Well, wasn’t that just great?
Still, I had to worry about a mean, crazy, fucking Balducci.
I moved closer to Hector and his arm got tighter around my neck.
Detective Marker’s eyes took in Marcus and the Hot Bunch then they came back to me. “Marty’s always been the brains of the bunch. Don’t suspect he’ll be stupid enough to do anything with the kind of protection thrown down around you. Regardless of this shit, Seth cuts a menacing figure, even in prison. Word on the street isn’t just that you got the protection of Chavez, Nightingale and the Denver Police Department but Marcus and Vito. Donny and Ricky are crazy motherfuckers but Marty’ll think twice.” Detective Marker glanced at Marcus again then to me. “He’s not in a good position, part of the pressure the Balducci boys got means that their men and their contacts have been warned off in no uncertain terms or recruited away. He’s marked and not in a good way.” He got in even closer and muttered, “Your boy’s done good.” He nodded to Hector. “It’d be practically impossible for Marty to build up business again.”
That made me feel the eensiest bit better and made me think perhaps I should buy Hector an island.
Detective Marker looked straight at Hector and I didn’t know if he was talking to Hector or me when he finished, “Keep safe anyway.”
The elevator pinged and out surged a bevy of Rock Chicks led by Daisy, Shirleen and Kitty Sue (Rock Chick, The First Generation, according to Kitty Sue’s stories). The paramedics wheeling Jerry on the gurney had to fight through them as I was surrounded, hugged, kissed, there was relieved laughter, a few teary eyes then Tex showed up, wild-haired, wild-eyed, obviously having been on the Sadie Hunt. He boomed, “Outta my way!” He shoved in and hugged me so tight both my feet came off the floor. Ralphie and Buddy were there, Tod and Stevie, Duke and Dolores, Malcolm, Blanca showed up with Gloria, Nancy arrived with Jet’s sister Lottie.
Everyone.
All my friends (and Lottie, who I hadn’t met yet).
In the hallway of a hotel.
Genuine, honest to goodness friends.
Mine.
I was sucked down, deep, deep, deepest, into the warm, clear, comfortable, snugly, safe waters and somewhere, I knew my Mom was smiling.
“Christ, can I get to my fuckin’ girlfriend?” Hector clipped (loudly and irately), the crowd stilled, even the hotel onlookers and lingering police, and then parted. He and I had become disengaged but now he came through, grabbed my hand and tugged me away.
“We got a floor to refinish,” he muttered on the way to the elevator, tagging the button when he got there.
I turned to my friends, smiled and waved.
The doors opened, Hector dragged me inside (without, I noted, a smile or a wave at anyone).
The doors closed and, without hesitation, he curled me into his front, his hand went into my hair, his head came to mine, slanted and he gave me a hot, urgent, fiery kiss.
In the nanosecond before I melted into him and all thoughts flew out of my head, I figured (correctly) we weren’t going to get to refinishing the floors.
* * * * *
“‘Night, Double H.” I heard Ralphie whisper.
“Later, Hector,” Buddy whispered soon after.
Hector’s body moved slightly under me and I could visualize him jutting his chin.
I kept my eyes closed and feigned sleep, liking being tucked into Hector’s heat on the couch.
After my latest trauma was finally over, Hector took me to his house and not, as I reckoned, to refinish the floors. He took me straight to his bedroom and we had the best sex ever in the history of man (in my personal opinion).
Then, there was no other way to describe it, he pretty much passed out.
I stayed with him for hours as he slept. Sometimes, I’d doze. Sometimes, I’d daydream. Sometimes, I’d kiss his chest or neck while he slept. But mostly, I just got used to feeling warm and safe and happy.
He woke up when Buddy called, inviting us to dinner.
We showered (yes, together!), he “did” me in the shower again and then we laid in bed, him wearing his cutoff sweats, me wearing one of his flannels and my panties and him holding me while I called the prison to talk to my father.
Cordell had already reported that I was all right. The conversation was short and uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to say, neither did my father. After, even though I tried not to, I cried again, quietly into Hector’s neck. He held me while I did that then held me after I was done.
We got dressed, went to Ralphie and Buddy’s, Hector and I took YoYo for a long walk, we had an early dinner then we crashed in front of the TV to watch Veronica Mars.
This time, I burrowed into Hector’s side without prompting and put my feet into Ralphie’s lap for a massage. Neither man disappointed, Hector’s arm curled around my shoulders, Ralphie’s hands were pure heaven.
After awhile, I fell asleep.
Now, as I laid tucked into his hard body, my head on his chest, I was deciding that this was my third best day ever.
“Mamita, I know you’re awake.” Hector’s voice rumbled over my head at the same time it rumbled in my ear that was pressed to his chest.
I pushed up and twisted to look at him, my hand pulling my hair out of my face.
He looked rough. He needed a haircut even though he’d just had one. His stubble was back even though he’d shaved only ten hours ago. He was wearing a tight, long-sleeved, army-drab t-shirt and faded jeans.
And he never looked better.
“We gotta talk,” he said, his voice firm, serious and slightly ominous.
My body froze and I felt a small spiral of fear in my belly.
“About what?”
“About you and me.”
Oh no.
No.
Somebody, tell me, no.
Here it was.
I knew it.
I just knew it.
I pushed further away but his arm slid up my back, catching under my shoulder blades, he curled it at the same time pushing himself to a less lounging position on the couch and twisting me so I was in his lap.
Then he started talking.
“I got a few things to say. I know you’ve had a rough time but it’s better this shit is out and you understand.”
I stared at him, mentally girding, preparing for the worst. Namely, it being over. Namely, me being too much trouble. Namely, him losing interest and moving on to the next Sadie or Natalie or whatever.
With these dire thoughts in my head, me
ntally girded, I nodded.
Might as well get it over with and then revisit my opportunities in Crete.
I wasn’t going to pack beach towels. I was going to fill my luggage with Kleenex.
“First off, I want you movin’ in, not in a few months, now. I want you in my bed, I want you in my house, I wanna come home to you.”
I blinked in shock, mainly because what he said was shocking and not at all what I expected.
“What?” I breathed
“You heard me.”
I blinked again then, for some fool reason, I asked, “Don’t you think we should, I don’t know… date? At least for awhile. You know, like normal people.”
His mouth started moving like he was fighting a grin and I felt my blood pressure rise. “Mi amor, you are definitely not normal people and this is definitely not a normal relationship.”
I decided to ignore that and went on, again foolishly, “It’s too soon.”
“I’ve known you over a year,” he returned.
“We’ve only been together two weeks!”
His voice got low and his mouth stopped moving like he was fighting a grin, clearly Mr. Mood Swing’s mood was swinging. “Mujer, we been together a lot longer than that and you know it.”
I had to admit, he had a point.
And he wanted me to move in with him!
Yay!
I smiled, mentally ungirding, I snuggled closer and said softly, “Okay.”
His body, which I hadn’t realized was tense, relaxed under mine and his hand sifted into the hair at the side of my head, his fingers curling around my skull.
“Now that’s decided, we gotta talk about your money.”
I should have regirded.
Instead, in Innocent and Happy About to Move in with Hector World, I asked, “My money?”
He nodded.
“What about it?”
“You just agreed to move in, that means you just agreed to officially becoming my woman. I take care of my woman. I pay the mortgage, I pay the bills, I fix up the house. We go out, I pay. Your money is for you. I take care of us.”
Now hang on a ding darn minute.
My body went straight.
“Excuse me, but –”
His fingers tightened on my scalp. “You’re not gettin’ this, Sadie. I’m tellin’ you the way it is. I’m not opening it up for discussion.”
I felt my eyes narrow.
“Hector Chavez, don’t you –”
He cut in again, “You agree to try life out with me, you get what you see. I don’t do that designer shit. I don’t have any fuckin’ desire to live in a house that’s bigger than what I need. Life for me is simple. My car’s gotta work for my lifestyle and get me from point A to point B. My house has gotta be as I like it because I made it that way. My job’s gotta be somethin’ that presents challenges and doesn’t make me lose sleep. And my woman’s gotta be in my bed when I get home at night. You don’t fit in with that, this isn’t gonna work.”
I was finding it hard to breathe which was good because if I’d been able to breathe, I might have been a lot louder when I answered.
“You think I want the designer clothes and the mansion,” I accused.
“I know what you want… now. I also know that can wear thin when you’re used to havin’ a lot more. You think you’ll start wantin’ that, you think you can use your money to push me into it then we should stop right here.”
I tried to shove away, jump off his lap but his hand left my hair and both his arms went around me tight, holding me in place.
“Let me go,” I hissed.
“Sadie, you gotta answer this now.”
“Oh? Did you ask a question?” I shot back.
“Mamita –”
I kept pushing at him, so angry I was mumbling to myself, “I need to call Jet. Is it too late to call Jet?”
“Jet can’t help you with this one,” Hector told me. “It’s gotta be all you.”
I glared at him.
Then I shared.
“You can’t know this so I’ll explain it to you and, Hector Chavez, you better listen good. I like clothes so I’ll buy what I want. I like pretty things too, so I’ll surround myself with them if I want to. I like to do nice things for people and since you’re people that means I might do nice things for you. If I do, you’re gonna have to deal. But I don’t want ivory towers and fancy cars. I want people in my life who care about me and who’ll let me care about them in return. I want to use the gift my Mom gave me and use it right. She didn’t die for me to live large. She died for me to live happy. Happiness is not money. I’ve had money my whole life and it never made me happy. These last few weeks, I’ve been happy and I’ve barely stepped foot in my fancy car and I certainly haven’t been living in an ivory tower. So, you can just –”
I didn’t finish because Hector moved. One second I was struggling and ranting while sitting in his lap, the next second I was on my back on the couch and he was on top of me.
This knocked the breath out of me so all I could do was stare at his face which had gone that soft, hard possessive, the look in his eyes was uber-warm.
Softly he announced, “All right, mamita, we got that out of the way, one more thing.”
I expelled the breath caught in my lungs and snapped, “What?”
This, for some bizarre reason, made him smile. It also made him touch his lips to mine for a quick kiss.
When he was done kissing me, he said, “Tu padre, mi cielo, it’s unlikely he’s ever gonna welcome me with open arms. What you and I got plays out like I think it will, you gotta know that and be able to deal.”
“You’re wrong,” I told him and watched his eyes narrow. “Totally wrong,” I whispered, the fight and anger left me and I wrapped my arms around him. “He wants me to be happy. It’ll take time but he’ll come around.”
Hector shook his head, I nodded mine.
Then his whole face went warm. “Sadie, you’re settin’ yourself up for disappointment if you think that way.”
“Hector,” I returned quietly, “trust me.”
He bit his lip, looked over my head for a second then back at me. “Just guard your heart, mi amor, that’s all I’m sayin’.”
I lifted my head, touched my mouth to his and then, keeping my mouth against his, I whispered, “Okay.”
His body relaxed into mine.
My hand slid up his back and into his hair while I dropped my head back to the couch and asked, “Now, are you spending the night or what?”
At that, he granted me a glamorous, white smile.
Then he spent the night.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Gardenias
Sadie
Hector and I stood together in the little, gray room.
My body was tense and ramrod straight, I was staring out the bars on the window but seeing nothing.
Hector was standing behind me close, his extraordinary heat beating into my back, his arm around my waist, his chin brushing the hair on the top of my head.
For some bizarre reason, I was worried about what I was wearing.
Daisy, Ralphie, Roxie, Tod and Stevie and I spent five exhausting hours at the mall trying to find the exact right First Visit to Your Incarcerated Father Outfit. Even though they assured me it was absolutely perfect, I was uncertain.
I needed my father to know who I was. The Real Sadie. The one who owned her own gallery. Who moved in with Hector “Oh my God” Chavez the Sunday before last, the day after my ordeal was officially over. Who spent her days hanging at Fortnum’s with the girls and Ralphie, redesigning her burnt out gallery. Who, thanks to Blanca, now knew how to cook tamales from scratch and they were tasty. Who begged her boyfriend to take her out on his motorcycle after dinner which he did but only after making her get creative, earning the ride in a variety of delicious ways. And, who, last weekend, by his side, refinished his living room floor.
But even so, I didn’t want to be too in your face about it.
I was wearing a new pair of Lucky jeans, a camel-colored, tailored cotton blouse that fit snug up my sides and midriff and showed a hint of cleavage at the opened buttons (this made Hector’s mouth go tight, which was good, since it kept it shut), a chocolate-brown suede belt with a heavy silver buckle, a pair of kickass (Daisy’s words) dark brown boots that were both stylish but also rock ‘n’ roll and a chocolate brown suede, two button, blazer. My hair was down and wild, falling on my shoulders, down my back and sometimes in my face (my father hated my hair down, said a lady wore her hair back or up, anything else was common). I was wearing long, wide, gold hoop earrings (a surprise present from Hector that he gave me the night I moved in with him, how he managed to shop, I don’t know, but he did) and my mother’s initial necklace was at my throat.
The outfit looked casual but cost a blooming fortune.
I loved it, it was me but I knew my father would hate it.
“I’m scared to death,” I whispered to the window.
Hector’s arm got tight, his chin left my hair and I felt his mouth go to my neck. He was kissing me there when the door opened.
I jumped and turned.
Hector didn’t jump nor did he drop his arm but his head came out of my neck and he moved with my turn.
My father stood there, wearing prison blues but, other than that, looking surprisingly just like my father. Face tan, hair well-groomed, body fit, he made prison blues look like the next big thing in men’s fashion.
I wanted to say something but didn’t know what. I had practiced a lot of openings, none of which I remembered at the crucial moment and, in my hesitation, I caught the killing look my father was giving Hector.
This, of course, robbed me of speech, not that I knew what to say anyway, but still.
“You think I could spend some time with my fucking daughter without you standing there with your hands on her?” my father asked Hector.
Oh boy.
This was not a good start.
“Daddy –” I said but my voice sounded small.
My father didn’t even look at me.
Surprisingly, Hector moved.
Rock Chick Regret Page 51
