I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Standing at the front of the church, when Jet was about to hit the aisle, my eyes had moved to Eddie. The minute he saw her, his whole body changed. It went still then his eyes (no kidding) went liquid and (still no kidding) he broke tradition and walked right down the aisle. Right in front of everyone. Like he couldn’t wait for her to walk to him (which, obviously, he couldn’t). Ray, her father, who was escorting her down the aisle, burst out laughing but Eddie ignored him. She ended up with Eddie on one side, Ray on the other, both her father and her fiancé walking her down the aisle.
Blanca, who I thought would blow the roof off at this display, instead burst into loud, happy tears.
It had been the most romantic thing I’d ever seen in my life.
Until that day.
I looked at Roxie.
She was wearing an ivory satin gown, snug-fitting at chest, midriff, waist and hips, its full skirt was cut on the bias, there was a deep V at her cleavage, material coming up and gathering in points into tiny, spaghetti straps at her shoulders which went up and over and draped down her back, I swear, holding up the material of the dress at her bottom by a miracle. Her back, if seen from afar, looked totally exposed. The dress managed to be both refined and uber-sexy. It was, put simply, breathtaking. The most unusual and fantastic wedding gown I’d ever seen in my life. Her hair was in an elaborate up-do of twists and there were diamonds that were her “something borrowed” (from me) at her neck and ears.
It was a night wedding, starting at five thirty, the ceremony held at Cheesman Park Pavilions amidst huge bouquets of bulging cream pom pom chrysanthemums and thousands upon thousands of twinkling, white Christmas lights.
It was freezing so we all had velvet capes but Roxie walked through the standing crowd toward Hank wearing only her dress, her shoes, my diamonds, carrying her mums, Herb on her arm.
Then she started walking faster, Herb (shorter than his daughter) struggling to keep up.
Then faster.
Then she was (no other way to put it) jogging on her high heels toward Hank, dragging her father with her.
Hank was standing at the front, shaking his head and laughing and by the time she got to him, she was laughing too, out loud.
She kissed him the minute she got close enough to touch him.
“Jesus. You think I could give you away before you kiss him? Shit,” Herb had muttered (loudly). Then he turned to Trish. “Trish, this proves it. She’s your daughter.”
The Rock Chicks all stood to the side giggling our behinds off.
Roxie wasn’t embarrassed at all. She just leaned in, kissed her father’s cheek, turned and linked arms with Hank.
I watched as she rested all her weight into his side like they were standing waiting in line to get into a movie with no one looking, not standing in front of a crowd of family and friends, waiting to get married.
“The Hot Bunch knows but they aren’t talking,” Stella filled in Roxie, taking me out of my trip down Recent Memory Lane.
Roxie turned to Hank. “Do you know?”
“No idea,” Hank returned.
“You’re not lying to me on our wedding day?” Roxie asked but it was more of a warning.
“Sorry, Sunshine, Ally doesn’t keep in touch with me about her love life. She’s my sister. I don’t wanna know. Never did. Never will,” Hank replied.
Roxie’s eyes went round. “Love life? Ren and Ally? Whisky, you do know something!”
Hank’s eyes slid to Lee then he said, “Shit.”
Vance burst out laughing.
Jules hit him in the shoulder.
That’s when I burst out laughing.
Hector put pressure at my hip and curled me into his front.
I tilted my head back to look at him, still laughing.
He watched me, his handsome grin in place, until I was done.
Then he bent forward and his mouth touched mine.
“Do you know?” I asked softly, my arms sliding around his waist.
He didn’t hesitate in answering. “The men talk, I don’t listen much. I know Ally’s got some business. Zano’s involved. They got history. That’s all I know.”
I looked at the place where Ally and Ren disappeared and mumbled, “She’s a dark horse. She makes everyone spill their secrets but keeps her own.”
“I’ve known Ally Nightingale since I was six. She’s the second most complicated woman I’ve ever met,” Hector replied. “One thing about Ally that’s always been the way, mamita, you do not get what you see.”
I cuddled closer, my elbows cocking, my hands going up his back to his shoulder blades. “Now, I’m intrigued.”
He shook his head. “You’re just gonna have to watch it play out like the rest of us.” Then he added, “And hope to God no one gets hurt.”
Before I could say anything, Tex (wearing a tux, and not happy about it) boomed from across the room, “Roxanne Giselle Lo… I mean, Nightingale! When are those fuckin’ harpists gonna shut the fuck up and so we can get some rock ‘n’ roll?”
* * * * *
I rested my head against the window of the Bronco and watched Denver slide by as Hector took us home from the wedding.
I was pleasantly drunk from champagne and totally exhausted from a day of bridesmaids duties (if I never saw another Christmas light again, I would not care, until tomorrow, that was) and the last two hours of dancing like a wild woman (mostly with Ava and Daisy) to rock ‘n’ roll.
My hand was taken from my lap, Hector’s fingers linked through mine and he set the back of my hand high up on his hard thigh.
“Did you have a good day?” he asked quietly
“It was great. The wedding was beautiful. But I’m tired and my feet are killing me.”
“We’ll be home soon, mi corazón.”
“I know.”
“I told you after Eddie and Jet’s wedding not to wear those fuckin’ shoes,” he reminded me. “You complained then, I knew you’d complain again.”
“I’m not going to wear ugly shoes with a bridesmaid’s dress, Hector.”
“Isn’t there such a thing as not ugly shoes that are comfortable?”
“No,” I said shortly (and honestly).
He chuckled.
I rolled my eyes.
Hector, even after months together, still thought I was funny.
I still didn’t get it.
“Jet’s pregnant,” he said suddenly.
My hand tensed in his.
“What?”
“Eddie told me tonight. It’s early. They’re keepin’ it to themselves for a little while. Whatever you do, do not tell Mamá.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Are they happy about it?”
His hand squeezed mine. “Don’t know about Jet but Eddie’s over the fuckin’ moon.”
If that was the case then I knew about Jet. She was sure as certain over the moon too.
“That’s great,” I said softly.
“Yeah,” he replied, just as softly.
It was my turn to squeeze his hand. “Uncle Hector.”
Silence.
Then, “Shit.”
Then it was my turn to laugh.
* * * * *
We walked up to the house, hand-in-hand.
Hector let us in.
I flipped the switches and the lights came on.
Then I reached down, slipped off my high heels and tossed them over the back of the couch into the living room. They bounced off the seat of the couch and I heard them hit the floor.
I tossed my purse in the same direction. It bounced on the seat and stayed there.
The renovating the house business wasn’t playing out like in my dreams (exactly).
Hector and I fought tooth and nail about everything house.
Once we were done with the floor, the mantel and the skirting boards, Hector announced he wanted the living room off the kitchen, better access to beer during games.
I explained
(patiently, at first) that the dining room had to be off the kitchen.
We hit a stalemate that meant weeks of stacked furniture covered in plastic.
Then one night I got creative with lingerie and talked him into it (about two seconds before he climaxed).
It wasn’t fair, in fact, it was really not fair but this lesson served me well in the coming weeks.
Hector didn’t seem to mind.
To the right was an antique, walnut, twelve-seat dining room table I found on Antique Row on Broadway. I had it refinished, the seats of the chairs redone in a dusky gray and dusky gray-blue stripe. It now had a big round vase on it filled with calla lilies. A matching sideboard sat against the wall to the kitchen, displaying my Mom’s Waterford crystal that I took from her locker, the family photo of Mom, Dad and me and another photo of Hector and his Dad taken when Hector was nineteen. There were white Christmas lights weaved in real pine greenery on the mantel.
To the left was Hector’s midnight blue twill furniture but I’d added some toss pillows with blue, gray and chocolate brown designs. The TV from the bedroom was installed in the corner, all the furniture positioned for maximum viewing potential. In another corner was a huge, real fir Christmas tree decorated in blue and white lights and blue, silver and white ornaments. There was more greenery and lights on the mantel weaving around silver-framed photos of Hector’s family and other photos of my Mom, grandmother and grandfather. A huge white poinsettia in a shiny blue pot sat dead center on the coffee table.
To the back of the living room through the French doors was the den, complete with big desk, reclining chair and Hector’s desktop computer.
The front rooms were all perfect.
The kitchen was now a pit. Everything had been yanked out by Hector, Buddy and Eddie a few weekends ago and carted off in a reclamation truck.
My cooking lessons were on hold. With the kitchen like it was, we were definitely not hosting Christmas dinner (Blanca was).
I walked in, pulled off my cape, draped it on the banister then went up the stairs and straight to the bedroom where I fell face first on the bed.
I didn’t used to be the kind of person who threw her shoes across the room (or her purse) and left my coats on the banister.
I used to be clean and tidy.
Obsessively so.
I also used to be the kind of person who woke up at the barest hint of sound.
I wasn’t either of those anymore.
Real Sadie was a lot more relaxed. She slept better and she didn’t get wound up about stupid stuff.
I liked Real Sadie. Most of the time, she had it going on.
I felt the bed move when Hector sat on it and the zipper at my back started going down.
“I’m going to sleep right here,” I informed him.
“Como quieras,” Hector said softly and, hearing those words, I smiled into the bed.
I didn’t have to open my eyes to see the room.
Hector had made the bedroom his next project (after the living room and before the kitchen). He’d taken time off and we’d slept on the pull out couch for a week while he refinished the floors, replaced the skirting boards and painted the walls (I wanted to help but the gallery was being redone and Roxie’s wedding plans were heating up so Ralphie and I were kind of busy). The walls were a warm, gray-green and there were new, shiny maple skirting boards. Hector had bought a new bed, nightstands and two new dressers, one low with a mirror on top, one tall and wide with six drawers.
We fought about the furniture because I wanted to help pay.
He refused.
I pushed it.
We came to a stalemate.
Days later, in bed, he held off letting me finish until I begged him then he demanded I shut up about the furniture and I agreed.
Turnabout, I guessed, was fair play.
I wasn’t complaining.
The zipper went all the way down, Hector got off the bed, the dress was pulled off at my ankles and I heard the heavy material land somewhere in the room.
This should have alarmed me. The dress was velvet, it was gorgeous and it was expensive.
I didn’t lift my head.
Instead, I laid in nothing but a pair of emerald green, French cut panties on the bed.
I heard Hector’s boots then clothing hit the floor then he came back to me. I was pulled up, rolled into him, the covers yanked out from under me then snapped back over me. I settled with my head on his chest, my arm around his abs.
“Sadie, the pins in your hair are jabbing my skin.”
“Blooming heck,” I muttered, rolled with a heavy sigh to my back and started to pull the pins out of my hair.
Hector got up on an elbow and watched me.
Then he asked, “What’d we buy Hank and Roxie for their wedding?”
My hands in my hair stilled and just my eyeballs rolled to look at Hector.
Hector and I had bought Eddie and Jet a brand new kitchen for their wedding. Jet loved to cook, Eddie was fixing up their house but on a cop’s budget and with work and Rock Chick duties taking up most of his time, he’d not gotten around to giving her a new kitchen. I heard her (on several occasions) waxing poetic about how she’d love something “state-of-the-art”.
So Hector and I gave it to her.
It cost twenty thousand dollars and it made two hot-blooded Mexican-American men temporarily lose their minds.
Jet, at first, had been shocked.
Then, when I explained myself, she’d been understanding then appreciative then gleeful.
Blanca went straight to gleeful and started hinting (broadly) that she needed a new kitchen too (Hector didn’t know it yet, but that was her Christmas present).
Jet had talked Eddie around. It took awhile but she did it.
“Um…” I answered Hector’s question.
He fell to his back, stared at ceiling and muttered, “Fuck.”
I got up on my elbow and looked down at him, hair half falling down, half still in pins.
“Hector! I’m loaded! What am I going to do with my money but spend it on friends?”
He got up on his elbow, Mr. Mood Swing fully morphed into anger and faced me. “I don’t know,” he clipped. “Save it? Put our kids through college with it? If tonight was anything to go by, we’ll need it to pay for their goddamned weddings. Fuck, knowin’ you, we’ll need every last penny to pay for ours.”
My breath went out of me in a whoosh.
Then it came back on a surge.
Then I whispered, “What?”
“You heard me,” he shot back.
I sat up and looked down at him. “Are you asking me marry you?”
He sat up and faced me. “Are you shittin’ me?”
I blinked.
Then I said, “No.”
“What do you think we’re doin’ here? Playin’ house?”
I blinked again.
“Christ, Sadie,” he clipped. “Look at my fuckin’ arm.”
I looked but I didn’t have to. He’d had the rose tattooed there months ago, within weeks of me moving in.
It was extraordinary, the stem, the leaves, the petals all exquisitely drawn and filled in with vibrant colors. It had taken two goes, the outline first then, weeks later, after that healed, the filling in.
My heart fluttered then my belly fluttered then I whispered, “Hector –”
“What’d we get Hank and Roxie?” he ground out, interrupting me.
I decided just to answer and get it over with.
“It didn’t cost as much as the kitchen,” I told him.
“What’d we get?” he repeated.
“Nowhere near as much as the kitchen,” I said for good measure.
He gave me The Scorch.
I sighed.
“We bought them a full set of Mikasa china.”
Hector just kept giving me The Scorch.
“Twelve place settings,” I went on.
He continued The Scorch.
“And… um…
serving dishes.”
More Scorch.
“And their silver.”
Still more Scorch.
“With the hostess set.”
More Scorch.
“That’s it,” I finished.
He dropped to his back, muttering, “Dios mio.”
I pulled my lips in then my hands went back to my hair and I yanked out the rest of the pins.
While I did this, Hector laid with the back of his arm over his eyes, the rose tattoo on full display.
I shook my fingers through my hair then leaned into him, reaching to the nightstand, I dropped the pins on it and then settled with my chest on his.
“Hector,” I called.
Silence and no movement.
“Maybe we should…” I hesitated, not sure if now was the right time, “talk about what I did for Christmas.”
All of a sudden, he moved, his arms went around me, I was on my back, he was on top.
“I hope you got your energy back, mamita, because you owe me for this,” he announced, displaying, again, very bizarre Hector Logic then his face disappeared in my neck.
His tongue touched below my ear, I did a casual back flip in the lovely warm waters where I cavorted now in my life as a happy mermaid, my arms went around him and I smiled at the ceiling.
* * * * *
Early Christmas morning, the doorbell rang.
Since I’d been up for the last hour waiting for it, I was awake and immediately rolled out of bed.
“I got it, mamita,” Hector muttered, rolling out the other side.
I ignored him and put on my panties.
“Sadie, I got it,” Hector repeated and I looked at him as I shrugged on one of his flannels. He had on a pair of rust-colored, drawstring sweatpants, the hems loose instead of gathered around his ankles.
I pulled on a pair of heathered gray, fleecy shorts with notches at the hips while Hector yanked on a black thermal.
I also, by the way, pulled in my lips.
Hector stopped dressing and stared at me.
Then he put his hands to his hips.
“What have you done?” he asked.
The doorbell rang again.
I dashed out of the bedroom.
Hector followed a lot slower but since his legs were also longer, he caught up to me at the foot of the stairs and pulled me behind him. I got close as he walked to the door, unlocked it and tugged it open.
Rock Chick Regret Page 53
