Rock Chick Revenge

by Ashley, Kristen

  I was back to wanting to run screaming from the house except I couldn’t seem to get my limbs to move.

  “Quiet,” Luke said softly but lethally and all eyes turned to him.

  “Lucas –” Mrs. Stark began but Luke kept talking.

  “Your sister is standin’ in front of you with a busted lip and a black eye, her man at her side, and you bitches are talkin’ about… whatever the fuck it is you’re talkin’ about,” Luke said, his voice vibrating with anger.

  “Did you just call us bitches?” Marilyn asked, her eyes wide and her voice filled with offended surprise.

  “You act like a bitch, I’ll call you a bitch and you’re actin’ like a fuckin’ bitch,” Luke answered.

  “Oh my God,” Sofia breathed.

  “He’s kind of a straight-talker,” I put in quietly.

  “You were men, I would teach you some manners. Though growin’ up you never had any so I don’t imagine you’ll start now,” Luke carried on. “Difference is, back then I wasn’t in the position to say what I’m gonna say now. Back, the fuck, down. Ava tells me any more of that shit you just treated us to goes down, you’re both out on your asses and you aren’t comin’ back. Your sister is a memory for you and you two cease to exist for her. Is that understood?”

  Marilyn and Sofia stared at him.

  “Is that understood?” Luke barked.

  They jumped at his tone then nodded, as anyone would.

  Ho-ly shit.

  Luke looked at my Mom. “It’s up to Ava what she wants to tell you about her troubles. She doesn’t feel like sharin’, that’s her choice. You’ll deal with it. I hear you don’t, it’s not gonna make me happy.”

  “But –” Mom cut in, she looked confused, shell-shocked and as if she didn’t know how to feel.

  Luke leaned forward a bit at the waist and thankfully Mom went quiet.

  “Take your daughter to breakfast,” Luke said in a low warning tone that said he was, quite simply, done. Then he looked at me. “Breakfast doesn’t go your way, beautiful, you call me, I’ll send someone to get you.”

  “Okay,” I whispered but I had a feeling breakfast was going to go my way.

  His arm got tight and his voice got quiet as he ordered, “Walk me to my car.”

  Without looking back, we walked to the Porsche. He turned and leaned against it, pulling me between his legs and into his arms.

  “Your fuckin’ sisters,” he swore, his eyes on my house and I could tell he was still angry.

  I leaned into him, putting my hands on chest. He took in a breath and looked down at me.

  “You’re like a flower that grew through a crack in the sidewalk,” he told me.

  I didn’t say a word, couldn’t. I’d forgotten how to speak.

  “I want you checkin’ in,” he demanded.

  “Okay,” I said, finding my voice.

  “We would stay at the loft tonight but –”

  “I know,” I cut him off.

  “After this shit is over, I’ll have blinds put in.”

  “Okay,” I repeated.

  “You gonna be able to get through breakfast?”

  I nodded and told him. “I think I owe you again.”

  “Yeah. You’re rackin’ up quite a debt,” he bent his head and touched my lips then his body relaxed and his face went soft. “I like it,” he muttered.

  For some crazy reason, tears started to fill my eyes and Luke saw them.

  “Babe.”

  I put my hands to either side of his neck. “Thank you.”

  His arms went tight and his forehead came to mine. “You just paid off this particular debt.”

  At that announcement, I melted into him.

  “You still owe me,” he went on.

  I smiled because I didn’t mind, not one bit. “I think I like it that you protect me,” I confided, don’t ask me why, I just did.

  It was a good thing to do.

  “Ava,” he whispered, his face soft, his eyes ultra warm, his arms getting even tighter.

  “No one’s done that, not like that. Not even Dad.”

  “Beautiful –”

  “Thank you, Luke.”

  “You already said that.”

  “I wanted you to know I meant it.”

  One of his arms stayed wrapped around my waist, the other hand slid into my hair and his mouth came to mine. “You’re clear,” he said against my lips.

  “Clear?”

  “You just cleared all your debt.”

  Oh… my… God.

  “Really?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  He was The Best Guy Ever.

  “You’re still makin’ yourself come while I’m inside you tonight.”

  Oh yeah, I was definitely going to be doing that and I was looking forward to it.

  I licked my lips which meant I licked his lips and his eyes went ink.

  “Fuck, you’re somethin’ else,” he muttered and I could tell he meant this in a good way, a very good way and happy vibes shot through me.

  “You don’t think I’m weak and spineless for not standing up to my sisters?”

  “Been wanting to say a few things to them for years, so no. I’m fuckin’ glad you gave me the opportunity.”

  I love you, I thought but did not say.

  Something shifted on his face as I thought this but whatever it was I couldn’t read it. Whatever it was, it was profound, it was raw and it was beautiful. I could swear he guessed my thoughts and he liked them.

  My knees gave out and he took my weight without a word said between us.

  After a few beats, my voice sounding husky, I said, “You better go.”

  “Yeah. Be safe, be smart and don’t let them give you any shit.”

  “Okay,” I said again. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I told him.

  “Babe.” He gave me a half-grin, thankfully breaking the moment, right before he touched his lips to mine. I pressed in, my arms sliding around his neck and his lip touch turned into a full on make out session.

  Then he let me go, set me on my jelly legs, rounded the car, got in and he was gone.

  I walked back into my house and when I got into the living room I knew everyone had been watching.

  Mrs. Stark was smiling at me, huge and happy.

  Surprisingly, my Mom was too.

  Marilyn and Sofia looked jealous as all hell.

  That made me smile.

  “All righty then,” I declared. “Breakfast.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Manipulate a Macho Man Underwear

  Breakfast went my way because Marilyn and Sofia were mostly silent, probably half-afraid to say anything, half-pouting. Mom was silent too at first, but she didn’t seem to be pouting, she seemed to be thinking. For the most part, Mrs. Stark and I gabbed and giggled then Mom joined in and surprisingly I had a great time.

  While we were on our last cup of coffee I excused myself and called Shirleen to come and get me. I went back to the table, we left the restaurant, again, Le Peep in Cherry Creek (and granola pancakes, without the bacon this time) and I gave out hugs to Marilyn and Sofia (you could tell their hearts weren’t in it, but then again, neither was mine) and Mrs. Stark (her heart was definitely in it). Marilyn and Sofia wandered away as I gave my house key to Mom.

  “I’m worried about you,” she told me.

  This statement startled me and my eyes caught hers. She looked genuinely concerned and this rocked me mainly because I’d never seen that look on Mom’s face before.

  “I’m fine,” I told her.

  She shook her head then put her arms around me. I went stiff because her hug seemed genuine too.

  “Ava, I want you to know, I didn’t mention George because… well, because of the reasons Marilyn and Sofia thought I did,” she whispered in my ear. “I mentioned him because he was steady, he cared about you and he would never leave you.”

  Erm… what? My Mom cared? About me?

  Ho-ly shit.

&nbs
p; Maybe I was in an alternate universe.

  I felt my throat get tight. “Mom –”

  Her arms tensed and she pulled me deeper into her. She held me for a bit then let me go but placed her hands on my upper arms and looked me directly in the eyes. Hers were wet. Because of that, mine got wet too.

  Hell and damnation.

  “From what I saw today, Luke’s the same way. More,” she said quietly and her hands squeezed my arms. “It’s obvious he’s cut up about whatever’s going on with you. I’m glad. Not that he’s cut up but because you need a man who cares that much. I’m happy for you, sweetie.”

  Oh… my… God.

  I couldn’t help myself, I pulled her in my arms and held on tight while I deep breathed. She did the same thing.

  We let go and she touched my face then said, “I hope Luke gets this sorted so we can have a nice family dinner tonight. I’ll talk with Marilyn and Sofia, it’ll be okay.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said and, maybe for the first time in my life, I meant it.

  She kissed my cheek and then walked to Mrs. Stark, who was looking away but wiping her face and I knew she had heard. I stood and watched as they went to their cars. Mom and Mrs. Stark stood beside Mrs. Stark’s Audi and it looked like they were settling in for a chat.

  I left them to it and went to the local Starbuck’s where I had arranged for Shirleen to come and get me and I got myself a skinny vanilla latte. I decided I would think about this latest life revelation later when I had Sissy and cookies drenched in tequila.

  Or, better yet, Luke, a warm bed and a dark room.

  That thought made me smile as I walked out of Starbuck’s.

  Shirleen’s Navigator was at the curb, Tex was in the passenger seat and he jumped out when he saw me.

  “Hey Tex, did you win any euchre…?” I stopped talking when he snatched my cup right out of my hand and threw it in a trash bin.

  “This family don’t do Starbuck’s,” he boomed and then turned and shouted at Shirleen. “The girl needs coffee! Fortnum’s! Now!”

  Eek!

  * * * * *

  The Rock Chicks all met at Fortnum’s except Indy and Ally who were off to some prison to interview one of Noah’s friends who’d managed to acquire a five year state accommodated stay.

  Ally hadn’t gotten “some” info out of Brody, he sang like a canary under the influence of Red Bull and vodka (ee-yikes!).

  Unfortunately, Lee and the Hot Bunch knew that Brody wasn’t exactly discreet so they hadn’t shared much. What they did share was that they’d tracked down both of Noah’s buddies, one was in prison, the other one Brody didn’t have information on.

  Ally also learned that Noah had a gazillion aliases but the name he was born with was Walter Ellis. He was wanted in Nevada and California and he’d been on the con practically since babydom. For a percentage of the con, Noah’s informant (now wiling away his days fashioning license plates and likely shivs), would troll legal records pointing Noah in the direction of malpractice payoffs and highish stakes inheritances. Nothing too big so as to fly under radar, but nothing too small that wouldn’t be worth the effort.

  Lastly, Brody shared the name of the lady who Noah had conned while he was conning me. Her name was Winnie Conrad, she was seventy-two and had a spine operation go bad when she was sixty-six and it took away the use of her legs. After a years-long battle, she got a payoff for the botched operation which enabled her to buy a decent, handicapped accessible house in a decent neighborhood as well as augmenting her meager retirement money which allowed her to live, and pay taxes and utilities, in a nicer neighborhood. Noah got his hands on what was left of the payoff, which set her back to scraping by but somehow she had managed to keep her place.

  Jules had done some research from Command Central and discovered Mrs. Conrad’s address in Aurora.

  Shirleen informed me that the Rock Chicks worked hard on my behalf, pumping their men for information. This didn’t work but apparently they had fun trying. Also, they’d all had fun sharing their escapades over coffee while I was at breakfast. I didn’t find any of that hard to believe but I was pretty pissed I had missed out on the gossip.

  Tex made me a skinny vanilla latte to replace the one he threw out and we hit the road. Jet, Roxie, Smithie, Duke, Tod and Stevie took off to Noah’s old neighborhood to knock on some doors. Tex, Daisy, Shirleen, Sissy and me took off to pay a visit to Winnie.

  We pulled up to Winnie’s and we saw she was sitting in a wheelchair on her porch enjoying the sunny, warm day. She was a round, black lady, hair recently set, dressed in her Sunday best. She had likely just got home from church. She was drinking an iced tea.

  We trundled up and she stared, but then again anyone would stare. Sissy and I had black eyes (Sissy’s was fading but mine still looked angry). Shirleen’s Afro seemed to have grown two inches in the last week. Daisy’s hair rivaled Shirleen’s in size and volume, she had five-inch, shiny white, platform go-aheads on her feet and her body was encased in skintight denim with enough rhinestones to supply Celine Dion’s wardrobe technician for emergency mending on a concert tour. And finally there was Tex who looked like a recently reformed serial killer (and that was being nice).

  We were undoubtedly not the popular choice for Sunday visitors.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Conrad. We may look crazy but we ain’t gonna hurt you,” Shirleen assured her as we hit the porch.

  Winnie didn’t look like she believed Shirleen. “How do you know my name?” she asked.

  “We’re lookin’ for Walter Ellis, AKA Noah Dexter but I think you knew him as Jeremiah Levine,” Shirleen said.

  Winnie sucked in breath, her kindly face got hard then she muttered, “Jeremiah?”

  “Yeah. You know who we’re talkin’ about?” Tex asked.

  Winnie looked at Tex then her eyes scanned all of us. “What now with Jeremiah? I had some boys come talk to me earlier this week about him. I don’t know anything and I don’t want to know anything. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say. I haven’t seen him in months and I like it that way.”

  I couldn’t blame her.

  Shirleen grabbed me and pulled me forward. “See this girl here?”

  Winnie nodded, her eyes wide as she looked at me.

  “Well, while Jeremiah was rippin’ you off, he was also rippin’ off my girl Ava. Stole her money and her dead auntie’s jewelry. A little while ago she got herself a man who found out this little piece of ugly history. He’s the kinda man who doesn’t like that shit much and went lookin’ for payback. Jeremiah felt the heat, got angry and, a coupla days ago, took it out on Ava. You get what I’m sayin’ to you?” Shirleen asked.

  The wary hardness went out of Winnie’s face and it went soft as she gazed at me. “Oh honey,” she whispered.

  “I’m fine,” I told her, smiling just to prove my point.

  “You don’t look fine to me,” Winnie said and I could see the concern in her eyes.

  “No, really,” I promised quietly, got closer and knelt down by her chair.

  She looked down at me. “Was it your man who came by earlier this week?”

  “Probably,” I said.

  “Which one was he, the Native American or the one with the mustache?” she asked.

  “The mustache,” I answered.

  She smiled and reached out a hand to me. I took it and she squeezed.

  “He’s cute. Drives a Porsche, looks good in it too,” she told me then went on. “He’s got a great mustache. Most men would look all kinds a fool with that mustache but he works it real fine. Real fine. Seems a good sort. A whole lot better than Jeremiah.”

  She had that right, all of it.

  “Right now, he’s also kind of angry,” I fibbed. It wasn’t exactly a lie, more a significant understatement. “After Noah… or, sorry, Jeremiah beat me up a couple of days ago, Luke’s payback turned to retribution. I’m trying to find Jeremiah before Luke does and turn him in to the police so Luke won’t do anything gonzo and get him
self into trouble,” I said.

  She shook her head and squeezed my hand again. “Seems to me Jeremiah could use someone metin’ out gonzo retribution but I’d hate to see your man get himself into trouble. I’d like to help but, like I said, I haven’t seen Jeremiah in months.”