I was now shouting.
“She gets like this sometimes. You just gotta roll with it,” Annette explained to the room.
I continued to ignore her and ranted on. “Hank wants to have a conversation tonight. We had a conversation last night! I can’t have another conversation! He’ll say shit that freaks me out because he’s, like, in my brain. We haven’t even known each other for two weeks! How can he be in my brain? It’s unreal,” I yelled.
Everyone kept silent and watched me.
“Then he’ll kiss me and I’ll get dizzy and won’t be able to think straight. This is too soon. It’s too much, too soon. I need to think, I need to get my life together, I need to get, the fuck, out of here.”
I started shaking and my nostrils started stinging and I knew it was coming. I couldn’t have stopped it even if I tried.
I turned to Annette as the tears fell down my cheeks.
“Nettie,” I whispered. “He’s out there and he’s watching me.”
Then I couldn’t see her anymore because she melted in my tears.
Arms closed around me and I heard Annette murmur in my ear. “Hush, sweetie. Hush now.”
“He’s watching me,” I repeated. “He’s watching me with Hank. I don’t want his filthy eyes on Hank.”
“Hush,” Annette said.
I wrapped my arms around her and held on tight. She held me back and only moved to stroke my hair.
After awhile, I heard her say, “Can we use your bathroom?”
“I’ll show you,” Stevie said and his hands were light on me as they guided me up the stairs.
Annette and Stevie helped me clean up my face in the bathroom. I pulled myself together, holding Annette’s hand as Stevie wiped my face with a warm, wet washcloth.
“Feel better?” he asked, smiling encouragingly.
“No,” I told him, but I was trying to smile too.
He kissed my forehead. “You will,” he said and then looked me in the eyes again. “It may seem like you won’t, but you will. I promise.”
I nodded, wanting to believe him, and, with a hand squeeze from Annette, we walked into the upstairs landing and heard Ally say, “I’m gonna talk to Lee. The minute they find that asshole, I want my turn with him in the holding room.”
“Ally,” Indy said.
“Sugar, I’m talking to Marcus to-night,” Daisy broke in. “He’s gotta step his shit up. Ain’t gonna be no holding room for Billy fucking Flynn, not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Daisy,” Indy said.
“No fucking way. I want a shot at him first. I’m gonna kill that motherfucker,” Ally broke in.
“Ally,” Indy said.
“No, I’m gonna kill him,” Daisy declared.
“Oh for God’s sake, no one’s going to kill him!” Indy said, loudly this time.
Then Stevie, Annette and I jumped as we heard glass shatter.
After a second of loaded silence Indy said, now quietly, “Tod.”
“Seen a lot of shit in my life,” Tod said, his voice vibrating with anger. “Lived in a closet for years, hiding who I was. My parents still don’t know. Had friends die of AIDS, had other friends beaten up in parking lots and alleys for no other reason but because of who they are. Never has that been in my living room. Never have I seen a sweet, spirited being that fucking broken. No, I think I’m going to kill Billy fucking Flynn.”
This announcement was met with silence from downstairs.
I swallowed and looked at Annette and Stevie.
Then I whispered, “Am I broken?”
Stevie’s hand came to my arm. “You’ve been trying so hard to cope, girlie, that you haven’t even realized you’ve been through hell. We’ve all been watching, we’ve all been worried. No one can be strong that long. It’s good this is happening, go with it. You need it.”
“But,” I said. “I’m not strong. I’m weak.”
Stevie’s brows drew together. “Why would you think that?”
“I cry all the time,” I explained.
His hand went away from my arm and he waved it between us. “Oh, well. So does Tod and he’s the strongest person I know. You would not even believe the shit he’s been through in his life.”
I blinked at him.
He linked his arm through mine. “That’s for a different bottle of champagne. Let’s get you an outfit for Daisy’s party, hmm?”
He walked me down the stairs and I threw a glance up at Annette.
She stood at the landing staring down. When she caught my eye, she blew me a kiss.
Her eyes were filled with tears.
* * * * *
We were all upstairs in the second bedroom, known as Burgundy’s Room, (Burgundy Rose was Tod’s drag queen alter-ego) and we were all staring in disbelief at Annette.
Her hair was teased out to three times its volume (compliments of Daisy) and she was wearing a blood red, hoop-skirted formal with black marabou feathers drifting about the bodice.
“This is phat. I’m like, Scarlet-fucking-O’Hara,” she announced, admiring herself in the mirrored closet door.
I looked to Jet. Jet was obviously struggling to keep her face noncommittal.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit much?” I asked.
“No… I… do… not,” Annette said. “It’s the shit.”
“I love it,” Daisy declared. “It’s you.”
It was so not Annette that somehow, in some weird way, it worked.
The doorbell rang.
I looked at my watch. It was five after nine.
“Shit!” I yelled, jumping off the day bed. “That’s Hank.”
I was wearing a day-glo yellow, Lycra, strapless mini-dress. It wasn’t what I was going to wear to Daisy’s, that had been the first thing I tried on (picked out and then carefully packed in a garment bag by Stevie). The mini-dress was just one of the fifteen dresses I’d tried on for the hell of it.
“I have to get out of this dress,” I was in a dither.
“I’ll get the door,” Stevie said.
Indy gave him a look. “I’ll come with you.”
I didn’t have time to worry about their look, it was nigh on time for Hank and my “conversation” and I was not ready for it.
I pulled off the dress, hung it on a hanger, put my clothes back on, handed out hugs, blew air kisses, apologized to Tod for not helping with clean up and ran down the stairs.
Hank, Stevie and Indy were not in the living room or the kitchen. I grabbed my bag and opened the front door to check if they were outside.
They were standing halfway down the front walk. Stevie was carrying my garment bag. Indy’s arms were wrapped around her middle. Hank had one hand at his waist, the other at the back of his neck, rubbing there with his head tilted forward as he listened to Stevie saying something I couldn’t hear.
“What’s going on?” I asked, knowing exactly what was going on and walking to them.
Stevie’s back was to me. He stopped talking and turned. “Nothing, girlie. Get home,” he said, leaning into me and he kissed my cheek.
I stared at him, not believing him for a second.
Indy gave me a hug. Stevie handed Hank the garment bag and Indy and Stevie walked into the house.
I looked to Hank. “What’s going on?” I asked.
His arm went around my shoulders. “Nothin’. Let’s go.”
I planted my feet, stubborn to the last. “What did they say?” I asked.
Hank looked at me. I could see by the outside light that his eyes were soft but unsettled. “We’ll talk in the 4Runner.”
“Hank.”
He pulled me into his side. “Please Roxie, get in the car. We’re standin’ exposed on the front walk.”
I realized what he meant, nodded quickly and walked with him to the car. He opened the door for me and closed it when I got in, threw the garment bag in the backseat, rounded the hood and got in beside me.
We didn’t speak until we were on the road.
“Hank –” I started.
He cut in. “They told me you had a bad night. Just that. They’re worried.”
I looked out the side window. “I didn’t have a bad night. I just had…” I struggled to find the word. Finally, I found it. “An episode. I’m fine.”
He didn’t say anything.
I turned to him. “I’m fine,” I repeated, maybe trying to convince myself.
He stopped at a stop sign, turned to me, lifted his hand and ran the backs of his fingers down my cheek.
Then, without a word, he looked toward the road again and we were off.
I was so stunned by his loving touch, feeling the sensation of something knit together that had been torn apart in me, that I didn’t say another word the rest of the way to Hank’s.
I was staring out the side window again, lost in thought, when I felt the air in the cab of the 4Runner go funny.
I looked to Hank and I knew something was wrong.
“What?” I asked.
He drove right by his house and I watched it slide by. The outside light was on as well as the lights in the living room and kitchen.
“What?” I repeated.
“I didn’t leave any lights on,” he said. “Do you have Lee’s number programmed in your phone?” He leaned forward to pull his own out of his back pocket.
I felt fear glide down my spine.
“I don’t know,” I answered.
“Sweetheart, get out your phone. I’ll tell you the number.”
With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone. As I started to flip it open, it rang. I jumped, the phone went flying in the air and I fumbled it, then caught it.
The display said, “Uncle Tex calling.”
“What the…” I started to say.
Uncle Tex, to my knowledge, never used the cell phone I bought him and his cell was the only number of his I had programmed in my phone.
I flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Why’d you drive by? Saw you doin’ it, fuckin hell,” Uncle Tex said.
I blinked in the dark cab. “Where are you?”
“Standin’ in Hank’s living room window. Jesus. What’re you, goin’ out for ice cream?”
I turned to Hank, he was driving and scrolling through his phone book at the same time.
“Uncle Tex is in your living room. He saw us drive by,” I told Hank.
Hank glanced at me, flipped his phone shut, then, at the next crossroads, he swung a uey.
“We’re coming back,” I told Uncle Tex.
“See you in a minute,” then Uncle Tex disconnected.
“What’s Uncle Tex doing in your living room?” I asked Hank.
“Don’t know. I gave him a key when you moved in, just in case. He obviously used it.”
We skirted a block out of the way so Hank could park in front of his house. I got out of the SUV, met him on the sidewalk and we walked up together, Hank holding my hand.
He opened the door, dropped my hand, keeping me back at the door and went in first.
“Sweet Jesus,” I heard my mother say from somewhere inside the house.
Holy fucking cow.
I pushed in beside Hank.
Shamus came lurching toward us, in full body wag, he head-butted Hank’s thighs.
That’s all I saw. I was staring at my mother and father, who were sitting on Hank’s couch.
My Mom looked like an older version of me; tall, curvy, she’d gone a bit round and her hair was now dyed blonde. My Dad looked like a cuddly gnome, redheaded, blue-eyed, shorter than my mother (and me) by at least four inches and he sported a big beer belly.
Obviously, Uncle Tex had done as he’d threatened and called my Mom.
Shit.
“Sweet Jesus,” my mother repeated, still staring at Hank and slowly coming up from the couch.
Dad was staring at me. “Roxie,” he whispered and I watched as he also got up.
I took in his face, wearing an expression I’d never seen before in my life, an expression that could only be described as “ravaged with worry”.
“Dad,” I whispered back.
Dad walked across the room, grabbed my upper arms and pulled me roughly to him.
After he hugged me, he pushed me away, again with his hands at my arms, and stared at me. Although I knew the swelling on my face was long gone and the bruising was (almost) completely gone, the scabs where Billy cut me with his rings were healing but still there.
“I’m going to fucking kill that motherfucker,” Dad said.
I closed my eyes.
“Herb!” Mom snapped and I opened them again. “Not in front of Roxie’s young man.”
Good God.
For the first time, Dad’s eyes moved to Hank and he let me go.
“I’m Herb Logan, Roxie’s Dad,” he put his hand out toward Hank.
Hank took his hand and they shook.
“Hank Nightingale.”
“Sweet, sweet Jesus,” Mom whispered, staring, bright-eyed at Hank shaking hands with Dad.
Dad dropped Hank’s hand and backed away.
“This is my wife, Trish. The Good Lord overwhelms her on occasion. I find it best to just ignore it,” Dad advised Hank.
Hank smiled at Mom.
She stared at him a beat and then her eyes rolled back into her head.
“The Lord our Savior heard my prayers,” she told the inside of her eyeballs.
“Mom!” I cried, sounding uppity.
Her eyes rolled back to normal and then she bugged them out at me. “What?” Mom said, sounding just as uppity as me. “He’s cute.”
This was not happening. None of it. It was just not happening.
I turned to Hank. “You can kill me now. Just take out your gun and shoot me. It’s okay. I give you permission.”
Hank looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. He pulled me to him with an arm around my neck.
“Sweet Jesus! Sweet, sweet Jesus!” Mom called to the Savior, caught up in the divine intervention that was Hank and me.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Stop calling Jesus, Mom. Hank’s gonna think you’re weird,” I snapped.
“She is weird,” Dad said.
“I’m not weird,” Mom returned.
“Trish, you’re a fuckin’ nut. Always were,” Uncle Tex boomed, calling our attention to him for the first time then he turned to Hank. “It runs on our side of the family.”
That’s when it hit me.
Mom and Uncle Tex in the same room. Mom and Uncle Tex in the same room after years and years of not talking to or seeing each other.
I looked between them. Then I looked again.
Then my eyes filled with tears.
“Mom,” I muttered, staring at her.
Her eyes filled with tears too.
“I know,” she muttered back.
I walked out from Hank’s arm, hugged my Mom then turned my head to Uncle Tex.
“Get over here,” I ordered, my voice shaky with tears.
“Good fucking Lord. I wish Sweet Jesus would come and save me now,” Uncle Tex said.
“Get over here!” I demanded.
He came over and his big arms went around us.
“Happy?” he said over our heads as we repositioned ourselves to include him in the hug.
I looked up at him. “Yeah,” I whispered.
He was looking down at me and his eyes flickered. He waited a beat and then he kissed the top of my head. When he was done, he kissed the top of Mom’s. She and I looked at each other and burst into fresh tears.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tex groaned.
We ignored him.
We held on for awhile then Dad said, “Okay, now that we’ve done the family reunion business, maybe we can talk about my daughter being kidnapped and stalked. I might want to know a little more about that.”
I disengaged from Mom and Uncle Tex, wiping the tears from my face with my hand, and turned to Dad. “Hank’s handling it,” I told him.
“Yeah. Tex tol
d me,” Dad didn’t sound happy and he turned to Hank. “How ‘bout we talk?”
“Dad,” I butted in.
Dad interrupted me. “Tex tells me these are good people and they know what they’re doin’. I believe him. But, Roxanne Giselle Logan, you got cuts on your face and fear in the back of your eyes and I’m your goddamned fuckin’ father and I need to be briefed on this fuckin’ situation. You got me?”
I’d heard that tone before so I kept my mouth shut and nodded.
“Herb. Your language.”
Mom had heard that tone before too and she never kept her mouth shut.
Before Dad’s head exploded, I said, “Why don’t I make us some coffee?”
“I don’t want no coffee. I want a fuckin’ beer,” he turned to Hank. “Is there a bar around here?”
Hank looked at me then to my father. Then he said, his voice quiet, “There is but there’s also beer in the fridge.”
Dad regarded Hank. “Son, we need to talk away from the women. I got things to say and Trish’s ears can hear what’s happenin’ two doors down. You get what I’m sayin’ to you?”
“What do you have to say that I can’t hear, Herbert Logan?” Mom asked.
“I’m not leavin’ Roxie,” Hank ignored Mom and how he said what he said stated quite clearly that he was not.
Dad watched Hank a beat, then I saw him smile.
Oh shit.
I thought I was in trouble, official, definite, certifiable trouble but I realized that now I was really in trouble.
Dad approved of Hank.
I knew he would but I didn’t know it’d make me feel all warm and squishy inside.
“I’ll stay behind,” Uncle Tex offered.
Dad nodded and turned to Hank. “That work for you?”
Hank didn’t look happy but he also nodded.
Rock Chick Redemption Page 32
