Dad was pointedly eating a donut, glaring at Mom and shunning her buttermilk pancakes.
He had found buttermilk and I suspected this was not only because he usually gave in to Mom (because he loved her), but also because he knew it was my favorite breakfast (and he loved me too).
Still, the donut was his way of not giving in completely.
In front of me, Mom set down a stack of two of her light and fluffy pancakes, smothered in butter and syrup, with two slices of bacon on the side.
She rounded the table carrying a plate and set it in front of Hank.
“There you go, Hank. Eat hearty,” she said, patting him on the shoulder and returning Dad’s glare.
I looked at Hank’s plate. On it was an enormous stack of five pancakes and half a dozen rashers of bacon.
Hank stared at it for a second, not quite able to hide his surprise, before his eyes lifted to mine.
I gritted my teeth.
“Mom!” I snapped. “The entire offensive line of the Chicago Bears could not eat that much food.”
Dad looked at Hank’s plate, then his eyes went to Mom.
“Jesus, Trish. You’re gonna put the boy in a food coma. He’s a cop, he needs to stay alert.”
I looked to Dad.
“Would you two quit calling Hank a boy? He’s a grown man, for goodness sakes.”
“He’s your brother’s age, Roxanne Giselle, therefore, he’s a boy to me,” Dad returned in his Dad Voice.
I gave up and looked to Hank.
“You don’t have to eat all that,” I told him.
Mom sat down with her own plate and got all mother on Hank.
“Yes you do. You need to keep your strength up.”
I frowned at Mom. “He’s not recovering from pneumonia. Trust me, he does not need any help keeping his strength up.”
Dad burst out laughing.
Hank sat back in his chair and grinned at me.
“Don’t be lippy,” Mom said to me then turned to Hank. “She’s always been lippy. Came out bawling and never shut up. I’ve spent thirty-one years of my life tearing my hair out because of her lip.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” Dad mumbled into his donut.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mom snapped at Dad.
“Nothin’,” Dad was still mumbling but his eyes slid to Hank and he rolled them.
“Do not roll your eyes at Hank, Herb. What’s he going to think of us?” Mom clipped.
That’s a good question. I thought.
“Figure the boy needs to know early what he’s gettin’ himself into,” Dad told Mom then looked at Hank. “Take my advice, son, run. Run for the hills.”
Mom’s eyes bugged out and her fork clattered to her plate. “Do not tell him to run for the hills! Sweet Jesus!” she called to the ceiling and then looked at Hank. “We’ve been waiting a long time for Roxie to get herself a good man, a decent man. Thank the Good Sweet Lord you’re sitting right here. She’s a good girl, Roxie. She’s a little wild but not anything you can’t tame, I’m sure of it,” Mom declared with authority.
Hank pressed his lips together, likely so he wouldn’t laugh out loud.
I noticed Hank’s lip press, but only in a vague way because it was my turn to have my eyes bug out of my head.
“I don’t need Hank to tame me! I don’t need anyone to tame me. I’m not wild!” I snapped at Mom.
Dad let out a belly laugh.
“Not wild? Girl, you’re too much,” he said to me then turned to Hank. “You’d think there wasn’t much trouble to find in a small town. Probably wasn’t, but what trouble there was to find, Roxie found it and if she couldn’t find it, she made her own.”
“Dad!”
My father ignored me.
“Got good grades, which was a plain miracle considering she spent most her time beer-drinkin’, joy-ridin’, drag-racin’ and toilet-paperin’,” Dad looked back at me. “I don’t even want to know what you were doin’ on that golf course at midnight when the cops found you.”
I put my elbow on the table and my head in my hand. “This is not happening,” I said to my pancakes.
“I told you to try out for the cheerleading squad, but did you listen to me? No,” Mom put in and I knew she was warming into her famous Cheerleading Squad Lecture that had been a constant in my life, even though I’d graduated from high school over a decade before.
When I looked up again, Mom was forking into her pancakes heatedly.
“The cheerleaders were good girls, never broke curfew, not once. I know because I was friends with their mothers. Had steady boyfriends. Wore cute, preppy clothes. Not Roxie. No. Curfew? What’s that? Going to the mall, like, every weekend. Her closet had more clothes in it than mine! Always flouncing around in mini-skirts. Nearly gave her father a heart attack every time she walked out of the house,” She looked between Dad and me, fork lifted half-mast and glaring at us both. “The fights you two would have about those mini-skirts and, Lord! Those tops! All cut up and falling off your shoulders so you could see your bra straps. Sweet Jesus. What the neighbors must have thought.”
I looked at Hank, certain he was either going to run for the hills or tell us all to get the hell out.
Instead, his eyes were on me. They were lazy and sweet and then, he winked at me.
I felt something settle inside me, and, where it settled, it grew warm.
Then I felt my face move. I didn’t smile, exactly, but I knew my face went soft and my lips turned up and, if my parents weren’t there, and the table wasn’t between us, I would have jumped him and torn his clothes off.
“Sweet Jesus,” Mom whispered and the moment was lost. I looked to her and she was gazing between Hank and me, her face soft too, but her eyes were bright and happy.
My eyes slid to Dad and he was smiling at the last bite of his donut.
“Are we done telling Hank about my past as a juvenile delinquent?” I asked.
“Yep,” Dad said. He’d finished his donut and was wiping powdered sugar from his lips with his napkin.
“You weren’t a juvenile delinquent. Just… spirited,” Mom said. “Though…” she mumbled to her pancakes, “wish you’d have used that spirit to cheer on the football team.”
I sighed, heavy and huge, and forked into my pancakes.
* * * * *
“Damn, Tex, this is fuckin’ great!” Dad yelled, really loudly, foam from his butterscotch latte coating his upper lip.
“Herb, keep your voice down,” Mom stage-whispered.
We were in Fortnum’s, I was sitting on the book counter and I noticed the Hot Pack, including Hank, Lee, Mace and Luke, all standing around the couches, had turned to look at my parents when my Dad shouted.
I looked over to Indy who was behind the book counter, and Daisy, who was standing in front of it, both of them were grinning at my Mom and Dad.
“I asked Hank to shoot me last night, but he wouldn’t do it,” I told them.
“Oh, Sugar, chill. They’re sweet,” Daisy said.
“What do you say you call this? Lah-tay?” Dad, who was not one for fancy coffee drinks, asked, again loudly, calling our attention back to him. He still hadn’t wiped the foam off his lip.
“Fuckin’ A, Herb, you need to get to the big city more often,” Uncle Tex suggested, handing a coffee to one of the two customers standing in front of the counter.
“Fuck that,” Dad swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand when he caught Mom pointing to her own mouth, giving him a clue. Then he went on talking. “Ain’t nothin’ in the big towns I need. Anyway, I heard they started making these eye-talian coffee drinks in Miriam’s Café,” Dad looked over to Indy, Daisy and me. “They got frozen custard there too. That custard business pissed off the folks at Dairy Palace, which is right across the street. Ain’t no cookie shake in the world better than frozen custard, I don’t care if they double up the cookie crumbles, which was what they started to do.”
“The Dairy Palace doubled up the
cookie crumbles?” I asked, forgetting to be embarrassed by my father’s behavior.
I loved cookie crumble shakes
“Damn straight, Roxie,” Dad told me. “You gotta come home. I know you like your cookie crumble shakes but you’ll fuckin’ flip over those turtle sundaes they make at Miriam’s with the frozen custard. Swear to Christ, thought your mother would roll up and die after she got her first taste of one,” Dad looked at Hank. “Roxie likes her ice cream,” he informed Hank as if this was the key to future happiness with me.
“I’ll remember that,” Hank said, his eyes came to me and I noticed his trying-hard-not-to-laugh look because it was now very familiar.
In fact, the Hot Pack were all now looking at me, all of them grinning. Except Luke, who was looking down at his boots but I could tell his half-smile was in place. I felt their grins in the form of goose bumps running along my skin and I said to the entire room, “Can we stop talking about ice cream?”
That’s when Luke’s head came up and his eyes sliced to me.
“I wanna hear more about ice cream,” Luke said.
Damn.
The bell over the door rang.
“I’m not talking to you!” Jet snapped at Eddie as they both walked in.
At first, I got worried, but then I saw Eddie’s lips twitch.
“What now, Loopy Loo?” Tex boomed.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Jet answered, stomping to the book counter and slamming her purse into a drawer.
“What’s going on?” Indy asked.
Jet glared at Eddie, who was entirely unaffected by the mental laser beams Jet was directing at his back. He walked up to the espresso counter as the last customer moved away.
“Everything. Lottie’s so popular Smithie has to sell tickets. He’s already given her a raise. She found a house, put in an offer and it was accepted. Mom’s moving in with Trixie and the apartment has already been rented to someone else. I want to move in with Lottie but Lottie won’t let me because she and Eddie had a chat.”
Daisy and Indy nodded knowingly.
“What?” I asked.
“Eddie’s kind of famous for his chats,” Indy replied.
“Don’t let Hank chat to you,” Jet warned. “Chatting is bad. You end up agreeing to stuff you never would agree to normally after you’ve had a chat. And don’t, under any circumstances, have a chat in bed. You could end up agreeing to anything during those chats,” Jet’s warning turned dire.
The light dawned.
“I think Hank calls them ‘conversations’,” I told her.
Her eyes got big and she nodded to me, once, slowly, saying, “Unh-hunh.”
“So, what your sayin’, Sugar Bunch, is that you are now officially moved in with Eddie,” Daisy said.
“Yes. We’ve just beaten the world record for the fastest moving relationship in history,” Jet replied.
Indy and Daisy smiled.
“No, I think I may get that one,” I said.
Jet, Daisy and Indy looked to me.
“I’m moving to Denver,” I announced.
Without hesitation, Daisy threw an arm up, punching the air. “Yee-ha!” she screamed.
Jet and Indy high-fived.
Everyone else looked over to us.
“Roxie’s moving to Denver!” Indy yelled across the room to Lee.
Lee’s eyes crinkled and cut to Hank.
Hank rocked back on his heels and he crossed his arms on his chest. I rolled my eyes at him and when I was done with my eye roll, his lips were turned up on the ends.
“You’re moving to Denver?” Mom asked, staring at me.
Oh shit.
I hadn’t told Mom and Dad yet.
“Um, yeah,” I said.
Mom’s face froze then she blinked.
“You can’t move to Denver,” she said. “What’re you gonna do at Christmas? Thanksgiving? Oh, Sweet Jesus. Easter! You know we always have a special, honey-baked ham at Easter. You’re the best with the Easter egg dyes too. Mimi and Gil can’t dye eggs like you. Who’s gonna dye my eggs?”
“Mom, I’m thirty-one years old. We haven’t dyed eggs in fifteen years.”
She ignored me and went on. “And, do they even have persimmons out here? How are you gonna make persimmon pudding? I can’t mail them to you. You have to have them fresh or it doesn’t taste right. You know that.”
“Mom, I don’t make persimmon pudding, you do.”
“Well, I can’t mail that to you either,” she said and then whirled on Hank. “We get Christmas!” she told him, as if she was calling shotgun in the car.
“Trish, calm down,” Dad said.
“I will not calm down. My baby girl is moving halfway across the country.”
“She’s been moved away before,” Dad pointed out.
“Yeah, but that was with Billy. We all knew he wouldn’t work out. We’re talking about Hank here. Look at him,” she pointed to Hank. “She’s never coming home. Never.”
“She ain’t movin’ to the moon, Trish,” Dad said.
“Might as well be,” Mom turned back to me. “You hear even a hint that a blizzard’s coming, Roxanne Giselle, you go straight to the store and buy toilet paper, you hear me? And make a pot of chili or stew. Don’t get caught out. I don’t want a phone call saying you starved to death, stuck in the house with no stew.” Her eyes moved to Daisy. “I hear the blizzards are bad here. People die.”
“That’s usually old people, Mrs. Logan,” Daisy explained. “And they normally freeze to death.”
Daisy was trying to help but it was the wrong thing to say.
Mom’s eyes got big, then her back went ramrod straight and she grabbed her purse from the espresso counter.
“Right. We’re going out to buy blankets. Hank had, like, one extra blanket. He needs blankets. And logs for that fire in the back room. We’re getting blankets and logs. Come on, Herb.”
Dad dug in. “Woman, I’m enjoyin’ my lah-tay.”
“You want your daughter to freeze to death?” Mom screeched.
Dad shook his head.
Mom glared at him.
They settled into a staring contest.
I looked at the Hot Pack. “How many of you have a gun? Anyone? Someone shoot me!”
Then I realized that Luke was standing there and what I said was a little insensitive, considering he’d been shot in the belly a few months before.
“Um… sorry Luke,” I finished, feeling like an idiot.
Luke crossed his arms on his broad chest and smiled at me but didn’t say a word, which I decided to take as indication that he bore no ill will.
Hank disengaged from the Hot Pack and walked to me. He walked right up between my legs, wrapped an arm around my waist and yanked me off the counter so I was standing full frontal with him. He tipped his head down to look at me.
“Your Mom can have Christmas,” Hank said quietly.
“Thank you!” Mom shouted to Hank’s back.
I shook my head.
“You do not even know what you’re saying. Do not give her Christmas. Christmas is Crazy Land in the Logan household and I think you’ve realized by now that that’s saying a lot!”
“Roxanne Giselle Logan, do not tell tales out of school. So your father usually gets drunk and burns the turkey. It’s Christmas!” Mom snapped.
“I do not get drunk! And I do not burn the turkey!” Dad yelled. “It’s crispy. Everyone likes crispy turkey.”
“No one grills a turkey, Herb. Standing outside in thirty degree temperatures with your Budweiser like it’s the Fourth of July.”
“Roxie likes my mesquite turkey. Don’t you Roxie?” Dad called.
I closed my eyes and when I opened them, Hank’s face was all I saw.
“Have you changed your mind yet?” I whispered.
Slowly, he shook his head.
“Give them time,” I finished.
“Well? Roxie? You like my mesquite turkey, don’t you?” Dad asked.
I
put my forehead to Hank’s chest for a second then lifted it away.
“Yeah Dad, I like your turkey.”
It was true. I did. It was great turkey. The best.
The bell over the door went and I peered around Hank’s shoulder to see Ally, Malcolm and Kitty Sue walking in.
My eyes widened, my body stilled and I stared at Hank who moved, placing an arm around my neck, holding me reassuringly tight against his side.
“Did you call them?” I asked Hank.
“Um… that would be me,” Indy said from behind me.
Good God.
“Roxie’s movin’ to Denver,” Daisy told Ally.
Ally’s eyes got bright. “Righteous,” she said.
Malcolm’s gaze settled on me and his eyes crinkled.
“I’m so pleased,” Kitty Sue smiled.
“Holy fuckin’ shit,” Tex boomed and I looked at him and his grin was so big, it split his face.
“Don’t look so damned happy,” I snapped at him as he pounded out from behind the espresso counter.
“I heard your Dad was here,” Malcolm said to me as he came close and kissed my cheek.
My eyes lost their scowl and I nodded to him with a weak smile. “Right here,” Uncle Tex said, pushing Mom and Dad forward.
“What’s going on?” Mom asked.
“This is the rest of Hank’s family. You already met Lee. This is his sister Ally and his mother and father, Kitty Sue and Malcolm,” Uncle Tex did the introductions.
“Sweet Jesus!” Mom called. “Sweet, sweet Jesus. I’m so happy to meet you.”
Mom went forward on a rush and gave Kitty Sue a big hug. To my shock, Kitty Sue didn’t recoil and not only accepted the hug but hugged Mom tight in return.
“I’m Herb. This is my wife, Trish,” Dad said, thankfully going the shaking hands route with Malcolm.
“Good to meet you,” Malcolm said.
They dropped hands and Dad took Malcolm in. “Your boys been lookin’ after my girl,” Dad told him.
Malcolm nodded. “That’s right.”
For a few beats, Dad and Malcolm just looked at each other. Something passed between them, something I could feel. I felt the tears sting my eyes and I pressed deeper into Hank. Ally’s gaze came to me and she winked. I smiled at her and felt the tears subside.
Rock Chick Redemption Page 35
