Rock Chick Revolution

by Ashley, Kristen

  Indy remained silent, another bad sign. She got me. I was talking about sex. And the Rock Chicks existed on a conversational diet heavy on sex talk, Hot Bunch bitching and skincare tips.

  Time to pull out the big guns.

  “I fell in love with him, chickie,” I whispered and watched her lips part.

  There it was, thank God. I was getting in there.

  So I kept at it.

  “In one night, I fell in love.”

  She bit her lip.

  Yes. Getting in there.

  “I woke up in his arms in his bed and I was happy. Totally happy, babe. So happy I was lying there smiling. And he curled me closer, shoved his face in my hair and said Ava’s name.”

  That did it.

  Her body jolted before she yanked out a chair, sat her ass in it and leaned toward me, exclaiming on a horrified hiss, “Oh my God! Seriously?”

  I nodded. “Seriously.”

  “Holy crap,” she breathed.

  “It killed,” I admitted.

  “It would,” she agreed.

  “Ren was asleep when he did it,” I explained. “I snuck out. He got pissed that I did, came over that night and that didn’t go very well. I didn’t share why I left so he didn’t know until yesterday why I established stringent fuck buddy boundaries. Boundaries, I’ll add, that he didn’t really adhere to and, looking back, I didn’t either. Since he was asleep, he didn’t know he did it and was pretty upset when I threw it in his face. He explained, we worked it out. I love him, he loves me and it’s all good.”

  Something moved over her face that I could read even behind her shades.

  Surprise.

  And warmth.

  “You love him?” she asked quietly and I felt my lips tip up.

  “Yeah,” I answered just as quietly.

  Her head tipped to the side. “He loves you?”

  I nodded and full-on smiled. “Oh yeah.”

  No surprise that time. Just warmth.

  “He’s good to you?”

  My smile got bigger as my hand lifted to touch the pendant at my neck. “Definitely.”

  Her shades dropped to my throat. Her mouth got soft but she didn’t say anything. I knew she’d like the pendant. I knew she’d know it was from Ren. And I knew she’d know, just looking at its kickassness, that it was thoughtful and generous and said it all.

  She took in a breath, looked at me, and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  Right. The hard part.

  “He said Ava’s name,” I told her.

  “And?” she prompted when I said no more.

  “And that hurt,” I answered. My voice was quiet, but there was a tremor in it that was not me.

  And Indy knew me. She knew what that tremor meant. She knew exactly how much it hurt.

  This was why her hand shot across the table and grabbed mine as she murmured, “Oh, Ally.”

  “I didn’t want to share. I didn’t want to relive. It haunted me enough as it was. And I didn’t want Ava to get wind of it,” I told her.

  “I see that, but you know I would never—”

  I cut her off.

  “I know. And I know it isn’t the same. You’ve been in love with him since you were five, but it still kind of is, so what would you do if Lee was holding you in his arms in bed after you had a great night, the best you ever had, and he said another woman’s name in your hair?”

  Her hand gave mine a squeeze. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Her face, even with shades, said it all.

  She let me go, grabbed her coffee, sucked some back and put it on the table, her shades again locking with mine.

  She got me.

  “And all the other stuff?” she asked.

  This time I got her. Conversation about Ren was done. We were moving on. She wanted to know about my activities.

  Another hard part.

  Crap.

  I leaned forward.

  “I’m good at it,” I told her.

  “I know you are,” she replied, and no doubt about it, hearing her say that and do it instantaneously felt great.

  But I expected nothing less. That was pure Indy.

  “No, Indy, I’m good at it,” I stressed. “It’s in my blood. It’s who I am. I think I needed to prove that to myself, and the other night in the mountains, I did. What happened there was extreme, and Darius, Brody and me, we kicked its ass. It was awesome. So now, I need to prove to Hank, Lee, Dad, and probably the hardest, Ren, that this is my thing. I’m good at it. And I’m going to keep doing it.” I took in a breath then made my point. “Now, do you think I’d get the chance to do that if I did my thing with the Rock Chicks tagging along?”

  She saw the wisdom of this statement, and I knew it because she sat back and sucked back more coffee.

  “Right. No,” I answered for her.

  “I would have kept that secret, too,” she told me something I already knew.

  “I dig that,” I replied. “But honestly, think about it. If I shared—you, me, our history, the way we are—can you sit there and tell me you wouldn’t have finagled a way to get involved, or at least take my back somewhere in the last two years?”

  She saw the wisdom of this statement too, and I knew it when she didn’t answer.

  Tacit agreement.

  “Right, no,” I repeated. “And if you did, Lee would lose his mind, you’d lose your mind with Lee for losing his mind, and all that would land on me. I’d have a choice. Stop doing what I love to do, something I’m good at, something that’s in me, or be responsible for friction between two of the most important people in my life. And Indy, I’m not going to stop. So I had to manage that situation another way. And I picked secrecy.”

  She nodded. She got this, too.

  Thank God.

  Then she asked, “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to get licensed and put out a shingle.”

  Her head jerked. “Seriously?”

  “Totally seriously.”

  Her lips spread in a big smile. “That’s freakin’ awesome, honey.”

  Again, pure Indy.

  There was a reason she was my BFF, and it was not because we’d been thrown together as babies because our parents were best friends and we had no choice.

  It was because she was the absolute shit. We clicked. She was not yin to my yang. She was not Laverne to my Shirley.

  We were cut from the same cloth. She might be a redhead and me a brunette. She might have curves where I had angles. And she might be a tad bit less crazy than me (a tad).

  But other than that, we were sisters.

  To the core.

  I did not share any of this deep crap with her.

  I didn’t need to.

  She already knew it.

  Instead I guided the discussion to something (else) that was important.

  That was, I warned, “No Rock Chick involvement. I don’t tell Roxie how to design websites. I don’t tell Jules how to counsel runaways. And you need to back me on that.”

  She lifted a hand, palm my way.

  A Rock Chick Promise.

  “You got it. I’m all in on backing you on that.”

  “That includes you,” I added. She dropped her hand and I knew what was coming, so I started, “Indy—”

  “What if you need a decoy or something?” she asked.

  Yep. I knew that was coming, and it was precisely why this conversation was two years late.

  Fuck.

  “If I do, that decoy won’t be you.”

  Her head twitched. She was offended.

  “It’s always me.”

  That was true too, but now it couldn’t be.

  I leaned in further in order to lay it out.

  “This is the deal and you know it. My brother, your husband, runs this town. What he doesn’t run, Marcus or Vito do. And Hank and Eddie protect it. In that mix, there are allegiances and there are alliances. Some of them are unholy, but for some reason, all of them wor
k. And if you think you don’t come with Daisy, Jet, Roxie, Jules, and I could go on, and those men won’t shut me down because you do, you’re wrong.

  I put my hand flat on the table between us and kept talking.

  “Honest to God, Indy, this is the first time I understand what I want to do with my life. And if I’m going to be taken seriously doing it, I have to do it. I have to be professional about it. I have to be smart about it. And I have to make my own allegiances and alliances, and the most important ones I can make are with Lee Nightingale, Marcus Sloan and Vito Zano. You get involved, Indy, any of you, I’m done. Lee will see to it, and even if he didn’t, any member of the Hot Bunch has enough cred on the streets to make that happen, and any one of them wouldn’t hesitate. I don’t want to be done, and I need to do everything I can to avoid that. Are you with me?”

  “I’m with you,” she said softly.

  “I need to believe in that,” I told her, then continued with the honesty. “I love you, but I can’t be making my plays in that game, focusing my attention on that and dealing with you or any of the Rock Chicks at the same time.”

  Her hand came out again and curled around mine. “I’m with you. I get you. I understand. And you can believe in that,” she stated firmly.

  Yeah. I could believe in that. Indy wouldn’t lie to me.

  Or she would (told you we were cut from the same cloth), just not about something like this.

  I drew in breath and let it out, saying, “Thank you.”

  She grinned and replied, “Our next come to Jesus, should there be one, which I hope there isn’t, but if there is and you feel the need to court the wrath of Tex, let’s do it at Paris on the Platte so I can get a Café Fantasia and make it worth it.”

  Shit. I should have thought of that. Paris had the second best coffees in Denver.

  I grinned back. “Agreed.”

  Her hand tightened on mine. “Love you, honey.”

  Again with the breath, this one going in deep and coming out deeper. “Right back at cha, sister.”

  She let me go, let the tough part go, and I knew this because she again sat back and she changed the subject.

  “So. Ren Zano. He’s hot. You’re hot. You look great together. And bonus, he doesn’t seem to mind you throwing a punch at him at a wedding, which is good news for you.”

  I laughed because this was true.

  She continued after I stopped laughing and she did it smiling, “So you love him. He loves you. Are there Catholic classes in your future?”

  My brows drew together. I wasn’t following.

  “What?”

  “They’re Italian. They’re Catholic. You’re not. You’re Presbyterian, and the last time you were in a church, the reverend had to stop services to shout at you to turn your headphones off because AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ was screwing up his message.”

  This was true.

  And I’d learned from this to sit in the back.

  “In other words, I’m not sure you’re going to convince them your gig is more important than theirs. What does Ren say about that?” she asked.

  I didn’t know what Ren said about that. Ren and I had been too busy breaking a commandment to discuss religion.

  Or pretty much anything.

  “We haven’t gotten that far,” I answered, and I saw her brows draw together over her shades.

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “So what about the families? How are you going to handle that?”

  At least I had that sorted.

  “They’re just going to have to deal,” I announced, and Indy stared at me.

  Then she repeated, but in a question, “They’re just going to have to deal?”

  “Yep,” I replied nonchalantly.

  “Ally, honey, you have met your father, haven’t you?” she asked.

  I waved my hand between us. “Indy, it’ll be cool.”

  She ignored me.

  “And Hank.”

  “Hank wants me happy,” I reminded her.

  “He does. With a cop, a firefighter or marine.”

  This was true, too.

  “Well, he isn’t getting any of those,” I pointed out.

  “So what you’re saying is, you’re telling them you’re getting in the family business at the same time hooking your star to a man who’s already in the family business, but his family business is family business, and you think it’ll all be cool?”

  “Not immediately,” I conceded. “Eventually.”

  “I’m thinking you might need to add nuances to your plan,” she suggested.

  “And I’m thinking I’m me. They all know me and have my whole life. They know I do what I want and find a way to get what I want. I want Ren. They love me, they’ll deal. They give me shit, I’ll deal… for a while. It continues, they make a choice. But I’ve already made mine.”

  “Lee was broody last night, and in his many levels of broody, it was beyond the my-sister’s-apartment-exploded broody, which is at the top of the scale. I think you get that’s a little scary,” she shared, and she would know his many levels of broody. She’d lived through them all, repeatedly.

  But I understood what she was saying.

  Ren and I had made it official. This meant it wasn’t a fling those around us could pretend wasn’t happening and wait for it to be over.

  It meant it was something they had to deal with.

  I was a little sister to two alpha male brothers. Me finding a man was going to be something they would not dig dealing with normally.

  Ren being a Zano didn’t make matters better.

  “Not to be a bitch or anything, but that’s not my problem. It’s Lee’s,” I replied.

  “It’s his and what’s his is mine,” she returned.

  I was hitting another conversational danger zone. I could feel it.

  So I moved to avoid it.

  “Indy, babe, I told Ren I was worried that you were mad at me. He called me just before you showed to check in. He was concerned about me and didn’t hesitate showing it. That’s sweet. That’s also Ren. He does that kind of thing all the time, even when I considered us fuck buddies. I’ll admit he and I have things to discuss. I’ve been closed down for a year so we haven’t done much of that. We’ll also do it. And with the families, I get this road is going to be rocky. What I’m saying is, when they see the way he is with me,” I leaned in, “I promise you, they’ll deal.” I leaned back and finished, “It’d help if you had my back on that, too.”

  “Last time I saw you with Ren, you aimed a punch at him,” she reminded me.

  Shit.

  “So,” she went on, “I think I need to delay my answer to that until I see him with you.”

  I could give her that.

  Totally.

  “Deal,” I agreed.

  She shook her head but muttered, “Deal.”

  I sucked back some coffee and asked, “How much shit am I facing with the Rock Chicks?”

  “They’ve had a whole night to rip it to shreds so they’ve mostly burned it out. They’ll get over it,” she answered. “Tex is beside himself, though. He’s going stir crazy without anything exploding or anyone getting kidnapped. He likes to be a sidekick and he’s got grenades and tear gas that are going unused. He doesn’t need to use them, but he prefers living a life where that might be a possibility.”

  She was not wrong.

  She kept going.

  “Duke’s being quiet so, heads up on that. I think he’s hurt. And Smithie’s pissed because he knows no way he’s ever gonna get you to dance for him if you’ve hooked up with a Zano. And you were his last hope.”

  There was no way Smithie was ever going to get me to dance for him anyway, even though he asked—frequently—so that last was a relief.

  I summed up. “So, not bad. Except Duke.”

  “You need to find your time to connect with him,” she advised.

  I could do that. Duke had been so much of a fixture in my life, I didn’t remember a time wh
en he wasn’t in it. He also cared about me a lot, showed it, and I returned the favor (in my way).

  I nodded then declared, “Brother’s also let me go so we gotta get to Fortnum’s. The tip jar just became my livelihood.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You were fired?”

  “How I lasted this long was a miracle.”

  She didn’t agree verbally, but her smile did it for her.

  Then it faded and she asked, “You gonna be okay?”

  “Right now, all my belongings would fit in a carryall and I’d have room to spare. Still, I’ve got everything a girl needs. So yeah, I’ll be okay.”

  “Yeah, you will,” she said softly.

  She was one of the reasons I’d be okay, so she should know.

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t need to hit Fortnum’s, but before, we gotta dash through the mall. I have two changes of clothes. I need to stock up and then we gotta bounce.”

  She nodded again as she rose, taking her coffee. I went up with her, doing the same. We left our cars where they were and moved down the sidewalk heading out of Cherry Creek North toward the mall.

  “You know, it would go a long way to smoothing things over with those three if you sent Roxie, Tod and Stevie to the mall to deal with your wardrobe emergency,” Indy noted.

  I stopped dead on the sidewalk and turned to her.

  She was so right. And I was a Rock Chick, which meant I was a shopper. But I had shit to deal with, and as much as it killed, the time suckage of buying new jeans and tees was suckage I didn’t need.

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she answered, grinning. “Maybe because you were worried about me, your apartment exploded and you got fired.”

  I grinned back. “Oh yeah. That took some headspace.”

  “I see that,” she replied as we made to turn back.

  But as we did, my eyes caught on something through a shop window and I again stopped dead.

  Then I stared.

  Then I whispered, “Holy shit.”

  “What?” Indy asked.

  “Holy shit,” I repeated, not answering, still staring, and also not believing my eyes.