Rock Chick Revolution

by Ashley, Kristen

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “No problem, baby,” she whispered back. “Now, you get here when you get here and we’ll sort you out.”

  “Okay, Daisy.”

  “See you soon, sugar.”

  “Right.”

  I hung up before she could keep being sweet. I didn’t have a lot left in me before I lost it, and Daisy had a lot of sweet and that would undo me. So I had to cut that off. Pronto.

  I twisted his key off my ring in order to be ready, angled out of my car and hoofed it to Ren’s.

  Get this done and get gone.

  Done and gone.

  I tried the door, found it unlocked and walked right in.

  The TV was on and Ren was in jeans and a tee, lounging like the hot guy he was on the couch, watching it. But the minute I entered, his eyes turned to me.

  My mouth filled with saliva.

  I tore my eyes from him and made a beeline to his kitchen.

  I heard the TV go off.

  I didn’t take this as a good sign.

  I dropped the key on his counter and moved out of the kitchen.

  He caught me at the doorway. Arm hooking my waist, he shuffled me to the side and closed in so I was back to the wall and Ren was pressed to me.

  I looked up at him and his face was set to sweet.

  Somebody.

  Please.

  Kill me.

  “We need to talk this through, baby,” he said in a voice set the same way.

  But this time there was no way he was going to get to me through his sweet.

  “We haven’t talked about much in all the time we’ve been together,” I replied. “Except this. And we never agreed. I’m thinking we never will. You’ve got a life to lead, so do I. So I also think we should get on with doing that.”

  His free hand came to my jaw and I fought swallowing because I didn’t want him to get anything from me. He already had enough.

  In fact, everything.

  “You love someone, you compromise. We’ll find a way to compromise,” he told me.

  “What you mean is, I’ll find a way to compromise,” I told him.

  “Ally—”

  I was losing it, so my voice was scratchy when I asked quickly, “Why are you doing this?”

  His fingers flexed into my flesh and his face got closer when he answered, “Because I believe in us.”

  “There is no us,” I returned.

  “There’s always been an us, but I get you needed not to believe in that and why. That said, you can’t deny there’s been an us the last three days, honey.”

  “That was all fantasy.”

  He blinked and whispered, “What?”

  “That Ren and that Ally don’t exist. That was just you and me wanting to believe we could. But we couldn’t. We fight. We don’t agree on important things. We want the same thing in different ways. We don’t work, but for those three days, we pretended we do. We can’t pretend anymore, Ren. We have to be honest, see this isn’t going anywhere and move on.”

  “So you’re saying right now you’re going to get your shit and leave and not sit down and see if we can work on finding a future we both believe in?” he asked.

  “What I’m saying right now is that I think all that’s been said has said it all.”

  “Right, then, you’re not in a space right now where you’re up for talkin’ about this, so I’ll ask you don’t make any decisions. Stick with me, sleep beside me, and tomorrow when we’re less raw, we give each other that time.”

  I shook my head. “Nothing’s going to change, Ren.”

  “It won’t if you don’t give it a shot, Ally.”

  I held his eyes and laid it out. “You don’t believe in me.”

  His jaw got tight.

  Yep.

  He didn’t believe in me.

  Fuck.

  Again my fucking eyes got fucking hot, but again I powered right the fuck through to end this.

  “Even if I could talk you around, I can’t live with a man who doesn’t believe in me. And I can’t do what I have to do out there with half a mind to wondering what you’ll think about this case or that decision or a client or how you’ll react when I come home and tell you about my day. I wouldn’t have to worry about any of that shit if you trusted me. Believed in me. But you don’t and you won’t, because you don’t want this for me, or for you, or for our future. So what is the fucking point of dragging this shit out now when it already hurts in a way that if we even gave it days, it would kill?”

  He took that as an in. I knew it when he pressed deeper and his face got closer.

  So I moved to end it.

  “You’re not the man for me, Ren, and I’m not the woman for you. We’re done and when I say that it is not a Rock Chick done where you can be badass or cool or whatever and talk me into changing my mind. I mean that in an Ally Nightingale way, where I know what I want and I’ve found the path that leads to a future that’s exciting to me. So when I say we’re done, I mean we’re done.”

  With that, I pulled away, sliding out from in front of him and walking quickly up the stairs.

  I had not had time to scatter my shit to the four corners of Ren’s house.

  Which was good.

  It meant what I had to gather took little time.

  But it didn’t matter.

  Because I barely hit his bedroom before I heard the front door slamming.

  When I had it all gathered, I went to the window and looked down to see the Jag was gone.

  So the coast was clear.

  Nevertheless, I wasted no time double checking that I had absolutely everything.

  And then I got the fuck out of there.

  Chapter Seventeen

  You’re Ally. And I’m Ren.

  I opened my eyes and stared at the early morning light peeking through Daisy’s curtains.

  I knew I hadn’t slept long. This was because I cried most of the night.

  Yes. Me.

  But I did it in Daisy’s pillow so she nor Marcus would hear.

  When I arrived the night before, she took one look at me and gave me space. That was, she took me to a room, asked my preference and brought me a glass and a bottle of tequila.

  Then she touched my cheek and whispered, “We’ll talk in the mornin’, sugar.”

  She closed the door on her way out.

  I didn’t take even a sip of her top shelf tequila.

  I’d never been heartbroken, not like this, but I’d stood behind a bar countless times listening to those who were. And I’d noted, repeatedly, imbibing didn’t much help. Although that had been my preliminary plan, with the bottle and glass available to me, I instead chose the pillow and giving myself the opportunity to let loose the shit crawling inside me in an effort to get it out.

  This didn’t much help either.

  I’d had two calls in that time. One from Indy, the other from Roxie.

  This meant Daisy nor Hank and Lee had shared with anybody, except my brothers told their wives. But Indy and Roxie told nobody. If they had, my phone would never quit ringing and The Castle (or Daisy’s house, which looked like a castle; no joke, complete with moat), would be descended on by Rock Chicks.

  I was grateful for that, so much you wouldn’t believe. And I texted both Indy and Roxie to tell them I’d connect with them later, I needed some time, and they texted back that they’d give that to me.

  By the way, Ren had not phoned. He had also not scaled the wall and broken in the window in order to press his suit.

  This was not a surprise. I’d been pretty inflexible with the way I ended things.

  But this meant I definitely wasn’t a Rock Chick. None of their men ever gave up.

  That wasn’t bitching. It was just an observation that didn’t feel real great. Anyway, with the way I felt, I was glad Ren didn’t do this. This was mostly because, when I had time to let myself feel all the things I was feeling, I knew if he came back to me and pushed it, I’d cave.

  Ag
ain.

  Yes. Me.

  Ally.

  Caving.

  That was how much I loved him.

  So I told myself maybe it indicated how much he loved me that he was going to let me go, which was the only way he could give me what I needed.

  And although this thought was cool (kind of, in a rip your heart out way), it didn’t make me feel any better, mostly because it ripped my heart out.

  But now was now and I had a day to face.

  I also had money to make. I had to find somewhere to live. And I had to find a way to get through Luke and Ava’s rehearsal and dinner without totally losing it in front of everybody.

  So I got up, got a shower, sorted through my bags and got ready.

  I did this being careful. Not externally. Internally.

  I was vulnerable. I knew this.

  Yes, me.

  Ally.

  But I was.

  I’d been shown the life I wanted. Tasted the fairytale. Then I let it slip away from me. I had doubts, second thoughts, and carried pain you wouldn’t believe. Hell, I didn’t even believe it.

  So I had to forge ahead but handle me with care.

  And that was what I was going to be doing.

  My first trial was when I hit Daisy’s huge kitchen to find Daisy at the counter beating something in a bowl and Smithie and Shirleen sitting at Daisy’s kitchen table.

  All eyes came to me and I knew they knew.

  Whatever.

  “Yo,” I greeted, strolling in.

  “Ally,” Smithie replied, eyes never leaving me.

  “Come sit by Shirleen, child,” Shirleen called, also keeping her gaze locked on me.

  “You want pancakes, sugar?” Daisy asked as I moved toward the table.

  I didn’t. The idea of food made me want to hurl.

  “Sure,” I said and walked right up to Smithie.

  Then I leaned in and kissed his cheek, muttering a distracted, “Hey,” as I moved around him and did the same with Shirleen.

  After that, I sat down.

  I looked out the window knowing that these people were nuts, but they loved me and they’d be careful with me. It’d be far easier to handle if they acted normally. But they were too kind to even think of doing that.

  Therefore, I was bracing.

  And in bracing, I didn’t see Daisy, Shirleen and Smithie giving each other wide-eyed looks.

  “Uh… Ally,” Daisy called.

  I tore my eyes away from the window and my mind away from noting there were ducks in her moat and I looked at her.

  “Yeah?”

  “Know you had a tough night, honey bunch, but Shirleen and Smithie are here for a reason,” she told me.

  Fabulous.

  I looked between them and asked, “Which one first?”

  “Me,” Shirleen said so I focused my attention on her. When I did, she didn’t delay in declaring, “Your brother declines cases.”

  My head jerked.

  I didn’t expect to hear this. Demands to know what happened between Ren and me. Or how Ren wasn’t good enough for me. Or alternately how I should maybe give it more than three days of together together before I ended us. Or just kindness, and maybe sympathy.

  Not a random detail about my brother’s business.

  “Okay,” I replied cautiously.

  “He does what he does. In other words, he makes decisions and doesn’t share why with me. But I see a pattern,” she went on. “He declines when we have a full caseload and the boys are stretched to the max. Usually, though, he declines if it isn’t enough of a challenge for their badasses to bother with.”

  Suddenly, what she was saying cut through my melancholy.

  I straightened in my chair.

  “And?” I prompted.

  “And part of my job is takin’ down the preliminaries of a possible case and reporting those to him. If he’s going to decline, usually he does it without a meet. That means he doesn’t decline, I do.”

  I nodded.

  She kept talking.

  “He never says no without givin’ them a referral. Most of the shit goes to Dick Anderson. Occasionally he’ll want something referred to Sylvie Bissenette. There’s a player in town called Hawk who has specialties that aren’t Lee’s specialties and he’ll punt shit to him, too. This is rare. Most of his refusals go to Anderson.”

  “Okay,” I again said cautiously.

  “And now, some of them will go to you,” she finished.

  Oh my God.

  This was righteous!

  “Shirleen—” I started, and she lifted a hand.

  I swallowed annoyance at getting The Hand and shut up.

  “Darius has talked to me and he says you’re good. He also says he’s gonna keep workin’ with you. Brody says the same. Lee has not come down on this and I’m waitin’ to see if he will. But regardless, my nephew doesn’t talk shit to me. He says it straight. So if he says you’re good, and I’ve seen the way you are, girl, I know you got somethin’, then I’m good with punting refusals to you. But Lee trades on his reputation, and the reason he refers to Anderson, Bissenette and Hawk is that he trusts them to take care of the business he refuses. Referrals reflect on him. You fuck up, that reflects on your brother. Not only ‘cause you got the same name, but you got the business because of his referral. But his referral is one given by me. You make me regret that once, that will be the only time I regret shit.”

  “Shit happens, Shirleen,” I told her. “But whatever shit happens, I’ll bust my ass to be sure you won’t regret this. And I sure as hell won’t do anything that will reflect poorly on Lee.”

  She nodded. “I hear you. I believe you. Now, take into account that he’s not gonna know I’m doin’ this until he finds out I’m doin’ this. And he knows pretty much everything, so I figure it’ll take him about a day to find that shit out. I’ll handle him. In other words, I’m throwin’ myself in that lion’s den. For you. Don’t make me regret that shit either.”

  There were two people who could “handle” Lee. Indy. And Shirleen. Mom couldn’t even do it and had given up trying years ago.

  Though Indy’s batting average was better with that.

  Still, what Shirleen was saying was that she intended to go to the mat for me.

  “Thank you, chickie,” I murmured on a smile.

  She smiled back, reached out a hand, took mine and gave me a quick squeeze.

  Then she let me go and announced, “I need a refill. Java, Ally?”

  I nodded to her and watched her get up, grab her mug and give me rolled eyes before she took the mug Smithie had lifted her way in silent demand for more coffee.

  She headed to the pot.

  Daisy was at the grill of her massive, restaurant-quality stove flipping pancakes.

  Smithie spoke to me. “Shirleen can give you business. I already got some.”

  I looked at him and the chill that was left on my insides after ending things with Ren started warming.

  “No shit?” I asked.

  “None at all. I got a situation at the club,” he told me. “And I ain’t payin’ Lee’s prices ‘cause that shit is highway robbery. And anyway, he don’t got no bitches on staff and he took this job, Lord knows what he’d find me. I gotta have a girl backstage, which means onstage, so she’s gotta be right.” He tipped his head to me. “You’re right.”

  Oh fuck.

  This didn’t sound promising.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s what I’m gonna hire you to find out,” Smithie answered.

  “Okay, what’s happening?” I amended my question.

  “What’s happenin’ is, bitches are quiet. My bitches are never quiet. None of ‘em. Waitresses. Dancers. Even the one female bartender I got bends my ear so much it’s a wonder it ain’t torn clean off. They got boyfriend problems. They got car problems. They got childcare issues. They’re on the rag. They didn’t get their rag—”

  I rolled a hand at him
and said, “I get it. Move it on, Smithie.”

  “Right. Now?’ He shook his head. “None ‘a that shit. Not one thing,” he stated.

  “You got an idea why?” I asked as Shirleen slid mugs in front of Smithie and me.

  “Got a bouncer. Hired him, good guy, checked out. I think he snowed me ‘cause my girls… they’re scared of him.”

  The skin at the back of my neck prickled.

  “Usually,” he went on, “that kinda shit happens, it’s because he’s creepin’ and I just fire the asshole. But he wasn’t creepin’, not that I could see.”

  I nodded.

  Smithie kept talking. “But I fired him anyway. When I did, he told me he was filing a wrongful termination suit. I have no idea what that shit is. I just know I don’t want that kind of bullshit hassle. So I kept him on, kept my eye on him and set Lenny on him. Lenny’s close to graduating from DU so he’s got other shit on, but it don’t matter. Neither of us is findin’ anything. We need a girl in there to keep her eye on shit and either give me a valid reason to can his ass or give me reason to beat his ass until he’s close to not breathing. I prefer number two. But I could live with the number one, long’s it happens fast.”

  “So you need me to waitress,” I tried.

  And failed.

  “I need you to dance.”

  Oh shit.

  “Uh, Smithie—”

  He cut me off. “The waitresses don’t often go backstage. Whatever’s happening is happening back there. Bouncers will go back, provide presence, protection or so they can walk the girls to their cars. I usually ask another one to do that shit, but he comes up on rotation ‘cause I gotta be careful not to single him out and give him shit that he can give me shit about.”

  “I don’t dance,” I told him.

  “Daisy’ll teach you.”

  She would. She’d taught Lottie, Jet’s sister, Smithie’s headliner, and the premier stripper in the western half of the United States (not kidding).

  Shit!

  “We have another problem, and that is that I’m a regular there so your guy has probably seen me. He’ll know my name, particularly my last one, and he might figure out what’s going on,” I shared.

  “I already got that covered, seein’ as I been hearin’ about what you do from Darius and I been thinkin’ about talkin’ to you,” Smithie replied. “So I set it around that you got your apartment exploded and lost your job. You need money, and it ain’t like you got judgment on the girls for what they do since twice a month your ass is at a table by the stage cheerin’ them on. All ‘a them are where they are ‘cause they got in tight places. No doubt about it, you’re in a tight place. Not one a’ them will blink, your ass hits my stage.”