Rock Chick Rescue

by Kristen Ashley

  I felt my stomach drop to my toes.

  Dad put his hands out, palms up.

  “I don’t have it on me, Slick. Who carries that kind of cake around? I’ll go get it and—”

  “Yeah,” Slick said, looking beyond Dad to me, “You go get it and I’ll just take your pretty little girl with me and we’ll have some fun while you’re gettin’ it.”

  My heart fell to my toes to keep my stomach company.

  “Slick,” Dad said.

  Slick pulled out a knife.

  “No more talkin’.”

  Then everything happened so fast, I didn’t have time to think.

  Dad pushed me back, yelling, “Run!”

  I would have run (maybe) but instead, I teetered on my slut shoes (this time, a pair of forties-style black sandals with peek-a-boo toes and a thin ankle strap) and fell down, hard, on my behind.

  Dad charged forward and I saw the flash of a knife.

  I didn’t think. I got to my feet, screaming at the top of my lungs and ran forward too. Dad had jerked Slick around, grappling with the knife and Slick’s back was to me. I jumped on it, wrapping my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and squeezed as hard as I could.

  Slick disengaged from Dad, ran backwards and slammed me into a wall and my head flew back and cracked against the plaster.

  “Don’t hurt my girl,” Dad shouted and lunged forward again.

  “Go, Dad. Get out of here!” I yelled.

  All of a sudden, there was a bunch of people. I was holding onto Slick in a death grip and he was jerking this way and that, trying to dislodge me. There were men shouting, women screaming, hands on me trying to pull me away.

  Then Slick whirled and began to slash out randomly with the knife and everyone jumped back, including, I vaguely noticed, Vance, the hot guy who worked for Lee.

  Then Tanya rushed forward and started beating Slick with her tray, using it when she needed as a shield. Vance grabbed her by the waist, picking her up bodily, her legs pedaling, still hitting out at thin air with the tray, and he pulled her down the hall.

  Slick turned, ran to the fire exit, twisted his body so his weight and momentum both had me slamming against the door. The cross bar tagged my hip so hard, I cried out and let go, landing unsteadily on my slut shoes and Slick ran away.

  I had no time to think or do anything. The fire alarm went off and it was blaring loudly.

  Then Smithie had a hold of me, he shoved me and I landed in Lenny’s arms.

  “Take her inside and do not fuckin’ leave her side,” Smithie said then took off after Slick.

  Lenny pulled me inside, Vance (without Tanya) passed us at a run, going out the backdoor.

  I didn’t hesitate, I dragged Lenny around the whole club, looking for Dad. I was limping, kind of, because my hip and butt bone both hurt like hell.

  There was no sign of him.

  When I yanked Lenny back into the club from the dancer’s dressing room, the lights were on full, the fire alarm had been turned off, the stage was empty, people were standing around and the cops were there.

  I scanned the people to see if I could find my Dad, but he wasn’t there.

  “Fuck!” I shouted, because it was definitely the time to say the f-word.

  Smithie came in from outside, breathing heavy, and bore down on me. “You wanna tell me what in the fuck is goin’ on?” he yelled.

  “I don’t know! I have to find my Dad. He was here and Slick was after him.”

  “Forget your Dad. We’re talkin’ about you. That’s twice you had some fuckin’ guy with a knife after you.”

  “He isn’t after me,” I told him.

  “No, from where I stood, it fuckin’ looked like you were after him,” Smithie shot back.

  “He pulled a knife on my Dad!” I yelled.

  “Someone pulls a knife, you get the fuck outta Dodge. You don’t jump on his back. Fuck! You’re a crazy woman!” Smithie shouted.

  “I’m not crazy!” I shouted back

  A plain-clothes police officer walked up and interrupted us with a soft cough. He introduced himself as Detective Jimmy Marker and told me he had to ask a few questions.

  Smithie pointed at me, “You’re a pain in my fuckin’ ass.” Then he stomped away.

  The detective had the opportunity to ask me two questions before his eyes moved beyond me and his chin lifted in that silent greeting men do so well.

  Then I felt fingers curl into the waistband of my mini-skirt.

  I began to turn around when I heard Eddie say, “Give me a minute, Jimmy.”

  Uh-oh.

  Jimmy looked at Eddie, his eyes knowing and maybe slightly amused, though I didn’t know what in the hell was amusing right now. He nodded and wandered away.

  Eddie pulled me back a few steps and moved in front of me. One look at his face and “uh-oh” didn’t do it justice, it was definitely the kind of look that garnered a “holy shit”.

  Eddie was seriously pissed off.

  I tell you, I couldn’t buy a break.

  Before I could say anything, Eddie turned to Lenny, who had still not left my side. He communicated something nonverbally because Lenny said, “I got orders not to leave her.”

  Eddie fished in his back jeans pocket and flashed his badge.

  Lenny nodded, looked at me and moved away.

  “Eddie…” I said before he started but he lifted up his hand, Smithie style, and I shut up.

  I was getting “the hand” a lot these days and it was beginning to tick me off.

  He waited a beat, hooking his badge onto the belt on his jeans. Then he shook his head.

  “You know, I don’t even know what to say,” he said.

  “Let me explain.”

  “You got an explanation for this? This I have to hear.”

  I actually didn’t have an explanation so I fell silent.

  “That’s what I thought,” Eddie said.

  All right, enough was enough. I mean, what would he do?

  “What could I do? He had a knife and was fighting with Dad. I had to jump on his back and try to help!” I yelled.

  Okay, so before, it actually was an “uh-oh” moment and this was a “holy shit” moment.

  Eddie’s face changed and he looked at me like I just told him I wanted to go to Pluto for Spring Break.

  “I hadn’t heard that part,” Eddie said in his scary quiet voice.

  “Eddie—“ I started again.

  He didn’t let me finish.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  This wasn’t said in a quiet voice, this was shouted and everyone, cops, bouncers, dancers and waitresses turned to stare.

  I opened my mouth to defend myself (as if I had to, I mean, really, it was my Dad) but didn’t get a word out.

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” As if things weren’t bad enough with pissed off, shouting Eddie, Smithie showed up at our tête-à-tête.

  “It wasn’t like I asked to wrestle in the hallway with a guy with a knife.” I said to the both of them, pissed off myself now, hands on hips and everything.

  “You see a knife, you run as fast as you fuckin’ can,” Smithie said.

  Now he was repeating himself.

  “You run in these shoes,” I told him.

  “That’s it. You wear tennis shoes on shift from now on.”

  My eyes widened and I stared. None of Smithie’s girls wore tennis shoes. The cocktail waitresses were required to have no less than a three-inch heel (I saw Smithie measure once) and the strippers wore sky-high platforms.

  “I can’t wear tennis shoes!” I snapped. “Do you know what that’d do to my tips?”

  Now both Eddie and Smithie were staring at me like I’d donated my brain to science pre-mortem.

  Smithie turned to Eddie. “I’m leavin’ her in your hands. You fuckin’ deal with her.” And he stalked away. Again.

  Eddie dragged a hand through his hair.

  “Eddie,” Jimmy Marker was back, “I reall
y gotta ask her a few questions.”

  Eddie flipped his hand out in an annoyed “go ahead” gesture but didn’t leave my side as Detective Marker asked me questions. I told him my story (feeling Eddie get more and more tense as I told it; don’t ask me how I felt this, trust me, I just knew). Detective Marker took notes and asked me if I knew how to get a hold of my Dad— which I didn’t.

  He took my number, turned to Eddie and said, “She’s all yours.”

  Not good.

  Before Eddie could do or say anything, I walked quickly to the bar to get my coat, sweater and purse. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d go away.

  I took off my apron, pulling out my cell and slapped the apron on the top of the bar to begin cashing out.

  Smithie was behind the bar, glaring at me.

  “Am I fired?” I asked.

  Smithie snatched the apron away and said, “You’re a pain in my fuckin’ ass, that’s what you are.” He shoved the apron under the bar and shoved my stuff at me, “I’ll cash you out. I’ll have your tips ready for you on Friday.”

  Guess I wasn’t fired.

  Then, I noticed, down the bar, Lee was standing and talking to Vance.

  Shit and damn.

  My night was now complete.

  What was Lee doing here?

  “Hey Lee,” I called, trying to be cool.

  He looked up, his eyes flicked behind me, he grinned broad and he looked back at me.

  “Jet,” he said.

  I smiled at Vance who was also grinning, his eyes giving my body a sweep, then his grin broadened to a breathtaking, white smile when his gaze caught mine. Then he looked behind me and I felt a hand curl around my upper arm.

  “Let’s go,” Eddie said in my ear.

  I stiffened and turned. Obviously, the ignoring thing didn’t work.

  I tried another evasive tactic.

  “Lenny’s taking me home,” I said.

  That didn’t work either. Eddie steered me toward the front door.

  “No one’s takin’ you home. You’re comin’ to my place.”

  Eek!

  I dug in my heels and pulled my arm out of his hand.

  “I can’t. I have to get home,” I told him.

  “You aren’t going home,” he said.

  I stared at him.

  “I have to go home.”

  “You aren’t safe at home. You’ll be safe with me and that’s where you’re stayin’.”

  At his words, panic filled me. “You think Slick will go to my apartment?” I asked.

  “I think Slick’ll do just about anything to get his thirty K.”

  My stomach rolled and I leaned forward.

  “But, my Mom’s there. She can’t…” I stopped talking and then, not meaning to, I gave him the girlie “please” look that worked on Smithie, “Eddie, I have to go home.”

  He looked at me for several seconds then he muttered, “Fuck.”

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. “I’ll take you home.”

  Relief flooded through me as he pushed through the front doors.

  “Thanks Eddie.”

  My relief was short-lived.

  “We’ll stop by my place on the way. I’ll pick up a change of clothes.”

  Eek, eek and eek!

  “What?” I shouted.

  Eddie stopped by his truck. “You don’t stay at my place, then I’m stayin’ at yours.”

  No.

  No, no, no.

  “I’m sure I’ll be all right,” I assured him.

  “I’m sure too, mainly because I’ll be there to make sure,” Eddie said, opening the passenger side door.

  “We don’t have a lot of room,” I said to him as he helped me into his truck.

  He stood in the opened door, looking at me.

  “You got a couch?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, and wished I didn’t, “But it isn’t very comfortable.”

  “You sleep on it?”

  “No.”

  “Your Mom sleep on it?”

  This wasn’t getting any better.

  “No,” I answered.

  “Then you have room.”

  “Eddie…” I said to the slamming door.

  Eddie swung in behind the wheel and my mind whirled, trying to find some excuse, any excuse, for Eddie not to come to my house, spend the night on the couch, protecting me from men with knives.

  I couldn’t find one.

  He started the truck and off we went… to my doom.

  Chapter Six

  It Was Time to Take Things in My Own Hands

  The alarm went off and I stared at it.

  5:20 am.

  I hated my life.

  I hit snooze.

  My alarm went again.

  5:27 am.

  I really hated my life.

  I hit snooze again.

  My alarm went again.

  5:34 am.

  Seriously, my life sucked.

  I turned off the alarm, rolled out of bed and, still half asleep, shuffled out the door, through the living room and into the kitchen. I opened the coffee filter to make sure Mom had set it up last night with coffee. She did, so I flipped the switch. I shuffled back through the living room and down the short hall, yawning and pulling my hair away from my face with one of my hands.

  I knocked on Mom’s bedroom door and when I heard her call, I opened it and leaned against the doorjamb. I didn’t have the energy to hold my body upright.

  “Mornin’, Mama,” I said across the room.

  “Mornin’, doll face,” Mom replied sleepily.

  “You getting up?”

  I lifted both my hands to pull my hair off my neck and bundle it on the top of my head and I left my hands there.

  Mom tried to get up with me in the mornings, that way I could get her sorted before I went to work. She could sleep while I worked, not to mention she could go to bed early.

  “Sure, I’ll have breakfast with you,” Mom said.

  “You wanna try it alone today? Or do you want me to help?” I asked.

  Mom was walking around a bit. Depending on her energy levels, she could get herself in and out of her chair, to the bathroom, around the apartment, even stand at the kitchen counter for awhile. She was also doing a lot better at getting herself dressed, which was exhausting one-handed. The PT and OT told her she’d get used to it, get stronger, and it would eventually be a walk in the park (literally). Even though progress was slow, it was happening.

  Mornings were good. Evenings were not so good. Ada came over at night to watch TV with Mom because Ada wanted the company but also to be close to Mom in case something happened. Ada was too old to do transfers or pick Mom up if she fell, but she could make a phone call or go down the hall to one of the more able-bodied neighbors.

  “I’m gonna try it alone,” Mom told me, ever the trooper.

  “Okeydoke.” I said, pulling the door to but keeping it slightly ajar so she could have privacy but I could hear if she called. I turned away, my hands going back to holding up my hair, my eyes to the floor. I walked a step and then stopped dead.

  I saw two bare feet, their heels and ankles covered with the hems of some faded jeans. My eyes traveled up the jeans, hit a set of well-defined abdominal muscles covered in luscious olive skin. The abs gave way to a very nice chest and shoulders and on top of it all was Eddie’s head, complete with sexy-sleepy eyes and messy hair.

  I froze and stared.

  I totally forgot about Eddie.

  “Where’s your bathroom?” he asked, his voice slightly gruff from sleep.

  I didn’t have the capacity to speak, so I just took one of my hands from my hair and pointed at a door.

  He walked the three steps to me, stopped, put his hand to my jaw and brushed his lips against mine. A thrill of electricity tore through my body, rooting me to the spot and then he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

  I stood there a second, then whirled and ran to Mom’s bedroom, suddenly full of en
ergy. I threw her door open and charged in, then closed it behind me.

  Mom had the light on and was sitting on the side of the bed. Her head shot around and she looked at me, her eyes bright and wide-awake. “Was that a man’s voice I heard?” she asked.

  I didn’t answer.

  What could I say? I was in a tizzy.

  I ran to her bathroom, throwing on the light and staring at myself in the mirror. Thank God, I didn’t look a fright. Face free of makeup and I didn’t have a bedhead. In fact, Trixie’s new ‘do seemed the ultimate, it looked good all the time, even after I’d slept on it.

  When I turned around, Mom was standing, leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom. “What’s happening?” she asked.

  “I forgot to tell you, Eddie’s here,” I said.

  Her eyes got wide.

  “You brought a man home last night?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It isn’t what you—”

  “That’s great!” she cried.

  I closed my eyes.

  My mother.

  I opened my eyes.

  “Mom, it isn’t what you think. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later.”

  “You have a lot of long stories lately, none, incidentally, that you’ve actually told me.”

  I didn’t have time for this. It was morning and Eddie was there.

  “Mom,” I whined, sounding like a six year old, “Eddie’s here!”

  Mom looked at me for a second, nodded and turned, all business. “Right. I need to use the bathroom then you can help me get my bra on and I’ll get dressed.”

  We took care of Mom first and I left her to the dressing bit. I used her bathroom and her face soap and tore her brush through my hair. I stared at myself in her mirror. I was wearing the LA Dodgers nightshirt that my sister sent me. It was huge and shapeless and came down to about mid-thigh. Eddie had already seen me in it, which wasn’t exactly devastating but I wished I’d been wearing some cute, girlie pajamas or a nightie.

  I didn’t know what to do, if I got all dolled up before appearing in the common areas of the apartment, I’d look like I was trying too hard. But the Dodgers nightshirt lacked panache.

  Who was I kidding? It was me who lacked panache. I’d just have to go with it.

  By the time I was out of her bathroom, Mom was no longer in her room so I went into the hallway and the main bathroom door was open. I ducked in quickly, brushed my teeth and came out, hearing voices coming from the kitchen.