Rock Chick 03 Redemption (42 page)

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. Final y, 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 wel 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 pul 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’l tel you the number.” With trembling hands, I pul ed 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 cal ing.”

“What the…” I started to say.

Uncle Tex, to my knowledge, never used the cel phone I bought him and his cel was the only number of his I had programmed in my phone.

I flipped it open. “Hel o?”

“Why’d you drive by? Saw you doin’ it, fuckin hel ,” 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 scrol ing 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 ful body wag, he head-butted Hank’s thighs.

That’s al 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; tal , curvy, she’d gone a bit round and her hair was now dyed blonde.

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 bel y.

Obviously, Uncle Tex had done as he’d threatened and cal ed my Mom.

Shit.

“Sweet Jesus,” my mother repeated, stil 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 pul ed 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 swel ing on my face was long gone and the bruising was (almost) completely gone, the scabs where Bil y cut me with his rings were healing but stil 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 rol ed back into her head.

“The Lord our Savior heard my prayers,” she told the inside of her eyebal s.

“Mom!” I cried, sounding uppity.

Her eyes rol ed 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 kil 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 pul ed me to him with an arm around my neck.

“Sweet Jesus! Sweet, sweet Jesus!” Mom cal ed to the Savior, caught up in the divine intervention that was Hank and me.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Stop cal ing 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, cal ing 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 fil ed with tears.

“Mom,” I muttered, staring at her.

Her eyes fil ed 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 told me,” Dad didn’t sound happy and he turned to Hank. “How ‘bout we talk?”

“Dad,” I butted in.

Dad interrupted me. “Tex tel s me these are good people and they know what they’re doin’. I believe him. But, Roxanne Gisel e 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.” 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 real y in trouble.

Dad approved of Hank.

I knew he would but I didn’t know it’d make me feel al warm and squishy inside.

“I’l stay behind,” Uncle Tex offered.

Dad nodded and turned to Hank. “That work for you?” Hank didn’t look happy but he also nodded.

Then his eyes came to rest on me.

I heard his non-verbalized request and walked to him.

His arms came around me.

“We’l be quick,” he told me.

“Okay.”

“Lock the door and don’t open it to anyone,” Hank said.

“Okay,” I replied.

“The couch in the office pul s out into a bed. Your parents want to stay here, they’re welcome,” he went on.

That was
not
okay but I said, “Okay,” anyway.

He grinned at me and I got the impression he knew my thoughts. Then he kissed my forehead, let me go and nodded to my Dad.

Then they were gone.

“He’s
cute
,” Mom said to the closed door.

Shamus came and sat on my feet so I gave him an ear scratch.

“You’re not spending the night here,” I told my mother.

“Your father doesn’t want you out of his sight,” Mom told me.

“He just went to a bar with Hank,” I pointed out.

“Wel , you know what I mean,” Mom returned.

“I’l get you a hotel.”

“You are not getting us a hotel. We’ve got money. Don’t fight it, it’s a parent thing.”

“Mom,” I whined (yes, whined).

“Roxanne Gisel e –”

“Trish, for fuck’s sake, she’s sleepin’ with the guy. Get a fuckin’ clue,” Uncle Tex boomed.

I stared at Uncle Tex in horror.

Mom was total y unaffected.

“That’s okay. I’m liberated,” Mom announced. “I’l talk Herb into being liberated too. I don’t think he’l care though, he likes Hank. I can tel .”

Mom had never been “liberated” before. Bil y and I had always slept in separate bedrooms when we visited, and my brother Gil and my sister Mimi also had the same arrangements with their girlfriends and boyfriends and Gil had been living with his girlfriend for three years.

I looked at Uncle Tex. “Please make them stay with you.”

“It’s outta my hands,” Uncle Tex said.

I sighed and gave in. I was too exhausted from my weird day and two bouts of crying fits to fight it.

“I like his house,” Mom announced. “It’s cozy but it needs candles. And his dog is so cute!” Mom bent over and cooed at Shamus. Shamus sauntered over to her, smel ed her outstretched hand and then gave her a sloppy, wet, doggie kiss on her cheek. “Ooo! He’s sweet!” I turned to Uncle Tex. “Wil you shoot me?” I asked.

He put his big hand on top of my head and smiled.

When Hank and Dad walked into the living room after going out for a drink, Dad’s face didn’t look ravaged with worry anymore, which I thought was a good thing. Also, when Hank and Dad walked into the living room after going out for a drink, they were carrying Mom and Dad’s luggage, which I thought was a very, very bad thing.

“Since we were out there, we got the bags from the rental car. And you women say men can’t multi-task,” Dad declared, dumping the luggage in the living room.

“Oh dear Lord, he remembers one thing and he wants to be congratulated,” Mom sighed and looked at me. “Men.” I wasn’t in the mood for Mom and Dad’s bickering, I was staring at the luggage.

“You aren’t staying here,” I said.

Dad looked at me, confused. “Hank said we could.” I looked at Hank, then to Mom, then Dad, then Tex and then I rol ed my eyes.

I just didn’t have it in me.

“Oh, al right,” I gave in.

Mom and I got the sheets and extra pil ows and made up the bed. Hank got beers from the fridge and we al talked.

Uncle Tex left, then I kissed Mom and Dad good night and they went to bed.

Nary a word was said about the sleeping arrangements.

Hank put an arm around my shoulders and walked me to his bedroom, hitting the lights as we walked through the rooms.

“I’m going to have to sleep on the couch,” I told him once we’d made it to his bedroom. I got my nightie from under the pil ow and started toward the bathroom while saying,

“Do you have another blanket?”

“You aren’t sleepin’ on the couch,” Hank told my back, as if that was that. Then he said, “I’l let Shamus out.” I turned around and saw him walk out of the room.

Wel .