Rock Chick 03 Redemption (45 page)

The whole time she talked, she kept her hand over eyes.

“Yeah, we heard,” I told her. “Mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?” she lifted her head a bit, hand stil on her eyes.

“Go away.”

“Right, right. Going,” then she closed the door.

We heard movements, keys jingling, doors slamming, the whole time I lay on my back and watched Hank. His eyes were looking in the vicinity of my col arbone, his head slightly cocked, listening while a smile played about his mouth

When the noise died down, I said to him, “I’m sorry.” He dipped his head, rubbed his nose against mine and my bel y melted.

“My parents are a little nutty,” I went on.

He looked me in the eye. “Sunshine, first off, Tex is your uncle. And, no offense, I mean it as a compliment, but you’re anything but normal. It isn’t like I wasn’t prepared.”

“They’re nice people,” I explained, kind of desperately.

We’d just sorted things out. I’d taken a huge chance on us. I’d even promised to move to Denver. I didn’t want everything to go bal s-up in less than a day. I was hoping he wouldn’t take what he just heard as an indication of his future life and run, hel bent for leather, to the next state and far away from me, my Mom and my Dad.

His hand came up and he trailed a finger down my hairline. He watched his finger, then his hand curled around my neck and his eyes came to mine. “I know that,” he said.

Obviously, he wasn’t in fear of a nutty future life, or, maybe, he was just resigned to it.

Either one worked for me.

I lifted up and touched my lips to his and then settled on the pil ows again.

After I’d done that, I noticed the amusement was out of his eyes, the lazy was stil there but there was also intensity.

“Any hope that your Mom went with your Dad to find buttermilk?” he asked, his eyes on my mouth.

I knew what he was asking and my melted bel y did a funny, but pleasant, twist.

“She was in her robe,” I pointed out.

His lips came to mine. “Yeah,” he said against my lips and I could hear the regret.

I smiled against his mouth and watched, close up, as his eyes went languid.

“Kids!” Mom yel ed from somewhere in the house.

Hank pul ed away a bit, shook his head and smiled. It was a good bet he hadn’t been cal ed a kid in a very long time.

“Yeah?” I yel ed back.

“I’m taking Shamus for a walk. I got the key from the hook by the door and I’m locking you in. You two rest,” Then we heard the door open and shut and she was gone.

Hank didn’t hesitate, his arms came around me, he rol ed me to the side and his face went to my neck.

It was clear we weren’t going to “rest”.

“How much time do you think we have?” he asked.

“Not long,” I answered honestly. Mom wasn’t exactly into exercise.

Hank’s lips came up my jaw to my mouth.

“We’l be fast,” he murmured there.

“No, Hank, I need to get up. Mom’l be back –” He took my hand in his and pul ed it between us, wrapping my fingers around him.

He was rock hard.

My bel y twist turned into a dip and I felt a spasm between my legs.

“We’l be fast,” I said.

He grinned and then he kissed me.

* * * * *

We were sitting around the dining room table. I was wearing my nightie with Hank’s plaid, flannel bathrobe wrapped tight around me. It’d been washed, like, a mil ion times and it was huge, soft and snugly. It smel ed like him and, the minute I put it on, I decided I never wanted to take it off.

Dad was pointedly eating a donut, glaring at Mom and shunning her buttermilk pancakes.

H e
had
found buttermilk and I suspected this was not only because he usual y gave in to Mom (because he loved her), but also because he knew it was my favorite breakfast (and he loved me too).

Stil , 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 cal ing Hank a boy? He’s a grown man, for goodness sakes.”

“He’s your brother’s age, Roxanne Gisel e, 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 al that,” I told him.

Mom sat down with her own plate and got al 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 stil mumbling but his eyes slid to Hank and he rol ed them.

“Do not rol 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 hil s.”

Mom’s eyes bugged out and her fork clattered to her plate. “Do not tel him to run for the hil s! Sweet Jesus!” she cal ed 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 bel y 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 smal 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 mal , 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! Al cut up and fal ing 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 hil s or tel us al to get the hel 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 tel ing 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 footbal team.” I sighed, heavy and huge, and forked into my pancakes.

* * * * *

“Damn, Tex, this is fuckin’ great!” Dad yel ed, real y 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, al 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, chil . They’re sweet,” Daisy said.

“What do you say you cal this? Lah-tay?” Dad, who was not one for fancy coffee drinks, asked, again loudly, cal ing our attention back to him. He stil 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’l fuckin’ flip over those turtle sundaes they make at Miriam’s with the frozen custard. Swear to Christ, thought your mother would rol 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’l 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 al now looking at me, al of them grinning. Except Luke, who was looking down at his boots but I could tel 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 bel 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 sel 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 normal y 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.