Rock Chick 07 Regret (76 page)

Mr. Edge

Sadie

As all others around me clapped, hooted and screamed, I stood stunned with my mouth hanging open, staring at the darkened stage.

Roxie leaned into me and screamed, “She’s the shit, isn’t she?”

Still too stunned to look away from the stage, I just nodded.

* * * * *

After the traumatic pre-breakfast events and relearning to make scrambled eggs with Blanca, Ralphie called and told me that the news of the Balduccis going down was so good, he’d changed that evening from a cozy dinner for four to “A Big Ol’ Blowout” (Ralphie’s words). All the Rock Chicks (plus Tod and Stevie, Duke and Tex) were invited to Ralphie and Buddy’s for a “The Balducci Brothers Have Finally Been Brought Down Blowout”. We ate Ralphie’s hors d’ouevres (which were actually really good). Jet brought some chocolate, caramel brownies that were to-die-for, Indy brought a humungous bag of whole, salted cashews and the rest of the girls brought enough booze for fifteen Balducci Brothers Blowouts.

Hector and the Hot Bunch, all busy with other activities (likely cleaning up my problems, I still didn’t know what this meant and didn’t ask, not because I didn’t want to know, because I’d had a hectic day, what with sorting through my thoughts, my Mom’s stuff and helping Ralphie and Buddy with the party), managed to show their faces even if it was for a few minutes. They shifted through, eating, having a soda, toasting to one of the gazillion boisterous Balducci Brothers Have Finally Been Brought Down Toasts (the Rock Chicks started a competition for the best toast, Ally declared Shirleen the winner with her “Burn Motherfuckers Burn” toast) and then sliding out again.

Later, when we got bored with the toasts and were full up with food, it was time to consider alternate party activities and Stevie suggested a Yahtzee marathon (too many people).
 
Ralphie suggested a Veronica Mars marathon (not active enough). Ally suggested travelling up to Fort Collins to see Stella’s gig (we were drinking too much, it was too far away and the gig had already started). Then Jet suggested we go to Smithie’s, a strip club.

Everyone agreed to Smithie’s.

In my sheltered life, I’d never had cause to think of strip clubs or strippers much less consider the possibility I’d ever go to a club and see a stripper. Since Daisy had stripped there in a past life, Jet had worked there as a cocktail waitress when her thing was going on with Eddie and the bad guys and Jet’s sister was currently the top dancer for Smithie and, Jet told me (with pride), she was the finest stripper in the Rocky Mountain Region, I thought it best not to pass judgment.

Though, I wasn’t certain sure about hanging out at a strip club.

* * * * *

At Indy’s request, I phoned Jack at the offices to ask him to put a callout for rides to the club as we’d already been drinking heavily and apparently the Hot Bunch didn’t only act as protectors and bad business cleaner-uppers, they were also on call to be designated drivers when the Rock Chicks were tying one on.

This, by the way, was my fourth call to Jack that day.

This was how the last call went:

Me: “Jack?”

Jack (loud and angry): “Would you quit fuckin’ callin’? I was just clipped. It took six measly
 
stitches to close it up. For the last time, I’m fuckin’ fine!”

Me (snappy and impatient): “Well! Don’t blame me for worrying! No one has ever been shot keeping me safe before!”

Jack (after an angry sigh): “I’m beginnin’ to wish I hadn’t put on the vest.”

Me (full of attitude): “Jack, you’re just going to have to deal. It’s like they do when someone saves someone’s life and for the rest of that someone’s life, the other someone looks out for them.”

Jack (now angry and confused): “What?”

Me (just confused): “I don’t know. I think it’s Asian. Maybe the samurai?”

Jack (muttering): “Jesus. Chavez owes me big for this.”

Me (deciding to move on): “Anyway, we need designated drivers. We’re going to Smithie’s.”

Jack: “I’m on it.”

Disconnect (without a good-bye).

Well!

* * * * *

Hector, Matt and Bobby showed up, everyone squeezed into SUVs (tightly) and we rolled out to the strip club. Hector took Ralphie, Buddy, Daisy, Ally and I in his Bronco. The men escorted us in, right past the long line outside that was standing at the velvet rope (without the doorman even looking twice at us) and through the doors. We’d barely cleared the doors when a big, on the good side of middle aged black man approached and, just like Tex, he cleared a path through the club and shoved some men away from tables at the front, left side of the stage. We followed in his wake.

“VIPs, fuckin’
move,
” he shouted at the men at the tables and they scurried immediately.

Wow, the Rock Chicks were something!

Jumping the velvet rope and front row seats at a strip club!

How bizarre (and cool) was
that?

Then he turned to me and opened his mouth but before he said a word, Jet was there.

“No, Smithie, she doesn’t dance.”

Smithie turned wide eyes to Jet. “What? You think I’m crazy? Askin’ Seth Townsend’s daughter to strip for me? He’d have my balls for dinner, battered and fried.”

Oh my.

Me?

Stripping?

Oh.

My.

Jet looked like she was going to mouth off so I intervened.

“I’m Sadie,” I told him unnecessarily and put my hand out.

My small hand was engulfed in his big one and he squeezed.

“I’m Smithie and I know who you are. Heard about you. Thought all the talk was bullshit but you actually do look like a fuckin’ fairy princess.”

I smiled at him and leaned in. “That’s nice but I know it’s not really true.”

He’d
leaned
in to listen but leaned back, brows drawn and said, “Bitch, look in a mirror. You’re right out of a fuckin’ movie.”

I was a little shocked he called me a bitch but by the way he spoke I didn’t think he meant anything bad by it.

Then he leaned back in and proved me right when he went on, “It’s too fuckin’ bad they don’t fry men for what Ricky Balducci did to you. He got the chair, I’d be happy to flip the fuckin’ switch.”

My eyes got big at what he said but not the part about him obviously knowing I’d been raped. I’d realized by that time the Rock Chicks didn’t keep secrets, not even personal ones. He pulled away again, dropped my hand and looked at Hector.

“You stayin’?” he asked Hector.

“Nope. Lenny on tonight?” Hector replied.

Smithie nodded, said (bizarrely), “He’s on her,” then he left.

Hector curled me into his heat with an arm around my neck and I looked up at him.

“Boys’re busy but you’ll have rides home,” he told me. “Lenny is one of Smithie’s bouncers. He’s good. Lee tried to recruit him but he couldn’t work for Lee and study for his Master’s at DU at the same time. Even though he’s good, he’s untrained so don’t make it tough on him, keep him in sight at all times and don’t let the girls talk you into anything stupid.”

I nodded. Hector kept talking.

“I get done before you leave, I’ll come get you, we’ll sleep at my place. You get done before I get here, you go home with Ralphie and Buddy and I’ll be there later.”

I tilted my head to the side and asked, “Do you want me to wait up for you?”

He shook his head and answered with a demand, “Give me your keys.”

I gave him my brownstone keys and the alarm code. He kissed me quick and hard and he was gone, leaving me swaying.

Then we sat. Lenny, a huge, tall, muscular, midnight-skinned black man materialized and positioned himself behind my chair. Shirleen talked me into trying appletinis (they were
fab
). We gossiped, giggled and sometimes watched the strippers.

I sat there thinking it was definitely my second best day ever.

Not just my friends and the Balducci Blowout party but also because, that afternoon, Vance took me to my father’s storage locker. Hector was busy but at his arrangement (which, personally, I thought was ultra-sweet and super thoughtful and worth some sort of payback but I’d have to think of something other than a building or an island, maybe something that involved lingerie), Daisy and Kitty Sue met us there.

Vance opened the locker and, with a hand on the small of my back, pushed me in walking in behind me. He turned on the light but it hit me before the unit was illuminated.

The smell.

My mother’s perfume, White Shoulders.

I hadn’t smelled that smell in years.

I took a step back and my shoulder ran into Vance’s hard body.

I stopped, frozen for a moment then twisted my head to look up at Vance.

“Her perfume,” I whispered, tears stinging the backs of my eyes.

His hand slid up my back to my neck and his fingers curled there, giving me a squeeze.

“We can come back,” he told me, his voice and eyes soft.

I took in a deep breath, shook my head and Vance and I walked in, the weird, warm, reassurance of Vance’s hand didn’t leave my neck until I dropped to my knees at the first box.

We stayed there an hour, all of us going through boxes (except Vance who, after helping me through my initial weird out, stood outside). I cried a little bit and Daisy held me. Kitty Sue cried a little bit and I held her.

When we left, I had a list in my purse of the things I’d come back and get later but there were two things I took then.

I’d uncovered a framed photo, a photo I’d forgotten existed but it used to sit, pride of place, on our mantel. It was a picture unlike anything the Seth Townsend of now would allow. It was taken when I was six, out in our backyard, by a professional photographer. However the setting was casual, my Mom’s flower-filled garden in the background, and the pose was natural. My father sat in a garden chair and had Mom in his lap, his arm around her waist, his fingers curled at her hip. Both her arms were around his shoulders and she had her cheek against his. I was standing, pressed into his other side, his other arm wrapped around my little kid body, my head leaning into his chest. Mom and I were laughing at the camera, I didn’t remember why. My father wasn’t laughing but he was smiling, not like something amused him but like he was happy and
precisely
where he wanted to be.

I couldn’t believe I forgot that photo.

Then, forcing myself to get over it, I vowed I’d never forget it again.

I also found something else I forgot. The necklace Mom used to wear all of the time. My faded memory banks were uncertain but I thought she’d stopped wearing it a year or so before she disappeared.

It was a thin gold chain which hung to the dip in the throat and linked on either side to a pendant that was a connected, scrolled, elegant “E” and “S” the top curve of the “E” and the bottom curve of the “S” each had a diamond in it.

When we left, I held the picture to my belly, the necklace in my fist and I got in Vance’s Explorer.

I asked Ralphie and Buddy and they let me put the picture on their shelves.

I put the necklace on for the party.

Then I helped my boys get ready for the party. The girls and guys came over, we drank, we toasted, we ate, we went to the strip club and we had a complete and total blast.

After awhile, Jet’s sister, Lottie came on and I forever would never cast judgment on strippers again. She was sultry, she was intoxicating, she could move so beautifully it was art, not stripping. She had me enthralled within seconds and on my feet (with everyone else) after moments. She danced for two songs and only took her fabulous, turquoise-and-peacock-blue-sequined bra off at the last minute, exposing perfect breasts for only a flash before the lights went black.

She was, as Roxie said,
the shit
.

No doubt about it.

“Oh… my… God!” I shouted to Roxie and Jet’s eyes came to me. “I want to be her.” I looked at Jet. “Do you think she’ll teach me to dance?”