Rock (Hard Rock Harlots #4) (16 page)

A
fter our victory
over the evil villainesses Lizzie and Anna, Eliza and Gabrielle join the KBF crew to celebrate Thanksgiving in style, which means we hit the local all-you-can-eat buffet and snarf down cold, sneezed-on turkey and dressing. This place doesn’t have any turkey testicles, much to Shades’s disappointment, but when you get to spend a holiday surrounded by family—because that’s what my bandmates are—you don’t really notice the lack of poppers in your life.

As my friends and lovers sit around the table, digesting their meals, debating whether to have pumpkin or pecan pie for dessert, and reliving stories from the road over the past year, my thoughts can’t help but tiptoe to Shades’s and Eliza’s last Thanksgiving.

Three hundred sixty-five days ago, the two of them were definitely knocking boots, and possibly creating the cute little alien curled up in Eliza’s arms now. I study Eliza’s face. She’s always smiling and never complains about being a single mom. Eliza doesn’t get upset or frazzled around the baby. She’s a total natural at it and seems as laid-back as Shades. Maybe that’s what attracted them to each other.

What’s it like to be a mother? Does it hurt to give birth? I mean, of course, it hurts, but how much? Is it worth all the pain and sacrifice? Giving up so much of yourself for someone else?

Not a single thought about being a mom ever crossed my mind until this pair gave me a reason to wonder what, if anything, I might be missing by not making that choice.

For me, it will
have
to be a choice. I never want to bring a kid into this world by accident. If I’m gonna do it, it’ll be planned, and engineered with all the right intentions. You can bet your granny panties this IUD up my twat’s gonna remain firmly in place for a long damn time.

But not necessarily forever.

Maybe.

“You want to hold her?” Eliza interrupts my stupid musings.

“Yeah! Do you mind?”

The table talk silences and all breathing stops. Five heads turn toward me, and everybody freezes.

“What?” I say to them, stuffing my hands under Gabrielle’s arms.
Just like donning oven mitts and taking a turkey out of an oven, right?
I hold her a little less awkwardly than the first time. Her toothless mouth smiles at me.

Shades nudges me with a shoulder and gazes at her perfect face. “You like your Aunt Letty, don’t you? She’s not as crusty as she’d have you believe.”

I swat his arm. “Hey, I am
not
crusty! Eww!”

“Is Letty holding …” Rax sniffs the air, “… a
baby
?”

“I think she is.” Jinx beams at me as Toombs beams at her. “And that baby looks good on her too.”

Shaking his head, Rax returns to his pumpkin pie, stabs a piece with his fork, and shovels it into Eve’s mouth. A smear of whipped cream catches at the corner, and he licks it off. Now, there’s a couple who will never have kids. They’re too damn enamored of each other to be bothered with any outside influences that might come between them. Jinx and Toombs, on the other hand …

Yeah, I’ll be an auntie for them in no time. Toombs is a sucker for Jinx, and she’s a sucker for kids. One day, he’s gonna look at her, and BOOM. Pregnant. They’ll probably have a goddamn litter with her being Catholic and all.

And you know what? Good for them, if that’s what they want. Good for them.

Eliza checks something on her phone. “Ooh, Todd, I almost forgot. The results from the test might be available now.” She inhales deeply and presses her lips together.

“Right,” he says, losing a little color and looking sheepish. “How about we go to the bus, and you, Letty, and me look it up together?”

Wow. I’m flattered he wants to include me, but this is a very personal matter. It belongs exclusively between them. “That’s okay,” I say. “I’m not gonna get in the way of your business. You guys check and let me know when you’re ready.”

Eliza wheels on me. “Absolutely not! You’re a part of this either way. I insist you be there when we find out.”

“Um … Okay.” Could she be any more awesome? Beautiful, talented, smart,
and
kind? Hell, I might marry her myself. I almost feel sorry things didn’t work out between her and Shades.

My man nuzzles the spot behind my ear that makes me do the crazy dog leg-dance.

Almost.

Jillian gets up from her chair and stretches. “Time to go home, kids. We gotta get on the road early tomorrow, and Black Friday traffic is gonna suck.”

I rub noses with Gabrielle in three quick swipes, and whisper for her ears only, “May the best dad win.” She smiles and baby-coos as I pass her to Eliza.

“But,
Mom
,” Rax whines with a nasally voice. “I want more pie.” He gooses Eve’s ass. She giggles and slaps his hand away.

“
Mom
, Toombs is licking sugar off the table again,” Jinx joins in. Sure enough, Toombs is licking his fingers and stabbing them near a spilled packet, collecting sugar grains. He stops when he realizes he’s been caught, and everyone laughs. He shoves one last fingerful into his mouth, tosses his napkin onto the table, and snags Jinx around the waist from behind.

“Get your asses to the bus,” Jillian scolds, clapping her bitchy hands, sounding very much like a mom. “Off with you all!” She shoos us, and we scatter like chickens before a rusted-out pickup truck on a Georgia dirt road in summer.

As we make our way through the parking lot to our mobile home, I brush shoulders with Jillian. “Will you tell me one day?” I ask.

She knows exactly what I’m talking about. Lizzie. Clenching her jaw, she tightens her arms around herself against the cold. She doesn’t look at me. “Maybe one day.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you, Oh Great Bitch Manager.”

Now she turns to me. “You damn well should be.” A grudging smile creeps past her stern expression, which eventually loses containment and explodes into an uncharacteristic laugh. After a moment, we stop and face each other. The rest of the band boards the bus, and Jillian and I are alone. “Are we good?” she asks.

If I were wearing pearls, I’d have popped them clean off my neck. And I’d probably be lying on the ground from a fainting spell. “You tell me.”

“We’re good.”

“Good.”

One drama ends while another potentially begins. I brace myself for life-changing news as I trudge up the stairs. Shades, Eliza, and Gabrielle are in the back, waiting for me. Though I feel like the odd one out, it’s comforting to know I’m wanted here. Shades opens the web browser on his phone, copies and pastes some numbers and other info into a form, and holds the device out to Eliza. “You want to do the honors?”

She considers for a couple seconds, and then takes Gabrielle’s tiny finger and presses the submit button with it. Wheels turn as the form processes, and the page refreshes with a new screen. The three of us lean closer. Shades turns the phone into landscape mode, and the results become clear.

He’s not the dude.

T
he disappointment snuffing
the spark in Shades’s eyes takes a little piece of me with it. A big glob of phlegm clogs my throat, and no amount of swallowing pushes it down.

“I’m so sorry, Shades.” I stroke his arm. “I know how bummed you must be.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” He won’t look at me. Pretty sure the beginnings of tears are forming at the corners of his lids.

“This can’t be right,” Eliza sputters. “It can’t be …”

“Did you have unprotected sex with anyone else that month?” I ask, trying my best not to sound accusing.

“No! I—” The words cut off, and horror fills the empty space left in the silent wake. Her head swivels toward the window. “Shit. Seriously. No way …”

“So, you
did
have unprotected sex?” I prod gently.

“It wasn’t … unprotected.” She rubs her forehead. “But it was very heat-of-the-moment, and I wondered if the condom broke, but he assured me it didn’t, so I … Oh, hell.”

And all the pieces fall into place. I got a good goddamn guess about this baby’s daddy, but I’ll keep my comments to myself. Both Eliza and Shades have just been blindsided, and they need support, not I-told-you-so’s.

“Well, maybe you can contact the guy whenever you’re ready,” I offer. “Or not at all. It’s your choice.” Not sure what else I can say to comfort her.

She nods. “Todd, I’m really sorry to have dragged you into this. It never crossed my mind it could’ve been anyone else. Aside from the one time with …
him
, you were the only one I slept with. And you and I were at it all night. I just
knew
Gabrielle was yours. I
knew
it.” Her happy veneer cracks, a tear sneaks out, and I feel super awful.

“It’s okay, Eliza. I wasn’t ready to be a dad anyway.” Shades is a liar. He played the role of a father for weeks. He wasn’t just committed to it, he was damn good at it. Based on how well he handles Gabrielle, you’d think he’d been at the dad game for years.

My heart breaks for all three of them.

Conversation slows, and I leave to give the two of them some privacy with their grief. My chest aches. Maybe I’d gotten used to the idea of being an “aunt” too. I might’ve even been okay with being someone’s cheap excuse for a stepmom.

Poor Shades. Poor Eliza. Poor Gabrielle.

A few minutes later, Eliza and Shades emerge. Gabrielle sits in the saddle of her mom’s hip. She pats the air, babbling and oblivious. Eliza hugs me, presses a “Thank you for supporting us” to my ear, and leaves.

Of course, it won’t be the last Shades or I see of her. We have plenty more dates left on the tour. But it feels like a goodbye regardless. I’m gonna miss them.

I seize Shades by the shoulders and pull his mouth to mine. A gentle, lingering kiss ensues, and I use my mastery of body linguistics—the smoosh of tits to his chest, the subtle grind of pelvis to cock, the barely there hook of a foot around his calf—to tell him I love him. His extensive answer—an initial sweep of tongue with deeper follow-up investigation, the fingers spread over my lower back urging me closer, and hurried breaths—is easy to translate. He loves me too.

After a long, comfortable engagement, our lips drift apart, and I hug him hard. There’s nothing I can say to change the results of the test or make him feel better. So, I go for off the wall. “I think we should get a dog.”

His chest bangs into mine with his laugh, and then he pulls away. “What? Why?”

“Because dogs are awesome. Duh.”

He pauses as if to think about it, and clouds shadow his face. His silence seems to say,
A dog isn’t a replacement for a lost child.

I could see where it might feel like he lost a kid.

“I need to learn some responsibility. In case we ever decided to … you know.” I toe some stray debris on the bus floor.

The clouds dissipate, and sunlight filters in. “You mean you might—?”

“Don’t get excited. I said I want a dog, not … one of those.” I gesture to the steps where Eliza and Gabrielle recently tread. “But maybe one day.”

“A dog,” Shades muses. “They’re a pain to take care of. You gotta walk them and give ’em plenty of exercise. How are you going to do that on the bus?”

“I can throw a ball down the aisle. Twenty thousand times, if I have to.”

“And what about shit patrol? They shit, you know. And piss.”

“Would it really be that inconvenient to ask Freddie to pull over every four or six hours to let the dog drop a deuce?”

“You’ll have to ask Mother. And the other kids. Make sure no one’s allergic or anything.”

I smack my hands together and lift my brows hopefully. “So, it’s a yes?”

He shrugs. “I guess so.”

I spring down the aisle, braids bouncing around me, shaking my ass, and doing a wild Kokopelli dance. “We’re getting a dog!” I yell.

Jinx’s curtain slides open. She peers out at me. “Really?”

“Yep. Dog. We should name him Uga.”

Toombs’s head appears next to Jinx’s. “What if it’s a girl? Or a chihuahua?”

“I don’t care. We’ll name our female chihuahua Uga.”

“No dogs,” Jillian calls from the front.

“I’ll show you my tits again,” I offer.

“Bring ’em.”

I rush to the tables near the door and lift my shirt, thoroughly distracting Freddie, who’s currently driving. Jillian looks up casually from her newspaper.

Flash. Boom. Bam.
“Dog?” I beg, shaking my tail and lolling my tongue.

“Make sure it’s small,” is her only answer. She returns to the paper.

“YES!” I dance back to Shades. “I’ll track down a shelter in Salt Lake City and see what we need to do to adopt. This is gonna ROCK!”

S
hortly after we
arrive in Salt Lake City the next day, I hit the shelter alone. I told Shades I needed him to trust me. I said I’d pick out the companion that would best fit us and the rest of the Killer Buzz Float family. He made me promise not to get a barky dog, which I agreed to.

As the shelter volunteer shows me several potential pets, my heart reaches out to all of them. If I could take every one of these furry faces home, I would, but I have strict instructions it can only be one small, non-barky pup. I narrow it down to three dogs and play with them to see how they respond to me. All are sweet and good-tempered, but I don’t feel the intense connection with any of them I’d hoped for.

Becoming a pet owner really is a big responsibility. Maybe this lack of connection is a sign I’m not ready. They say when you meet the
right
pet, you’ll know it.

“Have you got any other small dogs? Or maybe even a cat?” I say. Shit, I didn’t ask if anyone on the bus was allergic to cats. I cross my fingers no one is.

The woman shakes her head. “I’m sorry. We don’t.” She hesitates. “But I do have something else. We’re planning to euthanize him tomorrow. He’s just not the type of pet most people are looking for, and it’s been very difficult finding him a home.”

The muscle in my chest pounds harder. This could be promising. “Show me.”

T
wo hours
and a buttload of paperwork later, I return to the bus with my new baby. I couldn’t be a prouder momma.

“Shades?” I call. “Anybody home?”

“Back here,” he replies.

I head down the aisle, excited to introduce these two. “I want you to meet someone,” I croon.

Shades stands. “Where is he? Or she?”

I open the bag at my hip. A small brown head wearing a furry black mask pops out.

I scoop the small creature into my hands and hold him up for Shades’s inspection. “This is Jimi, the rock ’n’ roll ferret.”

His face falls. “What the fuck
is
that thing? I thought you were getting a dog!”

“Hey, you don’t have to get pissy about it.” I clutch Jimi to my bosom, and his sharp fangs nip at my chin. Yeah, he’s a little crotchety, but he’s got a good heart. I think.

“Letty, seriously, you gotta take it back.” Shades plays tough, but I won’t be deterred.

“I can’t. They’re gonna kill him. Look at this sweet mug.” I hold Jimi up beside my head. Musk
de furet
wafts to my nose. These buggers are quite odiferous, but after a while, you hardly notice.

Shades leans closer to inspect him. “Is he … Is he missing an
eye
?”

“Yeah, they said he got in a fight with a Rottweiler. And won.”

“What he got was an ass-kicking.”

I shake my head. “Jimi’s a fighter. He doesn’t take shit off anyone.”

“Great. So now I’ve got two of you to deal with.”

I smile. “Exactly.”

An exasperated huff leaves Shades’s lips. “We can’t have a ferret. This isn’t gonna work.”

I set Jimi on my shoulder, and his claws dig in. He stares up at Shades with one eye, his smelly fur sticking up and missing a few patches here and there. “They were gonna put him down,” I repeat. “Have a little heart. He’s old, half blind, and not good with kids. The chance of anyone else adopting him before his time’s up tomorrow is zero. Sometimes, you gotta take a leap of faith, Shades. This poor little guy needs somebody to love and take care of him in his final days. That’s it. A little kindness.”

“So, he’s dying?”

“Well, we’re all dying, aren’t we? From the moment we take our first breath.”

“How long do these things live?” he asks warily.

Aha! Maybe I found a chink in Shades’s armor.

“About six to nine years.”

“And how old is he?”

“Five. And he’s homeless, remember. A homeless, death-row ferret. With one fucking eye, Shades.”

Jimi zips around to my other shoulder and defies Shades to deny him.

“He stinks,” Shades says.

“I know. But so do we sometimes.”

“He looks mean.”

“He is.”

“You’re not convincing me.”

I make puppy eyes at him and pout. “Please? I love him, Shades. Just look at this face.” I gently pinch Jimi’s wiry little chin. He bites me. I shake it off. At least he didn’t draw blood that time.

Shades reaches out to pet him. Jimi snaps at his finger. Shades hammers me with a
why-do-I-let-you-talk-me-into-this-shit?
stare.

“Hold out your hands,” I tell him. I pluck Jimi from my shoulder, blowing off the scratch marks left on the skin under my shirt—I’ve had worse from cats—and plop him into Shades’s upturned palms. Jimi squirms, and Shades struggles to keep hold of him.

“He’s like a weasel,” he says.

“They’re from the same family. Put him down on the floor, and watch him run. It’s fucking adorable.”

Shades lowers the little dude and lets him go. Jimi hop-slinks down the aisle, bouncing every few feet, very much like I bounced over the idea of getting a pet yesterday. Shades tracks his zigzagging trajectory. “He’s dancing.”

“I know. Isn’t our baby awesome?” I beam proudly as he pinballs his way between the bunks, sniffing, digging, flipping, and climbing.

“Maybe,” Shades says.

Jimi springs over to us, looks up at Shades, and attacks his bare toe. “Goddamn it!” Shades yells, lifting his foot, hopping on one leg, trying to shake him off. Jimi hangs on tight with nothing but teeth. I wince.

That’s gonna leave a mark.

I bend down and scruff our fur baby. He immediately releases Shades’s toe and drops into suspended animation. I hold him up for Shades’s inspection. Jimi hangs there, baring teeth, but not moving other than to breathe.

“It’s like the Vulcan nerve pinch for ferrets,” I explain. “The lady at the shelter showed me.”

Shades rubs his punctured toe. “No shit. Has he had his rabies vaccination?”

“Of course. All his shots are up to date.” I lay Jimi across my open arm and rub the wild, matted fur between his ears. “You’re all right, Jimi.”

He lunges forward and snags my bottom lip with a bite.
Ouch!
“Lil’ ’ucker!” I scruff him again and hold him up. He goes limp. Pressing the back of my hand to my lip to check for bloodstains, I shake my head. “Nobody ever said being a parent was easy, but I’ll love your ornery ass forever, no matter what.”

Shades scowls.

Jimi grins.