Rock Chick Revenge Page 10

  Indy, Ally, Tod and Stevie were already my friends and Shirleen had claimed me (whatever that meant). I could tell right off that Jet, Roxie, Daisy and May were cool. Jules I hadn’t cracked. Jules wasn’t looking at me with kind eyes. She was looking at me with assessing ones. I didn’t know what to make of her.

  When she didn’t speak, I looked away. “Sorry, not my place to say.”

  “What I did was stupid,” she said to me and my eyes moved back to her.

  “Maybe, but it was brave too and you saved someone’s life. So even if it was stupid, he’s still here and so are you. I think brave outweighs stupid in the end, don’t you?”

  May was smiling at me with a warmth I felt from across the table and, on a quick glance, I noticed everyone else was too. My eyes settled on Jules and I was pleased to note she was smiling too.

  Stevie set my drink in front of me and I took a gulp, looked around again and saw the expectant faces. There was nothing for it. I took a deep breath and started from the beginning. Two drinks later, I was done.

  I told them the whole shebang, leaving nothing out. Not my weight; not my Dad; not my sisters and mother; not my years-long crush on Luke; not him punching out the boys who called me Fatty, Fatty Four-Eyes; not him sitting next to me on the stoop after my Dad left; not our embrace at his Dad’s funeral; not my promise and breaking it with my non-return of Luke’s calls; not Rick, Dave and Noah; not Dom; not Sandra Whoever-She-Was; not Luke cuffing me to him and his bed – not a thing.

  Everyone stared at me when I was done.

  “Oowee, these boys don’t play games,” Shirleen announced, sitting back and fanning herself with her hand.

  “Holy crap,” Indy mumbled.

  “He even makes Lee’s pursuit look old-fashioned and Lee used cuffs on you too,” Ally said, moving her stare to Indy.

  “What ‘cha gonna do now, Sugar?” Daisy asked.

  “Yeah, are you going to Luke’s place tonight or your own?” Roxie put in.

  I looked at Roxie. “My place,” I said without hesitation.

  Everyone drew in breaths.

  “Oh Lordy,” Stevie whispered.

  “Here we go again,” Jet said.

  “No, really, it isn’t like that,” I told them.

  “It’s always like that,” Daisy told me.

  “What I don’t get,” Shirleen said to the table, “is why you women don’t just give in? It ain’t like these boys aren’t fine. Are they fine?” she asked Tod and Stevie.

  “They’re fine,” Stevie confirmed.

  “They are so fine,” Tod threw in with a little jazz hand wave to emphasize his point.

  “I mean, I get me a chance at a taste o’ Luke Stark, I’d take a bite outta that boy faster ‘n Jiminy Cricket,” Shirleen said.

  “You called it, Sugar,” Daisy giggled and it sounded like tinkling bells.

  “Men suck,” I declared, not having much fight in me after four cranberry juice and vodkas and zero dinner.

  “Maybe so, but Luke Stark pushed me against the wall and told me he was gonna fuck me, I’d say, ‘When and what you want me to wear?’ And I would not care if he did pull a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am. I’d just take my orgasm and go. You hear what I’m sayin’ to you?” Shirleen asked.

  I heard what she was saying. I heard it loud and clear.

  “Did you not hear me when I told you Noah stole five thousand, three hundred and twenty-five dollars from me?” I asked back.

  “I was you, I’d tell Luke Stark about them five thousand some odd dollars. He’d find this Noah whose-ee-whatsit and nail his ass to the wall,” May told me.

  “That’s right,” Shirleen agreed.

  “Okay, then Dave, Rick, Dom,” I went on. “Men are all assholes,” I looked at Tod and Stevie. “Present company excepted, of course.”

  “Of course,” Stevie mumbled.

  Tod just smiled.

  “Hank’s not an asshole,” Roxie muttered.

  “I’m glad for you, it sounds like he isn’t and that’s cool,” I emphasized my comment by reaching out and squeezing Roxie’s hand. Then I sat back and declared, “But for me, I’ll take my rabbit vibrator, thank you. It works every time.”

  “No vibrator is better than Eddie,” Jet whispered to a grinning Jules. “Trust me, I know.”

  “Just this morning, Lee had me singing the Hallelujah Chorus, twice,” Indy didn’t whisper. “I haven’t touched a vibrator in ten months.”

  “I didn’t even bring my vibrator from Chicago. I tossed it in a dumpster,” Roxie threw down. “And I do not miss it.”

  “Why are we talking about vibrators?” Stevie asked May. She started shaking with laughter.

  “I’ve vowed fidelity to my vibrators,” I told them. “I’m not going to get talked down to, stolen from, cheated on, walked all over or walked out on. Not like Sissy, not like myself and not like my Mom. No way. No fucking way.”

  There was a lot of grinning, some shaking of heads and at least one roll of the eyes.

  Oh well. There was no convincing this crowd. But I knew if I could shed seventy-five pounds and go from a Fatty, Fatty Four-Eyes to someone Lucas Stark would call a knockout, I could and would remain faithful to my vibrators.

  On that thought, I got up. “I’m getting a drink. Who needs a drink?”

  “We all need drinks, girlie,” Tod said.

  “My shout, I’ll find a waitress,” I announced and then weaved my unsteady way through the crowd to the bar.

  I didn’t make it.

  Five steps away from the bar two big, beefy guys came up on either side of me, both with a hand at my elbow but only one leaned in and said, “You know Dominic Vincetti?”

  Uh-oh.

  This doesn’t look good, Bad Ava told me.

  Eek! Good Ava screeched.

  Shit.

  That’s when I was kidnapped.

  * * * * *

  They weren’t good kidnappers.

  I knew this because I got away.

  They pulled me out of the bar and behind the back to the alley parking area and shoved me in the backseat of the car. They weren’t rough, they weren’t gentle, but they were in a hurry. They didn’t take my purse and they didn’t ask any questions outside of the first one which, incidentally, I didn’t answer but they took me anyway.

  What they did say was that if I didn’t go with them, they would blow my head off. It didn’t occur to me that it was unlikely that they would blow my head off in a crowded bar. The only thing that occurred to me was that I liked my head where it was.

  Therefore, I went with them.

  They were huge guys, both dark, both Italian looking, both wearing ill-fitting suits and, on one of them, I could see his shoulder holster and the butt of a gun (thus, me going with them).

  I sat in the back of the car wishing I had had dinner. Firstly, because I was hungry. Secondly, because I was now a lot more drunk than I normally would have been if I had only had four cranberry juice and vodkas. Thirdly, because if I was going to die, I wished I had had a last meal that consisted of more than noodles and veggies.

  We drove down Broadway toward Englewood and I wondered when the gang was going to notice I was gone. They’d probably call Luke and Luke would probably get pissed, at me.

  Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Mr. Zano wants to see you,” the big guy in the passenger seat turned to tell me.

  “Okay,” I said, deciding to be cooperative in order not to get beaten up, shot at, chained to a sink, car bombed or the like.

  “You know Mr. Zano?” he asked.

  “No,” I told him. I mean, I knew several Zanos, including Uncle Vito and Dom’s shit-hot cousin Ren Zano, but I could call both of them friends and neither of them would kidnap me.

  He looked at his friend then back at me. “Mr. Zano knows you.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, even though I knew no kidnapping, having beefy-henchmen “Mr. Zano”.

  “Mr. Zano also knows you were at Dominic’s house l
ast night with Stark. Are you like The Law?” he asked.

  “Law” was Jules’s street name. Jules was a social worker and months ago she’d started a (rather successful) one-woman vigilante operation against the drug dealers in the city. This was part of why she was shot. She also worked with Lee’s boys for a few days and did what she did with them so well it significantly enhanced her street cred. She didn’t do that anymore but apparently she hadn’t been forgotten.

  “No,” I repeated.

  “What were you two doin’ there?” he went on.

  “Sissy Vincetti is my friend. She left Dom and she wanted some of her stuff. We went to get it for her,” I lied.

  He looked at his partner as if his partner could confirm my story. His partner shrugged. The guy talking to me lost interest in our conversation and turned back to the front.

  I looked out the window trying not to hyperventilate as we pulled up to red light and my eyes moved across the street. Brightly lit and totally still open was a Walgreen’s.

  I looked to my door. It was unlocked.

  I looked to my kidnappers. They weren’t paying any attention to me.

  I didn’t know Mr. Zano but I knew anyone who sent two big goons after a woman was someone I didn’t really want to talk to. I’d also heard on a TV show once that it was actually hard to shoot someone considering bullets were little tiny things, targets were usually moving and most people were bad shots.

  I sighed, said a little prayer, promised myself that tomorrow I was drawing up a will, opened my door and took off like a shot.

  “What the fuck!” One of the guys shouted.

  I zigzagged across Broadway, throwing my arms out as I got from the southbound lane (where the traffic was stopped), to the northbound lane (where traffic was flowing). Cars honked and swerved and I ran in my high-heeled sandals as best as I could.

  I hit the sidewalk and heard him pounding behind me, more cars honking and I was worried he was close.

  Damn, damn, damn it!

  I kept going, not looking back, the automatic door swooping open and I ran directly to the cash register.

  I stopped, bent over, breathing heavily as the cashier said to me, “Are you all right?”

  I looked at the doors.

  The Passenger Seat Guy was stopped outside the door and glaring. He pointed at me, moving his mouth saying something I couldn’t hear and then turned and jogged away.

  I watched him go, memorizing as much as I could about what he was wearing and how he looked. When he disappeared, I turned to the cashier and said, “I’ve just been kidnapped. I need you to phone the police.”

  * * * * *

  In the next fifteen minutes, I met both Roxie’s boyfriend Hank (he looked like a Nightingale, tall, lean and handsome as all get out) and Jet’s boyfriend Eddie (he was Mexican American, also tall, also lean and fucking hot). They were both cops and they were the first to the scene after the squad car.

  Two minutes later, Luke’s Porsche glided in and parked in the yellow lined area right at the front doors next to Eddie’s red Dodge Ram.

  Crapity, crap, crap, crap.

  He strode through the doors and all the Walgreen’s employees took a step back after one glance at him. I figured they did this not only because he looked like he wanted to rip someone’s head off but also because he looked like he could.

  One of the cops straightened when Luke arrived at our huddle. I was sitting (more like shaking like a fucking leaf) on one of the cash register counters and all the cops were surrounding me.

  “Stark,” the uniform cop said.

  “You all right?” Luke ignored him and asked me.

  I nodded.

  “You know her?” The other uniform asked.

  “Yeah,” Luke bit off.

  There were two uniform cops, one youngish-looking white guy and one handsome black guy. They looked at Luke then at me then at the way Luke was staring at me.

  “Oh shit,” the white cop said.

  “This your woman?” the black cop asked.

  “Yeah,” Luke answered.

  “I am not your woman,” I snapped.

  “Oh shit,” the white cop repeated.

  Eddie, standing beside me, chuckled. Hank, standing by Eddie, looked at the ceiling.

  “We gotta take her to the station. Take her statement, show her mug shots,” the white cop said.

  “I’ll take her to the station,” Luke told them.

  “Works for me,” the black cop said.

  “Wait!” I cried, jumping off the counter. “Aren’t I supposed to go with you guys?”

  They were already on the move.

  “You can go with Stark,” the black cop told me.

  “What if I don’t want to go with Stark?” I asked.

  The black cop looked at Luke and grinned. Then his grin swung to me but he didn’t answer and he and the other uniform walked away.

  “Go on vacation,” Hank advised Luke, also moving toward the door. “Seriously, Luke. Just pack her up and go. Let whatever this is blow over. Come back in a month.”

  “That’s good advice,” Eddie agreed, following Hank. “Go somewhere far away. Australia.”

  Then they were both gone.

  I stood, still trembling because, let us not forget, I’d just been kidnapped and I watched the automatic doors close behind Eddie.

  My eyes moved to Luke.

  “Let’s go,” he said and his hand came out, palm up, toward me.

  And I swear to God, I had no control over what I did next. I looked at his strong hand and walked forward, ignoring the hand. I moved right by it, kept walking until I collided with his hard body, head on. I shoved my face in his chest, grabbed fistfuls of his shirt right next to my cheeks and held on while I let the tremors overwhelm me.

  Within a second of making contact with his body, Luke’s arms wrapped around me.

  Tight.

  Chapter Seven

  Pink Lady Sandy

  For the next year of my life (not really), I looked at seven million, two hundred thousand and forty-four (not really) mug shots. I found the pictures of both the guys who kidnapped me. My identification of them made Luke’s mouth get tight when he saw their faces, I didn’t ask why mainly because I didn’t want to know.

  This was after I told a nice, older man named Detective Jimmy Marker my kidnapping story. This short story took a lot longer because Indy, Ally, Shirleen, Daisy and Jules all phoned me while I was telling it to find out if I was okay. I was guessing Jet and Roxie got the story from Eddie and Hank and Shirleen, Daisy and Jules got my number from Indy or Ally.

  After this was all over, Luke took me to his Porsche. We strapped in and the Porsche glided to the street (even post-kidnapping I had to appreciate the ride was sweet) and I said quietly, “Please take me home.”

  Luke didn’t answer. What he did do was drive through LoDo, taking Speer Boulevard all the way into the Highlands, which led to my house. In front of my house I got out of the car and made my way to the door. Luke took the keys from my hand at the door, let us in and stopped me just inside.

  “Stay here, I’m gonna check the house.”

  I did as I was told.

  When he was done, he came back to me and closed the door.

  “Ava.”

  I looked up at him.

  “I’m spendin’ the night.”

  I let out a breath.

  Thank you God.

  I nodded.

  He watched me a beat and said, “I’m gonna do a scan of the neighborhood. Lock the door behind me.”

  I nodded again. He turned to leave.

  “Luke?”

  He turned back to me.

  “You should park your Porsche in my garage. This neighborhood isn’t good.”

  “Got an extra remote?”

  I took him to the kitchen, dug through my junk drawer, gave him the extra remote and an extra set of keys.

  He left. I locked the door behind him.

  I walked upstairs an
d went straight to the linen closet, pulling out the bedding and extra pillows for the futon. My futon was a fancy one with armrests and everything. It was a pain in the ass to get open because it weighed a ton. I figured I’d make the bed when Luke got back. He’d probably be able to pull it out by glaring at it.

  I went to my bedroom and dropped the Roman blinds. I’d painted my bedroom in a soft, eggshell blue. It had a white bed stand, solid wood, no slats, which meant no way to cuff me to it, which was not why I bought it but that had now become an additional bonus; two thin white nightstands on either side; a white dressing table with a big mirror; and a tall, narrow seven-drawer lingerie dresser. The sheets were pale green, the bedspread and pillow shams were a pattern of eggshell blue and green that matched the tile around the fireplace. The big windows had wispy white curtains and custom-made Roman blinds. I took one look at it and decided I was never going to leave it, ever again, in my whole, fucking life.

  Unfortunately, before I could do that I had to take out my contacts.

  I pulled off my silver and dropped it on the dressing table, unbuckled and flipped off my shoes, yanked the scarf out of my belt loops and pulled off my t-shirt. I took out my barrette and arranged my hair up in a messy bunch on top of my head.

  I didn’t know how long it took to “scan the neighborhood” and park the Porsche but, considering Luke was likely thorough in his job, I figured it would take awhile. Therefore, I thought I was safe (and alone) in the house for that while.

  What could I say? I’d just been kidnapped by beefy, Italian, bad guys. I wasn’t thinking clearly.

  I walked barefoot in my jeans and teddy-type-thing to the bathroom, stood at the sink and looked in the mirror.

  “Fuck,” I said to myself.

  You can say that again, Bad Ava agreed.

  You shouldn’t curse, even if you have been kidnapped. It isn’t very ladylike, Good Ava chastised.

  I ignored both of them, pulled open my medicine cabinet and got my contact solution. I had just readied the case with solution when I saw a movement at the bathroom door.

  I whirled and shrieked (yes, girlie shrieked), my hand coming up to my chest.

  Luke stood there.

  Okay, so, maybe it didn’t take long to scan the neighborhood. And I was seeing that I should have probably closed the bathroom door.