Rock Chick Rescue Page 34

  “I already took the meet.”

  I was silent.

  Then I said, “Eddie…”

  “Remember what I said about wantin’ you to see your next birthday?”

  The quicksand slurped up my shoes and headed for my knees.

  “Eddie…”

  “Stay close to Matt. Don’t worry, Chiquita, it’s gonna be fine. I’ll call you later.”

  Then there was a disconnect.

  I flipped my phone shut and looked at Tex, he was watching me.

  “Eddie just took a meeting with his mortal enemy for me. Daisy cut off Marcus’s water. Duke broke a broom. Lee’s hemorrhaging money to keep me in bodyguards. It goes on and on and on. How is this happening? Why is it happening?” I asked, and I really wanted to know.

  Tex laid a big, beefy hand gently on the top of my head. “What goes around comes around, Loopy Loo.” Then his hand went away and he boomed across the store, “Yo, Daisy. What’ll it be?”

  I stood behind the espresso counter, letting my second, far more brief lecture about karma wash over me.

  Well, then, fuck it. If everyone was so intent on being nice to me, let them. I’d deal with the consequences later. I mentally pulled myself out of the quicksand while Daisy walked up to the espresso counter and ordered a mocha, double chocolate, skimmed milk.

  I stared at her.

  “Chocolate’s good for you, milk’s not. I don’t care what those stupid celebrity-mustache ads say,” Daisy told me.

  Whatever.

  “Do you know where Shirleen lives?” I asked her.

  “No, but I can find out,” she said. “We gonna pay a visit?”

  I hadn’t expected it to be a “we’ situation but then again, with Daisy in the mix, it was never anything but.

  I turned to Tex.

  “Put it in a to go cup.”

  I turned to Daisy, “Make the call.”

  I turned to Matt, “Fire up the SUV, we’re rollin’ out.”

  Daisy was watching me.

  “Shit, Sugar, did Vince blow some bossy into you, or what?” Daisy asked.

  Tex chuckled low.

  “I’m not allowed to joke about the shooting,” I told her as Tex handed her the cup.

  “Says who?” Daisy asked.

  “Says Eddie,” I answered.

  She cocked her head a bit and nodded. “What’d I say about the coffee maker?”

  Wonderful.

  * * * * *

  Shirleen lived in a gated community; new, big, fancy homes built so close to each other you could pass the gravy through the window to the neighbors next door. Still, they were better than anything I’d ever lived in so I suspected running a bar with a poker table in the back paid well.

  Daisy, Matt and I marched up to the house (well, Matt didn’t march, after listening the whole way to Daisy talk a mile a minute, bouncing around subjects ranging the scope of revenge threats to skincare tips, he followed us looking like he’d much rather be anywhere else, in the middle of another shoot out, having his nails yanked out by the roots, anywhere).

  Daisy rapped on the door and within seconds, it opened.

  Darius stood there.

  What in the hell?

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, too shocked at his presence to be polite.

  “Shirleen’s family,” he answered, obviously not surprised at my surprise.

  Wonderful.

  Only I’d get a scary drug dealer’s family member conked unconscious while my shit went down.

  My fucking luck.

  I couldn’t dwell, I just had to go with it.

  “Can we talk to her?” I asked.

  He stepped wide and we marched through.

  Half a dozen people were hanging around in the living room/kitchen open plan area that had high, cathedral ceilings. They all watched as we strolled in.

  Shirleen was lying on a big, poofy couch decorated in bold black swirls against a white background. It made me dizzy just looking at it.

  She looked fine, but how would I know, I was no nurse.

  “Hey Shirleen,” Daisy said.

  “Hey Daisy-girl,” Shirleen replied, a big smile on her face, then her eyes slid to me and the smile died.

  I didn’t take that as a good sign.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said, “Hey Shirleen.”

  “What happened to your head?” she asked.

  I looked to Daisy, then back to Shirleen. “Fratelli held me at gun point. I got grazed trying to get away.”

  Her eyes grew wide, then her lips went thin.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Head hurts and I’m pissed off, other than that, fine.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “What you sorry for?”

  If she didn’t know, I wasn’t certain I wanted to enlighten her.

  Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

  “It’s my fault you were hurt.”

  At that, she burst out laughing.

  “Girl, you got a screw loose. You hit me on the head?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Don’t you worry about Shirleen, Shirleen can take care of herself. If she can’t, she’ll find someone who can.”

  That’s when Shirleen looked to Darius.

  “You know ‘bout Jet gettin’ shot?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “That’s it, son, you hear what I’m sayin’ to you?”

  He nodded again, this time his lips were turned up a little at the ends.

  Something scary was going on and I knew it was the truth when Matt tensed and Daisy’s wide eyes swung to me.

  “Shirleen,” Daisy said, turning back to Shirleen, “I got Marcus on the case.”

  “Well, then, I got Darius on the case. This is good, this means them stupid-ass motherfuckers won’t get away, will they? Think they can fuck around at Shirleen’s table, shoot my friends, I don’t think so.”

  No.

  No, no, no.

  I mean, okay, I liked it that Shirleen wasn’t mad at me and thought of me as a friend but I figured we were talking about someone getting whacked. Although I wanted my problems to go away, and I wanted the fix to be permanent, I wasn’t ready for that.

  “What are we talking about here?” I asked.

  Shirleen opened her mouth to speak but Daisy cut in, “Her man is Eddie Chavez.”

  Shirleen’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes grew wide.

  Wonderful. Now, Eddie was “my man”.

  I took in a deep breath.

  Whatever.

  “Really, I can’t…” I started to say.

  “Shut your mouth, get yourself an iced tea and sit your ass down. We’re gonna watch Days of Our Lives.”

  Without further ado, she flipped on the TV and someone handed me an iced tea. I was a little too scared of Shirleen to disobey her order to watch Days of Our Lives, even though I had other things to do, a lot of other things, like tell Eddie that I was pretty certain I just saw Shirleen give the order for Vince Fratelli to be whacked. Instead, I walked forward and sat down in a chair that was upholstered in Barney the Dinosaur purple.

  Shirleen’s eyes watched Matt and Darius move toward the door.

  “She’s got Nightingale’s protection,” Daisy said, settling in on the migraine couch at Shirleen’s feet with her own iced tea.

  “Figured that after I heard his army swept through last night. That boy rocketed straight from wild child to badass motherfucker, now he scares the shit out me.” I was a little surprised to hear Lee could scare the shit out of Shirleen. Shirleen didn’t seem to be scared of anything. Though, I knew where she was coming from and I nodded to her in agreement. She caught my nod and looked at me, “What’s the story with you and Eddie?”

  Before I could answer, Daisy got there.

  “They bought a coffee maker together the other day.”

  Shirleen’s eyes nearly popped
out of her head and then she roared with laughter.

  “Eddie Chavez and a coffee maker! Holy fuck! Darius, you hear that?” she called.

  Darius was standing at the door with Matt, he looked down the hall, not pleased at being interrupted.

  “I heard it,” he said.

  “Jet, girl, you’re workin’ on becomin’ a legend. Kneein’ Fratelli in the balls, traipsin’ around with Nightingale protection and buyin’ kitchen appliances with fuckin’ Eddie Chavez. Shee-it. Darius!” she yelled, displaying no sign of concussion or that she had a care in the world that Scary Darius didn’t want to be interrupted. I decided to focus on that semi-positive fact rather than the new frightening turn in the conversation. “How many girls wished they’d bought a coffee maker with Eddie? What, a hundred?”

  I sent word to the Good Lord that I really, really needed deliverance.

  Darius didn’t answer.

  At least that was something.

  Then Shirleen leaned into me and I realized I should have been more specific about my heavenly request.

  “Darius is my nephew, I know Eddie from way back. That boy nailed every piece o’ booty that moved. Made Lee Nightingale look like a choirboy. Eddie sent his mother into despair. Think they wrote to the Pope claimin’ it was a miracle when he became a cop. Still, even after he got the badge, he fucked everything that breathed, no coffee makers in sight. Jet, girl, you are the shit!”

  Daisy leaned back and tucked her denim, platform boots under her skinny ass, preparing to stay awhile. I realized immediately I should have come alone but I was thankful I hadn’t shared about the toaster.

  “She thinks she’s boring and out of his league,” Daisy threw in.

  I shot her a killing look.

  She let out a tinkly-bell laugh.

  Shirleen matched it with another burst of hilarity.

  I sat back, put my iced tea on a coaster, crossed my arms and legs, one foot bouncing with angry impatience and pulled out The Glare.

  “I don’t know what’s so fucking funny,” I said to them, and maybe it wasn’t worth the f-word and maybe I shouldn’t have confronted the likes of Daisy and Shirleen with the f-word, but I was feeling a bit ticked off. “You’ll see. When this is all over he’ll be gone like a shot.”

  They took no notice of the f-word or my attitude. They burst into gales of laughter and if they’d started rolling around the floor giggling, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

  When they got control of themselves, Shirleen held out her hand to one of the hangers-on and snapped her fingers. “Get me the phone, Wanda. I gotta call Dorothea. This shit’s too good not to share.”

  Wonderful.

  “Dorothea?” Daisy asked, carefully wiping away a tear of humor, so as not to smudge her mascara.

  Wanda handed Shirleen the phone.

  “Darius’s mother. She’s gonna love this.” Her eyes came to me while she punched buttons with her thumb, “What brand of coffee maker was it, girl?”

  I looked at the TV set.

  “KitchenAid,” I muttered.

  “Ooowee! No silly-ass Mr. Coffee for Eddie Chavez. When that boy does somethin’ he goes whole hog,” Shirleen hooted, putting the phone to her ear, “Dorothea? You are not gonna believe this!”

  Daisy giggled and I clenched my teeth.

  My life sucked.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Gray

  I listened to Shirleen tell Darius’s mother about the coffee maker, clearly both of them appreciating the story a lot more than I ever would.

  Then we watched Days of Our Lives.

  Then Dorothea came over.

  She was pretty, soft-spoken with eyes that went bright when she met me, then settled into what I suspected was a permanent sadness that she tried to hide but it didn’t work too well.

  She wasn’t what I would expect a drug dealer’s mother would look like, she looked normal and kind, a lot like Darius looked when he wasn’t being scary.

  We left, with Dorothea making me promise to tell everyone she said hello and Shirleen making me promise to come back and watch Days of Our Lives with her and to keep her informed of any new kitchen appliances Eddie and I bought together.

  Darius was long gone.

  Matt was looking like he was going to ask for a raise.

  Daisy took off the minute we got to Fortnum’s and I found out from Indy that Mom, Tex and Lottie were at our place for Mom’s PT, then they were going to hit the El Camino to cruise neighborhoods looking at apartments.

  Jane and Duke went home and I called Eddie.

  No answer.

  I left a message.

  “Call me.”

  When I flipped my phone shut, I worried that I should have said good-bye or offered something witty and amusing. Then I spent awhile trying to think of witty and amusing things to say next time I had to leave a message for Eddie. Then I gave up because I wasn’t witty or amusing.

  Indy and I closed the store and we were standing outside, locking the doors when something down the sidewalk caught Matt’s attention and he did the chin lift.

  “Later,” he said and that might have been the first thing he said all day. Then he took off.

  “Lee’s boys aren’t fond of bodyguard duty, they’re action men,” Indy explained.

  I nodded and saw Hank walk up to us.

  Hank was the same height as Eddie, maybe taller by an inch. He had an athlete’s body, lean and muscled. He also had thick, dark brown hair and whisky-colored eyes. Hank wasn’t a badass, bad boy. Hank was the to-die-for boy-next-door. Hank was every mother’s dream and every girl’s wet dream. And, I had the sneaking suspicion Hank was my next bodyguard.

  Indy greeted him and I stared at him.

  “You got Jet Duty?” Indy asked.

  Hank cut his eyes to me.

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t sound happy about it.

  Indy laughed and looked at me.

  “Don’t take it personally. Last time Hank played bodyguard, I led him to a pot farm and it was on all three networks. Don’t ask, I’ll tell you later.” She gave me a hug and took off.

  I stood there and looked up at him, feeling uncomfortable.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Dinner,” he answered, took my arm and guided me down the sidewalk to a black Toyota 4Runner that was parked on the street. His head was up, his eyes alert.

  “Um… where’s Eddie? I called him…”

  “Eddie’s busy,” Hank replied, bleeping open the doors and walking into the street to escort me to the passenger side.

  “Busy with what? The meeting with Marcus?”

  He looked at me.

  “That’s later.”

  “How much later?”

  “A lot later,” he said.

  He opened the door for me.

  Guess that was all I was going to learn about Eddie’s plans for the evening.

  I got in, he did too. He pulled out and started driving.

  “I’m sorry you have to do this,” I said to the windscreen, feeling weird. I’d been around Hank, a lot, but never alone. And anyway, Ally said he thought I was hot. What did I do with that?

  “Everyone’s gotta eat dinner, might as well do it with a pretty girl, even if she is a friend’s woman.”

  Yeesh. The w-word.

  * * * * *

  He took me to Bonnie Brae Tavern, a no-nonsense family business on University Boulevard that hadn’t changed in seventy years. It specialized in pizza that some would come to blows about if you told them it wasn’t the best in Denver.

  I preferred Famous.

  I wasn’t going to tell Hank that.

  Luckily, they had a greasy spoon menu that hadn’t changed in seventy years either. There was a lot of choice and most of it was damn good.

  We settled in a green booth, the plethora of neon beer and Colorado sports team signs providing Denver atmosphere. I ordered a Reuben. Hank ordered a cheeseburger. Then I checked my phone.

  �
�Expecting a call?” Hank asked, sitting back, arm stretched out along his side of the booth, watching me.

  “I left a message for Eddie,” I said.

  “May be awhile before he gets back to you.”

  I nodded.

  Hmm.

  Dilemma.

  See, first, I didn’t have a lot of experience conversing with hot guys. Well, I guess I was amassing experience lately but mostly arguing with Eddie when we weren’t having sex or when I was in the middle of a life and death situation. Not hanging out at a pizza joint. Second, I was pretty certain that a crime was going to be committed, partially because of me, and Hank was a cop. I was thinking I should report it, though I liked Shirleen and didn’t want to be a snitch.

  Still.

  I looked anywhere but him, trying to think of what to say. When I ran out of places to look, I caught him grinning at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s cute,” he said.

  “What?” I asked again.

  “You bein’ shy. I like it. It’s better than the attitude, though that works too.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  I snapped it shut and focused on a Coors beer sign with the intent of memorising it.

  He leaned forward and I looked at him.

  “Relax, Jet, I’m not gonna bite you.”

  Eek.

  The dinner was hard enough, I didn’t need visions of Hank biting me in my head.

  “I have a problem,” I blurted out, deciding to be a snitch rather than spending any more time thinking of Hank’s straight, white teeth sinking into my flesh.

  “You got a lot of problems,” he told me.

  I gave him a glare. I wasn’t fully committed to it because I didn’t know him very well but it was a glare all the same.

  “Yeah,” he muttered, his eyes going a funny kind of flirty-lazy while he looked at me, “that works too.”

  Sweet Jesus.

  I focused on my goal.

  “I need to talk about my problem.”

  He sat back again. “Fire away.”

  “You’re a cop,” I told him.

  His lips twitched and he nodded.

  “Well, say someone, I’m not saying who but someone kinda knows something bad is going to happen. Something really bad. Then, say that bad thing happens. Will that someone be in trouble if she… or he… didn’t report it to the cops, like, right away?”