Rock Chick Reckoning Read online

  “First up for you, this Eric guy gets a call.”

  I clenched my teeth.

  Mace must have seen the clench or just knew it was there. Whatever, for some reason, it made him smile.

  Chapter Three

  Spill

  Stella

  “Spill,” Ally said to me.

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to spill,” Stevie put in. “You ever thought of that? You know, keeping things to yourself, as in private?”

  “Listen, Stella and me have been friends for ages,” Ally said to Stevie. “She dated one of my brother’s boys for months and didn’t say a word. Now she’s getting shot at like the rest of us. You aren’t getting shot at because of the Hot Bunch boys; you can have your privacy. You are you officially become a member of the club. Therefore, it’s time to spill.”

  “The logic is a bit loco but I have to admit, it makes sense,” Indy muttered.

  “I think she should spill when she feels like spilling,” Jules threw in, sitting across from me, her hand on her small pregnant belly bump, her black hair gleaming, her violet eyes on me. They were warm and there was a contentedness behind them that was both beautiful and made me jealous as hell.

  “Fuck that. We’re not a secret keeping group. It all hangs out with us,” Ally stated.

  “Except for when Jules kept her pregnancy secret.” Daisy’s eyes narrowed on Jules.

  “Well, you can understand that,” Jet noted.

  “And when you kept your engagement secret,” Roxie said to Jet.

  “I only kept it a secret for a few days!” Jet exclaimed.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t share. We had to call you out, girlie.” Tod sounded pouty.

  My eyes wandered around the big round table in Daisy’s huge, fantastic kitchen and, for your information, I would love the chance to cook in that kitchen. Top of the line appliances, plenty of counter space, expensive knives and shining pots on display; it was an amateur cook’s nirvana.

  Seeing the girls all together, talking about secrets instead of freaking out about getting shot at by fully automatic weapons, it hit me why the Nightingale Men claimed these women.

  They didn’t seem at all flipped out that they’d been the victims of violence last night. They were just hanging out, doing girl talk over coffee.

  Honest to God, it was bizarre.

  Indy, redheaded, blue-eyed and built; Ally, dark-haired, brown-eyed and slim; Jet, honey blonde, green-eyed and pretty; Roxie, also blonde but darker, blue-eyed and seriously stylish; Ava, another blonde, totally knockout, bombshell gorgeous with light brown eyes and I’d already described Jules’s movie star glamour. These weren’t exactly your average women.

  But I suspected their attraction for the Hot Bunch had nothing (or, if not nothing, than not everything) to do with the fact that their looks ranged from classically beautiful (Jules), to sultry (Indy), to girl-next-door hot (Jet), to sassy-girl-next-door luscious (Ally), to sophisticated elegance (Roxie), to downright sexy (Ava), to in-your-face stunning (Daisy). I suspected it had more to do with the fact that this crazy, scary life didn’t faze them, not even a little bit.

  And if it did, they didn’t let it show.

  They kept bickering and I looked out the widow, letting them fight amongst themselves and letting my thoughts move elsewhere. My wound was beginning to ache and my mind was filling with thoughts of Linnie, thoughts such as wondering if her parents had been told yet or if we’d need to do a fundraising gig to pay for her funeral.

  Then I decided not to think about Linnie because it might make me cry and thus ruin girl talk and instead I decided to think about the current state of affairs.

  It was early afternoon after a wild night, late to bed sleep in. We’d just finished the Big Ole Stick to Your Ribs Southern Breakfast of eggs, homemade biscuits, sausage gravy, sausage patties and grits.

  For your information, I’d never seen so much white food on one plate in my life and never wanted to again.

  Now, waiting for our “orders” from Lee (whenever they were going to come), we were finishing up yet another pot of coffee.

  Earlier, after letting Juno out, brushing my teeth and washing my face, Mace found me and handed me my phone.

  “Eric,” was all he said.

  “Later,” was all I said.

  “Now,” he finished.

  I figured he might leave me alone if I did as I was told, so I called Eric and told him I’d be unavailable for awhile. Eric asked why. I told him I wasn’t at liberty to say. Eric asked if I was okay. I told him that I was fine. Eric told me I didn’t sound fine. I told him not to worry, I was. Eric told me he couldn’t help it, he was worried. I told him please not to worry, I’d be okay and I’d call him in a few days. Eric said he didn’t like it, could he see me now? I opened my mouth to speak and Mace yanked the phone out of my hand.

  Then he said into it, “She’s done talkin’. She said she’d call you. End of conversation.”

  Then he flipped my phone shut.

  I stared at my phone in his hand because I was relatively certain if I looked in his eyes, I’d scream in his face.

  He tucked it in his back pocket and without a word he turned and walked away.

  I stared daggers into his back and when daggers didn’t actually form from the lethal energy emanating from my eyes, I gave up and Juno and I went into breakfast.

  The boys were gone. We had an in-house bodyguard standing in the kitchen, wearing a suit, a gun in a holster at one side of his belt and a walkie-talkie at the other side.

  Roxie, an animal lover, claimed Juno’s attention by lavishing my big dog with pets, kisses and surreptitious scraps of leftover sausage patties.

  I ate and then got put on the hot seat.

  “Hello? Stella? You in the room?” Ava asked.

  “Sorry, my mind wandered,” I said.

  “I’ll bet.” Stevie smiled kindly at me. “After last night there are lots of places for it to wander.”

  I smiled back at him for his quiet understanding.

  “Are you gonna spill or what?” Ally was getting impatient, interrupting Stevie and my moment and not having the time for quiet understanding.

  “Ally –” Jules started softly.

  “I’ll spill,” I suddenly announced.

  Everyone’s eyes turned to me and, deciding to get it over with quickly and get them off my back, I started talking.

  “It isn’t that interesting. Mace and I met, he asked me out, I went and we connected. It went fast, got intense quickly. It was good. No, it was great. Then he broke up with me. The end.”

  Everyone’s eyes turned to everyone else.

  Then Ally said, “Give me a break.”

  “No, really. That’s it, in a nutshell,” I told her and it was.

  “Why did he break up with you if it was great?” Roxie asked.

  “I used him up,” I explained.

  “What?” Jet asked.

  “I used him up. I needed him too much. Took too much and didn’t give enough.”

  “These boys have got a lot to give,” Daisy replied, sounding confused.

  “Yes, I know and he did give a lot and I took all he gave. The band always calling and me…” I stopped, looked back out the window and started again, “He had a job, he was always working something for Lee then he’d come to me, someone would call and he’d be out again, doing something for Pong or Buzz or Linnie or whoever. I’d stay home while Mace took care of my business. I was so tired of it.”

  My gaze swung back to the gang and I continued.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love my band but sometimes, well, let’s just say I needed a break. Mace gave it to me. We were together for five months. He always took the calls, dealt with the crises. I slept. I never said, ‘You sleep, I’ll deal with it.’”

  ”Or, better yet, tell your band to sort it out their damn self,” Daisy cut in.

  “They can’t,” I told Daisy.

  “They won’t if someone keeps doing it for them,
” Indy told me, making it sound simple.

  I closed my mouth and looked out the window again. She didn’t get it. I was the leader of a moderately successful local band. The leader of the band did what they could to keep the band together. It was an Unwritten Rock Band Law. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But if a band was good, especially as good as The Gypsies, you did all you could to make it work before you ever considered calling it quits.

  “Seems to me that was something you could talk about, work on,” Ava suggested.

  “It wasn’t just that. It was more,” I told Ava.

  “More?” Roxie asked.

  “Me,” I replied then sighed and went on. “It was me. Effing me.”

  “What about you?” Stevie asked.

  I saw Jet’s back go straight, she’d caught sight of something but I wasn’t paying attention. I’d started and now I couldn’t stop and I was noticing it felt kind of good to get it out, let it go. I was thinking maybe I should have done this ages ago.

  Therefore, I kept right on talking.

  “My Mom had trouble getting pregnant. When she did, my Dad was over the moon. Totally psyched. He wanted a boy so bad. I know this because he told me, like, every day of my life. Mom never got pregnant again and Dad never got over not having a son. No matter what I did, how hard I worked to gain his approval, his respect, to earn anything, even a little thing that was good from him; I’d never be a boy. Dad was disappointed in me from the minute I opened my mouth, took my first breath and screamed.”

  “Stella –” Jet broke in but I ignored her, I was on a roll.

  “It wasn’t abuse, he didn’t hit me, he just said shit to me. Made me feel like dirt. Made me know I wasn’t wanted. I don’t know how to describe it, it just wasn’t nice. What it was, was constant.”

  I pulled my hands through the sides of my long hair, held it’s heaviness at the back of my head and looked back out the window.

  “Mom left me to him, made it easier for her, kept her out of his sights. He’d turn it on her, make no mistake, and she didn’t want it. So she let me take it.”

  “That’s awful,” Ava whispered.

  I dropped my hands but kept my gaze at the window. “Maybe, yeah. But I didn’t blame her. Still don’t. It could get rough. Who’d want that?”

  “A mother should protect her child!” Daisy burst out.

  I turned my face from the window and smiled at Daisy. “Well, my Mom didn’t. I’m not whining. I used to get pissed off about it but there’s no going back, no changing anything, not who he is, she is or I am. We are who we are, we did what we did.”

  “How did you cope?” Jules asked softly.

  “I left, soon as I graduated high school. Took off my graduation robes, threw them on the bed, grabbed my guitar and left. I came to Denver, got in a band. You all know Floyd?” My eyes did a mini-scan and everyone nodded. “Well, Floyd was the pianist. He told me I was good, better than most anyone he’d heard. Until then, no one had ever said anything like that to me in my whole effing life. Definitely not my Dad and also not my Mom. I knew why, if she did, she’d court the Wrath of Dad, so she didn’t.”

  “Oh sugar,” Daisy whispered and I saw her eyes had tears in them.

  “Don’t cry for me Daisy,” I said softly. “I’m not broken, just scarred.”

  “Well, I’d think Mace wouldn’t ever leave if he knew all this shit. How is this part of why he broke up with you?” Ally snapped.

  “Oh, I never told him any of this.” I waved my hand in front of me and noticed, in a vague way, Jet’s head snapping around and her attention coming to me.

  “You didn’t?” Jet’s eyes were wide, her face was pale and I saw her gaze slide to the side after she stopped speaking.

  “No, and I’m glad I didn’t. If he left me because he thought I was needy, heck, if he knew this crap, well, that would have made him leave sooner.”

  “Stella –” Jet started again, her voice now sounding more urgent.

  “Anyway,” I kept going, talking over Jet, “after a few years, Floyd and I started another band. Then that band broke up and we started another one. The Gypsies. Then I met Mace. He made me feel good about myself, not when I was onstage, not when I had a guitar in my hands and a mic in front of my mouth but all the time. He made me feel good about just being me. Even when he wasn’t with me, just knowing he’d be with me eventually felt good. A man like that, a good man… I ate it up. I sucked it out of him. I needed it. No one had ever made me feel that way, not even Floyd. I took all of that I could get too.”

  “Stella, girl –” Now Indy had gone pale and she was looking in the same direction as Jet.

  “I don’t blame him –” I ignored Indy too.

  “Stella, honey bunches of oats –” Daisy tried to cut in, she was looking over her shoulder.

  I ignored her too and went on, “Not for leaving me, I get it. But he’s like my Mom, my Dad too. I don’t blame them either. But I’ll never forgive them. Not ever.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” Jet breathed and the way she did it made me focus.

  I saw that now everyone was looking in the same direction. My head turned to see what they were all staring at and it was Mace standing in the doorway. He had his shoulder leaned against the jamb, his arms crossed on his chest, his feet crossed at the ankles and his eyes on me.

  He’d been there awhile.

  Effing hell.

  All air evacuated my body and I stared at him.

  Do you think he heard? My brain asked me.

  “Come here,” Mace said to me.

  Yep, he heard.

  Queen of Super Shitty Luck strikes again!

  I shook my head at Mace.

  “Kitten, come here.” His voice was ultra-deep, low, soft and he was looking at me in a way… in a way…

  I closed my eyes tight and shook my head again.

  When I opened my eyes again, I saw him uncross his arms and ankles. He pushed away from the door and my body went tense.

  “You can come here or I can come get you,” he stated.

  “I –” I started to say but didn’t move. Apparently my non-movement was answer enough for Mace. His long legs took him across the room in no time. He got close, leaned in, his hand grabbed mine, his hold firm; he yanked me out of my seat to my feet and pulled me out of the room.

  “Oh lordy,” I heard Stevie say from behind me.

  “Sugar, that ain’t the half of it,” Daisy added and she sounded excited.

  Shitsofuckit!

  Mace took me through the house and back to the room we’d slept in. I didn’t protest or struggle. So, he heard. Maybe a little, maybe a lot. So what? Nothing had changed.

  Right?

  He hauled me in the room, stopped, closed the door and then turned back to me. His hand holding mine drew me near, nearer, nearer. He dropped my hand and both of his came to my waist. They slid around to my back and he started to pull me close.

  Okay, it was safe to say something definitely had changed.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice breathy, my brain rethinking my decision not to protest or struggle. I had my head tipped back and was staring at his face.

  His eyes weren’t blank but broody; they were intense and active.

  I put my hands on his chest and he stopped pulling me close. I figured this was mainly because he couldn’t get me closer without me moving my hands. Our bodies were pressed together, Mace looking down at me from his height, six inches taller than me (this, for your information, was another of those seven hundred, twenty-five thousand things I missed most about him, him being so tall, since I was also tall, it made me feel petite and protected).

  I was beginning to find it hard to breathe.

  “You remember I told you after all of this was over, we gotta talk?” he asked.

  I nodded, for some reason (okay, it was that look in his eyes, he’d never looked at me like that, not even when we were together), I was afraid to speak.

  “We’re n
ot gonna wait ‘til this is over. We’re gonna talk now.”

  Okay, not good. All of a sudden, I didn’t want to get this over with.

  I found my voice. “I’m not sure I want to talk.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll do the talking.”

  Effing hell.

  “I’m not sure I want that either,” I tried.

  He dipped his head and his face got closer. “Sorry, Kitten. Enough time has been wasted.”

  Oh dear. I didn’t like the sound of that.

  I couldn’t stop him that much I knew. When Mace wanted something, Mace got it. I learned that early in our relationship like, the first date when he ended up spending the night, being the first and only guy I’d ever dated who I’d slept with on the first date.

  However, thinking positively, maybe I could stall for long enough to get my head together.

  “Before you start, tell me how much you heard,” I demanded.

  He didn’t even try to screw with me, he just told me flat out, “All of it.”

  Shit!

  “What’s the first thing you heard?” I didn’t know why I asked, maybe a form of self-punishment for being such an effing idiot and giving into Ally making me spill.

  “The first thing I heard was, ‘Hello? Stella? Are you in the room?’”

  Yep, he heard all of it.

  I must remind you, my luck was not just shitty luck, it was super shitty luck.

  “It doesn’t change anything,” I told him.

  “It changes everything but then everything changed when you sang Hank Williams to me.”

  Not this again!

  “Mace, I’m not going to say it again, I didn’t sing Hank to you.”

  “Kitten, the place was packed and still, you and I were the only ones in that room.”

  Sheesh.

  “Please, let me go,” I asked, trying a different tactic.

  “I didn’t leave you because you needed me.” Mace saw through my new tactic and didn’t think much of it.

  I blinked. It felt like it took two days for me to blink; I did it in slow-mo. When my eyes were back to open they were a whole lot wider.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It wasn’t about you.”

  Ah, so it was this game now.

  My lips made a soft noise that sounded like, “poof”.