Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) (56 page)

Victoria jumped in with an introduction as Pete snagged her hand and, quite simply, wouldn’t let go. Angie giggled and shook her head—a little embarrassed.

“Pete Allen,” Tori intoned somberly. “Allow me to introduce Senõrita Angelina Marquez.” She put quite a bit of meaningful spin on her last name, which earned the appropriate eyebrow arch from Pete.

Smiling impishly at Angie, Tori continued the impressively grave introduction. Hollywood missed out with her!

“Senõrita Marquez, this is the whiskey man himself, Mr. Pete Allen of Bend-You-Over-the-Bar, Arizona.”

Looking at Pete, she drawled in a smart-alecky voice, “She has that lovely baby sister look, doesn’t she?”

Angie giggled and blushed as the old man continued smiling warmly at her. With a twinkle in his eye and a lopsided grin, he said, “Now that I’ve met you, Lovely Angelina, I can forgive your mother for that sorry piece of shit you’re saddled with as a brother.”

As far as gracious opening lines went, that one was an instant classic.

He dropped her hand as they all laughed and scooted out of the way while some people squeezed by.

Chortling he drawled, “You ready? Time for this old man to hog the spotlight.” He touched his bolo tie and ran a hand over his impressive, gray mustache.

“Oh, wait!” Tori chirped and ran to his side. Rising up on her tiptoes, he bent to the side to listen as she whispered something in his ear.

Laughing, he straightened and bellowed, “Understood! Boy, I hope this old place can handle you four,” and with that, he wandered out to the main stage spotlight.

“Ready, girls?” Lacey chuckled. “I don’t know about you, but I want that ugly trophy so let’s blow the roof off this joint and show these good ol’ boys how it gets done . . . Justice style.”

Justice style. Perfect. She was a Justice now. Remembering Aldo’s scowling presence, she grunted dismissively. She’d made her decision.

“Okay, okay, okay. Settle down boys and girls,” Pete boomed into the microphone as catcalls and thunderous applause greeted his arrival on stage.

“Thanks for sharing the love, but you’re nucking futz if you think that’s gonna get y’all any free beers!”

The cheers and laughter suddenly turned to good-spirited, “Boos,” and cries of, “You suck!”

Grinning, he taunted his customers with practiced lines that were met with raucous applause. Angie’s smile as she listened was so big it almost hurt.

“There’s a mark on the floor and a sign outside my door that says . . .
Dick Suckers Line up Here.
”

The crowd erupted with laughter, and she could hear people saying, “You first, Brad,” and, “Down on your knees, pal.”

Nothing like working the shitfaced crowd into a frenzy.

“Now that we have that settled,” Pete smirked, “let’s get down to business. Moving up in the brackets with a firm showing in the early competitions is a Whiskey Pete’s favorite . . . the ladies of Justice. Now ya’ll know them as Ass, Boots, and Sass . . .”

Wild applause broke out.

“Well, kids, got a real treat in store for you tonight. I want you to give these little ladies a thunderous welcome okay? So get ready to rock the motherfuck out. Bringing it red rocks style are Ass, Boots and Sass with a special appearance tonight-for the first time anywhere-
Desert Angel!
”

It sounded like a football stadium the cheers were so loud as the four of them strolled hand-in-hand onto the little stage. Familiar faces were in the crowd, and right down front, like bouncers forming a perimeter, were Alex, Draegyn, Cameron and . . . Parker!

She’d remember the look on his face till her dying breath. In the simplest of terms? His expression suggested he was on life support. Heat exploded inside her and she secretly gladdened that she’d chosen to wear self-adhesive nipple pasties rather than go braless under these stage lights. The minute she saw him her damn nips puckered tight and the last thing she needed was the whole audience getting a detailed picture of her tits.

Wearing what is best described as a little black dress, she suddenly worried that it was too much. Too edgy. Too right on the line of being slutty. Short—too short, it was an off the shoulder slouchy thing that molded to her breasts. She’d pushed the arms back to her elbows and slid on a bunch of brightly colored bangles that twinkled under the lights.

With her long black hair, ruby red lips, and the exaggerated stage make-up, she looked like Snow White trolling for her Prince. But it was the boots she wore that made the outfit. And they were outrageous with a capital O.

Thigh-high suede with platforms and fuck-me-till-I-scream heels that made her walk with a hip rolling swagger got the cowboys on their feet in a hurry.

Sass immediately commandeered the microphone, adjusting it to her height. Slapping her hands on her hips, she stood there in her Daisy Dukes and grinned broadly at the enthusiastic crowd.

Someone yelled, “You look fucking hot tonight,” which got Tori laughing.

Snickering, she jeered, “Hey, I remember my first beer, too!”

The room erupted in cheers and applause.

“Pretending to read from an imaginary piece of paper, she chirped into the mic . . .”Okay, kids. I’ve just been handed a note here from Pete. Apparently, some dumbass peckerwood built a statue of his horse in the men’s room toilet and clogged the pipes.”

Screams of laughter filled the air.

“So, gentlemen . . . from now till closing . . . y’all are instructed to hold onto your shit!”

Tori was a natural. Who knew? What was the definition of vamp? Because Mrs. St. John needed her own one-woman show to showcase her theatrical talent. Her mama sure would be proud.

In full cowgirl-diva mode, Sass fluffed the exaggerated hairstyle she had going on, then put both hands on her girls and gave them a good wobble, which was met with thunderous approval from the rowdy crowd.

In the voice Tori said was her very best
Southern Gal twang,
she worked the crowd over like a pro.

“Now, I know some of y’all are wondering who’s who,” loud catcalls and whistles split the air, “but before we take care of all you, uh . . . cowboys,” she drawled so cutely, Angie had to giggle, “to all you ladies out there? Girls, while your men are staring at us. . . . relax! You can stare at our men while yours act like idiots. Gentlemen, where are you?” she called out.

Roaring with good-humored laughter, Alex, Cam, Drae and Parker swung around, faced the crowd, and raised their hands. A comic low rumble of discontent from the men in the bar met this announcement while a distinctive, appreciative hum from all the ladies got louder and louder.

Tori was a genius. She’d hilariously defused any bullshit coming at them from the women in the audience and effectively brought them in on the joke. Which in turn guaranteed that all the men could feel free to go hog wild without paying a price later. Win—win!

“Okay, so who’s ready to get their karaoke on?”

More wild applause.

“Well, get ready to dance your panties off. Without any more yackety yak, let me introduce to you . . .

“Ass!” And with that, Lacey sashayed forward, her blond beauty shimmering in the spotlight. The tight blue sheath that clung to her from collarbone to mid-thigh looked adorable from the front but when she turned around, shit got real. The entire back of the dress was open from the collar down to the top of her butt and was cut in a way that totally accentuated the woman’s outrageously perfect ass.

Settling into a flirty pose, she blew a kiss to her husband and beamed at the enthusiastic response from the crowd.

“Boots!” Tori hollered next as Meghan came forward and quite literally knocked socks off in an emerald green lace dress—one of those stretchy things that could stop traffic. Especially so since this one showed off her voluptuous attributes with a choker style neckline that opened to a heart-shaped bodice.

Angie noticed Alex down in front throw up his hands like he was shooting, “Score!” as the guys smacked him on the back and roared with delight.

Meghan had applied a soft sheen of glitter to her ample cleavage which replayed down the front of her toned legs, but the icing on her sexy cake were an outrageous pair of high heeled, cowgirl boots complete with rhinestones and crystals that caught the stage lights, and frankly, made her look like a million bucks.

Acknowledging the booming applause, Meghan also moved into an exaggerated pose, next to Lacey, with a foot up on a wood box at the edge of the stage.

Tori giggled into the mic. “And I, of course, would be the Sass!” she proclaimed with a stripper shimmy that would rival that of the most seasoned pole dancer.

Parker and Drae high-fived, which only made Angie laugh more.

“Which brings us to a very special appearance tonight by the newest lady in our modest sewing circle.” That comment was met with loud guffaws and a number of pithy shouted comments.

“Hold on to your privates, boys, ‘cause this one comes with not only a big brother,” Angie heard Alex let out a thundering, “Boo-yah,” “but an ambulance chasing boyfriend as well!”

Loud boos and groans filled the room. Angie giggled knowing that Aldo was probably shitting himself by this point and hearing Parker referred to as her boyfriend, well . . . fuck it. Wasn’t far from the truth.

“So let me hear a supersized cowboy howdy for the spicy senõrita known as Desert Angel!” With that, Tori backed up and took her spot next to Meghan and Lacey in what was now apparent as their own version of the Charlie’s Angels pose.

Showtime!

Striding confidently into the spotlight, Angie knew she had this and that they were gonna have the time of their lives.

At first, she pretended to be shy and embarrassed by the attention, going so far as to strike an innocent, pigeon-toed pose as she twirled a curl and hid her eyes while the men went apeshit.

Softly speaking into the microphone, she used a little girl voice and started speaking in nervous, rapid, breathy Spanish. The whole room got quiet to hear what she was saying.

When she had everyone’s rapt attention, she laughed loudly, waved a hand at the audience and joked, “Nah, I’m just messing with you! Arizona proud! Born and raised right here in the red rocks.”

The room erupted with regional fervor and appreciation. She grinned. Drunk cowboys were so easy sometimes!

“Who’s ready to rock?” she asked . . . nodding at the dude handling the impressive karaoke setup and moved into her assigned spot in their group pose. Flashes from cell phone cameras twinkled and she heard Lacey compliment her, “Nicely done, Angel!”

Yeah. No shit. When she took her place, and stood, legs wide in a pose she’d practiced that paid homage to every comic book vixen every imagined, Angie knew the thigh-high boots and the barely-there dress held in place by her breasts, were a provocation she’d have to answer for later.

And then the fun began. She wasn’t spouting nonsense when she said these girls needed a record contract. All of them were natural singers and took to the playful stage acting to sell their performances like fish to water. In short, Ass, Boots, and Sass kicked the butt and then some.

The competition rules say each group chose four songs and then a song from the house list that had tunes from every imaginable genre and time. For their last number, the crowd got to request a song and the karaoke DJ made the final choice. Half an hour of spotlight hell!

Lacey got things started with a spirited rendition, sexy mama style, of
Hit Me with Your Best Shot.
One of their advantages was the fact that Tori grew up watching her mom organize beauty pageants so she knew a thing or two about talent competition. So while Lacey sang her heart out, strutting back and forth across the stage with a rock swagger Pat Benatar could be proud of, the girls ran through a series of bumps, grinds, dance steps, and synchronized shimmies that thrilled the crowd.

It was exhilarating, being on stage with her friends, enjoying the response, and watching their guys down in front actually getting into their performance. She couldn’t wait to tell Soph how much fun she was having.

Though she didn’t say it out loud, Ang was hoping that by embracing what she really wanted out of life, she’d set an example for her big sister—hoping that she’d find the courage to do the same. Sophie had some shadows in her personal life that had made being happy a hit or miss proposition.

“That was great!” Lacey gushed when the song was over. “Did you see Cameron?” She was giggling and peeking at her husband over Meghan’s shoulder. “It’s not often that he looks so . . .”

“Shit kicked?” Tori interjected playfully

“Mmmm,” Lacey murmured. “Your turn to kick some butt, Mrs. St. John!”

Playing to the crowd, Tori danced up to the microphone and asked, “Where are all the good girls in the house?”

A host of arms waved in the air and female shrieks filled the house. “Well, this one’s for y’all!” Tori purred with a wink before ripping into a boot stomping, bring the house down, open-throated version of Carrie Underwood’s song,
Good Girl.
She might be little, but she sure did pack a serious wallop when throwing down a vocal. The crowd, of course, went wild.