Rock Chick 03 Redemption (20 page)

Then, slowly, I turned around and looked at Hank.

Or, to put it more truthful y, scowled at him, eyes narrowed and everything.

Hank caught my scowl and raised his brows.

My eyes narrowed to slits.

Then I turned back to the table.

“No… I… am… not… in... love... with... Bil y… fucking…

Flynn,” I enunciated every word.

After I finished, Vance actual y threw his head back and laughed. I scowled at him too.

“Didn’t think so,” Uncle Tex said.

“Get my car back, Uncle Tex. I’m leaving the minute I get home,” I demanded.

“No, darlin’. You gotta straighten things out with Hank.”

“Not a fucking chance.”

Tex was silent.

“You sure?” Uncle Tex final y asked.

“Very sure,” I replied.

More silence.

Then he said, “How’re you feelin’ about Vance?” Lord have mercy.

“Good-bye,” I said.

Before I could hang up, he said on a rush, “You stay the night, we’l cal your Mom.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“We?” I asked.

Mace sat down next to me, threw Vance a look and then started eating.

Uncle Tex said in my ear, “Yeah, you ‘n’ me.”

“You’l talk to her?” I said low.

He paused. Then he said, “Yeah.”

Instantly, I agreed. “I’l stay the night.” I felt like doing cartwheels but Uncle Tex had moved on.

“Have fun with the boys. You’re cookin’ dinner tonight.”

“Fine by me. We’l celebrate. I’l make something fancy.”

“Sounds good. I’m feelin’ like fat, juicy pork chops with that rice with the vermicel i stuff in it, like on TV. The San Francisco treat.”

I watched Vance eat a fry, stuck in a moment of stupefied silence.

Once I tugged myself out of my silence, I asked, “The San Francisco Treat?”

“Yeah,” Uncle Tex said, “I’l go to the store.”

“I was thinking something fancier, like, beef wel ington.

That’s everyday food, not food you eat after talking to the sister you haven’t spoken to in decades.”

“Fuck that. Next thing you’l want champagne instead of hooch. I’l go to the store, you get home in time to cook.

And, since you’re with Vance, give him a good look-over. If you don’t like what you see, have a look at Mace. I don’t know Mace al that wel but he seems a good sort.”

“You
are
joking, right?”

“Fuck no. Those boys are the shit. Hank would have been my choice but he fucked it up. Matt and Bobby are taken, Ike’s on the road and he’s a scary motherfucker. You don’t like Mace or Vance, I’l introduce you to Luke. Lee says Luke’s a serious badass but he’s been recoverin’

from a gunshot wound so I haven’t seen him in action. Stil , I heard Indy sayin’ she thinks he’s cute. You’l just have to go easy on him for a while.”

Good God.

Uncle Tex, the matchmaker.

“You’re nuts,” I said.

“That’s what they tel me.”

Then he disconnected.

I flipped my phone shut and stared at it for a second.

Then I curled my fist around it, threw my hands up in a

“Goal!” gesture and shouted, real y loud, “Woo hoo!” Everyone turned to stare, everyone including Lee, Eddie and Hank, who were now standing at the bar.

Whatever.

Nothing could pierce this piece of happiness. Not even Hank.

I grinned at Vance.

“Seems your luck just changed,” Vance commented.

“Dude, Uncle Tex is gonna talk to my Mom tonight. First time they’l have talked since he got back from Vietnam.” Vance’s eyes flashed, then they warmed. Then, he reached out and traced the curve of my ear.

“Good news,” he muttered.

“You better believe it.”

I heard the loud thud of a beer bottle hitting a counter. I turned in time to see Hank’s back as he left.

I looked to where Eddie and Lee stood at the bar.

Eddie was smiling at me.

Lee was glowering.

I turned my back on them, trying to pretend none of this affected me.

Which, it did, like, a lot.

But I’d decided, just then, with the happy news that Uncle Tex was going to cal my Mom, that I was going to live in a pretend world of bubble gum goodness.

At least until I drove over the Colorado border, then it was Joni Mitchel and Van Morrison al the way through Nebraska.

“Hi Mom,” I said.

Uncle Tex was sitting across from me, at his dining room table, his leg bouncing, his hands running up and down his thighs, his eyes wild.

We’d had our pork chops and rice and Tex had had three shots of hooch and two beers. I thought he was primed but he looked like he was going to spontaneously combust.

“Hey there, honey. What’s up with you?” Mom said in my ear.

I smiled reassuringly at Tex.

“I have two pieces of real y good news,” I told her.

“Yeah? I can always use good news.”

“Wel …” I drew it out, “Bil y and I are done. He’s gone.

Real y gone this time.”

My Mom was silent.

Then she breathed, “Oh sweet Jesus.”

Then, she took the phone away from her mouth and I heard her shout, “Herb! Herb, come here! Roxie’s broken up with Bil y. Oh sweet Jesus. The sweet Lord Jesus heard my prayers.”

Mom carried on like this for a while.

I waited patiently, mainly because I was accustomed to this behavior from Mom. Mom went to church on Sundays and she was a Christian for sure but she only invoked the sweet Lord Jesus on special occasions (of which there were many) that demanded a bit of a flair for drama.

Such as this one.

The phone was jostled and my Dad was there.

“Roxie?”

“Hi Dad.”

“Is it true? Did you final y get rid of that sum ’a bitch?”

“Yeah.”

I wasn’t going to tel them about my wild ride with Bil y. I needed to pick a good time for that, like after they’d had three shots of Uncle Tex’s hooch. Anyway, I didn’t want anything to color the upcoming semi-family reunion.

“Thank fuckin’ God. I always hated that bastard,” Dad said.

My Dad wasn’t one to hold anything back.

“I know. You didn’t real y keep that a secret.”

“So did your brother,” he went on.

“I know.”

“And your sister.”

“I
know
,” I said.

“And your mother.”

I rol ed my eyes to the ceiling.

“Jeez, Dad, I
know
.”

“And Mrs. Montgomery from down the street. The minute she laid eyes on him, she told me he was a bad seed.” Good grief.

Bil y was, of course, a bad seed but Mrs. Montgomery thought everyone was a bad seed. She even said Hol y Newbury was a bad seed and Hol y was Sister Hol y now and taught at St. Malachy Elementary School.

“Dad,” I said warningly.

“This is good news, Roxie. Good news.”

I decided to change the subject, mainly because Uncle Tex looked about to burst and if I didn’t get this show on the road, who knew what would happen.

“Is Mom stil there?” I asked.

“Yeah. You wanna talk to her?”

“Dad, listen, is she sitting down?”

Silence.

Then, “No.”

“Wel , get her to sit down. Dad, I’m in Denver.” Silence again.

I went on. “I’m sitting across from Uncle Tex right now.

He wants to talk to her.”

There was a hesitation then I heard his hand go over the mouthpiece but I stil could make out the words. “Trish, you need to sit down.”

“What?” my mom said in the background and I could hear the Mom edge of “What Has Roxanne Done Now?” in her tone.

“Roxie’s in Denver, with Tex.”

I heard a short, but loud, scream.

“He wants to talk to you,” Dad continued when Mom finished screaming.

“Sweet Jesus. Sweet Jesus,” Mom chanted.

I smiled at Uncle Tex.

Tex abruptly stood up, ready to escape. I stood too, prepared for this, and, carrying the phone with me, I blocked his way. His eyes were wilder than ever.

“Uncle Tex, take a deep breath,” I said.

“I’m handing the phone over to your mother,” Dad said in my ear. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” I told him and looked at Uncle Tex. “You ready?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Tex?” Mom said hesitantly in my ear.

“Hi Mom, it’s stil me. Hang on, here’s Uncle Tex.” Tex was taking in deep breaths, then pursing his lips and blowing them out in quick bursts like he was a woman in labor practicing Lamaze. I handed the phone receiver to him and he stared at it like it was a living thing. Then he took one more deep breath, snatched the receiver from my hand and put it to his ear. I set the phone on the dining room table.

“Trish?” Tex said in a soft boom.

I felt a melting warmth spread in my bel y. I got up close, rested my forehead against my uncle’s big, barrel chest and wrapped my arms around his middle. He may not have needed me to hold him, but I needed it, I needed it badly.

“Yeah, it’s me. How’s things?” Tex asked.

I heard my Mom talking to Tex, her voice sounded high and I couldn’t make out what she said. After she talked for a while, I felt Tex’s body relax and he put his hand on the back of my neck.

“Me and Roxie just had chops and rice. We been spendin’ a few days gettin’ to know each other. She’s a good kid, Trish. You done good with her. How’s Herb?” Mom talked again and I heard a knock at the door. I pul ed away, reached up on tiptoe and gave Uncle Tex’s fuzzy cheek a kiss and walked to the door.

I stil had a smile on my face when I opened the door.

The smile faded and my mouth dropped open at what I saw.

Hank was standing there, stil wearing his jeans, boots and wine-colored henley but now he was also wearing his black leather jacket.

“What are you doing here?” I asked but he didn’t answer.

He walked in and I jumped out of his way, because if I didn’t he would have walked right into me.

Hank looked around the room, searching for something.

Uncle Tex stood holding the phone receiver to his ear, eyes on Hank.

Then Hank grabbed my purse off the coffee table, came back to me, took my hand and dragged me out the door, slamming it behind us.

Through the slam, I could hear Uncle Tex’s booming laughter.

Holy cow.

What
on earth
was going on?

“Hank!” I yel ed, trying to pul my hand from his but he was dragging me along the sidewalk toward his 4Runner.

“Hank! Stop! What’s going on?”

He took me to the driver’s side, opened it, bent, picked me up and I let out a cry.

It was like I didn’t make a noise. Hank put me on the seat and then entered behind me so I had to scoot over to the passenger side, double time. Before I could do a thing, even buckle my safety belt, Hank threw my purse in my lap, started the car and took off.

“Take me back to Tex’s,” I demanded and he ignored me so I carried on. “What are you doing, take me back to Tex’s!”

He stil didn’t say anything.

“We’l just see about this,” I snapped, opened my purse and dragged out my phone. Who I was going to cal , I did not know, but I was going to cal someone.

I barely got the cel out when Hank plucked it out of my hand and tossed it on the dash,
his
side of the dash, far away from me.

I stared at it. Then I stared at him.

“Wel !” I said because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. My heart was hammering in my chest and my mind was in a tizzy.

Then I figured out what to say.

“This is crazy. You’re crazy. Denver’s crazy. Al you boys skipped right over the last century, didn’t you? I think even the last mil ion years! You’re cavemen,” I rattled on. “I do not
believe
you just dragged me out of Uncle Tex’s house. He was talking to my Mom!”

“Quiet,” Hank final y spoke.

“Fuck quiet. God! Why didn’t I get in my car and get the hel out of here when I had the chance?”

“That’s a good question,” was Hank’s answer.

That shut me up because I seriously didn’t want to go there.

I buckled my seat belt and crossed my arms on my chest and tried to devise a plan.

I was stil in my skintight skirt and heels. I couldn’t run. I stil had three cracked ribs. I couldn’t fight. I didn’t want to fight Hank anyway. Hel , I didn’t want to run either.

What was I saying?
I thought.

Then I forced myself to stop thinking altogether.

Before I knew it, he parked in front of his house. I sat in his 4Runner, arms stil crossed, not moving, as he walked around the hood of the car.

He opened the passenger side door, leaned in and unbuckled me, then pul ed me out.

He dragged me up his front walk.

“I want to go back to Uncle Tex’s,” I said.

“You’re not goin’ back to Tex,” he replied in his authoritative voice and opened the door.

Before I could say anything else, Shamus was there and leaping al over Hank and me as Hank pul ed me inside.

“Hi fel a, hey there boy,” I cooed, bending to give him a quick scratch behind the ears. I was pissed off at Hank for abducting me but I saw no reason to take it out on Shamus.

It was a
very
quick scratch because Hank closed the door behind us, locked it, grabbed my hand again and then carried on dragging me, straight to the bedroom.

That was when I started fighting, pul ing at my hand in his

“Hey! Where are you going? Let go of me!”

He didn’t stop.

“Hank, Goddammit!”

He final y stopped once we’d reached the bedroom. He also let me go. He switched on the light by the bed and I turned to run but he caught me by the waist, somehow doing this gently, and pul ed me around so I was pinned between him and the bed.