Rock Chick 07 Regret (83 page)

The only thing that slightly marred the festivities was when Ally started a hay fight during the hayride, it got a little rowdy (Tex was on that ride) and we got threatened with hayride-ejection from the irate hayride driver.

But other than that, it was the best.

Jet had looked gorgeous. Incongruous with the surroundings she chose, she’d gone the full on, wide skirted, tons of tule, lace and beading, huge wedding dress route, truly looking like a fairy princess.

I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Standing at the front of the church, when Jet was about to hit the aisle, my eyes had moved to Eddie. The minute he saw her, his whole body changed. It went still then his eyes (no kidding) went liquid and (still no kidding) he broke tradition and walked right down the aisle. Right in front of everyone. Like he couldn’t wait for her to walk to him (which, obviously, he couldn’t). Ray, her father, who was escorting her down the aisle, burst out laughing but Eddie ignored him. She ended up with Eddie on one side, Ray on the other, both her father and her fiancé walking her down the aisle.

Blanca, who I thought would blow the roof off at this display, instead burst into loud, happy tears.

It had been the most romantic thing I’d ever seen in my life.

Until that day.

I looked at Roxie.

She was wearing an ivory satin gown, snug-fitting at chest, midriff, waist and hips, its full skirt was cut on the bias, there was a deep V at her cleavage, material coming up and gathering in points into tiny, spaghetti straps at her shoulders which went up and over and draped down her back, I swear, holding up the material of the dress at her bottom by a miracle. Her back, if seen from afar, looked totally exposed. The dress managed to be both refined and uber-sexy. It was, put simply, breathtaking. The most unusual and fantastic wedding gown I’d ever seen in my life. Her hair was in an elaborate up-do of twists and there were diamonds that were her “something borrowed” (from me) at her neck and ears.

It was a night wedding, starting at five thirty, the ceremony held at Cheesman Park Pavilions amidst huge bouquets of bulging cream pom
pom
chrysanthemums and thousands upon thousands of twinkling, white Christmas lights.

It was freezing so we all had velvet capes but Roxie walked through the standing crowd toward Hank wearing only her dress, her shoes, my diamonds, carrying her mums, Herb on her arm.

Then she started walking faster, Herb (shorter than his daughter) struggling to keep up.

Then faster.

Then she was (no other way to put it) jogging on her high heels toward Hank, dragging her father with her.

Hank was standing at the front, shaking his head and laughing and by the time she got to him, she was laughing too, out loud.

She kissed him the minute she got close enough to touch him.

“Jesus. You think I could give you away before you kiss him? Shit,” Herb had muttered (loudly). Then he turned to Trish. “Trish, this proves it. She’s
your
daughter.”

The Rock Chicks all stood to the side giggling our behinds off.

Roxie wasn’t embarrassed at all. She just leaned in, kissed her father’s cheek, turned and linked arms with Hank.

I watched as she rested all her weight into his side like they were standing waiting in line to get into a movie with no one looking, not standing in front of a crowd of family and friends, waiting to get married.

“The Hot Bunch knows but they aren’t talking,” Stella filled in Roxie, taking me out of my trip down Recent Memory Lane.

Roxie turned to Hank. “Do
you
know?”

“No idea,” Hank returned.

“You’re not lying to me on our wedding day?” Roxie asked but it was more of a warning.

“Sorry, Sunshine, Ally doesn’t keep in touch with me about her love life. She’s my sister. I don’t wanna know. Never did. Never will,” Hank replied.

Roxie’s eyes went round. “
Love life?
Ren and Ally? Whisky, you
do
know something!”

Hank’s eyes slid to Lee then he said, “Shit.”

Vance burst out laughing.

Jules hit him in the shoulder.

That’s when I burst out laughing.

Hector put pressure at my hip and curled me into his front.

I tilted my head back to look at him, still laughing.

He watched me, his handsome grin in place, until I was done.

Then he bent forward and his mouth touched mine.

“Do
you
know?” I asked softly, my arms sliding around his waist.

He didn’t hesitate in answering. “The men talk, I don’t listen much. I know Ally’s got some business. Zano’s involved. They got history. That’s all I know.”

I looked at the place where Ally and Ren disappeared and mumbled, “She’s a dark horse. She makes everyone spill their secrets but keeps her own.”

“I’ve known Ally Nightingale since I was six. She’s the second most complicated woman I’ve ever met,” Hector replied. “One thing about Ally that’s always been the way,
mamita
, you do
not
get what you see.”

I cuddled closer, my elbows cocking, my hands going up his back to his shoulder blades. “Now, I’m intrigued.”

He shook his head. “You’re just gonna have to watch it play out like the rest of us.” Then he added, “And hope to God no one gets hurt.”

Before I could say anything, Tex (wearing a tux, and
not
happy about it) boomed from across the room, “Roxanne Giselle Lo… I mean, Nightingale! When are those fuckin’ harpists gonna shut the fuck up and so we can get some rock ‘n’ roll?”

* * * * *

I rested my head against the window of the Bronco and watched Denver slide by as Hector took us home from the wedding.

I was pleasantly drunk from champagne and totally exhausted from a day of bridesmaids duties (if I never saw another Christmas light again, I would
not
care, until tomorrow, that was) and the last two hours of dancing like a wild woman (mostly with Ava and Daisy) to rock ‘n’ roll.

My hand was taken from my lap, Hector’s fingers linked through mine and he set the back of my hand high up on his hard thigh.

“Did you have a good day?” he asked quietly

“It was great. The wedding was beautiful. But I’m tired and my feet are killing me.”

“We’ll be home soon,
mi corazón
.”

“I know.”

“I told you after Eddie and Jet’s wedding not to wear those fuckin’ shoes,” he reminded me. “You complained then, I knew you’d complain again.”

“I’m not going to wear ugly shoes with a bridesmaid’s dress, Hector.”

“Isn’t there such a thing as not ugly shoes that are comfortable?”

“No,” I said shortly (and honestly).

He chuckled.

I rolled my eyes.

Hector, even after months together, still thought I was funny.

I still didn’t get it.

“Jet’s pregnant,” he said suddenly.

My hand tensed in his.

“What?”

“Eddie told me tonight. It’s early. They’re keepin’ it to themselves for a little while. Whatever you do, do not tell
Mamá
.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Are they happy about it?”

His hand squeezed mine. “Don’t know about Jet but Eddie’s over the fuckin’ moon.”

If that was the case then I knew about Jet. She was sure as certain over the moon too.

“That’s great,” I said softly.

“Yeah,” he replied, just as softly.

It was my turn to squeeze his hand. “Uncle Hector.”

Silence.

Then, “Shit.”

Then it was my turn to laugh.

* * * * *

We walked up to the house, hand-in-hand.

Hector let us in.

I flipped the switches and the lights came on.

Then I reached down, slipped off my high heels and tossed them over the back of the couch into the living room. They bounced off the seat of the couch and I heard them hit the floor.

I tossed my purse in the same direction. It bounced on the seat and stayed there.

The renovating the house business wasn’t playing out like in my dreams (exactly).

Hector and I fought tooth and nail about everything
house
.

Once we were done with the floor, the mantel and the skirting boards, Hector announced he wanted the living room off the kitchen, better access to beer during games.

I explained (patiently, at first) that the
dining room
had to be off the kitchen.

We hit a stalemate that meant weeks of stacked furniture covered in plastic.

Then one night I got creative with lingerie and talked him into it (about two seconds before he climaxed).

It wasn’t fair, in fact, it was really not fair but this lesson served me well in the coming weeks.

Hector didn’t seem to mind.

To the right was an antique, walnut, twelve-seat dining room table I found on Antique Row on Broadway. I had it refinished, the seats of the chairs redone in a dusky gray and dusky gray-blue stripe. It now had a big round vase on it filled with calla lilies. A matching sideboard sat against the wall to the kitchen, displaying my Mom’s Waterford crystal that I took from her locker, the family photo of Mom, Dad and me and another photo of Hector and his Dad taken when Hector was nineteen. There were white Christmas lights weaved in real pine greenery on the mantel.

To the left was Hector’s midnight blue twill furniture but I’d added some toss pillows with blue, gray and chocolate brown designs. The TV from the bedroom was installed in the corner, all the furniture positioned for maximum viewing potential. In another corner was a huge, real fir Christmas tree decorated in blue and white lights and blue, silver and white ornaments. There was more greenery and lights on the mantel weaving around silver-framed photos of Hector’s family and other photos of my Mom, grandmother and grandfather. A huge white poinsettia in a shiny blue pot sat dead center on the coffee table.

To the back of the living room through the French doors was the den, complete with big desk, reclining chair and Hector’s desktop computer.

The front rooms were all perfect.

The kitchen was now a pit. Everything had been yanked out by Hector, Buddy and Eddie a few weekends ago and carted off in a reclamation truck.

My cooking lessons were on hold. With the kitchen like it was, we were definitely not hosting Christmas dinner (Blanca was).

I walked in, pulled off my cape, draped it on the banister then went up the stairs and straight to the bedroom where I fell face first on the bed.

I didn’t used to be the kind of person who threw her shoes across the room (or her purse) and left my coats on the banister.

I used to be clean and tidy.

Obsessively so.

I also used to be the kind of person who woke up at the barest hint of sound.

I wasn’t either of those anymore.

Real Sadie was a lot more relaxed. She slept better and she didn’t get wound up about stupid stuff.

I liked Real Sadie. Most of the time, she had it going on.

I felt the bed move when Hector sat on it and the zipper at my back started going down.

“I’m going to sleep right here,” I informed him.

“
Como quieras,
” Hector said softly and, hearing those words, I smiled into the bed.

I didn’t have to open my eyes to see the room.

Hector had made the bedroom his next project (after the living room and before the kitchen). He’d taken time off and we’d slept on the pull out couch for a week while he refinished the floors, replaced the skirting boards and painted the walls (I wanted to help but the gallery was being redone and Roxie’s wedding plans were heating up so Ralphie and I were kind of busy). The walls were a warm, gray-green and there were new, shiny maple skirting boards. Hector had bought a new bed, nightstands and two new dressers, one low with a mirror on top, one tall and wide with six drawers.