Rock Chick

by Kristen Ashley

  I turned, looked up and could not believe my eyes or my fucking, shitty, rotten luck.

  Cherry Blackwell was standing behind me.

  She was a tall, cool blonde. She had ice blue eyes, masses of white-blonde hair and the best body in Denver, all tits and ass. She was Barbie in human form.

  She had been two years ahead of me at school and the most popular girl, bar none. Her Dad was rich, they went to Hawaii and the Caribbean on Spring Break and to exotic places like the south of France and villas in Italy during the summer.

  She’d dated Lee for six months during his senior year and they were the most miserable six months of my life. He’d even taken her to prom. He’d broken up with her before graduation and I celebrated by drinking approximately half a keg at a party, passed out in the back of Lee’s Mustang and he carried me to bed (this last Ally told me, I’d been unconscious at the time, more’s the pity).

  Cherry and Lee had hooked up again four years ago. They were together for three months, the last two days of their short relationship were marred by a pregnancy scare. Two more of the most miserable days of my life.

  The pregnancy scare turned out to be an attempt at entrapment. During those two days, Lee was in such a foul mood, I wasn’t the only one avoiding him. After he found out she was lying, it was over and he never went back. That was the last we heard from her until a year ago.

  Rumors flew that Cherry had a fling with Marianne’s husband. These rumors were spread by Cherry, which meant they were probably true. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back of Marianne’s marriage.

  One more thing that was important to know about Cherry was that she was a first class, grade A prime, bitch.

  “I heard you hooked up with Lee,” Cherry said to me.

  “Yeah,” I told her, hoping this would be short and not too painful.

  She didn’t work into the slam, she delivered it straight out.

  “I’ll give it a week.”

  I went stock-still. I could feel practically everyone at the table shifting into bitch smackdown mode.

  “It’s already been a week,” Ally butted in.

  Cherry looked at Ally, then at me and I noticed two of her Barbie-esque girlfriends behind her, Brunette Barbie and African-American Barbie.

  “Wow. Congratulations.” This was said by Cherry with extreme, catty surprise.

  “Cherry, we’re trying to have a nice dinner.” I was going for diplomatic. I really did not want to have an incident. I needed a good night with friends, to relax, get drunk, pass out and face tomorrow’s horrors hungover. I’d only had one rum and diet, I needed at least six to facedown Cherry.

  Cherry scanned the table and locked on Marianne, whose face was bright red.

  “Marianne, lookin’ good,” she said.

  I couldn’t help it, I slid my chair back threateningly.

  “Cherry…” I began.

  Cherry’s attention returned to me and her eyes were glittering cold.

  “Just a little pointer, Indy, girl to girl, if you want that week with Lee to last into two. He likes it when you go down on him in the morning. He’s a fucking animal in bed but give him a morning BJ, he’ll return the favor and rock your world.”

  Every muscle in my body froze solid.

  “What did she just say?” Stevie asked.

  “She did not just say that in front of me,” Kitty Sue said.

  “Holy crap,” Dolores said.

  “Oh… my… gawd,” Tod said.

  “You fucking bitch,” Ally said.

  “This is more like it,” Tex said.

  I started to come out of my chair, intent on ripping Cherry’s face off, when the lady at the table behind us spoke.

  “Excuse me, we’re trying to eat,” she told Cherry.

  I looked at the lady. She was Kitty Sue’s age, hair died a stern brunette, petite and soft in the middle.

  “Pipe down, you old bag. I’m having a conversation,” Cherry said to her.

  Like I said, first class bitch.

  The woman looked to her husband who was sitting across the table from her. “Did she just call me an old bag?”

  He looked scared, Menopausal Martha had obviously been unleashed.

  She looked back to Cherry. “You can’t call me an old bag. I’m only fifty-two. Fifty is the new forty,” she told Cherry.

  “Old’s old, and you’re old,” Cherry told her and then turned to me. She opened her mouth to speak again when a pea flew through the air and settled in Cherry’s Farrah Fawcett locks.

  Uh-oh.

  This was not good.

  Cherry felt it and started batting at her hair like she was being swarmed by killer bees.

  Once the pea flew out, she turned to the older woman. “Did you just throw a pea at me?”

  In answer, the woman picked another pea out of her fried rice and threw it at Cherry. It bounced off Cherry’s chin and landed on the floor.

  “Food fight!” Tex boomed and I turned and shushed him.

  “What going on here?” We all looked at Dragon Lady who was front of the house at Twin Dragons. She was absolutely cool, cool, cool, gorgeous, slim, her black hair always pinned back in an elegant bun and she was a top notch artist with eyeliner.

  “Nothing,” I said, trying to be peacemaker and salvage the night so I could have more drinks and get to my sesame chicken.

  “She called me an old bag,” the other lady said, foiling my plan.

  Dragon Lady turned to Cherry. “Did you call her old bag?”

  “She is an old bag. Jeesh, what’s the big fuckin’ deal?”

  “That not nice,” Dragon Lady said.

  “And! This table was minding their own business and she just walked up and started talking about…” the lady’s voice dropped to a whisper, “blow jobs.”

  Dragon Lady’s turned to Cherry and her eyes narrowed frighteningly.

  “You harass my customer with dirty talk? What you problem?” she asked.

  Then, out of nowhere, a bowl of egg drop soup came flying through the air, the bowl collided with Cherry’s head, the soup dripping down her hair and shoulder.

  We all turned to see Marianne standing and panting, her hands fists at her side.

  “You slept with my husband!” Marianne screeched.

  Oh Lord.

  At this announcement, the lady Cherry insulted threw the whole plate of fried rice at Cherry and it scattered in little tiny bits everywhere. Cherry screeched at the top of her lungs then several more bowls of soup were hurled at Cherry (all of them by Tod and Stevie who were pretty good aims).

  Then Marianne ran around the table and tackled Cherry and they went down, rolling, grunting and pulling hair. Ally and I tried to separate them while the lady who Cherry insulted jumped on top of all of us and we were wrapped up in the mayhem. Cherry’s two friends got caught in it mainly because we rolled into them and they toppled over like bowling pins.

  I don’t really remember much after that except Dragon Lady screaming, “Help! Police!” and running away.

  Cherry and me somehow ended the scuffle together, rolling around in soup and fried rice, kicking, biting and pulling hair when I was hauled up with two hands under my armpits.

  I turned to see Tony Petrino, a uniform cop I knew, but not well. We’d seen each other at a couple of parties and once spent hours drunk in lawn chairs trying to decipher the hidden meaning to the words to Don McLean’s “American Pie”.

  He dragged me straight out the front door and to the side of the restaurant where the parking lot was. Then he turned and unclipped the strap to his weapon..

  “Back away, big guy,” he said to Tex.

  “I’m with her. Bodyguard,” Tex replied.

  Tony looked at me, eyebrows raised.

  “It’s true, kinda,” I said, because it was. “Are you gonna arrest me?” I asked him.

  He shook his head, “No fucking way. Your Dad and Malcolm would have a cow and I’m not arresting Lee Nightingale’s girlfriend. He
’d have my balls. I like my balls where they are. Get in your car and get out of here.”

  Tex and I didn’t wait around, this, as pertains to my current life, was a gift from the gods.

  I thanked Tony, we got in the El Camino and we took off. Tex turned into the Sonic a few blocks down and we parked at a menu speaker.

  I looked around. I loved Sonic. They were the only fast food restaurant I knew that served tater tots.

  But Sonic was a franchise.

  “Tex…”

  “I know, I know. But I saw it on a commercial. I’m hungry and they bring food to your car. No one’s gonna let us in with you wearin’ wonton soup and fried rice.”

  This, unfortunately, was true.

  “I’m sorry about the El Camino, it’s gonna smell like hot and sour. I’ll pay to have it cleaned.”

  Tex shrugged. “Better ‘n’ normal, I say.”

  Then he asked me what I wanted, he barked our order into the speaker and I did my round of calls to the girls and boys of my circle, making sure they were okay, uninjured and unarrested. When I knew all was well in the world and I’d eaten tater tots smothered in frightening orange cheese chased by a chocolate malt, Tex fired up the Camino and we headed to Cat Land.

  * * * * *

  I took my second shower with the cat (named Rocky) watching me from the toilet seat. In my buying frenzy, I’d forgotten sleepwear so Tex gave me a clean flannel shirt and sweat pants, neither of which fit nor even came close but something was better than nothing. I shoved my Chinese Food clothes in a plastic bag and tied the handles tight.

  Tex gave good sleepovers, after my shower, he got out his hooch, which burned when it went down but seriously took the edge off. He also got out a bag of corn chips and one of those huge-ass bars of chocolate with almonds. We snacked and camped out in front of the television and watched whatever was on, including commercials, which in the Age of the Remote was unheard of. Tex’s big console TV appeared to be purchased during America’s Bicentennial and didn’t have a remote and neither of us felt like getting up to change the channel every ten minutes.

  Finally, Tex gave me a sheet, a pillow and a blanket and introduced me to Tiddles (a fluffy gray who settled on my belly), Winky (a sleek tiger-kitty with white feet who settled between my ankles) and Flossy (a tuxedo who settled in the crook of my arm). Tex put lights out and, as was per usual, I fell asleep.

  I had a weird dream that started with the dial of a rotary phone, something I hadn’t heard in years.

  Then, in my dream, I heard Tex say quietly (yes, quietly, this was how I knew it was a dream), “This Nightingale Investigations?” Pause. “Yeah, this is Tex MacMillan. Tell your boss I got somethin’ of his.”

  Then the phone was replaced in its cradle.

  I knew this was a dream, it had to be a dream because Tex would never give me up.

  Never.

  * * * * *

  The next thing I knew, I was being lifted in the air and cats were flying everywhere.

  I opened my eyes and saw Lee. He was adjusting me in his arms but looking over me at something.

  I turned my head to see Tex coming towards us with my plastic bag, purse and shopping bags.

  “Say it ain’t so, Tex,” I whispered.

  “Don’t let the sun go down on your anger,” Tex returned.

  I looked out the window then back at Tex. “The sun’s been down for hours.”

  In the quiet voice of my not-so-dream, Tex replied, “You know what I mean, darlin’.”

  I made an annoyed noise because really, what do you say to that? I hated not having a comeback.

  Lee was quiet through this exchange and started walking to the door.

  Tex followed.

  “I can walk, you know,” I told Lee.

  “You can also run,” Lee replied.

  “Not in these sweats, I can’t. They’re seven sizes too big.”

  Lee didn’t answer, he also didn’t put me down until we got to the passenger door. He pressed me inside, slammed the door and he and Tex put my stuff in the trunk.

  Tex waved as we drove away.

  Traitor.

  I said nothing all the way to the condo. Once Lee pulled up the parking brake in the garage, I got out and shuffled on bare feet to the elevator, clutching the sweats at the waistband.

  Lee grabbed the plastic bag filled with my Chinese Food clothes, my purse and my shopping bags from the trunk and followed me.

  We remained silent all the way up the elevator and Lee let me in the condo. I went straight to the bedroom to the drawer where Judy the Housekeeper put my undies. I dropped the sweats, put on some panties, left the flannel shirt on and slid into bed, on my side, with my arm wrapped around the edge and my hand tucked between the mattress and box springs. I was holding on for dear life, there was going to be no cuddling tonight.

  I heard laundry noises, obviously Lee was taking no chances with my Chinese Food clothes and was relegating them to the washing machine without delay.

  I refused to be embarrassed by this.

  Lee entered the room and I ignored him. I heard the rustling of clothes, I felt him get into bed and he settled. He didn’t touch me or pull me to him like he normally did. I stayed tense and waited, five minutes, ten. Then, when I was this close to falling asleep, his arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me across the bed and half-pinned, half-spooned me.

  I went rigid.

  I felt him bury his face in the back of my hair and then he said, “I’m an ass. I shouldn’t have said that in front of Eddie. I’m sorry.”

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Not only could you not be mad at someone who apologizes, straight out, you couldn’t hold a grudge either. It was a double whammy.

  I kept silent, not being a bitch, I just didn’t know what to say.

  “I really don’t like your flirting,” Lee continued.

  “I’m getting that.”

  His hand came up and brushed the hair away from my shoulder and neck. Then it slid down my arm until it encountered my hand and his fingers laced with mine.

  “We aren’t doin’ very well at this, are we?” he asked.

  “Not really,” I answered.

  He sighed.

  “I saw Cherry Blackwell tonight,” I told him.

  Silence for a beat and then, “I heard.”

  “She was in fine form.”

  Silence.

  “She said, right in front of your mother, that you like blow jobs in the morning.”

  Another beat of silence.

  “She’s wrong,” Lee finally said, “I like ‘em anytime.”

  This time I was silent for a beat, not certain I liked this answer. Then I said, mainly because I couldn’t help myself, I had residual anger and Lee was the only one around.

  “Is she better in bed than me?”

  Another sigh and his fingers tightened on my hand. “Indy, don’t ask questions like that.”

  Oh… my… God.

  She was!

  Cherry Blackwell was better in bed than me.

  If she wasn’t, he would just say. He was a straight-talker, he never lied, just avoided the truth on occasion.

  “Right,” I returned, all pissed off, and then flipped around and pushed at his shoulders until he was on his back. My mouth was at his chest and moving down when he hauled me back up.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m going to give you something to compare. You can score us, me against Cherry, like the ice skaters in the Olympics.”

  “The Head Olympics?” Lee asked, his voice amused.

  “Something like that,” I replied, totally angry now because he thought I was funny. I broke free of his hold and started down again.

  He hauled me back up.

  “Your mouth isn’t gettin’ anywhere near me when you’re pissed off,” he said.

  I tried to carry on and he kept hauling me back. This became somewhat of a wrestling match, which, with even a
small amount of effort, Lee could have won. I could tell he was being gentle and trying not to hurt me, which put him at a disadvantage.

  We tussled, tangled in the sheets, rolled, tussled more and ended up falling on the floor, me on the bottom. Luckily, Lee’s arm was around my waist and it tightened and he threw his other one out to break our fall, doing kind of a one arm push up with me in the middle. Still, my ass slammed against the floor and Lee’s hips mashed into mine.

  This nearly knocked the wind out of me but I continued, rolling him over, then he rolled me over.

  Then somehow arms, legs and rolling were joined by lips, tongues and groping and the wrestling match got interesting.

  We were both breathing heavily, I was seriously hot and bothered, when all of a sudden, the flannel shirt was whisked over my head, my panties were gone and Lee slid inside me.

  I instantly stopped wrestling, wrapped my legs around his thighs and my arms around his back.

  He was moving inside me and I was moving with him, our lips touching but not kissing, our breath coming fast. I lifted my head to kiss him but he pulled away and kept moving inside me. Then his lips came back to mine and I tried to kiss him again but he pulled away again.

  “Lee…” I whispered, I was going to tell him I wanted to kiss him and he should stop messing around.

  He drove in deep and said against my mouth, “There it is.”

  Then he kissed me.

  * * * * *

  After, my legs were still wrapped around his thighs, one of my hands was in his hair, the other one on his ass. Lee’s face was tucked into my neck and he was still inside me.

  “Cherry’s a four. You’re off the scales,” he said to my neck.

  I might have thought this was bullshit, but one thing Lee wasn’t was a bullshit artist.

  “I shouldn’t have asked,” I said.

  “No, you shouldn’t.”

  He pulled away, carted us both into the bed and he settled me against him, full-frontal.

  “I didn’t mean to flirt with Eddie,” I told his throat. “It was a reflex action.”

  One of his arms tightened around me, the other hand started fiddling with my hair.

  “I’ll try to do better… with the flirting,” I said.

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “You need to do better… with the jealousy thing, not every guy wants to get in my pants.”