Rock Chick Regret

by Kristen Ashley

  I felt the saliva gather in my mouth.

  Instead of spitting it at her (which I really wanted to do), I swallowed it because right then, I knew why she was there.

  I knew.

  She was there to rub my nose in my own misfortune.

  See! Total bitch!

  My mind started whirling to try and hit on something (anything!) that would make her let me go without causing a scene and make her just plain go without, again, causing a scene because I did, indeed, have paintings to sell, a scene might hinder that effort.

  Before I could come up with a plan, her eyes caught on something and her head came up.

  “Don’t I know him?” she asked and my head turned in the direction where she was looking. I saw Hector, his handsome face carefully blank but his eyes were on me and I could see, even across the room, they were alert.

  I turned back to Monica and opened my mouth to speak when her eyes went squinty like she was looking into the sun.

  “I think he works for my yard company. He’s one of those, you know… immigrant workers or whatever. What’s he doing here?”

  My head jerked back like she slapped me right before my hands formed into fists.

  Now, someone please tell me she did not just insinuate that Hector “Oh my God” Chavez was an immigrant yard worker crashing an art opening.

  She kept going, oblivious to my tense posture and what had to be a deadly vibe emanating from every pore in my body.

  Her eyes still on Hector she said, “God, Sadie, he’s staring at you. I don’t know, he’s definitely good-looking, if you like that kind of thing but… oh dear, he’s heading our way!”

  She jerked my arm as if to pull me away but I stood rooted to the spot.

  I yanked away from her and stayed where I was but my head turned to watch Hector walk the last six feet to my side.

  The minute he did, I moved in.

  I put one of my hands on his abs and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss his downturned lips.

  “Hi, babe,” I said softly and saw something warm flash in his eyes but I ignored it.

  Somewhere along the line, something had exploded in my brain and I was powerless to control my own actions. That was to say, I was beyond worrying about causing a scene. Or, I should say, I was about to cause the scene that would end all scenes.

  I leaned my body into him until his arm slid along my waist and I turned to Monica.

  “Hector, this is Monica Henrique. Monica, this is Hector Chavez. Hector used to be an agent for the DEA which is why you probably recognize him because he was undercover in my father’s operation for over a year before he brought him down. So, obviously, he used to be around a lot. Now, we’re sleeping together and, let me tell you, he’s amazing.”

  I felt Hector’s body grow tight and I saw Monica’s face pale but I kept on talking.

  “Hector,” I flicked my hand out to Monica, “Monica never worked a day in her life, she hasn’t slept with her husband in five years but she has slept with the guys who work for her gardener, loads of them. She also gets Botox injections, so much, I think it’s affected her brain because she thought you worked for her yard company. I’m guessing, wishful thinking?” I asked Monica sweetly.

  Now Monica’s mouth had dropped open.

  “Sadie –” I heard Hector say in a low voice from beside me but I ignored that too and kept my eyes on Monica even as I saw people approaching from all sides.

  “And, just to set the record straight, I don’t sell paintings because I have to, I’m rich, my mother was rich, my mother’s mother was rich, my mother’s mother’s mother was rich. My family struck it big in the gold boom and we’ve been fat cats in Denver for years before you crawled out from the underbelly of whatever scaly, reptilian, dragon queen that spawned you. I don’t have to work. I sell paintings because I’m good at it.”

  Vaguely, I heard a gasp that might have been Daisy but I didn’t have time to look, I was on a roll and kept going.

  “And I got this cut on my cheek when I was beaten and raped a month ago, you know that, everyone knows it and you’re just being a screaming bitch by bringing it up.”

  Hector’s hand got tight at my waist and he repeated, “Sadie –”

  I continued to ignore him and ranted on, even as more people approached our group.

  “And I’ll finish with this little nugget and, Monica, I want you to listen well. Don’t you dare waltz uninvited into my gallery and disrespect me, my friends and my boyfriend. You do it again, I’ll drag you out of here by your hair. Got me?” I snapped.

  Monica sputtered once then twice then breathed, “I don’t believe –”

  I leaned in and interrupted her, “It was a yes or no question.”

  Her eyes narrowed, she sucked in breath and (believe it or not!), she hissed, “You’ll never sell another painting in Denver again!”

  Now, how unoriginal was that?

  It was the worst comeback ever!

  “Oh well, I guess I’ll just sit on top of my big pile of money and eat bon bons,” I returned casually then, quick as lightning, I morphed to not-casual-at-all, leaned back toward her and clipped, “Now get out of my gallery.”

  She pressed her lips together, gave me a squinty-eyed look, transferred the look to Hector then back to me and then she turned and marched out.

  It was at that juncture I realized I was breathing heavily.

  Hector’s dark gray shirt came into my vision and I looked up into his black eyes.

  “What the fuck was that about?” he asked.

  “She’s a bitch,” I answered.

  “I gathered that, mamita,” he told me and I could hear the amusement in his voice.

  And it was at that juncture I realized he was fighting a grin.

  And I knew not one single thing was funny about this particular situation.

  I got closer to him as it hit me that we had an audience and likely had one for some time.

  “This isn’t funny,” I whispered to Hector, ignoring the people gathered around.

  His body started to shake with laughter. “You just told her you were gonna sit on your big pile of money and eat bon bons. Sadie, seriously, do you not get that that’s funny?”

  I opened my mouth to speak but didn’t get out a single sound when I heard a woman’s voice call, “Sadie?”

  I looked to the side and saw the whole gang gathered around, Rock Chicks, Hot Bunch, family and friends, all of them obviously getting what was funny because they were all smiling.

  But there were two new people there I’d never seen before except in pictures. A man and a woman, they were both tall, slim, dark-haired and I knew they were Hank, Lee and Ally’s parents, the Nightingales.

  “Sadie,” the woman whispered, tears shimmering in her eyes, she walked right to me and pulled me in her arms for a fierce hug. I felt her head turn and she murmured in my ear, “My God, sweetheart, you look exactly like Lizzie.”

  Oh my.

  This, I knew, was Kitty Sue, my Mom’s best friend.

  While Kitty Sue hugged me, I looked at the man at her side. He was smiling down at me.

  And that was Malcolm.

  Before I could wrap my head around this, she pulled away and when I looked at her I saw she had herself together. She was smiling from ear-to-ear and the tears were gone.

  “It’s so good to see you,” she told me and turned to her husband. “Malc, doesn’t she look just like Lizzie?”

  He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

  Yes.

  Kissed my cheek!

  I hadn’t seen him since I was three!

  “Spittin’ image,” he said when he moved away.

  I wondered what I should do in this situation (again, the etiquette books didn’t cover this topic) but I didn’t have to wonder long, Kitty Sue took over.

  “I hope you don’t mind, we crashed your party. But I couldn’t wait to see you. Malc and I just got back from Hawaii last night. I wanted to call but we totally crashed. Jetlag. Ser
ious. Crazy. Have you ever been jetlagged?” she asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyway, you and I have so much to talk about. I hear Tom showed you some pictures but I have more…” She blathered on, hand on my upper arm, fingers squeezing affectionately.

  I was staring at her, lips parted, stunned silent (not that I could get a word in edgewise) when she was interrupted and someone new called my name.

  She dropped her hand, looked over my shoulder and so did I.

  There stood Aaron Lockhart, leaning on a cane, liver-spotted, mostly-bald head shining in the lights of the gallery.

  Blooming heck!

  “My dear,” Aaron said and then it was his turn to lean in (or up, as Aaron was kind of stooped) and kiss my cheek.

  What was going on?

  Aaron was always invited but never came (his wife didn’t like to socialize much).

  “Aaron, how are you?” I asked, ever the hostess, I took his hand and gave it a squeeze before dropping it.

  “In a hurry,” he answered. “Berta’s out in the car with the five dogs,” he told me then looked up at Hector and, for some reason, shared, “Pomeranians. Five Pomeranian dogs. One is too many, five is the definition of living hell. I told her that I’d named our son as my life insurance beneficiary but I still think she’s trying to kill me.”

  There were chuckles all around but, again, I didn’t find anything funny. This was because I was getting a bad feeling about his visit and our audience.

  “Aaron, do we need to go somewhere and talk?” I asked.

  “No, Sadie. This will be quick. Just popped by to give you the good news that you’re in luck. Mrs. Burnsley’s family is moving her into assisted living at the end of the month so the London flat will be available. It’s coming to outside season so the property in Crete will be open in a few weeks and it’ll stay that way until mid-February. The booking company has plenty of time to move people around before next year so you’re free to go to either place.”

  My body went solid and I heard the chuckles die away.

  “Are you going on vacation, Sadie?” Ralphie materialized close by and his voice sounded confused.

  I looked at him and opened my mouth to speak but damn and blasted Aaron got there first.

  “Not vacation. Moving,” Aaron answered, I heard gasps but worse, I felt a fierce electrical current whipping all around me and I knew what that meant. Aaron, somehow oblivious to the current (and the gasps), went on, “Which brings me to my next subjects. Taxes, health insurance, residency visas. I’m looking into them and I’ll get the information to you by the end of the week. I’m advising Crete, better weather and London is expensive, would be difficult for you on a fixed income, even yours. The exchange rate is certain death. Also, I’ll need to get into your storage locker so the auctioneers can have a look at your belongings and give you a quote for selling them.”

  “Moving?” Ralphie butted in and I looked at him.

  He was pale and I felt that hard, hot thing start forming in my chest again.

  “Moving,” Aaron (again!) answered.

  “You can’t… I don’t understand –” Ralphie stuttered.

  “Ralphie, we’ll talk about it later,” I said quietly, trying to ignore the thing in my chest and the current in the air.

  “Ralphie? Is this Ralph Mankowicz?” Aaron asked.

  “Aaron, please, maybe we can go –” I tried damage control.

  “Yes, I’m Ralph Mankowicz,” Ralphie answered, ignoring my effort at damage control.

  “I have some paperwork for you to sign, son,” Aaron replied. “It’s in the car, I’ll just –”

  “No!” I cut in, “Aaron, can we –” I started again but Ralphie interrupted me.

  “Paperwork?”

  “Yes, to sign over the gallery,” Aaron, ever informative, answered.

  The air in the room was now heavy, tense and electric and I knew everyone was watching, listening and not liking what they heard.

  Why, I will ask again, was everything in my life so… fucking… difficult?

  “Sign over the gallery?” Ralphie repeated.

  “Yes, to you and a Mr. Leon Simmons,” Aaron told him and his gaze came to me, heavy, wiry, white eyebrows raised in question. “Isn’t that right?”

  I didn’t answer Aaron because Ralphie was looking at me, his eyes were wide, there was confusion written plain on his face, right alongside what looked an awful lot like hurt.

  My heart squeezed.

  “Ralphie, we’ll talk about this later,” I tried again, my voice quiet.

  “Later? You want to talk about it later? You’re moving and signing over the gallery to Buddy and me and you want to talk about it later? What’s this all about?” Ralphie didn’t feel like letting me try, he felt like being dramatic (as usual) and angry (not as usual).

  “Let’s go somewhere else –” I tried yet again.

  “No, I want to know, right now, what this is all about,” Ralphie replied, arms crossing on his chest.

  I swallowed then to get it over with I told him on a rush, “I’m giving you and Buddy the gallery, as a thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

  He stared at me, face shocked. Then I watched as his eyes went hard.

  I thought he’d be pleased.

  He was absolutely not.

  “You’re joking,” he breathed.

  “No, I want you to know how much I appreciate everything… all that… just everything.”

  “You could do that by not moving to fucking Greece,” he snapped back.

  I blinked.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I don’t want your fucking gallery. I want you and not via e-mail from your new life on the Med. I want you here. Close. Where we can drink lemon drops and watch Veronica Mars.”

  I couldn’t think what to say. I thought certain sure he’d love owning the gallery. He was good at what he did. The best. He’d be his own boss. He’d make loads more money.

  He must not get it.

  “Ralphie, I’m not sure you understand. I don’t just own the gallery, I own the building. You and Buddy will get it all. This is LoDo, prime real estate,” I informed him.

  That’s when Ralphie leaned in and shouted, “Fuck the building!”

  I winced.

  Apparently he got it.

  He just didn’t want it.

  “Ralphie, please quiet down,” I whispered.

  “I will not be quiet. I cannot believe you’re moving to Greece. That’s… that’s insane.”

  Now hang on a second!

  “It’s not insane,” I shot back.

  “It is! Who moves to Greece? Do you know a single soul who’s moved to Greece?” He didn’t give me a chance to reply before he continued, “No? Me neither. No one moves to Greece. Goes there. Yes. Gets laid. Definitely. Drinks ouzo. Lots of it. Gets a sunburn. Of course! But you don’t move there!” He was still shouting. “And giving me a building? A building! Are you nuts?”

  Seriously, this was getting right on my nerves!

  Why wouldn’t anyone let me be nice?

  “I owe you so much, I had to do something!” I shouted back.

  Ralphie threw his hands high into the air. “You are nuts,” he yelled. “This is what friends do! There is no ‘owe’. Someday, my precious Momma’s going to die or I’m going to get a hangnail and you’ll be there for me. That’s how you give back. You don’t give out lavish Christmas bonuses, expensive birthday gifts and buildings, for fuck’s sake!”

  Oh my God!

  “I thought you liked my birthday presents!” I yelled back.

  “I do but only if they’re given from the heart, not to buy my friendship,” he shot back.

  It felt like he slapped me right across the face.

  I flinched and took a step back. That step forced me into something solid and, breathing heavily, my heart beating in my throat, the hot knot burning in my chest, I turned and looked up to see Hector.

  Oh my.

  The muscle wa
s jumping in his cheek, his face was stony but his eyes were on Ralphie.

  “You done?” he clipped at Ralphie.

  “No,” Ralphie snapped.

  “You are for now,” Hector replied and without hesitation he leaned in, took my hand then dragged me through our stunned audience, through the rest of the crowd, down my back hall to my office. He threw open the door, flipped on the switch and pulled me in with a controlled violence that sent me flying several steps into my office. He slammed the door behind us.

  I stopped in the middle of the room, turned and looked at him.

  That knot in my chest expanded, searing painfully wider through my chest and lungs and just this close to my heart.

  Hector stood in front of the door, eyes beyond scorching. I didn’t know what beyond scorching was but whatever it was, his eyes were doing it.

  “Were you gonna tell me?” he asked, voice low and vibrating but his words were enunciated perfectly clearly.

  “No,” I answered and his eyes flashed dangerously. “Yes,” I went on quickly and there was another flash. “I couldn’t make up my mind,” I finished lamely.

  “Why?” he snapped.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Sadie –” His tone held a warning.

  I realized I was trembling, deep body shakes and my hands went to my cheeks, rubbing and pressing at the same time, shoving my skin toward my ears.

  Then I decided that it was time.

  It was time a week ago but I’d given in, I’d been weak, I’d wanted to live the dream.

  Now, it was definitely time.

  “I know what you’re doing,” I told him.

  Without hesitation, he shot back, “Yeah? What am I doin’?”

  I dropped my hands and straightened my shoulders. “I know how you felt that night in my father’s study when I walked away from you. You were angry. You weren’t even angry, you were livid. A woman doesn’t do that to a man, not a man like you, not without some kind of…” I stopped then started again, “I know you were angry and now you’re paying me back.”

  I stopped talking.

  I did this because the voltage of the electric current whipping around intensified so sharply, if I’d looked, I would have sure as certain seen white hot sparks crackling around the room.