Rock Chick Reckoning

by Kristen Ashley

  I pushed against him. “Mace, we aren’t done talking.”

  His face was in my throat and his hands were tugging at the sheet. “We fuckin’ well are,” he growled.

  “There’s more to say.”

  His head came up and he looked at me just as I heard the sheet tear.

  “You still love me?” he asked.

  My eyes narrowed. “What kind of question is that?” I snapped.

  “Answer it.”

  “I will not, it’s –”

  “Answer it!” he barked and I went still at the ferocity in his voice.

  Then I whispered, “Of course I do.”

  “Then we’re done talkin’. I’m gonna fuck you until I’ve erased everything I’ve said. Until the only thing you can think of is my cock inside you and my hands and mouth on you. Until I hear that fuckin’ voice of yours telling me you love me. I’m gonna fuck you until I know it’s me you want, despite all this shit, and I don’t care if it takes a fuckin’ week.”

  “That’ll take, like, two seconds,” I told him and watched as something crossed his face, something that looked a lot like surprise. Then I announced, “Well! There it is! Done! And you didn’t even have to fuck me.”

  He stared at me.

  “But you can still fuck me if you want to,” I went on.

  He kept staring at me.

  “Like now. Fucking me now would be good,” I prompted.

  He kept staring at me.

  “Hello? Kai Mason? Are you in the room?” I called and when he kept staring at me, I kept talking. “Calling Kai Mason, girlfriend needs a good fucking, right… about… now.”

  That’s when he spoke.

  And this is what he said.

  “God, I love you.”

  Then he fucked me.

  * * * * *

  Even though he didn’t have to, Mace fucked me until he erased everything from my head but what he wanted there.

  Then he did it again.

  Then he did it again.

  Then he left me facedown in bed, pulled the torn sheet up to my waist, took Juno out, came back, took a shower, ate a piece of coffee cake and came back to the bed.

  I hadn’t moved a muscle. I snoozed a bit but mostly I listened to his noises in my house.

  When he sat on the bed and shifted the hair out of my face and off my shoulder so he could lean in and kiss my neck, I asked (my voice messed up because my face was scrunched in the pillow), “How can you move around?”

  “Kitten, you need to get in better shape.”

  “I’m going to have to cancel tonight’s gig.”

  “You’ll recover by then.”

  “You tore my sheet.”

  “I’ll buy you a new one.”

  “I don’t want a new one. I think I’m going to have this one bronzed.”

  Then he said weirdly, “I understand it now.”

  My eyes had been closed but I opened them and shifted them to look at him.

  “Understand what?” I asked.

  “Why the men put up with the Rock Chicks.”

  Uh-oh.

  I had a feeling we were going to get heavy again.

  I came up on my elbows and said softly, “And why’s that?”

  He didn’t answer, instead he said, “Couldn’t believe it but since I couldn’t come up with an explanation, I always thought they were whipped.”

  I grinned. “And they’re not?”

  He grinned back. “Men like us don’t get whipped, babe.”

  “Bullshit,” I said under my breath, still grinning.

  “That isn’t it.”

  “Admit it. It’s a part of it,” I teased.

  “It’s easy to find a piece.”

  As shocking as this statement was, and as much as I should be offended for all womankind, I was guessing he wasn’t wrong about that. Not for the Hot Bunch.

  “So, what is it?”

  He leaned in again and kissed my mouth. “Can’t tell you. You know, you’ll get cocky.”

  “It’s because we’re sultry and sexy, isn’t it?”

  His eyes went soft and his voice went low. “Not even close.” Then he kissed me again and said, “Gotta go.”

  He got up and moved toward the door.

  He’d deactivated the alarm and unlocked the locks when I called, “You keeping me alive tonight?”

  He’d opened and was out the door but he turned, his eyes locking on mine.

  “Even if I die doin’ it.”

  Then he was gone.

  I laid in bed, up on my elbows, eyes on the door, my heart permanently settled because I knew, without doubt, that he meant every word he just said.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Family

  Stella

  “I can’t do this,” I said into the Explorer.

  Jules was sitting up front. Jet was in back, sitting next to me. Vance was driving.

  I was freaking out.

  Jules twisted around in her seat. Jet reached out and grabbed my hand. Vance’s eyes shifted to the rearview mirror to look at me.

  “It’s going to be fine,” Jet said on a reassuring hand squeeze.

  “No. No, it isn’t going to be fine,” I replied and looked at Jules. “What are you even doing here? Bad guys are out there and you’re pregnant.”

  “I’ll be all right,” Jules told me.

  I stared at her then announced, “I need a drink.”

  “We’ll get you a beer when we get there,” Jet said.

  I looked at Jet.

  “I don’t need beer, I need tequila,” I explained.

  “Then we’ll get you tequila,” Jet promised.

  We were on our way to the gig.

  Chloe and Lana had both arrived safely and had been whisked to Daisy’s house. Reporting in (regularly, as in, every half an hour), Daisy told me she’d got them settled in rooms filled with flowers and “big old” boxes of Godiva chocolates (“Sugar, I said those were from you, hope you don’t mind,” Daisy told me, and I didn’t, how could I?). She gave them food and drink and let them rest.

  Then Lee dropped Indy and Ally at The Castle and the five of them played Guitar Hero.

  I didn’t know how I felt about Lana and Chloe playing Guitar Hero with Daisy, Indy and Ally but I had bigger things to worry about.

  Like what I’d say to Dixon Jones.

  Like what Lana and Chloe would think about me when they met me. Preston Mason didn’t think I was good enough for Mace. Maybe they wouldn’t either.

  Like if Mace would still love me after I meddled in his life.

  Like what I was going to wear to the gig considering Mace’s Mom and Stepmom were going to be there. I felt I should wear something nice, like a pair of slacks or a skirt but I was a rock ‘n’ roll singer.

  Slacks didn’t exactly say rock ‘n’ roll.

  I settled on jeans, a black belt and black cowboy boots. Usually, I wore a t-shirt or a tank but to dress it up a bit, I wore a black button-up vest with a shiny, satin black panel at the back. I added dozens of thin silver bangles to my left wrist, a wide, hammered-silver band that sat tight on my right wrist, vintage, three-tier chandelier Navajo earrings made of silver and turquoise with dangling, bent spikes of silver at the bottom tier and a black leather thong in choker position around my neck from which hung several small silver discs. I left my hair long and wild, did full on, smoky-eyed makeup and I hoped I didn’t look like a rock ‘n’ roll freak.

  I lifted the hand Jet wasn’t holding and glanced at it.

  It was trembling.

  “Look at my hand!” I demanded. “I won’t even be able to hold my guitar!”

  “Stella, still your mind,” Vance said softly.

  “You still your mind. I’m freaking out!” I screeched.

  All of a sudden, Vance pulled over and stopped.

  The air in the cab of the Explorer went funny and Jet and Jules exchanged glances.

  Vance turned to me.

  “You called these women two da
ys ago. They dropped everything to be here. That says they want this to work and they’ll do everything in their power to make it work. You did your job. You opened the door. Now you gotta leave it to them to get through it,” he said.

  “What if he gets angry at me?” I asked and my voice was low and croaky with fear.

  “He probably will,” Vance replied and I audibly sucked in breath.

  “Crowe!” Jules protested (loudly).

  “Quiet, Princess,” Vance muttered and then to me he said, “It was me, I’d be pissed as hell. Then I’d realize why you did what you did and I’d get over it. Mace’ll do the same. You just gotta have the courage to ride it out.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “This is serious shit he’s dealing with,” I shared like he didn’t know that.

  “Yeah,” Vance repeated because he knew it.

  “I’m scared,” I went on sharing with Vance of all people. But, again, I will remind you, I was freaking out.

  “Means you care. Says a lot. Mace’ll know that too,” Vance said.

  “You think so?” I asked.

  “Don’t think it, know it,” he replied with certainty. “Now, concentrate on something else. Still your mind. You got a big night ahead of you.”

  He was not wrong about that.

  Vance turned back around and moved the Explorer onto the road.

  Jet gave me another reassuring hand squeeze.

  I smiled at her and, as my eyes moved forward, I caught sight of Jules’s hand going in the direction of Vance’s thigh. I watched her fingers curl around his thigh and I saw his hand come to hers. Then I watched as he twisted his wrist and his fingers linked with hers. He rested the back of her hand on his thigh and kept driving.

  I found I had something to concentrate on.

  It was the dawning revelation that I knew what Mace was talking about when he said he figured out why the Hot Bunch put up with the Rock Chicks.

  Preston Mason had said Vance was a felon. Grand theft auto. Now he was a private investigator married to a movie star beautiful social worker. They were having a baby and riding in an SUV to a rock gig, holding hands.

  My mind went still, my hands quit trembling and my heart settled.

  It was the heart settle Mace was talking about.

  He felt it too.

  That’s what the Rock Chicks did for the Hot Bunch. That’s why they put up with us.

  I felt like crying, knowing I’d done that to Mace’s heart.

  Then I wondered if they knew we felt it too.

  “Oh shit, I think I’m gonna cry,” I announced.

  Vance’s eyes went back to the rearview mirror and Jet did another hand squeeze.

  “Why on earth are you gonna cry?” Jet asked.

  I looked at her. “Because I think Vance is right. It’s gonna be fine.”

  “Of course it’s going to be fine,” Jules told me.

  I sucked in breath to control the tears. Luckily, since I didn’t have a makeup repair kit with me, this worked.

  We fell silent. I saw Vance’s eyes come back to the mirror and I noticed he looked like he was smiling.

  I smiled back.

  Vance’s gaze went back to the road and he drove us to the club.

  * * * * *

  We were playing The Rose, a new club in Lowry that could hold two hundred and fifty people.

  The Gypsies liked it because it had a great dressing room backstage and the staff usually left us a tin tub filled with ice and Fat Tire beer.

  Tex met us at the backdoor and told me, “Fuck, I’m nervous as a fuckin’ jackrabbit.”

  I looked up at him with surprise. Tex wasn’t the kind of guy who got nervous.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Family reunions. They freak me out,” he answered.

  I stopped dead. “You think I’m doing the wrong thing?”

  His hand settled on top of my head. “No fuckin’ way.”

  I let out the breath I was holding.

  “Still,” he went on, “Mace is a big guy and fuckin’ moody as all hell. He loses it, be a bitch to lock him down.”

  Beautiful.

  “Shut up, Tex,” Jet snapped.

  “Be cool, Loopy Loo,” Tex shot back.

  “Tequila,” I blurted.

  Tex’s gaze came to me.

  “Tequila. Right. I’m on it,” he said and peeled off, going toward the bar.

  That afternoon, when Roam and Sniff got out of school, Pong, Leo and Hugo picked them up and came to get the equipment. The stage was set and I had one thing to thank Sidney Carter for, I didn’t have to lug amplifiers around town.

  I knew (because Daisy called and told me) that Lee and Tom had picked up Daisy, Ally, Indy, Lana and Chloe and they were already backstage.

  We made it to the dressing room door and I stopped dead again and stared at the closed door.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” Jet said.

  I turned to her. “I don’t look like a rock ‘n’ roll freak, do I?”

  She smiled and shook her head then whispered, “No, Stella, you look rock ‘n’ roll amazing.”

  I nodded because she sounded like she meant it, took in a breath and opened the door.

  Daisy, Ally and Indy had been joined by Floyd, Duke, Roxie and Ava.

  Two women were with them.

  One was petite, blonde and blue-eyed with a pretty face and sun-kissed skin. She was wearing a pair of designer boot-cut jeans, black strappy sandals on dainty french pedicured feet, a complicated woven black leather belt and a white tuxedo blouse. Her hair was pulled back in a soft ponytail.

  The other was older, tall, slim, had long, shining black hair left loose, fantastic skin, warm brown eyes and she was stunning. She was obviously one of those older women who never lost their cool, was sexy as hell and always would be until the day she died. She was wearing faded jeans, black flip-flops and a black Stella and The Blue Moon Gypsies tee, the “o’s” were little blue moons.

  I didn’t know who gave her the tee but if I had to put money down on it, I would guess it was Ally.

  When they saw me, both of their mouths dropped open.

  I did a stupid little wave and said, “Hi, you must be Lana and Chloe. I’m Stella.”

  When I spoke, the blonde, who I was guessing was Chloe, burst into tears.

  This alarmed me.

  I took a step forward. She lifted her hand as if to ward me off.

  Erm, not good.

  I stopped and my heart started slamming in my chest.

  “Chloe, sweetie,” Lana’s soft, melodic voice called.

  Chloe’s eyes were locked on me.

  Then she whispered, “She’s perfect.”

  Lana’s eyes came to me.

  She smiled and said, “Yeah, she is.”

  Wow.

  This was good.

  Way good.

  Happy shiver good.

  I smiled back at Lana.

  “Oh crap. I’m gonna cry,” Indy blurted, her hands coming up and she started fanning her face.

  Duke slid his arm along Indy’s shoulders and I moved toward Lana. As I did, she stepped toward me, her hands coming up in front of her. I took them and she held on tight.

  “I’m scared to death,” she told me.

  I squeezed her hands and admitted, “Me too.”

  She started laughing, it was just as melodic as her voice and it washed over me like soothing water.

  Chloe approached and I smelled her perfume, it was a sophisticated floral scent that was like smelling heaven.

  One of Lana and my hands unlocked and both of us reached out to Chloe and she grabbed on tight.

  Holding their hands and taking them in, I thought that maybe Preston Mason wasn’t the Supreme Asshole of All Time. Instead, he had to be the Stupidest Man on the Face of This Earth.

  “Thank you for asking me to come,” Chloe said, her face still wet with tears.

  “Thank you for c
oming,” I said back.

  “I’d do anything for Kai,” she told me softly.

  I swallowed the tears that climbed up my throat and squeezed her hand too.

  The door flew open, Lana, Chloe and my hands detached and we all jerked toward the door. Pong was pushing in, behind him was Leo and I could see Buzz and Hugo pulling up the rear.

  “Oh shit. Double, double, toil and trouble. Mace is fucked,” Pong announced, eyes on Lana, Chloe and I.

  Hugo pushed in and slapped Pong up the backside of his head. “Shut up, Pong.”

  “Dude, you totally agree with me,” Pong replied.

  “We’re here to give you moral support,” Leo said, eyes on me.

  Moral support from The Gypsies.

  That I did not need.

  “Why don’t you give me moral support in the form of finding out what’s taking Tex so long with that tequila?” I suggested.

  “Don’t need tequila. I got a doobie in my guitar case,” Leo replied.

  “Leo!” Buzz snapped. “Maybe these fine ladies don’t smoke dope.”

  “Ever a time to start, this is it,” Hugo muttered.

  I looked at the ceiling then I looked at Lana and Chloe.

  “This is my band, The Blue Moon Gypsies, Buzz, Leo, Pong and Hugo. I think you’ve already met Floyd.” I indicated each as I said their names. “Except for Floyd, they’re lunatics. Take no notice of them.”

  “Bitch, your tee is the shit,” Pong informed Lana, proving me right.

  “Thank you. I like it,” Lana said, her lips forming her son’s beautiful smile which she directed at Pong.

  “Don’t call Mace’s Mom a bitch,” Buzz snapped and came forward, hand up, smiling the smile that made a thousand groupies cream their pants. “Ladies, nice to meet you.”

  Pong, Hugo and Leo learned to mind their manners for just long enough to greet Mace’s Moms.

  While they did so, Floyd got close to me.

  “You okay Stella Bella?” he asked softly in my ear.

  “No,” I replied.

  His arm slid around my waist and he said, “Proud of you.”

  I closed my eyes.

  When they opened them again, I was a lot more okay than I’d been for days.

  I leaned into him, put my arm around his waist and my head on his shoulder.

  My eyes moved to Buzz and I whispered, “How’s Buzz?”

  “We had a talk on the drive home. This may sound funny but I think the funeral was good, closure. Her folks are good people and they knew Buzz tried to take care of her. You could tell they were grateful.” I nodded and sighed and Floyd went on, “Still, he’s a little lost without Linnie but I think he’s gonna be okay.”