Rock Chick Reborn

by Kristen Ashley

“I think if there’s anyone who knows the difference between people who fuck up their lives with no intention to change them and people who made stupid decisions in their lives, and worked their asses off and or put them on the line to get their shit sorted or get clean, and admires it, it’s this guy,” Monty answered.

  “But we can’t know that,” Luke growled.

  Monty shook his head but did it in agreement. “We can’t know that.”

  “So before we go all matchmaker, we feel this guy out,” Luke declared.

  Lee turned to Luke. “Absolutely.”

  “I want on him for a day or two,” Vance, their best tracker, said. “And I want in his house.”

  None of them were slouches on that front, but Vance was also best with a B&E.

  “Do it,” Lee obliged.

  “You do the house, I’ll do the follow,” Mace said.

  “We gotta pass off on the follow, seein’ as we’re all famous now. This guy, he might tag a tail,” Hector reminded them. “So we gotta pass off, especially if he tags one of us.”

  “You get made, you share. Means we all gotta back off,” Lee ordered. “Thanks to those fuckin’ newspaper articles and books, one and one will make two, he sees more than one Hot Bunch guy.”

  There were a variety of lip curls to share how they all felt about that, none of them amused in the least.

  Hector nodded.

  Lee looked to Monty. “He cheat on his wife? She cheat on him? What went down?”

  “Court records stated irreconcilable differences. No claims of infidelity recorded. He fought for more visitation with his girls, she fought against it. I can’t know why she did that, but he got it and both girls went closed chambers with the judge in order to ask for more time with their dad. That shit hit him hard financially, lotta time in court, lotta legal fees, but he didn’t back down. By the time he won split visitation, the girls were eight and ten. So they’d been battling it out for four years.”

  “Thought dual visitation was the standard now,” Vance remarked.

  Monty shook his head. “She played the cop and corrections officer card. How he’s never home. How his job was dangerous. How they needed limited exposure to that. She had a good attorney. Chewed him up. He got smart. Switched firms. Got himself a shark. He also got in debt.” Monty turned back to Lee. “Worked his ass off, but he got outta that debt and managed to keep up his court ordered deposits into the girls’ college accounts, not to mention child support, through it all. But he lived tight, way tight, through the fight and after it. Just not when he had those girls.”

  “Solid guy,” Lee whispered.

  “On file, solid as they get,” Monty agreed.

  “I wanna know what went down with that divorce and why she went all out to keep his girls from him,” Lee told the room at large.

  “I’ll get Brody on that,” Luke told him. “We might have to get creative.”

  “Do it.”

  Luke nodded.

  Monty lifted up a hand and scratched the back of his neck as he asked, “Any of us got a problem with this dude rammin’ into her grocery cart?”

  Monty had been briefed.

  “No,” Hector said immediately.

  “No,” Vance said with him.

  “No,” Luke said half a second after them.

  Mace paused and grinned at Lee before he said, “No.”

  Lee looked right at Monty.

  “No.”

  “I’d worry about this modern-day Neanderthal crap if your women weren’t as totally devoted to you as they are,” Monty muttered, dropping his hand.

  “A woman is worth it—” Luke started.

  “You gotta be willing to go all in,” Mace went on.

  “And Shirleen’s worth it,” Lee finished.

  It took a beat.

  But after that beat . . .

  Monty smiled.

  Slice of Heaven

  Lee Nightingale

  Seventy-two hours later . . .

  LEE WAS LEANING against his company Explorer, boots crossed at the ankles, arms crossed on his chest, head turned to the side, watching the man walk across the parking lot toward him.

  Also noting he was more impressive in person.

  For his part, Moses Richardson had not missed he had company waiting for him at the SUV parked next to his truck. The man didn’t take his eyes off Lee the entire journey from front door to vehicles.

  When he arrived, he also didn’t keep his distance.

  He got close before he stopped between the two cars, planted his legs and crossed his own arms on his chest.

  Richardson started it.

  And he did it with a grin on his lips.

  “Gotta admit, didn’t expect this visit. But I’m thinkin’ it means good things.”

  In other words, introductions were unnecessary.

  “If you’re thinking Shirleen set us on you to make sure you’re good enough for her, you’d be wrong. She has no idea,” Lee replied.

  The grin vanished.

  “So obviously we gotta sort that shit,” Lee continued. “But seein’ as I got no idea how to do that, I’m afraid I gotta tell you it’s gonna be necessary to get my wife involved, which probably means all the Rock Chicks, so this meeting is multi-purpose, and the one I’m talkin’ about now means you best brace.”

  “Outside of tellin’ my daughters they can’t read those books until they’re forty-five, even though they both really want to, I know who you’re talking about. I just don’t know what you’re talking about with any of this, man.”

  “Shirleen is never going to call you,” Lee announced.

  Richardson didn’t hide looking disappointed, but he nodded, not taking his eyes from Lee. “So she’s not gonna do that, why are you here? And I’ll repeat, what are you talking about?”

  “I’m making a reservation at Barolo Grill,” Lee told him. “She’ll think she’s having dinner with the Rock Chicks. But she’ll be having dinner with you.”

  Richardson’s brows shot up but he didn’t say anything.

  “Once that happens,” Lee went on, “it’ll be up to you to get in there.”

  “If she doesn’t want—” Richardson started.

  Lee pushed away from his truck, turned to fully face the man, put his hands on his hips and said quietly, “She wants. She’s still not gonna call you.”

  “And you’re setting her up because . . . ?” Richardson prompted.

  “Because you’re a good man and she’s a good woman and it’s time she had some happy in her life.”

  His eyes narrowed. “She’s not happy?”

  Good point to hone in on.

  Lee approved.

  “I’m talking about the kind we’re hopin’ you can give her, not her boys givin’ her, not the Rock Chicks givin’ her, not her bossin’ around my men givin’ her. I think you get me.”

  “I get you. I’m still not sure why we’re standing here having this conversation.”

  “You know who she is, don’t you,” Lee stated.

  Richardson drew a visible breath in through his nose before he shared, “Wasn’t sure. Kid looked a lot different when I had him at Gilliam. It’s been a while and he grew up and good since he was thirteen. And we don’t allow street names. But after she told me she was a foster parent and when she gave me her name, yeah, I knew who she was and I knew who her boy was.”

  Lee studied him closely. “Okay, so you know who she is, do you know who she was?”

  Richardson didn’t break eye contact. “If you mean do I know she’s Leon Jackson’s widow and that her and Darius Tucker took over the kingdom when the king was dead, yeah, I know that too.”

  “And you still gave her your number.”

  “She’s out of the game and so is her nephew. They’re both on board with you. So yeah. I gave her my number and straight up, it’s been a bummer she hasn’t used it.”

  Lee said nothing to that.

  Richardson tipped his head to the side, beginning to look impat
ient.

  “Is this a setup for a setup or is this a test, you feelin’ me out?” he asked.

  “Both,” Lee answered.

  That got him a look that said the man was getting pissed.

  “I’m way too old for this kinda shit,” Richardson told him.

  Yeah, he was getting pissed.

  “And I’m way too fuckin’ protective to let anyone near Shirleen that might hurt her in any way, and I’m just one of many who would not be pleased she even got bruised, much less broken,” Lee shot back.

  “Part of the bein’ too old shit is being any part of a setup that blindsides some woman who doesn’t really wanna have dinner with me,” Richardson returned.

  “She doesn’t want to have dinner with you because she thinks when you learn about her history, you won’t want her.”

  Richardson shut his mouth so fast, his chin dipping sharply back into his neck, it was clear he hadn’t thought of that.

  “She didn’t lose your number, man, to the point she clipped it to Christmas in her planner,” Lee shared, with this in the cards, not having a problem invading Shirleen’s space to see where she was at with Moses Richardson.

  Christmas.

  He didn’t have to be a private investigator to know what that said about where she was at.

  “Shit,” Richardson whispered.

  He knew where she was at too.

  “Yeah,” Lee agreed. “Now she’s not gonna call you, but she wants to call you. And I want her to have what she wants. I want her to find her piece of happiness. Those boys are gonna graduate next month and they’re gonna start to get on with their lives, and they will never lose her. You need to understand that. They will not ever lose her. But they’re the kind of boys that will get on with their lives and how they’ll do that, big parts of her life she’ll be alone, and my guess from all this, she’s hung up on her past so she won’t ever do anything about it.”

  Richardson just stared at him.

  “And I’ll admit,” Lee carried on, “in order not to give you a call to try it out with you, and in order not to think about the fact those boys’re gonna be moving on soon, she’s bought herself a bunch of shit to organize herself, the office, and my men. My marker is black, but my man Mace’s marker is strawberry fuckin’ sorbet, what she calls it, but it’s pink. And to say he’s not a big fan of that is an understatement. He’s not even a fan of being color coded with a marker at all. But definitely not pink. And I hit my desk last night to see ‘date night’ stickers all over it, givin’ me the not subtle hint I need to look after my woman, and my man Luke had a note in his cubby that had a sticker on it that said ‘grocery shopping’ with a list Shirleen got from his wife. Now if we don’t turn her mind to something else, I can’t even begin to guess what shit is going to go down at the office.”

  “So this whole thing is self-serving,” Richardson noted, his lips twitching.

  “Shit yeah,” Lee replied.

  The lip twitch stopped.

  “I don’t care what she was,” Richardson said quietly. “What she did, she has to make her peace with herself and God. What she is now is the only thing that interests me, and I saw her handle those boys. I know she cleaned up her life. I know it takes courage to do that. Turning your back on that kind of life isn’t easy, and it isn’t safe, and she did it. So I want to get to know her for more than the fact she’s a beautiful woman. But I don’t have crystal ball, Nightingale. I don’t know how this is going to turn out. I just know I won’t hurt her. Now if we don’t spark . . .” He let that trail off and lifted his shoulders.

  Lee called him on that. “You know you’re gonna spark or you wouldn’t have given her your card.”

  Richardson didn’t reply.

  Lee nodded. “You pick the night. I’ll get the reservation. Indy, my wife, will get her there.”

  At that, Richardson studied Lee closely. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  Lee shook his head. “Absolutely not. The only thing I know is that I watched Shirleen Jackson stand beside women as they fought their way through a load of shit to get to the other side and find their happy. It’s her turn. That might not be you, man, but I want it to be somebody and she needs to break the seal. Leon put her through hell. She paid her penance. It’s time she found her slice of heaven.”

  “Jesus, you really care about her,” Richardson murmured.

  “There’s a long line of those and I’m not even at the front,” Lee replied.

  “Make the reservation. Tuesday.”

  At that, Lee smiled.

  “How deep was the dive?” Richardson asked.

  Lee stopped smiling.

  “You’re Lee Nightingale,” Richardson went on. “And you’re here trying to convince me to go on a mostly blind date with a woman who means a great deal to you who has no idea, she turns up at a restaurant, she’s gonna be on a mostly blind date. That means I got the greenlight from you. So how deep did you and your boys dive?”

  “She deserves no drama,” Lee said instead of answering direct.

  “Man, if this works out, my guess is it’s all in the family. So you and your boys have this about me and I gotta know how much this is.”

  He had to give it to him.

  And if the tables were turned, he’d want to know too.

  “We know your wife cheated on you with her high school boyfriend at their reunion. You couldn’t go. You were at a mandatory cop convention in San Francisco. You found out because you saw an email that led to you lookin’ into it and finding more. She contended she got very drunk and wasn’t in control of her actions. Guests at the reunion confirm the inebriation is true, but we all know it’s no excuse. Still, you went into counseling with her to save your family. Six months into counseling, when you discovered she continued talking to the guy after you found out about the cheat and went into counseling, you decided you couldn’t trust her again or save your marriage, which meant your family. By that time, she was all in to save the marriage, if not the family. She made that and the fact she wasn’t pleased with your decision plain with four years of divorce court torture.”

  “Holy shit,” Richardson whispered.

  “We’re thorough,” Lee muttered.

  “That it?” Richardson asked.

  “Army record. Employment records. Your girls have a lot of shit up on Facebook and they need a lesson on privacy settings.”

  Richardson’s mouth got tight.

  Lee had a feeling that lesson would occur that night.

  “It was invasive and we had good reason. But it ends here,” Lee assured. “You get yourself to Barolo Grill, we’re out. Now the Rock Chicks, I can’t make any promises.”

  “These ‘Rock Chicks,’ they’re you and your men’s women?”

  “They’re nuts, and they’re my wife’s posse. And Shirleen is one of them.”

  He began to look less annoyed and more curious.

  “It really crazy enough to have books written about it?” he asked.

  “My wife was kidnapped . . . three times.”

  “Fucking hell,” Richardson muttered.

  “And I lost track of the explosions.”

  His eyes got big before he burst out laughing.

  Lee didn’t find anything funny.

  “Let’s avoid any of that with you and Shirleen,” he ordered on a suggestion.

  Richardson was still smiling when he replied, “I’m in on that.”

  “Tuesday,” Lee stated.

  Richardson nodded. “Tuesday.”

  Lee nodded back and turned to his truck.

  “Nightingale,” Richardson called.

  Lee turned back.

  “As fucked as it is considering you know more about why my marriage ended than my mother, still, think I owe you,” Richardson remarked.

  Lee hoped so.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Yeah,” Richardson replied. “We will.”

  I Know It Good

  Shirleen

  Tuesday ni
ght . . .

  “I’M HERE TO meet my girls. Reservation under India Nightingale,” I said to the hostess only to watch her eyes get big right before her face closed down.

  Damn.

  What had those women gotten up to?

  I looked to my watch.

  I was only seven minutes late.

  Then again, they were the Rock Chicks. Seven minutes of them being there—one of them, or all of them—it was a wonder the restaurant wasn’t on fire.

  “Right this way,” the hostess said, giving me a small, courteous smile and moving into the restaurant.

  I followed her, tucking my gunmetal Rebecca Minkoff envelope clutch under my arm, staring at my shoes and thinking it was good the girls organized a night out. That meant I got to wear my Alexander Wang beaded slingbacks. I’d been obsessed with wearing them since I met Moses (notthinkingaboutMoses, notthinkingaboutMoses, alwaystotallythinkingaboutMoses).

  Not to mention carry that kickass clutch.

  I’d turned my attention to the hostess’s shoes as she guided the way to the table, thinking they were a little bit of all right and I’d ask her where she got them when she turned and murmured, “Careful of the carpet.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, lifting my eyes to her face.

  She gave me another polite smile before again turning forward.

  I looked beyond her, wondering why things seemed calm and sedate, considering the Rock Chicks were in the house.

  No one was shouting, crying, whooping, laughing so loud the windows shook, and I heard no loud conversations about sex.

  I supposed this was Barolo Grill.

  We were a crazy bunch of bitches but we could get our game faces on when getting thrown out might mean you wouldn’t get to eat your risotto alla milanese (yes, I had pre-checked the menu, and yes, I totally knew every course I was ordering—all four of them).

  I just hadn’t decided what cocktail I was going to start with.

  What I had decided was that when I had the ambience of Barolo Grill around me, I’d go where the spirit moved me.

  This was my thought when the spirit moved me to jack my ass around and take off running the other way.

  And this was because the hostess was not leading me to the Rock Chicks.

  She was leading me to a table where Moses Richardson was rising from his chair, eyes locked on me. He was wearing a black shirt, a superbly cut dark-gray blazer, crisp jeans, and he looked good enough to eat.