Rock Chick Revenge

by Ashley, Kristen

  He’d never looked at me with a full on soft look, not when my Dad left, not when he saw one of my sisters be bitchy to me, not even when he was inside me.

  I leaned against the bookshelves.

  He was in love with her. He would, of course, be in love with her. She looked like a movie star. And I was just Fatty, Fatty Four-Eyes, the girl across the street holding onto a screaming crush.

  Okay, so I wasn’t really Fatty, Fatty Four-Eyes anymore, but… I was.

  Worse, I always would be.

  My phone rang in my hand and I jumped. The display said “Ren calling”.

  I flipped it open and put it at my ear. “Hey,” I said breathlessly.

  “What the fuck?” Ren clipped into my ear. “Are you okay?”

  No! I thought.

  “Yeah,” I said but that one word didn’t even convince me.

  “Ava –”

  I closed my eyes and blurted in a whisper, “I need to get out of here.”

  “Where are you?” Ren asked, now he was sounding concerned.

  “Fortnum’s.”

  “Where’s Santo?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Fuck,” he snapped. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in ten.”

  “No! Ren, no.”

  Santo walked into the back room, his head swung around and his eyes caught mine. Then he walked to me.

  “Santo’s right here,” I told Ren.

  “Come to me,” Ren ordered.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Have Santo bring you to me.”

  My heart stuttered. “Ren –”

  “Do it. I’ll be waiting.”

  Disconnect.

  I stared at Santo, my mind racing, my heart beating so strong I thought it’d jump out of my chest. That was my only thought. My mind didn’t have the capacity to process any more.

  Then Santo’s phone rang, he flipped it open, listened for five seconds and said, “Right,” he flipped it shut and looked back to me. “We’re going to Ren,” he said firmly.

  I just kept staring at him. Then, I didn’t know why, I nodded my head.

  We walked through the books, the vinyl and down the center aisle of the front room. Luke was walking toward us. His eyes were warm when they caught mine then, immediately, they went on alert. I looked away as I approached him and went to move by him. He caught my upper arm, I came up short and lifted my eyes to his.

  “What’s happening?” he asked, brows drawn.

  “I have to be somewhere,” I told him.

  His gaze moved from me to Santo and I pulled my arm from his hand and kept walking (albeit a lot faster), Santo following.

  I was at the passenger door to the Volvo when I heard the scuffle. I turned and saw Luke holding Santo back with a hand at his chest. He gave a shove, barely a movement of his arm but Santo fell back several paces. Luke turned to me and advanced, pinning me against the Volvo.

  “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, his voice low and lethal.

  “Nothing, Luke. I have to be somewhere. I’ll see you later at the loft,” I replied, my voice small, my eyes skidding away from his.

  I tried to slide away but he got even closer, his hand went to my jaw, his thumb splayed on my cheekbone and I looked at him.

  “Babe,” he murmured, eyes warm on mine.

  At that word pain sliced through me. Against my will and to my total mortification, I felt tears well in my eyes. He saw them and got ultra close. His face softened but not completely. Not even close.

  And that hurt even more.

  “Talk to me,” he whispered in his gentle, affectionate voice.

  I jerked my face from his hand, slid out from in front of him and quickly got in the car.

  Santo jumped behind the wheel and we took off.

  I didn’t look back.

  * * * * *

  Ren’s offices were a lot like Lee Nightingale’s except the wood was darker and instead of a cowboy motif there was a lot of fancy glass and modern art.

  Also he didn’t have a black lady receptionist with a huge Afro and a messy desk. He had an ultra gorgeous blonde receptionist with an obsessively tidy desk.

  Her head snapped up when she saw us enter and her eyes narrowed on me in immediate and unconcealed hate which I thought was kind of weird. Considering the fact that I was freaking out, I didn’t have time to confront a bitchy receptionist.

  “Ren’s expecting you,” she told Santo and she didn’t sound pleased about it.

  “Yeah, Dawn, I know,” Santo muttered, sounding like he thought she was a bitch too and leading me into an open doorway and down a hall. Santo stopped and so did I. He knocked on a door and when we heard Ren calling us in he opened it.

  Ren was already moving around his desk. His office was huge and his desk was not obsessively tidy. It was covered with papers and files in a way that it looked like he was really busy.

  I walked in with Santo, saw Ren give a jerk of the chin and without a word Santo took off.

  Ren stopped in front of me, put his hand to my neck, tilting my chin up with a gentle thumb in the soft spot between my jaws and looked in my eyes.

  “Jesus, Ava,” he murmured and I knew at his words that I was clearly not hiding my emotional freak out which was kind of a bummer.

  I stared at him then started blabbing. “I need quiet space. I need to be alone. No bodyguards. No tough guys. No imminent threat of kidnapping and car bombs. I need to think. I need to get my head together. I haven’t been alone for days. I need to be alone.” Before I could stop myself, I leaned into him and put my hand on his (it must be said, rock-hard) abs. “Ren, please, can you arrange that for me?”

  He watched me for a beat, his eyes scanning my face. Then he said softly, “Yeah, honey, I can arrange that for you.”

  I sagged into him.

  “Let’s go,” he finished.

  I felt relief flood through me, so much, I didn’t notice he took my hand and held it as we walked out of his office, down the hall, through the reception area, to the parking garage and to his Jag (I did, however, notice Dawn glaring at me).

  We drove through downtown where his offices were and I stared wordlessly out the window. My phone rang, I looked at it, saw it said “Luke calling” and flipped it open.

  Then I flipped it shut, open again and turned it off.

  I knew Ren watched this and I didn’t care. I was beyond caring, about a lot of things.

  He took me to a house in Cheesman Park, a big, old, graceful one. He expertly parallel parked in front (and I had to admit, I was impressed, I could never parallel park) and walked me to the door. Inside it was a big, house-wide front room, side dining room to the back and left, kitchen on the other side, behind a wall, lots of windows with some stained glass. A split, sunny staircase in the middle where Ren led me up and to a bedroom.

  Ho-ly crap.

  I halted and turned to him. “Ren –” I started.

  He gave me a gentle shove inside but took a step back, hand at the doorknob. “If you need anything, call,” he said.

  Then he left, closing the door behind him. I stared at the door then turned and looked at the room.

  More big windows, hardwood floors, dark wood furniture with a big bed, four high, spiked posts, wine-colored sheets and comforter.

  I sighed. Nothing for it.

  I threw myself on the bed, bounced a couple of times and curled into a ball.

  You’re just latching onto this to protect yourself, Good Ava accused in my ear.

  Yippee! We’re in Ren’s bed! Bad Ava yelled.

  You need to talk to Luke, Good Ava advised.

  You need to touch yourself in Ren’s bed. Mm, yum, Bad Ava advised.

  Good Ava glared around my neck at Bad Ava. Stop talking about Ren!

  Bad Ava glared back. Ren called us “honey”, we’ve been around Ren with LOTS of other women. He’s never called ANY of them “honey” like he did to us.

  Good Ava had no comment because Bad Ava was rig
ht.

  I closed my eyes tight and decided instead of sorting through my rampaging thoughts, I was going to try to think nothing at all.

  That didn’t work so I started to sort through my rampaging thoughts.

  In the end, I realized I had two choices. Be sloppy seconds to Jules for as long as it lasted and who knew how long it would last. Jules was with Vance, very with him, no way Luke was going to get in there. He might need sloppy seconds for a good, long while if his sexual appetite last night was anything to go by. Or I could get the hell out and fast.

  Since I couldn’t get the hell out and fast, (which was my preferred choice) considering my life was totally fucked up and Luke had made it clear he wasn’t done with me, I’d have to take the first.

  At least until I got my sextuple revenge against Dominic Dickhead. Then I was off to Jamaica for the longest vacation in history.

  On that unhappy thought, I slipped into a wee nap.

  I woke up when the bed moved. I saw a thigh and looked up. Ren was sitting on the bed looking down at me. His face was totally soft and gentle.

  Wow.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said quietly.

  I got up on an elbow. “That’s okay,” I said, my voice still sleepy. “What time is it?”

  “After five. You hungry?”

  I had missed lunch. I still wasn’t hungry.

  “Yeah,” I lied.

  He took my hand, helped me out of his bed and we went downstairs. Ren made spaghetti while I watched and drank red wine. Considering I was coasting on the dregs of morning toast (with unmelted butter), the red wine hit my head like a shot.

  Therefore by the time we sat down at his dining room table with bowls of (delicious, it must be said, Ren could cook) spaghetti, I had had two glasses of wine and was working on my third. I wasn’t quite drunk but I was in a talkative mood.

  Unfortunately, Ren asked what was happening. So, seeing as I felt like talking, I told him.

  Everything.

  From Luke moving into the house across the street; me being Fatty, Fatty Four-Eyes (that last part, Ren knew, I met him pre-weight loss and he’d been nice to me then too); having a crush on Luke since time began; all the way to the cookie swipe (though I just said we did the business, I didn’t go into detail, thank goodness, his eyes got a little scary just hearing the “we did the business” part).

  He listened without comment to all of this.

  When I was done he asked, “Did you get your head together?”

  I nodded.

  “What’d you decide?” He seemed very interested in my answer.

  Yikes.

  I sat back and took a sip of wine. This was going to be the hard part.

  “I need you to take me back to Luke’s,” I told him in a quiet, don’t freak out on me voice.

  His mouth got tight but, to my surprise, without a word or a freak out, he nodded.

  That said a lot about him. All of it good.

  Hell and damnation.

  We did the dishes and he took me back to Luke’s. He walked me into the building and when the elevator doors slid open, his hand came to my neck before I could walk in.

  He brought me close, his face dipped to mine and I saw the hungry look in his eyes. This time it was more intense because I could see it was mingled with anger or frustration or both. I figured whatever he was going to say was going to complicate my complicated life significantly.

  I was not wrong.

  He started talking and I vowed that if I ever got caught in a man pickle again, I would choose a man who was not a straight-talker.

  “After he gets done with you, screwin’ with your head while he’s fuckin’ your body when he knows you have serious feelings for him, or you get done with bein’ with a guy who would do that, done with a guy who’s thinkin’ of someone else when he fucks you, when you decide you wanna be with a guy who is thinkin’ of nothin’ but you when he fucks you, Ava, you call me.”

  Ho-ly shit!

  What did I do with that?

  I just stared, I couldn’t do anything else.

  “Do you understand me?” he asked.

  At that, I just nodded.

  I understood him. Ee-yikes but I understood him.

  “Good,” he said and he sounded pissed off. Even pissed off, he still brushed his lips against mine. I registered that the lip brush felt nice while he walked away.

  I shrugged off the lip brush, got in the elevator and used the key to Luke’s floor. I did my now familiar holding-of-the-breath-until-the-doors-slid-open-to-Luke’s-loft and I let it out on a gush when they did.

  He was sitting at a stool in front of the bar, the kitchen garbage can a few feet in front of him, sorting through one of the piles I made for him (tossing most of it in the garbage, I might add) and eating one of my Milano cookies. He was still in his Tom Petty mood, I knew this because Tom was singing “Mary Jane’s Last Dance” on the stereo.

  His head swung around when I walked in.

  I opened my mouth to say “Hey” when he spoke. “Where the fuck have you been?” he bit off.

  Hmm.

  Someone was in a bad mood.

  It was about to get worse. I knew it would because I was going to make it get worse.

  And I did it on purpose.

  Barlow Bitch Blood was pumping so watch out!

  “At Ren’s,” I answered.

  The air in the room went scary as I walked in, got close to Luke, put my phone down on the bar and grabbed the bag of Milanos. I shoved my hand in the bag, studiously avoiding the scary air and Luke’s gaze and nabbing a cookie.

  “Ava.”

  I looked at him. He was in his controlling-fury mode, I knew it with one look.

  “Yeah?” I asked, sounding unconcerned and a little surprised at myself that I could pull it off.

  “You wanna tell me what you did at Zano’s?”

  Not really.

  Still, I answered, “I needed space to get my head together. He gave it to me. I spent the afternoon at his place, alone, and took a nap. When he got home from work, he made me dinner and brought me back here.”

  I’d gone from lying through my teeth every other second to being honest when it was definitely not good for me. I should have stuck with lying. Even though all this was perfectly innocent, I could tell Luke didn’t like it, not one bit.

  “Now that you answered that question, you wanna tell me why you couldn’t get your head together and take a nap here?”

  I shrugged, being Queen of Calm. Barlow Bitch Blood was apparently latent. I’d lived twenty-nine years hardly ever being a bitch. Now it was coming out in spades.

  “Okay, then you wanna tell me what your drama was about at Fortnum’s?”

  I was starting to bite into my cookie, I took it out of my mouth and said (back to lying),“I didn’t have a drama.”

  “Then what was that?”

  “It wasn’t a drama.”

  “Eddie said he saw you crawling on all fours.”

  Jeez!

  This was so annoying. He had sources everywhere.

  “I dropped a contact,” I lied.

  Luke glared at me and then said, “Ava,” in a very low, very lethal voice.

  “I told you, I had somewhere to go. I had to meet Ren so he could help me out.”

  “When did Ren Zano become the one who helped you out?”

  “Yesterday, at dinner,” I told him breezily, shaking my cookie in the air for effect.

  Not a good answer. I knew this because the scary air started pressing in.

  Surprisingly he let it go and asked instead, “Where did you sleep?”

  Again I was about to bite into my cookie but stopped and asked, “What?”

  “At Zano’s, where did you sleep?”

  Uh-oh.

  Before I could fight back the Barlow Bitch Pull it popped out of my mouth. “In his bed.”

  Eek!

  Red alert! Red alert! Scary air hitting danger zone! Evacuate the premise
s immediately!

  Then Luke growled in a voice so low, I barely heard him, “You’ve got to be fuckin’ shittin’ me.”