Rock Chick Renegade

by Ashley, Kristen

  I looked at Vance who was sitting back, driving with only his left wrist on the steering wheel, eyes on the road, thoughts hidden, cool as a cucumber.

  He sensed my agitation, his eyes slid to me and he said,

  “Stil .”

  “Stil , my ass,” I murmured.

  Vance chuckled. So did Roam.

  We drove up to the house and Vance barely got his new, shiny, black truck stopped when the door flew open and a beautiful Native American woman, a hint of gray in her thick, black hair and cheekbones I’d sel my soul for, came flying out of the house.

  She ran half the way to the truck then halted. Her body went solid and she stared at her grown son, seeing him for the first time in twenty years.

  Vance dropped down from the truck (stil , I might add, cool as a cucumber, acting as if he came to visit every weekend) and he waited for me to round the hood to get to him. He took my hand and we walked up to his Mom, Roam and Sniff hanging back.

  She was a tiny, little thing and she watched us coming, her eyes leaving Vance only once to slide to our linked hands and then to gaze momentarily at me. When we got close she looked up at Vance like pretty much everyone did, like he was a god fal en to earth (sometimes, normal y post-orgasm, I suspected that he was but I never told him that, though I did share my suspicions with Al y, Indy, Jet, Roxie and Daisy and they’d al laughed themselves stupid).

  “My son,” she whispered as if she couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Yeah, Ma,” Vance said.

  At his words she burst into tears.

  Unfortunately so did I. What could I say? Even a head crackin’ mamma jamma and a social worker who’d witnessed dozens of reunions was going to lose it in the face of that kind of reunion.

  Vance held his Mom. Roam slid his arm around my shoulders and I stuffed my face in his neck.

  Final y after a good long bawl, she looked at me. “My name is Roslyn,” she said, wiping her face and trying to get control.

  “I’m Jules,” I told her, doing the same as she was.

  Then for some ungodly reason, we burst out crying again, moving into each other’s arms.

  The guys just left us to it and unpacked the truck though I heard Roam mutter, “Shit, sil y bitches.”

  “Don’t say bitches!” I shouted at his back just as the screen door slammed.

  Roslyn laughed.

  I watched her and it hit me that her son looked a lot like her.

  * * * * *

  We stayed with Roslyn for a couple of days. His Dad was mysteriously “on a fishing trip” which Vance took in stride but it pissed me right the hel off though with effort I kept my mouth shut. We found out his brother, Owen, was living in Santa Fe.

  Owen and his family came up on our last day when Vance’s Mom had a barbeque for us at noontime before we were going to take off.

  The reunion with Owen didn’t go so wel . Owen sized up Vance immediately and didn’t like what he saw (pure jealousy, if you asked me).

  Owen was married with two young boys, was shorter than Vance and clearly took after his Dad in the looks department. Vance looked like his Mom, as in gorgeous.

  Owen wasn’t much but then again I could be prejudiced, Owen was kind of a jerk, I thought that right off.

  Around about the dessert stage of the festivities, Owen teetered over the rim of happy-drunk and got shitfaced drunk, loud and obnoxious in a way you knew he did it a lot especial y when both Roslyn and Owen’s wife got very tense and started to shrink into themselves.

  The whole time we were there Vance had been, wel , Vance, cool and laid back. It put Roslyn and al of us at ease and our time with his Mom had been good. She was funny and sweet and obviously happy to have us with her.

  Sometimes though, I’d catch her looking at Vance in a way that was lost and infinitely sad. Thank God Sniff was there, his motor mouth usual y served to snap her out of it.

  But his brother’s drunken behavior got a reaction from Vance, who looked at his two nephews, his mother and sister-in-law then he took his brother around the front of the house for a chat.

  The chat degenerated when Owen became not only drunk, loud and obnoxious but also seriously pissed off. We heard the shouts al the way to the back and I got up and ran around to the front, the whole party fol owing me. I tried to intercede as Owen yel ed in Vance’s face and Vance stared him down.

  Owen turned an enraged face to me and screamed,

  “Shut up, bitch. Who the fuck’re –”

  Then quick as a flash (as was the way of Lightin’ Crowe), Owen was up against the house, Vance’s forearm to his throat and Vance in his face.

  There went the reunion barbeque.

  Owen looked stunned that one second he was five feet away and shouting mad and the next second he was pinned and powerless against the house.

  “Not smart,” Vance said in a scary, quiet voice, then shoved off and looked at Roam. “Pack it up.” Roam, not looking al that happy himself, didn’t hesitate.

  He grabbed Sniff and they ran into the house.

  “But we haven’t got to the pie yet,” Roslyn cried.

  Vance was not in the mood to change his mind. We were packed up and ready to go in fifteen minutes. Owen had disappeared, his wife and kids stood by Roslyn as we said our good-byes.

  “You’l come back?” Roslyn asked Vance, standing a foot away, not touching him and the sound of her voice made tears crawl up my throat.

  “I’l be back,” Vance told her.

  I was standing at Vance’s side and her eyes moved to me.

  “You’l bring him back?” she asked, even though Vance had already answered the question.

  I smiled at her. “I’l bring him back.”

  I gave her a hug and told her to come visit us in Denver.

  Vance touched his young nephews’ heads, nodded to his sister-in-law and turned to kiss his mother’s forehead.

  Then we were gone.

  * * * * *

  After the emotional start to our vacation, we spent the rest of the week camping.

  Two street-smart, urban runaways roughing it in the mountains outside Ouray was pretty hilarious. They didn’t have a clue.

  Vance was a patient teacher.

  I on the other hand never stopped giving them stick.

  * * * * *

  It was late March and May and I were hanging in the surveil ance room with Vance, Monty and Mace. May and I had brought a lunch of calzones from Pasquini’s for the boys and Shirleen and we were consuming them and giggling ourselves sil y while watching Tex and Duke argue about what happened at Kent State (though, I didn’t understand what the argument was about considering it sounded like they both agreed) when Vance got tense and he leaned forward.

  He turned down the volume to the Fortnum’s monitor and moved to the monitor that showed a visual of the reception area.

  Shirleen was sitting behind the reception desk, consuming her own calzone while alternately painting her fingernails, a mean feat, and a woman had walked in.

  I looked at her and liked her immediately.

  Tal , curvy, super-pretty and definitely cool in a female James Dean, throw-away-cool type of way. She was wearing a pair of very faded Levi’s, so faded, they were worn nearly through in some advantageous areas; a pair of black flip flops; a black Green Day t-shirt over a white thermal; silver rings on nearly every finger; several silver necklaces around her neck; a mess of silver bracelets on both her wrists and wide silver hoops at her ears. Her long, streaked-blonde hair was up in a twisty, untidy knot with chunks fal ing around her face in a way that looked artless and kickass.

  Her look was sah-weet. She had Rock Chick written al over her.

  Vance turned up the volume to the reception monitor in time for us to hear Shirleen say, “… help you?” The woman was looking at Shirleen and she didn’t look happy. Why, I couldn’t fathom, but she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there and was about ready to turn on her flip flop and leave.

  She hesita
ted for a moment then said, “I’m looking for Lucas Stark.”

  Uh-oh.

  I drew in breath.

  “You got an appointment with Luke?” Shirleen asked, looking through the total mess on her desk as if she actual y kept appointments for Luke. Luke didn’t even take appointments. Luke was wherever Luke was and if you caught him you could count yourself lucky.

  “No, I’m an…” the woman hesitated, licked her lips and said, “old friend.”

  “Holy fuck,” Monty muttered under his breath, staring at the monitors with a pained expression and shaking his head, “here we go again.”

  May and I looked at each other and grinned.

  “He ain’t here, girl, you want, I can cal him,” Shirleen told her.

  “No,” the woman said quickly and she sounded downright relieved. “I’l just…” she hesitated again and looked around. She stil looked tense and I was pretty certain she was about to bolt. “Forget it. Could you please just tel him Ava Barlow was here? I’l try to catch him later.” Yep, I was right, she was about to bolt. Vance picked up the phone and hit a button.

  Shirleen was smiling huge. “No problem to give him a bel . I got his number on speed dial.”

  “No!” Ava cried suddenly them continued. “Real y, thanks, but I’l just go, I’ve got to be somewhere anyway.” She was edging away, definitely losing it now. She was beginning to look jittery.

  I heard Mace laughing softly behind me.

  Vance spoke into the phone. “Luke,” pause, “you got a visitor.” I could hear the smile in Vance’s voice even though his face was turned away. “Says her name’s Ava Barlow.”

  “Just hang on one tick,” Shirleen said, getting up, waving her hands to dry her nails, “I’l just talk to the boys in the back. Maybe they know where he is.”

  In the surveil ance room, Vance said into the phone.

  “Looks scared as a fuckin’ jackrabbit. She’s about to take off.” Immediately, his eyes sliced to Mace and he did a flick of his hand, index finger pointed to the door saying, “Luke’l be here in five.”

  Mace disappeared and seconds later we saw him hit the reception area and move to block the exit.

  “Luke just cal ed in,” Mace lied to the staring Ava (it was hard not to stare at Mace, especial y upon first sight of him).

  “He’l be here in five.”

  I could swear I saw Ava’s face grow pale.

  “I’m thinkin’ Ava Barlow don’t have a prayer,” May whispered to me but she was looking at the monitor and her whole body was shaking with laughter.

  I found myself hoping Ava Barlow was good enough for Luke Stark and thinking that was a tal order.

  She liked Green Day though so I figured that was a start.

  Vance put down the phone and sat back, picking up his calzone. His gaze moved to me and mine moved to him.

  His eyes were amused but soft and sweet and he had that “mine” look on his face. These days it was less intense, less raw, more settled, more content and I liked that.

  I liked it a lot.

  Home, I heard Auntie Reba say in my head.

  I know, I said back.

  My pug puppy curled up in my mental lap and sighed a happy puppy sigh.

  My eyes stil on Vance, I smiled.

  ####

  About the Author

  Kristen Ashley lives in the beautiful West Country of England with her husband and her cat. She came to England by way of Denver, where she lived for twelve years, but she grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana. Her family and friends are loopy (to say the least) but loopy is good when you want to write.

  Kristen’s Mom moved her and her brother and sister in with their grandparents when she was six. Her grandparents had a daughter much younger than her Mom so they al lived together on a very smal farm in a smal farm town in the heartland. She grew up with Glenn Mil er, The Everly Brothers, REO Speedwagon and Whitesnake (and the wardrobes that matched). Needless to say, growing up in a house ful of music, clothes and love was a good way to grow up.

  And as she keeps growing up, it keeps getting better.

  Discover other Titles by Kristen Ashley Rock Chick Series:

  Rock Chick

  Rock Chick Rescue

  Rock Chick Redemption

  The ‘Burg Series:

  For You

  At Peace

  Connect with Kristen Online:

  Official Website: www.kristenashley.net

  Kristen’s Blog: www.kristenashley.net/menu/blog.html Kristen’s Facebook Page

  Cover

  Art

  by

  Maxine

  Hayes,

  Contact:

  max31289@sky.com

  Denver Skyline Photograph by Derek, Kar Tsot Wong