Rock Chick Revolution

by Ashley, Kristen

  I stared.

  Then I felt that feeling I felt earlier start to move through me and again it was far from bad.

  This was because Daisy’s idea was far from bad.

  “You know,” she continued, “I tried the society gig and the charity gig. Both of those did not work for me.”

  I did know that. I also knew that neither of those worked in a big way. The one and only charity function Daisy gave ended up in a standoff complete with firearms. The crème de la crème of Denver society wasn’t hankering for another such escapade, even if it was for a good cause.

  “And no one wants me to do their hair for some reason, so the salon idea I had is out,” she stated.

  At that, I tried (and failed) not to look at her hair which made her four inches taller than she was, but she still had two ponytails sticking out the back and they were both tied with baby pink satin ribbons.

  In other words, if big hair made you closer to God, Daisy’s hair was touching the Pearly Gates.

  And that was the only way Daisy knew how to do hair. So if you weren’t up for the Southern Woman Style, you were screwed. And let’s just say that the vast majority of women in Denver fit in two groups. Those who mountain biked (and not with big hair). And those who drank cosmos (and they might have big hair, but not Daisy big).

  Thus no one championed her salon idea.

  “And sugar, I need to find a way to spend my days,” she kept going. “The Rock Chicks are petering out. There’s no hands to hold and no need for me to turn my home into a safe house. The other day I noticed my stun gun had a cobweb on it. After I had a word with my cleaning lady, it made me think. And what I think is, I can send an email and an invoice. So we’re teamin’ up.”

  “Daisy, honestly, this isn’t a bad idea,” I told her, and her blue eyes lit up. “But I don’t have any clients yet.”

  She waved her hand in front of her face, dropped it and leaned in.

  “To get clients, you gotta have infrastructure,” she stated authoritatively. “So, that’s why I got Roxie on designin’ your website. And Ava’s mockin’ up a couple ideas for a logo for you. She’s gonna do our business cards and letterhead.”

  Our?

  “And I’m lookin’ for some office space. Marcus knows some people and I told him to put us in touch with the people he knows. In no time,” she snapped her long-nailed fingers, “we’ll get you set up.”

  I decided to focus on the Rock Chicks finding ways to be involved and provide support that would not lead to their Hot Bunch boys losing their minds, and not scary words like “our,” and I smiled at Daisy.

  “It’s cool the way you guys are all kicking in, chickie. But I have to have your solemn Rock Chick Vow that, if we do this, you answer phones and send invoices. You don’t get involved and you also help me make certain the other Rock Chicks don’t horn in in a way that’ll make things difficult for me.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Girl, do you honestly think Marcus is gonna let me get myself into a situation where my fat could be in the fryer?” she asked but didn’t let me answer. “No way. One thing, the RC’s findin’ trouble through no fault of their own. Another, lookin’ for it.”

  That was a relief.

  She moved into me and hooked her arm through mine, starting to guide me out of the W-X-Y-Z’s, stating, “I’m gonna be the best PI receptionist ever. I’m gonna have you so organized, shit’ll get done before you even know it’s happening. I’m gonna kick receptionist ass so good that Lee’s gonna wanna recruit me, because I even file and Shirleen don’t do that shit.”

  Something tentatively good just got better. I’d chipped in to help file at Lee’s office once. It wasn’t a fun activity.

  We made it to the center aisle when I heard Tex boom, “Ally!”

  This was not his usual, “Ally, quit fucking around and help with coffee” Ally.

  This was an Ally that made the skin at the back of my neck prickle.

  I looked down at Daisy, she looked up at me and we hustled out of the books.

  I had no idea what I would find, but someone standing there wearing a bomb vest was a possibility.

  But it was Annette, Roxie’s best friend; a Rock Chick by association (thus not getting laid by a Hot Bunch guy; she was getting laid by a guy name Jason who was a vegetarian). She was also the owner of the head shop across the street. And last, she was standing amongst the tables and chairs at the front with five women who were gazing around, faces filled with wonder, lips parted.

  As the nuts the Rock Chicks collected go, Annette occupied the upper echelon. Then again, she had a lot of company.

  “Get her and those women outta here!” Tex boomed, and I looked in confusion at him then I looked back at Annette and saw that the women with her now had cameras to their faces and they were taking pictures of Tex.

  What the fuck?

  I moved toward Annette as she called encouragingly to Tex, “Sock it to us, big man! Give them the Rock Chick Experience!”

  Again.

  What the fuck?

  I approached her from the back. “Annette?”

  She turned to me, took in both Daisy and me, and cried, “Fuckin’ phat!” She motioned to us and looked at the women with her. “Sistahs, this is Ally Nightingale and Daisy Sloan.”

  “Ally,” one of them breathed.

  The rest of them took pictures, the flashes exploding in my face one after the other.

  I had no choice but to look away and when I was able to focus, I saw Daisy had not missed a beat and was standing beside me striking a pose and giving them a face set in “smolder.”

  Jeez.

  I looked back at the women. “Stop taking pictures.”

  Immediately, five cameras dropped.

  My eyes went to Annette. “What gives?” I asked.

  “Rock Chick Tour,” she answered.

  “Oh my God, sugar, that is such a good idea!” Daisy squealed.

  But I stared.

  Then I repeated, “Rock Chick Tour?”

  “Yeah,” Annette replied. “We start here at Fortnum’s for coffee. Then we go to Sissy and Dom’s house, where Ava and Luke got caught in a drive-by. Then we go to the alley where Jules kicked those drug dealers’ asses. Then we go to that bar where Jet got shot at the poker game. Then we go to the mansion where Stella’s apartment exploded. Then we go to Sadie’s art gallery because it’s all okay now, but it wasn’t okay when it was torched. Blah, blah, blah,” she rolled her hand in front of her and finished, “We eat lunch at Lincoln’s and end with cocktails at Smithie’s.”

  I kept staring at her.

  “You need to take them to Thornton to the haunted house thing where Billy caught up with Roxie,” Daisy advised. “The haunted house ain’t runnin’, but they still got all the buildings there.”

  “Phat!” Annette shouted. “I’ll add that to our itinerary.”

  “I’m not part of no tour!” Tex boomed, and the five women again turned to him, lifted their cameras and started taking photos. “Put down those fuckin’ cameras!” Tex roared on a ferocious scowl.

  The women dropped their cameras again, but they weren’t offended or frightened. They were all smiling, giving each other happy looks, and two of them were even giggling.

  I remained focused.

  “Annette, you can’t do Rock Chick Tours,” I told her.

  “Bitch, I so can,” she told me. “I got the idea when the articles came out. I set it up, then Roxie told me about the book yesterday so now I have to do it.”

  “I’ve read the book, like, five times,” one woman said.

  “I’ve read it three,” another woman put in.

  “You’re my favorite character, Ally,” a third told me.

  I was her favorite character?

  “I read it last night,” Daisy said, moving into their huddle. “Stayed up all night. My favorite part was when Lee caught Indy and Tex during their B&E. Laughed myself sick, and when I did I woke Marcus. He was not happy.”

&
nbsp; The women closed ranks on the huddle and one remarked, “My favorite is the living room tussle.”

  “Mm-hmm, that one’s good too,” Daisy agreed.

  “The Head Olympics discussion and the ensuing wrestling match,” another one said, and Daisy emitted her tinkly bell laugh.

  “Oo, sugar, that one’s way good,” Daisy again agreed.

  “Ohmigod,” the woman breathed to the one at her side, “Daisy called me ‘sugar’.”

  “Sure I called you sugar, sugar,” Daisy said on a huge bright smile.

  The woman lifted her shoulders up to her ears and her eyes went dreamy, not like Daisy was calling her sugar, but like Channing Tatum had just kissed her cheek.

  I looked to the ceiling.

  Then I looked to Annette.

  “Does Roxie know about this?” I asked.

  “No,” she answered.

  “Indy?” I went on.

  “No,” she said.

  “Anyone but Daisy, Tex, Jet and me?” I pressed.

  “No,” she repeated.

  “Do you see how this might not be taken positively?” I kept going.

  “No,” Annette replied.

  I drew in breath.

  One of the women moved to the coffee counter and declared, “I need a Tex coffee.”

  “Me too,” another one said as she followed.

  “Totally!” a third one cried.

  “Tex, will you be in a picture with me holding one of your coffees?” the fourth one put her life in her hands to ask as she approached.

  Tex’s angry glower shifted to me and he boomed, “Do something!”

  All the women looked to me.

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

  The women looked to Tex.

  “Something!” he shouted.

  The women looked to me.

  “Tex, they’re buying coffees. And it’s likely they’re gonna tip. That’s more cat treats for the kitties,” I pointed out.

  The women looked to Tex.

  “The cats got enough treats.”

  The women looked back to me.

  “You do realize that you’re giving them the show they came for and if you just shut your trap and made them coffees, it would probably be over a lot faster.”

  The women looked at Tex.

  Tex’s mouth snapped shut.

  Finally.

  Still behind the counter, Jet moved toward the group of women, introducing herself with, “Hi, I’m Jet.”

  One woman breathed, “Jet.”

  The other four lifted their cameras and started taking pictures. Jet looked startled a moment, then she smiled her killer smile that took your breath away and more flashes lit the scene.

  I felt Annette get close and I looked at her.

  “Can you call one of the Hot Bunch and ask them to drop by?” she asked, might I add, insanely. “They don’t have to say anything. Just stand there so the girls can take their picture.”

  “Do you want to survive until tomorrow?” I asked back.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Then no. I can’t call one of the Hot Bunch so he’ll drop by and pose for pictures.”

  “Bummer,” she muttered.

  “And just a reminder,” I started. “The place is bugged. This means Lee probably already knows this is happening. And the rest of the Hot Bunch. And that means I’ll say good-bye now because you’re probably gonna disappear in the night and never be seen again.”

  “That. Would be. The bomb!” she exclaimed. “Tell your brother, if he sends someone to kidnap me, I pick Luke. But if he’s busy, Vance. No, wait!” she yelled. “Hector!”

  “Hector?” one of the women called from her place at the coffee counter, but her eyes were scanning the space. “Where’s Hector?”

  I couldn’t help it because, seriously, it was totally whacked, but I’d lived whacked for two years. It was also all kinds of funny.

  So I burst out laughing.

  And as I did so, I saw the camera flashes against my closed eyes.

  * * * * *

  “Baby.”

  At Ren’s call, I whirled the tip of my tongue around the tip of his cock. I wrapped the hand I’d been using to stroke him tight and looked up his molded abs, his wide chest, to his face.

  He was sitting up, back to the headboard, and I got a tingle in my happy place from the hot, dark look on his face as well as the knowledge he’d been watching my activities.

  I no sooner caught his eyes when he curled toward me, grasped me under my arms and hauled me up his body.

  His hand in my hair cupping my head, he slammed my mouth down on his and kissed me hard and wet while shifting and rolling so we were down the bed. We ended with me on my back, Ren on top of me.

  No sooner had he got me there than he slid off and curled an arm around me, making me do a partial roll so my back was to his front. I felt my panties dragged over my ass and I held my breath as my happy place convulsed.

  “Give me that,” he growled into my neck.

  I gave it to him. I so did.

  Tipping my booty so he could have access, he didn’t delay. One of his hands slid between my legs, his middle finger hitting me right where I needed it. His other hand slid up my chest so he could wrap his fingers around the underside of my jaw, holding firm, keeping me where he wanted me.

  And last, he drove into me.

  I’d forgotten about spooning, and right then that was top of my list of positions with Ren.

  And serious to God, I loved this. Held captive by him, powerless to do anything but take what he gave me, but knowing he’d work to give me what I needed to take me there so I got it first before he took what he needed to get him there.

  Amazing.

  So amazing, I held still, whimpering and moaning, until it started to burn through me.

  Then my neck arched back. I felt his lips at the side and I breathed, “Ren,” right before it blistered through me.

  He thrust hard, fast, deep, and his hand between my legs continued working me, taking, even as I came down. He kept going until I felt his mouth open on the skin of my neck and he sucked deep. A tremor ran through me and I felt and listened as he got what he needed.

  As it left him, he settled, still buried inside me. His hand between my legs moved so he could wrap his arm around my belly. His hand at my jaw gentled and his fingers started stroking.

  His mouth still at my neck, he whispered there, “Love you, Ally.”

  “Love you too, honey,” I whispered back.

  He kissed the side of my neck, shifted, kissed the back of my neck and we lay there connected for several long, happy, silent minutes until he pulled out and rolled to his back. He took me with him, positioning me tucked to his side with my forehead in his neck and his hand cupping my ass.

  “Shimmy outta your panties, baby,” he murmured.

  Using just my legs, I shimmied out of them, caught them with my toe and used my foot to toss them over Ren to land at the side of the bed.

  When I settled in, he drew random patterns on my ass as he said, still murmuring, “Not done with you tonight.”

  Ren was feeling energetic.

  Right on.

  I smiled against his skin.

  It was after work at Fortnum’s where, fortunately, nothing else happened, except Roxie, Tod and Stevie showing with about five hundred bags from various stores at Park Meadows Mall (okay, maybe four hundred). It was also after Ren got home late from work, but he still made me chicken parmesan.

  But the dishes were still on the dining room table. The pots in the sink.

  This was because, once I’d taken my last bite, Ren said to me, “Thinkin’ about it all day, couldn’t get my mind off it, so now I want your mouth on me.”

  I hadn’t been thinking about it all day, but I was thinking about it right then. And what I thought about it was that it was a fantastic idea.

  Therefore I immediately got up, sashayed to and up the stairs and into his bedroom.

>   He followed me, hitting the room, eyes hot but lips quirking.

  I’d then commenced in obliging.

  You know the rest.

  That brought us to now.

  I lifted my head and looked down at him. I felt my insides warm at the contentment in his expression, and asked, “Do I have to turn Catholic?”

  His face blanked, his hand at my ass stilled, and he did a slow blink.

  Then he demanded, “Say that again.”

  I didn’t say it again.

  Instead, I explained, “You’re Catholic. I’m not. And you’re Italian. And seeing as the Pope lives in a sovereign city-state in your homeland, I’m thinking that’s important. And since we’re committed and you’ve promised we won’t be about meatloaf and missionary, I’ve gotta have some detail about what else the future has in store for me.”

  His hand not at my ass lifted to cup my jaw before he said quietly, “That’s not something you tick off a to-do list, honey.”

  “No. But it is something you consider and look into if it’s important to the man you love.”

  Ren closed his eyes.

  A second later, I found myself on my back with Ren looming over me, but he did this with his chest pressed mostly on mine and his hand still cupping my jaw.

  His eyes moved over my face and his face had the look.

  My insides got warmer.

  Then he stated, “It’s not necessary you convert, Ally. But it’s important to me that my kids are raised in the faith.”

  “Wouldn’t it be important, to raise kids in the faith, that I knew about said faith at the very least, but better, practiced it?” I asked, and the look intensified so my insides got melty.

  “You’d do that?” he whispered.

  “I don’t know. Is here an initiation ceremony where I have to drink blood of the calf or something?” I asked and he grinned.

  Then he answered, “No.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “Then maybe you can set it up so I can talk to somebody.”

  He dropped his head so his forehead touched mine, all the while muttering, “Fuckin’ fuck me.”

  That meant a lot to him.

  I loved that. I loved that I gave that to him.

  But I didn’t tell him that.

  I shared, “I’m obviously no expert, but my guess is the Pope frowns on the f-bomb, Zano.”