Rock Chick Revolution

by Ashley, Kristen

“Okay, maybe more than a little bit,” I allowed.

  His eyes moved over my face in the waning sunlight, the air in the car got heavy then, again with the scary whisper, “My woman doesn’t get freaked.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Ren—”

  “Let’s go,” he clipped.

  Before I could say another word, he let me go, turned to his door and angled out.

  I rushed to do the same thing. I barely got to the sidewalk before my hand was seized and Ren half walked with me, half dragged me toward my childhood home.

  The dragging part had to do with the fact that I couldn’t keep up with his pace. I had on a pair of high-heeled bronze sandals that were awesome and went great with my new brown-washed jeans and kickass Stevie-Nicks-meets-Olivia-Newton-John batwing dusty blue top shot with bronze and silver that had a deep vee. But even the reminder that I had on great jeans, shoes and a kickass rock ‘n’ roll top didn’t unfreak me (as it usually would do).

  We were at the base of the walk when the door opened and expelled Roxie and Indy.

  Roxie had her hands up, palms down, pressing the air and she was calling out (but quietly), “Calm. Calm. It’s all going to be okay. We got out the leaves for the dining room table.”

  This did not make me feel better, and not just because Mom didn’t have that many leaves.

  Indy just lifted a hand and stated, “No worries. It’s under control.”

  I couldn’t tell if Ren even looked at either one of them before he hauled us through them.

  As for me, I had just enough time to give them a wide-eyed, warning-danger-is-imminent look they both totally understood before he tugged at my arm, pulling me in front of him. He did this while reaching beyond me to yank open the storm door, push open the front door then shove me in front of him.

  I took two steps in, Ren one, and we were faced with a tense family room filled with people holding cocktails or bottles of beer; none of them, I noticed on a quick scan, having a good time.

  Except Vito looked like Vito always looked. Expansive and happy.

  Shit.

  The Montagues and Capulets were never congregated in anyone’s living room. If they were, I had a feeling from the vibe in my parents’ house right then, Romeo and Juliet would be a much shorter play.

  Crap.

  “Malcolm and Kitty Sue,” Ren greeted my parents tersely with a chin jerk, and then his eyes immediately went to Vito. “Vito, a word outside.”

  “Son, we’re havin’ a drink,” Vito returned, lifting up what looked like a Manhattan.

  “A,” Ren started, his voice on that one syllable rumbling and another chill ran over my skin, “word.”

  Vito and Ren went into a staredown.

  Indy and Roxie squeezed in through the limited space Ren left at the door, but they didn’t move in much further, just because movement in that kind of volatile environment could mean bad things.

  I held my breath.

  Surprisingly, Ren won the staredown when Vito turned to Mom and Dad and said, “Mal, Kitty Sue, my nephew needs a word.”

  Mal?

  Oh God.

  Dad’s lips got tight.

  Oh shit.

  Mom murmured, “Of course.”

  Dad just looked between Ren and Vito and nodded.

  Vito moved toward the door.

  Ren moved us out of his way and looked at Dom. “You too.”

  Dom, incidentally a man with looks that could make him Ren’s brother, not cousin (except he had wave in his hair and his confidence had swagger), was playing it smart for once. I knew this when he immediately made his way toward the door.

  They disappeared behind it.

  Mom spoke. “Ally, honey, I had another pork tenderloin that I just popped in the oven, and you know I always have backup Pillsbury crescent rolls. It’s okay.”

  Pillsbury crescent rolls could be served at peace talks to put the negotiators in good moods. However, I was thinking their magic wouldn’t work here.

  I looked at Mom and told her, “He’s a hotheaded Italian American badass. I think he needs to do what he needs to do.”

  “He needs to do what he needs to do,” an attractive, petite, stylish woman who was sitting on one of my mom and dad’s couches confirmed.

  She rose.

  I took in Ren’s mother, then his two sisters who had been flanking her on the couch.

  His sisters looked like female versions of Ren, long, lean and attractive.

  His mother had silver hair, lots of it, and it was fashioned in a becoming style that curled in at her shoulders. She also had fabulous cheekbones and exotic features that had not dimmed with age. Looking at her, it came semi-clear why Ren’s dad didn’t share with this woman that he was what he was. Because she was currently a knockout; erase thirty-five years, she would be breathtaking. So even with just her looks, a man would do a lot to keep hold of that.

  But I knew she was much more than just beautiful. Therefore Ren’s dad likely would do anything.

  And he did.

  She stopped in front of me and offered her hand. “You must be Ally.”

  I took her hand and held it. “Yes. And you’re Mrs. Zano.”

  “Amalea,” she corrected on a hand squeeze.

  “Amalea,” I repeated on my own hand squeeze.

  “As I told your mother,” she went on. “I was under the impression we were invited.”

  Vito.

  Jeez.

  “I’m really sorry for the misunderstanding,” I replied.

  “No misunderstanding,” she returned, letting my hand go then finishing on a sigh, “Just Vito.”

  It was clear that there had been a lot of Just Vito times in her life.

  I forced a smile.

  I mean, what else could I do?

  “We’ve met your lovely family.” She turned and held out a hand. “Meet Lorenzo’s sisters. Giovanna and Concetta.”

  At their mother’s unspoken command, both women were approaching me, hands raised.

  When I took her hand, the taller one muttered, “Jeannie.”

  And when I took her hand, the one with the longer hair muttered, “Connie.”

  They were uncomfortable. Then again, it would be impossible not to be.

  We all stepped back but stayed in a loose huddle as I felt Indy and Roxie close to my back, and I tried to figure out a way to break the tension. Alas, my usual ways to do something like that were things you didn’t do when you first meet your man’s family.

  I decided on, “It’s nice to finally meet you. Ren talks about you and it’s all good.”

  It was lame but at least it was polite.

  “Then he’s lying,” Jeannie stated. “At least about Connie.”

  I blinked.

  Connie glared at her sister. “Hardly. If he’s lying, it’s about you.”

  Holy crap.

  “Connie works his nerves,” Jeannie told me.

  “He actually disowned Jeannie once,” Connie told me.

  “Pfft,” Jeannie made a noise with her mouth. “He was eight.”

  “He wasn’t eight, and I can’t repeat what he said the last time you crashed your car, called him and told him you’d forgotten to re-up your AAA and you needed a loan to get another car,” Connie retorted then looked at me in order to share, “She crashes her car a lot.”

  “Is three times in three years a lot?” Jeannie asked me.

  I thought it was, but luckily Connie saved me from replying by snapping, “Yes.”

  “Girls,” Amalea said quietly, and they both clamped their mouths shut.

  Yowza.

  Impressive.

  And evidence was suggesting I’d like Ren’s sisters.

  “While we wait for that situation outside to sort itself, I’ll get my daughter a drink,” Dad announced, getting close and leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Beer? Margarita? Something else?” he asked.

  I did a quick scan and knew from what I saw that Mom had a pitcher filled with margs, so
I put in my order, biting back my real order, which was a tequila shooter with a valium chaser.

  Then I did the rounds, greeting everybody.

  Lee and Hank also seemed pissed but holding it back.

  Sissy whispered in my ear, “Sorry.”

  “It’s cool,” I whispered back. “How’s the baby?” I asked.

  “Light of my life,” she said on a big smile.

  He would have to be for her to smile that big during this disaster.

  Dad brought me a marg. I took a healthy slug, trying not to appear like I was taking a healthy slug, and I was pleased when I was done and it seemed I accomplished this feat.

  The door opened and Ren, Dom and Vito walked through.

  The minute Vito hit the family room, he looked at Dad and announced, “Lorenzo just reminded me I have some business to see to tonight. Unfortunately, Angela and I can’t stay for dinner.”

  “Holy crap,” Indy breathed beside me.

  I just stared.

  Vito was not a man to back down.

  This was a mini-miracle.

  “I’ll need Dom with me, so he and Sissy will also be leaving,” Vito went on.

  I moved my stare to Ren, at this point wondering if I should contact the Pope to report this miracle.

  Ren was scowling at his uncle.

  “You’re more than welcome to stay,” Mom said courteously.

  “It’s urgent,” Ren bit out.

  Mom shut her mouth and nodded.

  Vito glowered at his nephew.

  The room grew tenser.

  Sissy made a move to her husband.

  “Again, Vito, it’s urgent,” Ren said when Vito made no move.

  Vito kept scowling at his nephew for a few beats before he rearranged his face and looked at me in order to declare, “Just want to say before we go, you with my boy Lorenzo, it’s a good thing. I’ve always liked you and I see a happy future. Much love. Big family. And I know I speak for Amalea and Angela as well when I say we’re extremely pleased you’re turnin’ Catholic.”

  Oh shit.

  The room went wired, and even just with my family, this was bad. Add a bunch of Italian hotheads, this was very bad.

  As for me, I avoided Mom and Dad’s eyes. It wasn’t like he was a deacon and she led a Sunday school class, but they went to church on Sundays (mostly). So me staying in the faith I was raised in was probably important to them.

  Crap.

  “Vito,” Ren gritted.

  “What?” Vito asked him, fake innocently.

  “What?” Ren asked back, not-fake sarcastically and turning fully to his uncle. “You think maybe Ally wanted to discuss that with her family? And furthermore, she’s not turning Catholic. She’s considering it. For me. Which is what I told you outside. But either way, it was not up to you to share it now since she hasn’t discussed it with her family.”

  “Turning. Considering. Same thing,” Vito retorted.

  “It isn’t,” Ren returned. “Reflecting and deciding are two different things. And my woman is gonna do her reflecting with no pressure, say, like the shit you just piled on her. And whatever she decides, she’ll have the backing of this family.”

  “If she decides Catholic,” Vito stated.

  “If she decides Scientology,” Ren shot back, and I heard Roxie and Connie giggle and Hank clear his throat to disguise a chuckle.

  “I’m uncertain how the Pope feels about Scientology, Lorenzo,” Vito replied.

  “The Pope doesn’t make my woman breakfast,” Ren countered.

  God.

  Seriously.

  Was my man awesome or what?

  I pressed my lips together and felt Indy’s hand curl around my elbow, her body getting close and it was shaking.

  “How about we give this some time, see how things go,” Angela suggested, moving toward her husband and bravely entering the fray.

  “I know how it’s gonna go,” Vito stated, sliding his arm around his wife’s waist.

  “I do, too,” Ren returned immediately. “And if it doesn’t go the way I want it to go, the issues we already got get bigger.”

  Thus another staredown commenced, which lasted until Sissy began the process of saying her farewells, adding more excuses about how she wanted to get back to her baby and dragging Dom with her.

  Vito and Angela were forced to do the same. We all did cheek kisses, gave awkward hugs, and said see you laters. Ren, clearly wanting to make sure Vito followed his directives, followed them out the door.

  Roxie, Indy and me ran to the window.

  On the other side, we were joined by Mom, Amalea, Connie and Jeannie.

  We watched Ren prowl down the walk behind Dom, Sissy, Vito and Angela, and then we watched Dom stand close as Vito gesticulated wildly. Ren stood there with a hard jaw, a closed mouth and arms crossed on his chest. I didn’t know what all the girls were thinking.

  Personally, I was thinking my man was hot.

  “Indy, come away from the window,” Lee ordered, and I looked away just long enough to see Indy wave at him to shut up, but she said nothing and did not move.

  “Kitty Sue, the man doesn’t need an audience,” Dad called.

  I didn’t look at Mom, but she didn’t say anything. She also didn’t move.

  “Jesus,” Hank muttered.

  “Fine to say that, but don’t take L. Ron Hubbard’s name in vain,” Lee muttered back.

  All the women giggled.

  Then we all dashed away from the window as Vito climbed into his Caddy. Dom took off toward the Acadia and Ren turned to come up the walk.

  I sucked back more margarita and didn’t bother trying not to look like I was sucking it back this time.

  Ren came through the door.

  Before I could make a move to get to him, Dad did.

  I knew my Dad. I (mostly) knew Ren. However, I had no clue what was about to happen.

  But if you’d asked me to guess, what happened would be so far down on the list, it wouldn’t even make the list.

  And what happened was that Dad lifted his hand, Ren took it, and Dad announced, “Welcome to the family.”

  Indy grabbed my hand. Roxie put hers to my back.

  As for me.

  I melted.

  * * * * *

  The women (all of us, including Ren’s mom and sisters) were in the kitchen doing the dishes.

  After the Vito fiasco and Dad welcoming Ren into the family, things went a whole lot better. It became clear very quickly that Ren didn’t blink at much of my or the Rock Chicks behavior because his sisters might not be as nutty as us, but they weren’t far behind. It also became clear Ren got his class from his mother because she was brimming with it.

  Conversation, understandably, started stilted, and also understandably got less so as time went on and drinks were consumed.

  So dinner wasn’t a disaster and now we were cleaning up.

  Or, I should say, the women were.

  “Can I ask why it’s always the women in the kitchen doing the dishes after, I’ll add, it was the women in the kitchen doing the cooking?” I queried.

  “Have you seen your brother let loose in a kitchen?” Indy asked, drying a platter.

  “Not recently,” I answered.

  “It’s not pretty,” she returned. “He doesn’t even rinse his dishes before he puts them in the dishwasher. I’ve given up and told him just to put them in the sink.”

  “You do know he does that so you would do that. In other words, he does a crap job so he won’t have to do the job at all. Or, in your case, anything,” I educated her. “He did that when he was at home, too.”

  “This is true,” Mom, at the sink, muttered to Amalea.

  “Well, it was a smart move because he doesn’t have to do anything,” Indy replied. “And it takes longer to complain about it than it does just to rinse his bowl and put it in the dishwasher.”

  “Caving,” I stated.

  “You’ll see,” she retorted.

  “No I won
’t,” I told her. “Ren cooks and does the dishes and he does both well.” I looked to Amalea. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

  Amalea smiled at me and opened her mouth to speak, but Indy got there before her.

  “You’re joking,” Indy said, and I looked back her way.

  “Not even a little bit.” I grinned. “And he serves tater tots with breakfast.”

  I knew that would get her.

  It got her.

  Indy’s eyes got wide and she whispered an envious, “You’re joking.”

  “Nope,” I replied, still grinning.

  “That’s… that’s like… that’s…” she stammered.

  “Righteous?” I gave her a word.

  “Totally,” she agreed.

  “Hank does the dishes and he’s good at it,” Roxie put in. “He also makes great eggs, and he’s a grill master.”

  “Whenever I suggest we grill something to Lee, he says we should go to a steak joint or invite ourselves over to your place,” Indy said to Roxie.

  I took the rinsed serving bowl Mom handed to me and started wiping while saying, “You’re letting Lee get away with too much. You need to crack down.”

  Indy shoved the platter in the cupboard. “I’m not sure cracking down works with Lee.”

  In mixed company, I couldn’t suggest what would, so I didn’t say anything

  “Just sayin’,” Connie put in. “Ren does all that stuff because Jeannie and me were like Lee.”

  “This is true,” Amalea murmured to Mom.

  “He was a brownnose, always suckin’ up to Ma,” Jeannie stated, and Amalea’s back snapped straight.

  Uh-oh.

  “He was not a brownnose. He was a good son,” Amalea stated. “After slaving in the kitchen to feed a family of four, it was nice to have someone do the dishes. And, I’ll add, nice to have someone who saved me from having to slave in the kitchen every once in a while.”

  So that was how Ren learned how to cook.

  “Total brownnose,” Jeannie muttered, wiping the stove.

  “This is what I wish,” Amalea started. “I wish for you both to have sons and daughters, sons that look out for you, daughters who don’t, so you’ll understand precisely how it feels.”

  Oh man.

  Seriously set down.

  She was good.

  I bit my lip and gave big eyes to Mom.

  Mom grinned huge at me.

  Jeannie began concentrating closely on cleaning the stove like Mom was performing surgery on it later, while Connie shoved more leftovers in the fridge but did it without speaking,