Rock Chick Revolution

by Ashley, Kristen

  She stared at me.

  Then she licked her lips and said softly, “You probably know, since I was a little girl, all I ever wanted to do was write.”

  When she stopped speaking, I nodded encouragingly and kept hold of her hand.

  “Romances,” she went on.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “I’ve written a lot of books, Ally,” she told me.

  “I know, honey,” I replied.

  “All romances,” she stated.

  “Okay.”

  “Well, mostly romances, some mysteries.”

  “Right,” I said with waning patience, while struggling with not showing my patience was waning.

  Her eyes drifted beyond me and she whispered, “And those romances are the best kind ever.”

  I knew what she was seeing in her mind’s eye and I knew she wasn’t wrong about that.

  She looked back at me. “Real,” she said quietly.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “But they’re more. They’re about love of all kinds. They’re about family. Family of all kinds.”

  She wasn’t wrong about that, either.

  I felt a tickle in my throat and repeated, “Yeah.”

  “It’s extraordinary. So I had to share it, Ally.” This time her hand squeezed mine and she leaned toward me. “I had to.”

  “I feel you,” I whispered.

  “But, I did it and the first one is out there and it felt good to do it. To finish one. Then the other. And the next. And let it out there. But putting it out there, something happened.”

  “What happened, babe?” I asked.

  “People… readers… they say it makes them laugh.” She paused. “Out loud.”

  I still hadn’t read it, but we were a pretty wild bunch. I could see that.

  I nodded.

  “It’s a gift,” she said, her voice funny, deep with emotion. “Watching you all get close, witnessing all that happened making you closer, feeling that love. But it was another gift, maybe even a bigger one, precious, knowing that sharing it makes people I don’t know laugh. It makes them happy. Some of them write to me. They tell me bad things are happening in their lives. But they read my book and it takes them away. It makes them smile. Laugh. Even if for moments, or better yet hours, they can forget the bad, be with us here at Fortnum’s, and laugh.” She tipped her head to the side. “That’s beautiful. So how can it be wrong?”

  “It isn’t wrong,” I told her.

  “Lee’s angry,” she replied.

  He was.

  Crap.

  “Is that why you didn’t tell anyone you were going to do it? Because you had a feeling they would be angry?”

  She nodded.

  Jeez. Jane.

  I shared space with her nearly every day, I meant something to her, she meant something to me, but I had no idea her well ran this deep.

  “The newspapers?” I pressed.

  “That was me,” she said quietly. “When stuff was going down with Stella, they called here. I said no comment. Then I sent letters anonymously. The reporter who reported it doesn’t even know it’s me.”

  Another mystery solved.

  “These readers that write to you. Can that be traced?” I asked and she shook her head.

  “They go to somebody else and they send them to me. But I’ve been assured it’s untraceable.”

  “Brody’s pretty good, Jane.”

  She pressed her lips together.

  I studied her. She was worried.

  Then I said, “Leave it to me.”

  Her brows drew together. “What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing, until I have to. Then I’ll take care of it.”

  It was her turn to stare at me before she asked, “Why are you helping me?”

  I smiled and gave her hand another squeeze before I lifted it up between us and got closer.

  “Because, no matter how old we get, we always need to believe in fairytales.”

  It was then, Jane smiled back.

  Mostly, I knew, because she agreed with me.

  * * * * *

  “Oh my God, Herb!”

  “What?”

  “My God!”

  “Woman! What?”

  “You might wanna leave some for the other guests.”

  I took a handful of cashews (Indy’s addition to the party and part of what Herb was gobbling up) and popped a few into my mouth, watching Roxie’s Mom and Dad (and Tex’s sister and brother-in-law), Herb and Trish—in town from Indiana for the big event—fight in Blanca’s backyard.

  Don’t be alarmed. I’d been around them more than once. This was what they did.

  Blanca was Eddie and Hector’s Mom. I’d known her ages, and when she did something, she went all out.

  Tonight, even though this was “just family” (for Rock Chicks though, this meant a huge shindig), Blanca didn’t let the team down.

  There were bright colored paper lanterns strung in zigzags in the air from house to fence posts across the backyard. There were lit lumieres lining the fence all around. There was low music playing, all love songs, in English and Spanish. There were tables groaning with food, and in the middle were large, bright bouquets of flowers (the flowers, Sadie’s contribution). Blanca had even set up a bar where her eldest son, Carlos, teamed up with Willie Moses, were making people drinks.

  Jet had made caramel layer squares (three batches). As I mentioned, Indy had brought the cashews. Ren and I brought a mixed box full of bottles of liquor and a couple cases of beer. Roxie, Stella and Sadie had spent the morning helping Blanca and her daughters Rosa, Gloria and Elena in setting up and cooking.

  Tex, wearing another suit (and for once, seemingly content in it), and Nancy, wearing a pretty mint green dress with a fancy thing that was kind of a hat but way smaller so it was mostly a decorated headband (and it had a cool-ass feather) got hitched earlier by the Justice of the Peace. They did this while Indy, Duke and I stood by Tex, and Trixie, Ada (Nancy’s old neighbor, and by “old” I mean that in two ways) and Blanca stood up with Nancy. Jet and Lottie, by the way, Nancy’s daughters, walked at her sides guiding her to Tex.

  The deed done, it was time to party.

  My favorite time.

  And now Herb and Trish were, as ever, going at it.

  Herb looked at the table where he had been stuffing his mouth (a table covered in food) to another table five feet away that was also covered in food then across the yard to yet another table which was—you guessed it—covered in food.

  Then he looked to his wife. “It’s not like Blanca’s gonna run out.”

  “You don’t eat from the bowl, Herb,” Trish shot back. “You get a plate and you never double dip.”

  “First, I don’t need a plate when I can stand here eatin’,” Herb replied. “And second, I don’t got cooties. Who cares if I double dip?”

  Gross.

  “I do,” Trish retorted, and I bit back my verbal agreement.

  He glared at her.

  Then he declared, “I need a beer.”

  “You’ve already had five,” Trish informed him.

  “Do we got limits?” he asked.

  “You can’t get drunk at Tex’s wedding like you did at Roxie’s,” she returned.

  “Why the hell not?” he asked.

  “Because it’s rude,” she answered

  “It’s a party!” he pointed out loudly.

  Surprisingly, Trish had no reply to that. Then again, Herb was absolutely right.

  Herb stormed off.

  Trish turned to me. “Roxie told me you’ve found yourself a man.”

  “I have, Mrs. Logan,” I confirmed.

  “Run,” she stated then huffed away.

  When she did, Jules moved in, noting, “The requisite Herb and Trish scene.”

  I grinned at her. “I’m kinda bummed it happened so soon and didn’t last very long.”

  She grinned back at me then reached for some cashews.

  As she did, a th
ought occurred to me and I went with it.

  “Hey, Jules, can I talk to you about something?”

  She popped the cashews in her mouth, chewed, swallowed and answered, “Sure.”

  “I’m worried about Darius,” I told her.

  When I said that, her eyes scanned the crowd and mine did, too. What I took in was the fact that we were only an hour into the party portion of the festivities, but both Darius and Jane, who attended the nuptials and showed at Blanca’s, were gone.

  I also saw Ren smiling down at a talking Roxie who was standing next to an also-smiling-down-at Roxie Hank. My brother (as usual) had his wife tucked close to his side.

  Warmth (or more warmth; since I took my spot next to Duke to stand up with Tex, I was pretty suffused with warmth) spread through me.

  “He’s bailed,” Jules noted, and I tore my eyes off my man and looked at her.

  “Yeah. He always bails,” I said. “The question is, why? He’s safe here. The people here care about him. He cares about the people here. So why does he accept our acceptance but stay on the fringe?”

  Jules didn’t even consider this question before she spoke.

  “Vance told me about him,” she said softly. “He said his father was murdered because of something his brother-in-law was into. He had nothing to do with it. It was a warning.”

  “I know,” I told her, and I did. I knew all of Darius’s fucked up sad story.

  “Vance also said that this Leon guy, Shirleen’s dead husband, offered Darius a chance at retribution, along with providing for his family, if he got involved in Leon’s business,” Jules went on.

  “I know that, too,” I replied. “And he was young and made a stupid decision and got caught up in that. But now he’s not in that anymore, Jules, and hasn’t been for a while. But he acts like…” I shook my head. “I don’t know. Like he doesn’t belong when he does. He always has. When given the chance, and I’ll admit, he didn’t give us many—but he stayed close to Lee and Eddie—but when we had the chance, we always acted like he belonged. Shirleen slid right in. I don’t know why Darius won’t let himself do that. And that’s just it. He won’t let himself.”

  A gravelly voice came from our sides, answering my question. “He hasn’t atoned.”

  Surprised, I looked up at Duke. And I was not only surprised at what he said, but that he was anywhere near me.

  “Can I steal Ally?” he asked Jules.

  Oh shit.

  “Sure,” Jules answered, eyeing us both.

  Duke curved his fingers around my bicep.

  I looked at Jules and asked, “Can you just keep a professional eye on Darius? I’m trying to figure out a way to get in there and maybe you can help.”

  “No problem,” she said on a smile. “Happy to.”

  Duke let me get that in then led me away—far away from the happy, laughing, talking, boisterous crowd to its very edge by the fence gate.

  When he stopped us, he took his hand from my arm.

  I took a deep breath and looked up at him.

  “Duke—”

  “Dolores and I had a son,” he announced, and I snapped my mouth shut.

  I didn’t know that.

  No clue.

  Oh fuck.

  I didn’t like how this was starting.

  “He was on his bike, ridin’ around in the street in front of our house one afternoon, and he was hit by drunk driver.”

  Oh fuck.

  That I didn’t only not like, I fucking hated it.

  “He was eight,” Duke went on.

  Oh my God.

  “Duke,” I whispered.

  “Dolores, she had a time of it throughout the pregnancy, and she was in labor for seventy-eight hours. Finally, both her and my boy in distress, they took him. But I almost lost them both.”

  Oh my God.

  “So obviously,” he continued. “I wasn’t big on gettin’ her knocked up again. Dolores wanted more. I wouldn’t hear of it.” He stared at me hard. “In the end, he was all we had.”

  “I didn’t know,” I said quietly.

  “No one does. Except Ellen. That’s why we dropped out. Left Cali. Came home. And probably Lee knows, since he checks out everything. But he also keeps his mouth shut when he needs to.”

  I nodded.

  “It was afternoon, Ally,” he told me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “My Joshua got all his bones broke, his insides mashed, his head caved in by some guy who spent his day gettin’ soused and got behind the wheel of a car in the afternoon. What kid can’t be safe ridin’ around on the streets in front of his house in the fuckin’ afternoon?”

  I shook my head because I didn’t have the answer to that. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  He nodded. “It sure the fuck doesn’t.”

  I said nothing.

  Duke did. “It wasn’t too late. We could try again. But it broke us, both of us. Nearly lost Dolores. She couldn’t bear any memory of him, even me. But we got past it, left the life we shared with our boy, and decided not to try again. But it left a hole, Ally. A hole that I didn’t think could be filled, losin’ my kid, not havin’ another one. I bloody gaping hole.”

  “I get that,” I whispered.

  “And it was filled when you and Indy came into my life.”

  My stomach shifted back like I’d been punched just as my heart squeezed.

  “You two, so fuckin’ nuts, hangin’ with Ellen at the store, always gettin’ into trouble. Fell in love with you both the minute I laid eyes on you.”

  My eyes burning, my voice croaky, I said, “Duke.”

  “So you, out there on your own, doin’ dangerous shit, not talkin’ to your family about it, your friends, me…” He shook his head. “Pissed me off.”

  Now I understood. God, I understood.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said gently.

  “I was worried about you.”

  Wanting to touch him, unsure if I should but regardless, paralyzed with the pain of hearing everything he said, I just stood there and repeated, “I’m so sorry.”

  “But then word got out about what happened at Lincoln’s. Tex told me everything. He wouldn’t have told you, but he was proud of you, girl. Nearly crowin’ about it. Said you knew exactly what you were doin’. Said, top to toe, through and through, you’re a Nightingale.”

  My throat closed.

  Freaking loved Tex.

  “It was then,” he carried on, “I realized that there would come a time in Joshua’s life, a time me and Dolores didn’t get to, when we’d have to let go. We’d have to let him be his own man. Live his own life. And it was then I realized I’d been an ass because I was pissed at you, but I had to let you do the same thing.”

  “Right,” I replied, my voice still husky.

  “So I gotta do that and stand by you. Not be pissed. You left that message, it took me a while and Dolores reamed my ass, but here I am, suckin’ it up to apologize for bein’ pissed-off instead of givin’ you the freedom to fly.”

  I said nothing again. Just swallowed (hard) and nodded.

  “Now, sayin’ that, you be careful and you come to me whenever you need me.”

  “Okay, Duke,” I forced out through a tight throat.

  “Whenever you need me, Ally.”

  I nodded.

  He stared at me.

  I let him then whispered, “Love you, Duke.”

  “Same,” he grunted.

  That made me smile. It trembled but I did it.

  “Now, Darius,” he stated then cleared his throat, and I knew we were moving on and I was freaking grateful for it.

  “Yeah?” I prompted.

  “Scored dark marks in his own soul, darlin’.”

  “I know, Duke, but—”

  He shook his head and I shut up.

  “I been watchin’. That boy isn’t on the path to redemption. What he’s doin’ is bidin’ his time and givin’ himself that time to be with the people who mean somethin’ to him. Do
in’ it knowin’ that’s as good as he’s gonna get, ‘cause what he’s facin’ is damnation and he can’t do a thing about it.”

  My back went straight. “That isn’t true.”

  “You’re right. It isn’t. That doesn’t mean that man doesn’t believe it down to his bones.”

  Shit.

  “Your challenge,” he got closer to me, “our challenge, is to convince him differently.”

  “How do we do that?” I asked.

  “Two choices. We do what we’re doin’ and hope he wakes up, looks around and understands he’s not thinkin’ right. Or we snap him out of it.”

  “I’m for the snapping him out of it option,” I mumbled.

  “Me too,” Duke replied.

  “Okay, how do we do that?” I asked.

  “Hell if I know,” he answered.

  Great.

  “I just know in dealin’ with you women, there’s always the time, the right time when you can do somethin’ that’ll get through the walls, seed, bud and grow, and that’s when you plant the wisdom. So we just gotta wait for the right time to plant that seed.”

  I nodded because this was sage. He was right and I’d watched him do it time and again with the Rock Chicks so I also knew it worked.

  It sucked. I was losing patience with this and didn’t want to have to exercise more.

  But he was right.

  “Thanks, Duke.”

  He jerked up his chin before he looked across the yard and muttered, “Best get back to Dolores.”

  “Okay.”

  He looked back at me. “You’re a good kid, Ally.”

  I smiled at him but warned, “Thanks. But if you make me want to cry again, I’m kicking you in the shin.”

  He shook his head, mouth twitching, and sauntered away.

  I was about to hightail my ass to the bar and order a tequila shooter from Willie when I was suddenly set upon by Roam and Sniff.

  I looked at the two teenagers.

  Roam and Sniff had been runaways that Jules talked into her shelter. She then grew close to them. So close, Roam took a bullet for her in an attempt to save her life.

  After that, Shirleen took them under her wing and they’d been living with her since. And when I said “took them under her wing,” I meant she treated them like they were her own. In other words, she mothered them as only Shirleen would do. With sassy tough love.

  But the operative word in that was love.

  Roam was a tall African American kid who’d always been good-looking. So it wasn’t a surprise that as the months passed, he got a might taller, bulked out, the boy started leaking out of his features and they were becoming all man, and he was hitting downright handsome.