Rock Chick Redemption (Rock Chick #3)(103)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“I just do not believe this,” Mom groused. “I knew I should have gone with the curtains with the little horses and riders on them. The trumpet curtains are going to look sil y. What are the neighbors going to think?”

“Mrs. Logan, for what it’s worth, I think the neighbors are going to like the trumpet ones. The little horse and riders…” Stevie offered, wincing a bit and shaking his head.

“You sure?” Mom asked.

“I’m sure,” Stevie assured her.

“Wel then, thank you,” Mom smiled at Stevie and took a sip of her champagne.

I turned into Hank’s body, lifted on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “You can come back into the room, crisis averted.”

He looked down at me, eyes smiling.

Then he asked, “How much do you care about curtains?”

“Wel …” I drew it out, because I cared about curtains like, a lot. They set the tone for the whole room.

“Okay, let me rephrase that. How much do you care that I don’t care about curtains?”

I grinned at him.

“Not much.”

His smile hit his mouth. “We’re set then.”

“Al my honey bunches of oats!” Daisy yel ed behind my back.

I turned to see Daisy approaching, dragging Marcus with her. I blinked hard, so dazzling was her ensemble. She was head-to-toe rhinestones, sequins and beads. Her hair was held up in an enormous up-do, fashioned with tons of hair jewelry. She had sequins glued around her right eye, she was wearing a fortune in diamonds at her ears and throat, and her v-necked, ice blue, long-sleeved gown was entirely beaded, every inch of it. It had to weigh a ton.

More hugs, air-kisses and handshakes were exchanged as Daisy and Marcus joined our group. It was only slightly uncomfortable when Eddie and Marcus shook hands and only slightly freaky when Marcus looked intensely in my eyes, communicating something I didn’t real y get, before he kissed my cheek.

After we al settled into our huge huddle, Daisy leaned forward, waving us in.

Al the women, Tod and Stevie leaned in. Al the men started talking with Marcus.

“Do something!” Daisy hissed.

“About what?” Jet asked.

“About this party. It’s a dud. Nothing’s happening.

People are just standin’ around and talkin’. It’s the most borin’ party I’ve ever been to in my life. One of you has to do something,” Daisy turned to Al y, “You’re good at causing a stir. Start a fight. Do you have your stun gun?” Again, I blinked at Daisy and this time, not because I was dazzled.

Mom gasped.

“You’re joking, right?” Al y asked.

“No, I’m not jokin’. What are they gonna say in the society pages? Daisy doesn’t do boring. Daisy is not a dud. Daisy is al about excitement, comprende?”

“Daisy, I think it’s a nice party,” I offered.

Daisy turned to me, her eyes sharp as knives, “Nice?

Nice?”

Yowza.

I backed up a step.

“Jumpin’ Jehosafats. This is f**kin’ phat! ” We, and al the other guests, heard shouted from across the room.

We al turned to see Jason, wearing a rented tux and Annette, wearing a pretty, sea green, scoop-necked dress with cap sleeves (obviously Stevie and/or Tod had intervened in the Scarlet O’Hara fiasco) standing across the room.

“Did you like, move this place stone-for-stone from England or something?” Annette asked Daisy when she arrived at our huddle.

More hugs, handshakes and air-kisses were exchanged and a waiter brought champagne.

“No, Marcus built it for me, Sugar. You look sweet,” Daisy replied.

Annette smiled at her and then turned to the girlie group at large. “Get this!” Annette announced. “Smithie hired me to dance. He said I could dance to Bob Marley. He doesn’t care, just as long as the customers get it.” I looked at Jason. He caught my glance and shook his head.

“Lottie and me are gonna work on my routines. I’l do Head during the day and be a stripper at night. How f**kin’

phat is that?”

“She’s kidding, right?” Hank murmured in my ear. I hadn’t noticed he’d turned from the boy conversation to the girl one.

I ignored him, focused on helping Jason.

“Annette, maybe you should think about that,” I suggested.

“Sweetie, Smithie loves you,” Annette told me, shocking me with the news. “He said, if I could get you to dance with me, he’d give me a bonus.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Hank official y entered our conversation.

“Dude,” Annette said. “She’d be the shit up there. I bet she’d give Lottie a run for her money.”

“It’s not gonna happen,” Hank repeated, turning ful y to Annette.

Annette ignored, or was oblivious to, Hank’s warning posture.

“Dude. Seriously. Do you know how much Lottie gets paid?” she asked Hank.

“Don’t see why she shouldn’t strip, she’s half na**d right now,” Dad put in.

“Herb,” Mom said.

“I’m not half naked,” I snapped at Dad.

“Your ass is hangin’ out,” Dad returned.

“Is it?” Annette asked, twisting to look at my back. “Let me see.”

“My ass is not hanging out,” I told Annette.

“Oh,” Annette muttered, sounding disappointed.

We’d become the focus of attention of several partygoers who were standing close to our group.

“Maybe we should keep it down,” I suggested.

“Oowee, free champagne!” we heard belted from across the room.

We al turned to see Shirleen standing there, Afro huge with glitter sprayed in it. She looked gorgeous in a deep peach, square-necked gown: an orange, latticework, shimmering necklace adorning her throat from cle**age to chin.

She turned and nabbed a glass of champagne off the tray of a waiter gliding by her.

“Wel , look at al of you,” Shirleen announced when she arrived at our group. “Shee-it. It’s like someone smacked you al with the beautiful stick. Ordinary people need not apply. God damn!”

“I want that necklace,” I blurted. “It’s gorgeous. But I want it in red. Where did you get it?”

Shirleen put her hand to her throat; her long fingernails were painted a pearlescent coral. “Leon bought it for me about two days before they shot his sorry ass. So, not only did I get freedom from that stupid motherfucker, I got me a nice necklace as a keepsake. You can borrow it if you want.”