Rock Chick Redemption (Rock Chick #3)(14)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“Okay, I’l talk,” I said, mainly to take his mind off whatever it was that was hurting him.

I told him about Bil y.

Halfway

through

the

story,

around

about

the

sledgehammer part, he boomed (pita bread and baba ghanoush flying out of his mouth). “I’m gonna f**kin’ kill that motherfucker!”

I looked around at our gawking neighbors.

“Uncle Tex, calm down,” I whispered.

He swal owed.

“Finish it!” he demanded, circling his fork at me.

I finished the story.

Then Tex said, “You don’t gotta be on the run from that ass**le. One word to Lee and he’d fix his sorry ass and good.”

No way. No way in hel .

“No, Uncle Tex, no words to Lee, to Hank, to Eddie, to Indy, to anybody.”

“Lee’s one badass individual. Lee’d make Hitler shake in his sil y, shiny boots, even with the whole German army standin’ at his back.”

“No.”

“Roxie, darlin’, your plan is shit.”

“I’ve been working on this plan for years!”

“It’s stil shit.”

I scowled at him.

“Uncle Tex, I got myself into this mess. I’m getting myself out.”

He shook his head.

“Not gonna f**kin’ happen. I’m talkin’ to the boys,” he said like that was final.

I slammed my palm on the table to get his attention and Uncle Tex’s eyes locked on mine.

I took a deep breath and said, “I appreciate your concern and I need your help but I’m fixing this my way.”

“Roxie—”

“No!” I closed my eyes and tilted my head to the table.

Then I looked up again. “Uncle Tex, I have to look myself in the eye in the mirror every morning. After I f**ked up seven years of my life, do you honestly think I can just hand over my problems to some guys I barely know and be able to wake up and look in those eyes?”

He stared at me.

Final y, he said, “Jesus Jones, but you’re a MacMil an.”

“Damn right I am,” I told him with more than a little bit of pride.

He stared at me some more.

“Fine,” was al he said.

I felt my body relax. “Thank you.”

“One thing, darlin’ girl. I get even the niggliest f**kin’

inklin’ that this shit plan o’ yours is goin’ south, and mark my words, it’s gonna go south, I’m cal in’ in the boys.” I felt my body get tense again.

“No,” I said.

“That includes Hank.”

“No!” I shouted, now ignoring our gawking neighbors.

“I should f**kin’ say that especial y f**kin’ includes Hank.”

“You do that, I leave,” I threatened.

“You leave, I’m siccin’ Lee on your ass. He’l send Vance or Mace to track you down. You won’t even make it to the Colorado border.”

Man, oh man, I was undoubtedly, seriously, official y in trouble.

“Uncle Tex—”

His big, beefy hand came out and enveloped mine. “Just got you in my life, darlin’ girl, ain’t no weasely-assed motherfucker gonna take you back out. He’l have to split my skul open with that f**kin’ sledgehammer before that happens.”

The fear crawled up my throat again mainly because I was worried Bil y’d do it.

“Uncle Tex—”

“Don’t worry, Roxie. Before he cracked open my skul , he’d have to crack open half a dozen other ones. Trust me, I know how these f**kin’ guys work. He wouldn’t get through the first wave.”

“I don’t know these people and you barely do.”

“Don’t need to know much more of them to know what they’re made of. Seen a lot of it these past months.” He squeezed my hand. “You came to the right place.” Then he leaned back in his seat and tipped his head back, “Bring it on!” he boomed.

Good grief.

Yes, I was undoubtedly, seriously, official y in trouble.

Chapter Five

Phone Calls

Uncle Tex took me to my car and I fol owed him to his house and I helped him clean litter trays. After, we went down to the corner store where he introduced me to Mr.

Kumar, his friend and grocery supplier. Then, I found out Uncle Tex needed to get ready for his date with Nancy.

On the way back from Mr. Kumar’s store, I sang the

“Uncle Tex and Nancy, Sitting in a Tree” song again and he picked me up, carried me to my car, set me down on the street, turned around and, without a backward glance, walked back into his house.

Hee hee.

* * * * *

I went to my hotel and tore through my suitcases (yes, I had two, I was high maintenance and high maintenance women didn’t go anywhere without at least two suitcases) looking for an outfit to wear for my date. I was staring at the exploded suitcases in despair because, even though I had more clothes in those two suitcases than most of the earth’s population would own in their lifetimes, I did not have an outfit to wear on my date with Whisky. My cel phone rang.

I tensed and stared at my purse like it was a living thing out for my blood and I yanked the phone out of my bag, expecting it to tel me Bil y was cal ing.

Instead, it told me Daisy was cal ing.

In shock, I flipped it open. “Hel o?”

“Hey Sugar Bunch, what’re you wearin’ for your date?” Daisy asked.

I sat on the edge of the bed. I’d known this woman for less than twenty-four hours and she acted like she’d known me for twenty-four years.

“I’ve no idea,” I told her.

“Cal Indy, she’l know. She’s good at that stuff. Listen, you gonna be in town awhile?”

What now?

“I don’t know,” I answered.

“Wel , me and Marcus are havin’ a party, not this Thursday but next. Would love for you to come.” That was so sweet of her.

“I don’t know if I’l be here but if I am, I’l come,” I said.

“I don’t need exact numbers, it’s a charity do so it’l be finger food. The people comin’ own most of Denver. They can afford to fil their bel ies before they show up at The Castle.”

The Castle?

Daisy went on. “It’s black tie, you got something sparkly to wear?”

“Um…” I didn’t. Bil y and I didn’t normal y attend black tie affairs.

“Don’t worry, Tod wil loan you somethin’. He’s a drag queen. He has the best closet. Oh! Gotta go, my masseuse is here. Ta-ta!”