Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick #2)(22)
Author: Kristen Ashley

I didn’t want to know.

“He’s what?” Mom snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Nothing. We’l see. Just don’t get excited, okay?” She nodded but she stil looked dreamy.

Wonderful.

I thought about the fifty in my wal et.

“You’ve been cooped up in here for days. I’m wheeling you down to Chipotle for lunch. Ada, you comin’? My treat.” Ada smiled, “I’d love to, I never go anywhere.”

“Al right ladies, we’re movin’ out.”

Food, I found, was always a good way of getting people’s minds off things, including handsome cops with fancy trucks.

* * * * *

I made it to Smithie’s on time because Lenny picked me up and took me in. The minute Smithie saw me, his eyes rol ed to the ceiling and he shouted, “It’s a f**kin’ miracle!” I smiled at him as I handed him my jeans jacket and purse and he handed me my apron and an envelope.

“Your cel ’s stil in the pocket. The envelope has your tips from last night. Your f**kin’ flea-bitten, ratty-ass sweater is behind the bar.”

“Thanks, Smithie,” I said.

I opened the top of the envelope, which was tucked in and flipped through the notes. I kept a running tal y of my tips, mental y paying bil s and buying groceries the minute I made the money. As I flipped through the notes, I decided I’d done a miscalculation because, if my calculation was correct, there were two hundred more dol ars than I expected to be there and that was impossible.

I’d remember an extra two hundred dol ars. I’d remember an extra two dol ars.

It was packed last night but the tips weren’t that good.

I flipped through it again and the two hundred dol ars were stil there.

“Smithie, I think you gave me part of my float.” And part of everyone else’s float too.

Smithie’s head was turned away, looking at the stage and he didn’t look at me when he spoke. “Nope. That’s what was in your apron after I cashed you out.” I stared at him.

“Smithie, there’s an extra two hundred dol ars in here.

Maybe you accidental y gave me…”

His head turned to me, “It was in your f**kin’ apron.”

“Smithie…” I started again.

His hand went up and he had a funny look on his face. It was then that I knew he’d slipped in the extra money.

I’d started at Smithie’s in the days when Mom was stil bad. Back then, I’d drag in after visiting her in the hospital.

He knew about Mom and my job at Fortnum’s and now he knew about my car.

knew about my car.

My heart clutched, my eyes fil ed with tears and I opened my mouth to speak but he leaned in to me.

“Don’t f**kin’ cry and don’t say another f**kin’ word. I don’t want this gettin’ around. As far as you’re concerned, that was your take last night. Do you f**kin’ understand me?”

I nodded.

“Good,” he said, turning away from me again. “Get to work.”

I was hoping for a quiet night and it seemed to be going that way. It was a completely different experience, working after having a ful night’s sleep (and then some).

Before I went to work, and after I’d taken Mom and Ada to lunch and cleaned the house, I cal ed Dad’s hotel just in case he was stil there, but they said he’d checked out.

Then I cal ed Indy and she was cool with me making up the hours (or not, she real y didn’t care, everyone came and went at Fortnum’s and somehow it worked). I asked her if Dad had dropped by but she said she hadn’t seen him.

It was close to closing and I’d had a decent night. I had energy, I had two night’s tips and I had Smithie’s generosity. If I wasn’t in slow-burn, freak-out zone that would likely escalate to complete hysteria by the time my date with Eddie swung around, I would have actual y relaxed.

I was coming back from a bathroom break, leaving the restroom and entering the back hal when I was grabbed by the arm and pul ed back.

“Hey!” I shouted, turning around, ready to scream, when I saw Dad.

saw Dad.

Not good.

I real y didn’t want my Dad to know I was working in a titty bar and I real y, really didn’t want him to see me in my Smithie’s uniform.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

“Jet, I didn’t want to drag you into this but I have no choice.” He looked down the hal , clearly in a panic.

“Dad, what’s going on?”

He started pul ing me down the hal , toward the fire exit at the back. “We gotta go.”

I jerked my arm out of his hand and said, “I can’t go, I’m working. Tel me what’s going on.”

He didn’t have a chance to tel me as we both heard someone at the other end of the hal say Dad’s name.

Dad shoved me behind him and we both looked down the hal at Slick.

“You’re a hard man to find,” Slick said.

At that, I realized that Dad hadn’t spent the last two days looking for Slick and sorting this out as he promised. Dad had spent it hiding from Slick.

“We got things to talk about, you and me,” Slick said.

“Fine. Sure. We’l talk. We’l go back in the club,” Dad replied.

Dad was positioning his body in front of me so Slick couldn’t get to me.

“Not in the club, here. This conversation should last about two seconds after you give me the thirty grand you owe me.”

Oh… Dear… Lord.

Thirty thousand dollars?

I felt my stomach drop to my toes.

Dad put his hands out, palms up.

“I don’t have it on me, Slick. Who carries that kind of cake around? I’l go get it and—”

“Yeah,” Slick said, looking beyond Dad to me, “You go get it and I’l just take your pretty little girl with me and we’l have some fun while you’re gettin’ it.”

My heart fel to my toes to keep my stomach company.

“Slick,” Dad said.

Slick pul ed out a knife.

“No more talkin’.”

Then everything happened so fast, I didn’t have time to think.

Dad pushed me back, yel ing, “Run!”

I would have run (maybe) but instead, I teetered on my slut shoes (this time, a pair of forties-style black sandals with peek-a-boo toes and a thin ankle strap) and fel down, hard, on my behind.

Dad charged forward and I saw the flash of a knife.

I didn’t think. I got to my feet, screaming at the top of my lungs and ran forward too. Dad had jerked Slick around, grappling with the knife and Slick’s back was to me. I jumped on it, wrapping my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and squeezed as hard as I could.