Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick #2)(37)
Author: Kristen Ashley

This was clearly not an idle threat because, without any delay, Bear started talking.

“Gambling.” Bear looked up at me, “Your Dad’s been gambling. Got himself in a financial situation, so he went to Slick, who’s a loan shark.”

I sank down on the arm of one of the armchairs, next to Al y, hopping to get my heart started again.

“He had a windfal a couple days ago, bought himself into another game to make back the money he owes Slick.

Instead, he lost and now he owes Marcus.” Tex, Al y and Indy looked at each other.

I didn’t know what their look meant but I’d worry about that later. I already had too much to worry about.

The windfal Dad had was my hard-earned five hundred bucks.

I felt like crying.

“How much does he owe this Marcus?” I asked.

“Fifteen grand.”

Al y’s hand came out and grabbed mine.

Fifteen grand? How did five hundred pocket money become a debt of fifteen grand? That was forty-five thousand dol ars in total. Even if I started stripping, sold everything I owned and sold my plasma every month for a year, I couldn’t come up with forty-five thousand dol ars.

Lavonne flicked Bear again.

“Why didn’t you tel her this yesterday? And where’s Ray now?” she snapped.

“Ray asked me to keep it quiet and he’s out tryin’ to fix it.” Bear’s eyes swung to me, “I swear, Jet, he’s tryin’ to fix it.”

I stood up and shouted.

“How? Gambling? Stealing? He’s sure as hel not going to get a job waiting tables at Bennigan’s and make that kind of cabbage!”

Bear stood up too.

“He’s tryin’ to do right!”

Lavonne reached high and flicked him.

“Don’t yel at Jet,” she snapped.

Everyone looked at Bear and Bear’s face got red, then he exploded.

“Why is everyone mad at me? I didn’t get forty-five K in the hole playin’ poker. It ain’t my fault.” Then he decided the smart way forward was to deflect attention from himself,

“Anyway, Jet’s workin’ at a titty bar.”

Damn.

Everyone held their breath as Lavonne’s wide, angry eyes turned to me.

“Excuse me?”

“Lavonne—” I started but she interrupted me.

“You’re workin’ at a titty bar?”

Wonderful.

“I’m not dancing, just waiting tables,” I assured her.

Lavonne didn’t feel assured.

“A titty bar’s a titty bar. You’re not the type of girl who works at a titty bar. I know your mama didn’t raise you like that,” she retorted.

I pul ed my back up.

Firstly, there was nothing wrong with working at a titty bar. It was good, honest work and good, honest people worked there (okay, maybe Richie, one of the bouncers, was a bit of a jerk). Secondly, on her dresser, Mom had a framed picture of Lottie sprawled across the top of a Corvette with her na**d boobs pressed against the hood and her ass in a glorified thong pointed skyward. Mom total y raised us like that.

“There’s nothing wrong with working at a titty bar,” I said.

Lavonne deftly sidestepped my defense of titty bars.

“Your mother know about this?” Lavonne asked.

I nodded.

“What’s she say?”

I hesitated, sighed and sat back down on the armchair.

Then I gave Lavonne the rest of the story.

When I was done, she walked to a little desk in the corner (which had hearts carved into it) and took out a piece of paper and handed it to me. Then she went back to the desk, popped her smoke between her lips and spoke with the cigarette bobbing precariously.

“You write down your address and phone number on that sheet. Girl, I cannot believe you did not tel me Nancy had a stroke eight months ago. What must Nancy think, none of her friends poppin’ ‘round?” She was digging through her desk and grabbed something and started writing. “Always took too much on yourself, even as a little kid. Never sharin’

the burden. Lettin’ people get away with murder. That father of yours takin’ advantage, Lottie off enjoyin’ herself without a care in the f**kin’ world while you mopped the kitchen floor. You’re f**kin’ Cinderel a, is what you are.” She ripped a check out of a checkbook and handed it to me, taking the cigarette from her mouth and letting out an enormous plume of smoke, “‘Cept Cinderel a didn’t have a choice, you do.” I took the check and looked at it. It was for five hundred dol ars.

“Lavonne! I can’t take this!”

Lavonne smashed the cigarette out in a heart-shaped ashtray and crossed her arms on her flat chest.

“You can, you wil , you’l cash it and you’l use it.” I stared at the check, then I stared at her.

“I know you don’t have this kind of money.”

“Yes I do. It’s my Christmas Club. Been savin’ up al year to buy this moron a flat screen TV. After today, he ain’t gettin’ no flat screen TV.”

Bear col apsed on the sofa and put his hand to his forehead.

Lavonne nodded to me, “Merry Christmas.”

I tried to hand the check back to her.

“Real y, I can’t.”

“Your mama know Ray’s in town and al that’s happenin’

to you?” She asked.

Uh-oh.

I shook my head slowly.

“She’l go on not knowin’ if I see that check’s been cashed.”

Wow. Lavonne was good.

“I don’t know what to say,” I told her.

Her face softened the tiniest bit and her lips turned up.

“Say thank you and keep yourself safe. If we see or hear from Ray, we’l cal you.”

“You too?” Tex boomed and everyone jumped.

Surprisingly, I’d forgotten he was in the room. He was looking at Bear, his brows were knit and his eyes were narrowed.

“What?” Bear said.

“You see her Dad or hear from him, you cal her. Yeah?” Bear waved his hand, stil coping with the loss of his flat screen TV.

“Yeah,” he said.

I wrote down my address and phone number and gave it to Lavonne and she walked us to the door.

“I’l pop by and see Nancy, soon as I can,” Lavonne told me.

I turned and smiled at her. “She’l like that.” Lavonne and I hugged, everyone said good-bye and we got in the Mustang.

“I think I want to be her when I grow up,” Al y said.

“Except, without the good-for-nothin’ husband.” I smiled at Al y and my cel phone rang. I pul ed it out of my purse and looked at the display.