I landed on top of him, my hands were freed, I sat up astride him and I started to search for ticklish spots on Hank (I found none, though he didn’t let me try for very long, as in I was searching for about two seconds). This deteriorated into wrestling (because I was still trying) which degenerated to groping which became far more serious and we ended up never seeing the end of the movie.
I didn’t mind, it didn’t seem like it was going to be a good movie anyway.
* * * * *
Early Sunday morning, I left for Chicago.
I’d packed a few suitcases to take back with me. Hank and Uncle Tex were going to move the rest of my stuff to Uncle Tex’s while I was gone. Hank took my bags out to the car while I finished getting ready at the same time I was eating a breakfast of Hank’s scrambled eggs and toast.
I put my dishes in the dishwasher, grabbed my purse, shoving my lip balm into the easily accessible side pouch (because everyone knew, on a road trip, you needed easily accessible lip balm) and walked out the front door.
Hank was leaning against the side of the hood of my car (which he’d had returned from the impound the day after Billy was caught). He had his ankles and arms crossed and Shamus was sitting by his legs.
Hank was staring at his feet, looking both handsome and lost in thought.
I nearly tripped at the sight of him but pulled myself together and walked forward.
Hank’s head came up and he watched me approach him.
When I got to within reaching distance, he uncrossed his arms and ankles, grabbed me and pulled me between his legs.
My arms went around his waist, I relaxed into him and I rested my cheek on his chest.
“You’re stoppin’ in Iowa?” he asked over my head.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“You’ll call me when you get a hotel,” It wasn’t so much a question as a demand. A worthless demand, we’d already had this conversation.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling my nostrils beginning to sting.
“You’re stayin’ with Annette and Jason when you get there?” he asked, even though he knew that too.
Annette and Jason had left the day before my parents. I had no idea of the state of my loft but I didn’t want anything to do with it anymore. I didn’t want anything to do with any aspect of my life that included memories of Billy, except to clean it up, pack it up and let it go.
“Yeah,” I repeated.
His arms, already tight, got tighter.
“Jesus, Roxie,” he muttered and his voice sounded hoarse.
My arms got tighter too and the tears started to fall down my cheeks.
“It’s only a few weeks,” I said into his chest but you could hear the tears in my voice.
“Yeah,” he murmured.
After awhile, he demanded quietly, “Look at me, Sunshine.”
I tilted my head back to look at him. The minute I did, his came down and he kissed me.
I knew Hank’s light kisses, necking kisses and make-me-dizzy kisses. This was a forth kind of kiss, long, sweet and full of promise. It might have been the best of them all (okay, maybe not, but a close second).
His mouth came away from mine and he wiped the tears from my cheeks. Then he walked me to the driver’s side, his arm hooked around my neck, mine around his waist. He gave me a light kiss, I got in, started the car, looked up at him and gave a weak smile and a stupid wave and I drove away.
At the end of the block, I looked into the rearview mirror and he was standing in the same spot, eyes on my car, Shamus at his side.
I turned the car left toward University Boulevard.
* * * * *
When there was nothing but highway in front of me and Denver in my mirrors, I pulled out my cell, flipped it opened and said Hank’s name into the phone.
It rang twice.
“You okay?” he asked in greeting.
“My life began when I met you,” I told him.
There was a beat of silence.
Then, I heard him say, “Sunshine –”
I flipped the phone closed, pushed it deep in my purse but it rang once before I turned up Springsteen and I started singing with him to “She’s the One”.
Together, Bruce and I drowned out the sound of the ringing phone.
* * * * *
Now, I was back.
It was nearly noon. I was on I-25 and well into Denver when I pulled out my phone, flipped it open and said Hank’s name.
I was now beyond nervous, no longer excited, just totally scared to death.
For three weeks, Hank and I had talked almost daily. He’d missed calling me twice (I counted) because of work. Sometimes, we could only talk for minutes; three times (I counted) we talked over an hour.
“Jeez, Bitch! Starving people in Africa would get a new lease on life with the money you two spend on phone calls,” Annette shouted each of the three times.
I ignored her.
Never did Hank give an indication he was going to back out.
Always, he was just Hank.
Still…
In my car, Denver sliding by me, I listened to the phone ring and held my breath.
On the second ring, he answered.
“You in Denver?” he asked by way of greeting.
I let go of my breath. “Well, hello to you too,” I answered, sounding uppity.
“Sunshine, are you in Denver?” Hank repeated.
“You could say hello. It’s the nice thing to do. What? Have you been taking Luke Etiquette Lessons while I’ve been gone?”
I was trying to cover my nerves.
A beat of silence and then, “Sweetheart, I’m gonna ask one more time…”
I bit my lip.
Then I said, “Yeah, Whisky, I’m in Denver. Exiting I-25 now.”
“See you at our place.”
Then he disconnected.
I flipped my phone shut and my brows drew together.
Our place?
He must mean Fortnum’s.
I pointed my car toward Fortnum’s.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Our Place
I walked into Fortnum’s and everyone was there.
Everyone, that was, except Hank.
Lee, Mace, Vance, Eddie and Luke were relaxing on the couches with Jet sitting on the arm of the couch by Eddie. Ally was standing by Mace. Uncle Tex and Duke were behind the espresso counter. Jane was behind the book counter, Indy and Daisy sitting on top of it.
They all looked up at me when I walked in.
“Where’s Hank?” I asked.
“Well, how the fuck are you too?” Uncle Tex boomed, coming out from behind the counter.
I grinned at him. I couldn’t help it.
“Hey, Uncle Tex,” I said.
He made it to me and his arms engulfed me, so hard, my breath went out of me in a poof. “Darlin’ girl,” he half-boomed.
I smiled into his chest and gave him a hug back.
Then I gave hugs and cheek kisses to everyone else (except Mace and Luke, I didn’t know Mace all that well and I’d already had my lifetime quota of hugs from Luke).
Indy, Lee, Ally, Jet and Daisy stayed close while everyone else wandered away.
“Hank said he’d see me at our place. He should have been here before me,” I told them.
The Rock Chicks looked at each other.
Lee got out his phone.
“Uh-oh,” Ally said.
“Uh-oh what?” I asked.
“Uh-oh nothing,” Ally muttered and bugged her eyes out and Indy.
I looked at Indy and my stomach did a scared-to-death curl.
“Uh-oh what?” I asked Indy.
“Um…” Indy said.
“Hank?” Lee said into the phone. “Yeah, Roxie’s at Fortnum’s,” he paused then he said, “Right.” Then he flipped his phone closed.
“Where is he?” I asked Lee.
“His house,” Lee answered.
“What’s he doing there?” I asked, my brows coming together.
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“Waiting for you,” Lee told me.
My brows came apart and I blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“He’s comin’ to Fortnum’s,” Lee went on.
I kept staring at him.
Daisy shoved forward, put her arm around my waist and started to move me to the espresso counter.
“Sugar, I’m guessin’ your man didn’t tell you but some minds have changed while you’ve been gone.”
Oh… my… God.
I halted and stood stock-still, staring down at her. “What minds have changed?” I whispered.
“Well, Hank’s…” she stopped and then started again. “He’s not overly…” she paused, looking for the word. Then finding it, she spoke again, “Fond of you movin’ in with Tex. See, he thinks –”
“Oh for fuck’s sake. You’re movin’ in with Hank,” Uncle Tex announced. “Silly, stupid girl nerves, movin’ in with me, then movin’ into some apartment only to end up movin’ in with Hank in a few months. You need to fuckin’ settle, girl. Get over it and get over here. I’ll make you a fuckin’ latte.”
I stared at Uncle Tex. “I’m not moving in with Hank,” I said.
“You are,” Uncle Tex returned.
Good God.
“Did you guys move my stuff to your place?” I asked.
“Hell no. Waste of time. I’ll make you my new coffee. It’s the shit. So damn popular, they’re linin’ up out the door for it in the morning,” Uncle Tex answered.
I frowned at him. “I’m not moving in with Hank,” I repeated (though, I wanted to try his new latte).
“You are,” Uncle Tex said.
“I’m not!” I yelled.
Daisy’s arm went away from me and Jet came close.
“Maybe you should take it up with Hank,” Jet suggested. “Have a conversation,” then she smiled like what she said was funny. Daisy smiled too, obviously agreeing.
I didn’t think it was funny.
“Damn tootin’ we’re having a conversation. We’re going to have the conversation to end all conversations,” I declared, stomping up to the espresso counter.
Everyone grinned at everyone else.
I ignored all of them and Uncle Tex made me his latte with chocolate and burnt marshmallow syrup with a graham cracker on the side.
It was lush.
Five minutes later, Hank walked in.
I felt the air leave my lungs in a rush and decided immediately I was more than happy to move in with him.
I’d forgotten how handsome he was (well, I hadn’t really, just that it hit me again and hit me hard).
He looked so good I felt my mouth go dry. He was wearing jeans, running shoes and the collar of a white t-shirt could be seen over his zipped up, collared, navy blue sweatshirt.
“Whisky,” I said (or, more like, rasped).
He walked up to me, not saying a word, pulled my coffee out of my hand, put it on the counter, took my hand in his and dragged (yes, dragged) me toward the bookshelves.
I came out of my Hank Stupor and immediately decided I wasn’t so happy to move in with him.
“Whisky!” I snapped.
He walked us through the front section, through the album section and into the back room.
A lone, male customer was perusing the travel books.
“Can you excuse us?” Hank asked the man.
The customer stared at him.
“I’m looking for a book on India,” he said. “I’m going there on vaca –”
Hank turned to the travel section, pulled out five books at random and shoved them into the man’s arms.
“Go,” he said.
The man looked from Hank, to me, to Hank, shocked into near-immobility.
“Hank –” I started, feeling sorry for the guy.
Hank leaned into the man.
The man caught the not-so-subtle hint and walked swiftly out of the room.
“I cannot believe you just did that!” I hissed to Hank.
Hank turned to me, backed me into the shelves, and, without further ado, he kissed me.
Long, deep, lots of tongue with his hands going up my sweater.
I went dizzy.
His mouth came away but his forehead rested on mine. His hands kept roaming the skin of my back and he was looking into my eyes.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he murmured.
Then he rubbed his nose against mine.
Okay, so I was back to deciding I’d move in with Hank.
“I missed you too,” I whispered.
His hands stopped roaming and pressed me deeper into his body.
“Let’s go home,” he said softly.
I stilled.
“We need to talk about ‘home’,” I said.
“No talk. Tex and I decided.”
I went rock solid and changed my mind again about moving in with Hank.
“You and Uncle Tex decided?” I asked.
“Sunshine –”
“What about me?” I asked, taking my hands from around his neck and planting them on my hips while I pulled my head away from his.
Hank grinned.
I forgot how great his grin was (well, not really, but you know what I mean).
“Let’s go home and I’ll convince you,” he suggested.
Good grief.
I had a feeling he could do that.
Stubborn to the last I replied, “We’ll go to your place, get my stuff and go to Tex’s.”
Hank shook his head.
“Tex won’t let you move in with him. We’ve talked, he agrees,” Hank told me.
“Then I’ll move in with Indy and Lee for awhile.”
Hank responded immediately. “Lee won’t let you.”
I knew that was true.
“Ally –” I started.
“She loses her Christmas present, she lets you move in with her.”
“You give good Christmas presents?” I asked, curious for more than one reason.
“Concert tickets. Every year.”
Damn.
Ally was out.
“Daisy.” I tried.
His body started shaking with laughter but this time he didn’t bother to answer.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Hank Nightingale…”
He pushed me back into the books, his mouth came to mine and he said softly, “Roxie, move in with me.”
Good God.
My heart squeezed and my stomach melted.
I guessed he wasn’t going to back out.
I thought about it (well, not really, but I pretended to think about it).
Then I sighed.
“Oh, all right,” I said.
He kissed me again.
So, it wasn’t the conversation to end all conversations.
Whatever.
* * * * *
We went back to the front of the store.
I decided to get it over with immediately.
“I’m moving in with Hank,” I announced.
There was general merriment and a good deal of ribbing, mostly at my expense.
I scowled at everyone and nabbed my latte.
“One for the road?” Uncle Tex asked, correctly assuming we weren’t going to hang around.
“Yeah,” Hank said, wrapping an arm around my neck.
Uncle Tex started to make Hank a coffee and I stood, plastered against Hank’s side and felt the ugly scar on that secret, private place inside me that had been ripped apart and then mended. Well… it just disappeared.
Gone.
“A month,” Duke said, interrupting my thoughts. Duke’s arms were crossed on his big chest, his gravelly voice sounded almost (but not quite) happy. “A month of pure bliss. No bullets flying. No kidnappings. No dead bodies. No cars explodin’. No cat fights in Chinese restaurants. No shoot-outs at the Society Party OK Corral. No visits to the hospital. Absolute, fuckin’ bliss.”
He barely finished his last word when we heard a squeal of tires.
Everyone’s gaze
swung to look out the big plate glass window.
We saw a shiny, cherry-condition, red Camaro, circa 1983, braking, its tail flipping so that it was facing the wrong way on Broadway and it shuddered to a halt.
No sooner had it stopped then the driver’s side door was thrown open and a woman got out.
She had gleaming, thick, black hair, pulled back in a long ponytail. She was wearing a skintight black turtleneck, mushroom-colored cords and a kickass black belt.
She was stunning.
She walked to the front of the Camaro, her hand going to the back waistband of her cords and she whipped out a gun.
Hank tensed at my side and the room went utterly still except for a wicked undercurrent of energy.
She pulled the gun up in front of her and held it like Hank, natural, casual, in two hands, arms cocked, head slightly to the side.
The traffic was stopped at the red light on Broadway. She advanced, like a woman without a care in the world, down the middle of the wide, normally busy street toward a man who had alighted from a different car.
He too, had a gun pointed at her.
She halted.
They faced off.
“Jules!” he shouted.
At the call of what was likely her name, her arms moved slightly, to the left and down. Without apparently aiming, she fired, twice.
And she took out the two front tires of his car.
“Holy crap,” Indy breathed.
“Righteous,” Ally whispered.
“Fuckin’ Jules!” the man yelled and started running toward her.
She whipped around, ponytail flying, and ran back to her car, throwing the gun into the passenger seat. She got in and started reversing on a smoky squeal of tires, leaving the man in her dust.
All our heads followed her as the car twisted viciously around to face the right way again and she took off like a rocket.
The man with the gun turned toward Fortnum’s and started running and kept going, right passed Fortnum’s down the side street.
“Stay here,” Hank said to me, his hand was in his back pocket, pulling out his phone. Then he moved to the door.
The place was a flurry of activity.
The Hot Boy Brigade was on the move. Out of Fortnum’s they went, disbursing with barely a word to each other, instinctively knowing what they were doing.
I noticed it was Vance, on his Harley, who shot off in the direction of “Jules”.