Rock Chick Revolution

Chapter Twelve Did I Mention the Suits?

“Oh my God.”

“Holy crap.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“Blooming heck. Did that really happen?”

“This pink color is the bomb.”

The Rock Chicks were reacting to the book.

We were at Fortnum’s and we were holding an impromptu Rock Chick Powwow that Indy had hysterically called to order while riding shotgun with me on our way to the store. She was too freaked to drive. And anyway, she had a strict rule against driving and dialing and she was doing a lot of that.

As usual, no one wasted time hauling ass to Fortnum’s.

Now there were stacks of pink books that we’d bought in Cherry Creek on the low table in the seating area in front of the big plate glass window where we were congregated.

The good news was, a published (maybe) fictionalized account of Indy and Lee’s courtship took precedence over anyone giving me shit for being secretive about my non-Rock Chick activities as well as not sharing details as I was carrying on a fuck buddies relationship with Ren Zano for a year.

The bad news was, a (maybe) fictionalized account of Indy and Lee’s courtship had been freaking published.

“Oh my God,” Tod chortled, and everyone looked to him to see his book open, his eyes to it, a huge smile on his face. “I remember that. That was hilarious!” He looked to the group. “And this is fab…you…las. I’m famous!”

“Tod, this is not fabulous,” Indy snapped.

“Yes it is,” Tod disagreed.

“It is not,” Indy retorted.

“You’re famous, too,” Tod pointed out. “Or, you’re already famous with those newspaper articles, but you’ll be more famous with this book.”

“I don’t want to be more famous,” Indy shot back.

Tod stared at Indy like she’d just declared the sparkly fringed crochet dress Tina Turner wore for her 1971 Beat Club performance of “Proud Mary” was in bad taste.

Then he asked, his voice pitched high, “Why on earth not?”

Indy brandished a pink book at him and yelled, “Tod! They have the kitchen counter scene in this! I don’t need the world knowing about the kitchen counter scene.”

“What page is that?” Shirleen muttered to Sadie, frantically flipping through a book.

“I’m looking,” Sadie muttered back, doing the same.

“That scene was hot,” Tod said to Indy.

“That wasn’t a scene, Tod,” Indy returned. “That was my life!”

“I remember hearing that story,” Roxie whispered to Ava. “Tod’s right. It was hot.”

I looked to Roxie, my gut clenching, as Daisy asked, “Who’s this Kristen Ashley person?”

“My guess,” Tod took his attention off Indy and looked at Daisy, “it’s a made up name. Kudos to whoever picked that, great romance novelist name. But totally fake. No one’s named Kristen Ashley.”

“It’s not a strange name, Tod,” Stella pointed out.

“How many people with romance novelist’s names do you know?” Tod asked Stella.

“Ava Barlow,” Stella answered.

“Hmm,” Tod mumbled.

“India Savage. Allyson Nightingale. Roxanne Logan. Juliet Lawler. Sadie Townsend,” Stella carried on.

“Point taken,” Tod murmured.

But I was listening with half an ear.

The rest of my focus was on Fortnum’s.

I saw a lot of faces I knew. This was because Tex’s coffee was revered, thus practically everybody came back for more. It was also because, with the newspaper articles, as Tod noted, Fortnum’s, the Rock Chicks and the Hot Bunch were already famous in Denver.

Therefore we had a lot of regulars, and those regulars didn’t always just pop by for a coffee. Fortnum’s had been around a while. It had that feel that was real. That feel that invited you to stay. That feel that assured you you were welcome. That feel that many gave in to and hung out.

Sometimes for hours.

Right then, the place wasn’t packed, but the seating area in front of the espresso counter was full and there were people in line for coffees. And Jane, Indy’s other employee outside Duke, Tex, Jet and me, was even ringing up a book.

The kitchen counter story had been talked about, more than once, in that space.

I obviously hadn’t had time to read the book, though I’d skimmed parts, but it was safe to say most of what was in it had been discussed, at length and in some detail, in that space.

And easily overheard. The Rock Chicks weren’t about quiet. Not even close.

That meant it could be any regular that spent time there.

Why I hadn’t thought of this when wondering who spilled to the papers, I did not know.

But I was thinking of it now.

My gut clenched further as I remembered something.

During Indy’s Drama, Lee had put bugs and cameras in Fortnum’s. These fed to Lee’s surveillance room at his office in LoDo. After Indy’s drama, he didn’t take them out. This was because Lee’s surveillance room was manned 24/7, and those feeds provided comic relief for the boys.

And Brody Dunne was not the only computer whiz who could hack into anything.

Someone could have hacked into those feeds.

Someone could be watching us now.

I jumped out of my chair, digging in my back pocket for my phone and heading to the door.

“Where’re you goin’?” Tex boomed.

“Gotta make a call,” I shouted back.

“Sidewalk, woman. I have eyes on you all the time!” Tex kept booming.

I lifted a hand and waved my assent, head down, phone up. I pushed open the door and stopped on the sidewalk, but before I could call Brody to tell him to check to see if he’d been hacked, it rang and the display told me Ren was calling.

I put it to my ear but didn’t say “hey” because Ren was speaking when I got it there.

He was not speaking to me but he was pissed.

“I don’t give a fuck. Do it. Now.”

Uh-oh.

“Ren, what’s up?” I asked cautiously.

His attention came to me. “Ally?”

“Yeah, honey. Is something wrong?”

“Santo was tailing you,” he stated strangely.

“Okay,” I replied.

“He called Lucky, did a hand off, and now I got this pink fuckin’ book on my desk.”

Hmm. He seemed as angry as Indy. The thing about that was, her having sex with Lee on his kitchen counter and everyone reading about it was (maybe) something to be angry about.

But why was Ren angry?

In order to give him the opportunity to explain his emotion, I repeated, “Okay.”

“And this bitch has a website,” he told me.

“What bitch?” I asked.

“Kristen Ashley.”

My head shot up and I blinked at Broadway.

“What?” I whispered.

He didn’t repeat himself. Instead he said something a whole lot scarier.

“Coming soon,” he spoke like he was reading. “Rock Chick Rescue, the story of Eddie and Jet.”

Oh shit.

Unfortunately he kept going.

“Rock Chick Redemption, the story of Hank and Roxie.”

Oh shit!

He went on, “I’ll cut to the chase, babe. The last on this list is Rock Chick Revolution, the story of Ally and Ren.”

Fuck!

Chills slid down my spine and I whispered, “Our story hasn’t been written.”

“Babe, our story isn’t a story,” Ren clipped.

This was true.

“They have them all?” I asked.

“Every last one,” he answered.

“This isn’t good, Ren,” I said quietly.

“No, babe. It is not fuckin’ good. It’s really not fuckin’ good. You and your girls got eyes on you from somewhere and I don’t need my woman to have eyes on her. I also don’t need eyes on me. Especially not now.”

Especially not now. What did he mean by that?

I opened my mouth to ask, but he got there before me.

“Your brother on this?” he asked.

“Which one?” I asked back.

“I don’t give a fuck. One, the other, but both would be better,” he answered.

“Well, we were kind of busy freaking so I’m uncertain that information has filtered down. Though, Fortnum’s is wired to Lee’s offices so I expect incoming Hot Bunch imminently.”

Ren was silent.

“Zano?” I called.

“That place is wired?” he asked in a scary soft voice.

Oh man.

“Well…” I paused. “Yeah.”

“How long has it been wired?”

Oh man!

“Uh… since Indy’s thing.”

The receiver was not at his mouth when he bit out, “Fuckin’ fuck me,” but I still heard it.

He came back to me and asked caustically. “You think you might have wanted to mention that?”

“Zano, you’ve hardly ever been here,” I pointed out.

“You think your girls haven’t discussed my shit, your shit, our shit, my shit with Ava and anything in between?” he returned.

Hmm.

He had a point.

I heard the roar of a bike, looked that way and saw Vance approaching on his Harley.

I watched Vance (Vance was very watchable), but into the phone, I said, “I need to call Brody, get him on it, see if the feeds were hacked.” My eyes on Vance, and particularly the unhappy expression he was wearing, I told Ren, “Vance just got here, and I’m getting the sense this is not a random drop in. I’ll phone Lee and Hank after Brody, but I suspect they’re already on it and likely both heading this way.”

“I’m also on it,” Ren told me. “This shit needs to get shut down. You see your brother, Ally, you tell him he needs to find the source before me. Are you with me, babe?”

I had a feeling I was, though I thought it might be prudent to get particulars.

“Maybe we can discuss this tonight over dinner,” I suggested.

Vance was in the store and my eyes were aimed down Broadway, where I spotted a black Porsche approaching.

Luke.

“I’m not in the mood to cook,” Ren replied. “I’ll pick up Chinese.”

“That works for me. But I can also pick it up,” I offered.

“That works for me,” Ren agreed. “You know what I like.”

I was feeling weird, freaked, something was gnawing at my gut, but still, Ren pointing out I knew his Chinese preference still made my insides warm.

“Yeah, I know what you like, honey,” I murmured.

“Gotta go. Shit to do,” Ren stated.

“Okay, but just an FYI, I got fired today so we have time to talk tonight.”

This got me nothing.

So I called, “Zano?”

“You were fired?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“From Brother’s?” he requested further details.

“Well, Indy’s not going to fire me,” I noted.

“Babe, your apartment just blew up,” he reminded me.

“Zano, that isn’t something I’ll forget.”

“There’s eyes on you. New Mexican lunatics after you. We don’t know the fallout from your activities in the mountains. Your apartment is rubble. And you tellin’ me you just lost your job is an FYI?”

“It isn’t like I don’t have another one,” I told him.

Or two.

“Fuck, does anything shake you?” he asked.

“Not really,” I answered.

A beat of silence before he shared, “Right now, I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Admire it?” I suggested.

It was then his voice went sweet.

“Baby, I do admire it. And that is no lie. It’s one of the many things I love about you. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to keep sharp, and nothing keeps you sharper than you bein’ smart enough to be freaked.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t freaked,” I told him. “I just said nothing shakes me.”

“We’ll get into the nuances of what the fuck is the difference between those two things over Chinese,” Ren said, and although a long sentence, the whole of it sounded like it was uttered on a sigh. “Now, I gotta go.”

“Okay, but I want your promise that you’ll enumerate the other many things you love about me over Chinese,” I said.

“Only if you return the favor,” he replied.

Instantly, don’t ask me why, I launched in.

“Your hair. Your eyes. Your body on the whole, incidentally. Though, if pressed, I could pinpoint a top ten of your anatomy. The way you wear a suit. Actually, the way you dress in its entirety. The way you cook. The way you make sure to cook enough for me. You having tater tots for breakfast. Your voice normally, but more when it gets sweet. The things you do to me in bed. The fact my nighties are appreciated. The fact you’re a maximum contact sleeper. Your ability to give perfect presents. You’ve only given me one, but it was the most perfect present I ever received. You’re taller than me. You think I’m funny. You admire me being unshakable. You love your family. You say I love tough and stubborn, and I like that you think that of me. You pay attention. And you never gave up on me.” I took in a deep breath and asked, “Did I mention the suits?”

Ren said nothing.

“Zano?”

More nothing.

Just in case I hadn’t given him enough, I informed him, “That wasn’t exhaustive list. You said you had to go. Those were just the highlights.”

“Shut up, baby.”

My entire body went still at his tone. It was one I’d never heard. One that slid through me, and if I thought he’d made me feel warm with his sweet, that tone, even using it to say those words, gave me a new kind of warm. The kind of warm that settled in and made you feel found and safe and loved in a way you knew you would never lose any of those things.

Not ever.

For the rest of your life.

“Ren,” I whispered.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve a whispered Ren, honey, but you can explain that to me later, too. Call me when you’re headin’ home and I’ll do what I can to wrap shit up and get there when you do.”

“’Kay,” I replied just as a shadow blocked out the sun, and I looked up to see Hank standing there, scowling at me.

Another unhappy member of the Hot Bunch, but one that was in my space.

Shit.

“I have to go,” I said to Ren.

“Later, babe.’

“’Bye, Zano.”

I did not take it as a good sign that Hank’s jaw got tight when I said Ren’s name.

I shoved my phone in my pocket and held my brother’s eyes.

“What?” I asked when he said nothing.

“You think it’s a good idea, you standin’ out here on the sidewalk?”

I pointed across the street where Santo had eyes on me and a hand to his mouth, working his teeth with a toothpick.

“Fuck, Zano put his goon squad on you?” Hank asked, studying Santo with a look on his face that stated what I’d previously thought of Santo and Lucky, and that was that he wasn’t quite certain if they were idiots or brilliant at playing them.

“Apparently,” I answered.

Hank’s eyes tipped down to me. “How ‘bout you do your brother a favor and get your ass inside?”

“I’ll do you that favor, but only because you asked,” I answered magnanimously.

Hank looked to the sky.

I sashayed to the door.

I was caught just inside when Hank’s fingers curled around my bicep to stop me. But before I stopped, I saw that not only had Vance and Luke joined the party, Hector and Marcus were there as well.

No one looked happy.

Except Tod and Shirleen. And it appeared Roxie was fighting a smile. And I couldn’t tell because I had her profile, but it looked like Ava was giggling behind her hand.

I wondered what they’d think if they knew they were “coming soon.”

This thought exited my head when my brother said into my ear. “Dad wants a family meeting.”

This was not a surprise. When Ren and I made it official, I didn’t figure Dad would delay.

I pulled away, but not too far, and told Hank, “I’ll call him. Set it up.”

“He won’t want Zano there,” Hank told me.

“That might not be his choice,” I stated.

“Ally, you want this, you gotta play it smart,” he warned.

“Hank,” I leaned in and said quietly, “I want this and I don’t have to play at anything. You would no sooner ask for approval of the woman you chose to be in your bed than Lee would. Or Dad would. And I will not be happy if that’s expected of me. I get your concerns. Totally. What I will not get is if you make a decision before you give Ren a chance.”

“We know this guy, Ally, we know his family,” Hank replied.

“You don’t know how he is with me,” I returned. “And you all knew Darius and Shirleen. And when they turned to the dark side, not one of you turned your back on them. Deep down, you got exactly who they were and you accepted how they had to be. You didn’t like it. I know it, Hank. Especially you. But you didn’t wash your hands of people who mattered because you cast judgment on them. You may know Ren, but you don’t know him, and all I’ll ask of you and everyone is to give him the chance to get to know him. If that doesn’t swing my way, so be it. It’ll be then I’ll ask you to trust in the fact that I know him better than you and I know he matters.”

Hank held my gaze before he gave in (in a macho alpha way) by jerking up his chin.

Then he declared, “There’s more to talk about.”

“There is,” I agreed.

“We’re worried,” he stated.

He was talking about my soon-to-be legit business.

“You’ve no need to be,” I assured him.

“Ally—”

I leaned in further and got up on my toes to get (kind of) eye to eye (my brother was seriously tall; then again, so was everyone in our family). “Hank, babe, love you, you know it. And I love it that you’re worried. Says a lot. But we’ll talk about it later. Okay?”

Another macho alpha chin jerk, which meant okay.

Jeez. These guys.

“Now,” I continued, deciding to let that go and rocking back to my heels. “Tell me what’s happening with Rosie.”

This got me a clenched jaw, complete with muscle jumping in his cheek.

Not good.

“Hank?” I prompted.

“By the time Mace got to Kevin’s, Rosie had bailed,” Hank shared.

I felt my gut get tight.

Not again.

“You’re shitting me,” I snapped.

“We got a BOLO on him, and Ally,” he got close, “you lay low. We also called down to New Mexico. These guys who want his action, they’re not good guys.”

“I kinda put that together, bro,” I replied.

“No, I mean, these guys are not your garden variety assholes,” Hank returned.

“Wiring a bomb to a detonator to take out a woman who’s an undetermined threat told me that already.”

Hank nodded, then informed me, “Darius is on that. And you let him work that without your help. You deal with all the other shit that’s going down.”

Bossy.

Gack.

It was all around me.

Before I could call him on it, we saw movement and turned to watch a stony-faced Lee approach and yank open the door. The bell over it rang and I knew attention came to us, but I didn’t take my eyes off Lee.

“You okay?” I asked, and he tore his gaze from where it was pointed in the store, and without turning to see if I was accurate I knew he was looking at Indy, before he looked down at me.

“Fuck no.”

Well, that didn’t leave any room for interpretation.

“So I’m not in the mood for you to piss me off,” he went on then finished, “More.”

I lifted my hands, palms out. “Dude, I’m just standing here.”

He scowled at me. Then he looked at Hank.

Then he prowled into the store.

Hank and I watched him, and then I called Hank’s attention back to me.

“You know you and Roxie are volume three.”

“I know. Brody found the website and sent the word out.”

“Is he looking into a hack of the feeds?” I asked.

“As we speak,” Hank answered.

I studied him. He didn’t look happy. I didn’t like my brothers unhappy so I leaned into him, bumping his arm with my shoulder and staying close.

“You know,” I said softly. “It might be a good idea to adopt Tod’s attitude. He thinks it’s hilarious.”

“Not sure I can get there, honey,” Hank said softly back.

I nodded. I was with him.

“Oh my God!” Tod yelled and Hank and I both looked his way. “Cherry and the Chinese restaurant!” He kept yelling, his book open in front of him, his face lit up with humor, his lips smiling and his eyes on Indy. “Your outfit that night, girlie… lush. Too bad it got covered in hot and sour soup and fried rice.”

My eyes slid to Lee, who was not smiling. Then to Indy, who was glaring at Tod.

But my mind went to Girls Night Out two years ago when Indy got in a catfight with Lee’s ex, Cherry.

Her outfit was lush (Indy’s, not Cherry’s; I hated Cherry, she was a lying, bitchy skank, though it was kinda harsh she nearly exploded in a car bomb—karma, totally a bitch).

Indy’s outfit did get covered in soup.

That had been a good night.

The best.

Or, as it was with the Rock Chicks, one of many bests.

And now it was laid out on pages for all the world to read.

And I couldn’t stop that small part of me thinking that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Because it wasn’t perfect, none of it.

But it was a fairytale.

And people needed to believe in fairytales. Even flawed ones.

Maybe especially flawed ones.

And they needed to believe always.