Rock Chick 02 Rescue (12 page)

Eddie fished in his back jeans pocket and flashed his badge.

Lenny nodded, looked at me and moved away.

“Eddie…” I said before he started but he lifted up his hand, Smithie style, and I shut up.

I was getting “the hand” a lot these days and it was beginning to tick me off.

He waited a beat, hooking his badge onto the belt on his jeans. Then he shook his head.

“You know, I don’t even know what to say,” he said.

“Let me explain.”

“You got an explanation for this? This I have to hear.” I actual y didn’t have an explanation so I fel silent.

“That’s what I thought,” Eddie said.

Al right, enough was enough. I mean, what would
he
do?

“What could I do? He had a knife and was fighting with Dad. I had to jump on his back and try to help!” I yel ed.

Okay, so before, it actual y
was
an “uh-oh” moment and
this
was a “holy shit” moment.

Eddie’s face changed and he looked at me like I just told him I wanted to go to Pluto for Spring Break.

“I hadn’t heard that part,” Eddie said in his scary quiet voice.

“Eddie—“ I started again.

He didn’t let me finish.

“
Have you lost your mind?
”

This wasn’t said in a quiet voice, this was shouted and everyone, cops, bouncers, dancers and waitresses turned to stare.

I opened my mouth to defend myself (as if I had to, I mean, real y, it
was
my Dad) but didn’t get a word out.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” As if things weren’t bad enough with pissed off, shouting Eddie, Smithie showed up at our tête-à-tête.

“It wasn’t like I
asked
to wrestle in the hal way with a guy with a knife.” I said to the both of them, pissed off myself now, hands on hips and everything.

“You see a knife, you run as fast as you fuckin’ can,” Smithie said.

Now he was repeating himself.

“
You
run in these shoes,” I told him.

“That’s it. You wear tennis shoes on shift from now on.” My eyes widened and I stared. None of Smithie’s girls wore tennis shoes. The cocktail waitresses were required to have no less than a three-inch heel (I saw Smithie measure once) and the strippers wore sky-high platforms.

“I can’t wear tennis shoes!” I snapped. “Do you know what that’d do to my tips?”

Now both Eddie and Smithie were staring at me like I’d donated my brain to science pre-mortem.

Smithie turned to Eddie. “I’m leavin’ her in your hands.

You fuckin’ deal with her.” And he stalked away. Again.

Eddie dragged a hand through his hair.

“Eddie,” Jimmy Marker was back, “I real y gotta ask her a few questions.”

Eddie flipped his hand out in an annoyed “go ahead” gesture but didn’t leave my side as Detective Marker asked me questions. I told him my story (feeling Eddie get more and more tense as I told it; don’t ask me how I felt this, trust me, I just
knew
). Detective Marker took notes and asked me if I knew how to get a hold of my Dad— which I didn’t.

He took my number, turned to Eddie and said, “She’s al He took my number, turned to Eddie and said, “She’s al yours.”

Not good.

Before Eddie could do or say anything, I walked quickly to the bar to get my coat, sweater and purse. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d go away.

I took off my apron, pul ing out my cel and slapped the apron on the top of the bar to begin cashing out.

Smithie was behind the bar, glaring at me.

“Am I fired?” I asked.

Smithie snatched the apron away and said, “You’re a pain in my fuckin’ ass, that’s what you are.” He shoved the apron under the bar and shoved my stuff at me, “I’l cash you out. I’l have your tips ready for you on Friday.” Guess I wasn’t fired.

Then, I noticed, down the bar, Lee was standing and talking to Vance.

Shit
and
damn.

My night was now complete.

What was Lee doing here?

“Hey Lee,” I cal ed, trying to be cool.

He looked up, his eyes flicked behind me, he grinned broad and he looked back at me.

“Jet,” he said.

I smiled at Vance who was also grinning, his eyes giving my body a sweep, then his grin broadened to a breathtaking, white smile when his gaze caught mine. Then he looked behind me and I felt a hand curl around my upper arm.

“Let’s go,” Eddie said in my ear.

I stiffened and turned. Obviously, the ignoring thing didn’t work.

I tried another evasive tactic.

“Lenny’s taking me home,” I said.

That didn’t work either. Eddie steered me toward the front door.

“No one’s takin’ you home. You’re comin’ to my place.” Eek!

I dug in my heels and pul ed my arm out of his hand.

“I can’t. I have to get home,” I told him.

“You aren’t going home,” he said.

I stared at him.

“I
have
to go home.”

“You aren’t safe at home. You’l be safe with me and that’s where you’re stayin’.”

At his words, panic fil ed me. “You think Slick wil go to my apartment?” I asked.

“I think Slick’l do just about anything to get his thirty K.” My stomach rol ed and I leaned forward.

“But, my Mom’s there. She can’t…” I stopped talking and then, not meaning to, I gave him the girlie “please” look that worked on Smithie, “Eddie, I have to go home.” He looked at me for several seconds then he muttered,

“Fuck.”

He grabbed my hand and pul ed me forward. “I’l take you home.”

Relief flooded through me as he pushed through the front doors.

“Thanks Eddie.”

My relief was short-lived.

“We’l stop by my place on the way. I’l pick up a change of clothes.”

Eek, eek and
eek!

“What?” I shouted.

Eddie stopped by his truck. “You don’t stay at my place, then I’m stayin’ at yours.”

No.

No, no, no.

“I’m sure I’l be al right,” I assured him.

“I’m sure too, mainly because I’l be there to make sure,” Eddie said, opening the passenger side door.

“We don’t have a lot of room,” I said to him as he helped me into his truck.

He stood in the opened door, looking at me.

“You got a couch?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, and wished I didn’t, “But it isn’t very comfortable.”

“You sleep on it?”

“No.”

“Your Mom sleep on it?”

This wasn’t getting any better.

“No,” I answered.

“Then you have room.”

“Eddie…” I said to the slamming door.

Eddie swung in behind the wheel and my mind whirled, trying to find some excuse, any excuse, for Eddie not to come to my house, spend the night on the couch, protecting me from men with knives.

I couldn’t find one.

He started the truck and off we went… to my doom.

Chapter Six

It Was Time to Take Things in My Own Hands
The alarm went off and I stared at it.

5:20 am.

I hated my life.

I hit snooze.

My alarm went again.

5:27 am.

I
really
hated my life.

I hit snooze again.

My alarm went again.

5:34 am.

Seriously, my life sucked.

I turned off the alarm, rol ed out of bed and, stil half asleep, shuffled out the door, through the living room and into the kitchen. I opened the coffee filter to make sure Mom had set it up last night with coffee. She did, so I flipped the switch. I shuffled back through the living room and down the short hal , yawning and pul ing my hair away from my face with one of my hands.

I knocked on Mom’s bedroom door and when I heard her cal , I opened it and leaned against the doorjamb. I didn’t have the energy to hold my body upright.

“Mornin’, Mama,” I said across the room.

“Mornin’, dol face,” Mom replied sleepily.

“You getting up?”

I lifted both my hands to pul my hair off my neck and bundle it on the top of my head and I left my hands there.

Mom tried to get up with me in the mornings, that way I could get her sorted before I went to work. She could sleep while I worked, not to mention she could go to bed early.

“Sure, I’l have breakfast with you,” Mom said.

“You wanna try it alone today? Or do you want me to help?” I asked.

Mom was walking around a bit. Depending on her energy levels, she could get herself in and out of her chair, to the bathroom, around the apartment, even stand at the kitchen counter for awhile. She was also doing a lot better at getting herself dressed, which was exhausting one-handed. The PT and OT told her she’d get used to it, get stronger, and it would eventual y be a walk in the park (literal y). Even though progress was slow, it was happening.

Mornings were good. Evenings were not so good. Ada came over at night to watch TV with Mom because Ada wanted the company but also to be close to Mom in case something happened. Ada was too old to do transfers or pick Mom up if she fel , but she could make a phone cal or go down the hal to one of the more able-bodied neighbors.

“I’m gonna try it alone,” Mom told me, ever the trooper.

“Okeydoke.” I said, pul ing the door to but keeping it slightly ajar so she could have privacy but I could hear if she cal ed. I turned away, my hands going back to holding up my hair, my eyes to the floor. I walked a step and then stopped dead.

I saw two bare feet, their heels and ankles covered with the hems of some faded jeans. My eyes traveled up the jeans, hit a set of wel -defined abdominal muscles covered in luscious olive skin. The abs gave way to a very nice chest and shoulders and on top of it al was Eddie’s head, complete with sexy-sleepy eyes and messy hair.

I froze and stared.

I total y forgot about Eddie.

“Where’s your bathroom?” he asked, his voice slightly gruff from sleep.

I didn’t have the capacity to speak, so I just took one of my hands from my hair and pointed at a door.

He walked the three steps to me, stopped, put his hand to my jaw and brushed his lips against mine. A thril of electricity tore through my body, rooting me to the spot and then he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

I stood there a second, then whirled and ran to Mom’s bedroom, suddenly ful of energy. I threw her door open and charged in, then closed it behind me.

Mom had the light on and was sitting on the side of the bed. Her head shot around and she looked at me, her eyes bright and wide-awake. “Was that a man’s voice I heard?” she asked.

I didn’t answer.

What could I say? I was in a tizzy.

I ran to her bathroom, throwing on the light and staring at myself in the mirror. Thank God, I didn’t look a fright. Face free of makeup and I didn’t have a bedhead. In fact, Trixie’s new ‘do seemed the ultimate, it looked good al the time, even after I’d slept on it.

When I turned around, Mom was standing, leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom. “What’s happening?” she asked.

“I forgot to tel you, Eddie’s here,” I said.

Her eyes got wide.

“You brought a man home last night?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It isn’t what you—”

“That’s great!” she cried.

I closed my eyes.

My mother.

I opened my eyes.

“Mom, it isn’t what you think. It’s a long story, I’l tel you later.”

“You have a lot of long stories lately, none, incidental y, that you’ve actual y told me.”

I didn’t have time for this. It was morning and Eddie was there.

“Mom,” I whined, sounding like a six year old, “Eddie’s here!”

Mom looked at me for a second, nodded and turned, al business. “Right. I need to use the bathroom then you can help me get my bra on and I’l get dressed.” We took care of Mom first and I left her to the dressing bit. I used her bathroom and her face soap and tore her brush through my hair. I stared at myself in her mirror. I was wearing the LA Dodgers nightshirt that my sister sent me. It was huge and shapeless and came down to about mid-thigh. Eddie had already seen me in it, which wasn’t exactly devastating but I wished I’d been wearing some cute, girlie pajamas or a nightie.

I didn’t know what to do, if I got al dol ed up before appearing in the common areas of the apartment, I’d look like I was trying too hard. But the Dodgers nightshirt lacked panache.

Who was I kidding? It was me who lacked panache. I’d just have to go with it.

By the time I was out of her bathroom, Mom was no longer in her room so I went into the hal way and the main bathroom door was open. I ducked in quickly, brushed my teeth and came out, hearing voices coming from the kitchen.

I took a calming breath, squared my shoulders and forged ahead.

I walked in the kitchen, trying to look cool and casual, as if I had guys over al the time and didn’t feel like an idiot in my Dodgers nightshirt.

Eddie was sitting at the table. He’d topped the jeans with a tight, red t-shirt and had a mug of coffee in front of him. He looked up at me when I walked in, his eyes moved the length of me and I could see the dimple come out. I didn’t know what to make of that but decided to consider it a good thing.

Then Mom spoke and my attention swung to her. “Hey dol face. Don’t worry, Eddie and me introduced ourselves.

I’m making him eggs.” She threw one of her gorgeous smiles at Eddie then her eyes turned back to me, “You want coffee?”

Mom was standing at the counter, her wheelchair positioned by the table. She’d put on a lilac t-shirt dress that had peach flowers embroidered on the v-neck. It was essential y a modern-day muumuu. It was easy to put on because, if she stood up, gravity did a lot of the work and it was stretchy so she could shove her bum arm through. It was simple and inelegant, but with her coloring, it looked smashing on her.