Rock Chick 08 Revolution (33 page)

I nodded.

She kept talking.

“He never says no without givin’
them a referral. Most of the shit goes to Dick Anderson. Occasionally he’ll
want something referred to Sylvie Bissenette. There’s a player in town called
Hawk who has specialties that aren’t Lee’s specialties and he’ll punt shit to
him, too. This is rare. Most of his refusals go to Anderson.”

“Okay,” I again said cautiously.

“And now, some of them will go to
you,” she finished.

Oh my God.

This was righteous!

“Shirleen—” I started, and she
lifted a hand.

I swallowed annoyance at getting
The Hand and shut up.

“Darius has talked to me and he
says you’re good. He also says he’s gonna keep workin’ with you. Brody says the
same. Lee has not come down on this and I’m waitin’ to see if he will. But
regardless, my nephew doesn’t talk shit to me. He says it straight. So if he
says you’re good, and I’ve seen the way you are, girl, I know you got
somethin’, then I’m good with punting refusals to you. But Lee trades on his
reputation, and the reason he refers to Anderson, Bissenette and Hawk is that
he trusts them to take care of the business he refuses. Referrals reflect on
him. You fuck up, that reflects on your brother. Not only ‘cause you got the
same name, but you got the business because of his referral. But his referral
is one given by me. You make me regret that once, that will be the only time I
regret shit.”

“Shit happens, Shirleen,” I told
her. “But whatever shit happens, I’ll bust my ass to be sure you won’t regret
this. And I sure as hell won’t do anything that will reflect poorly on Lee.”

She nodded. “I hear you. I believe
you. Now, take into account that he’s not gonna know I’m doin’ this until he
finds out I’m doin’ this. And he knows pretty much everything, so I figure
it’ll take him about a day to find that shit out. I’ll handle him. In other
words, I’m throwin’ myself in that lion’s den. For you. Don’t make me regret
that shit either.”

There were two people who could
“handle” Lee. Indy. And Shirleen. Mom couldn’t even do it and had given up
trying years ago.

Though Indy’s batting average was
better with that.

Still, what Shirleen was saying was
that she intended to go to the mat for me.

“Thank you, chickie,” I murmured on
a smile.

She smiled back, reached out a
hand, took mine and gave me a quick squeeze.

Then she let me go and announced,
“I need a refill. Java, Ally?”

I nodded to her and watched her get
up, grab her mug and give me rolled eyes before she took the mug Smithie had
lifted her way in silent demand for more coffee.

She headed to the pot.

Daisy was at the grill of her
massive, restaurant-quality stove flipping pancakes.

Smithie spoke to me. “Shirleen can
give you business. I already got some.”

I looked at him and the chill that
was left on my insides after ending things with Ren started warming.

“No shit?” I asked.

“None at all. I got a situation at
the club,” he told me. “And I ain’t payin’ Lee’s prices ‘cause that shit is
highway robbery. And anyway, he don’t got no bitches on staff and he took this
job, Lord knows what he’d find me. I gotta have a girl backstage, which means
onstage,
so she’s gotta be right.” He
tipped his head to me. “You’re right.”

Oh fuck.

This didn’t sound promising.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m
gonna hire you to find out,” Smithie answered.

“Okay, what’s happening?” I amended
my question.

“What’s happenin’ is, bitches are
quiet. My bitches are never quiet. None of ‘em. Waitresses. Dancers. Even the
one female bartender I got bends my ear so much it’s a wonder it ain’t torn
clean off. They got boyfriend problems. They got car problems. They got
childcare issues. They’re on the rag. They didn’t
get
their rag—”

I rolled a hand at him and said, “I
get it. Move it on, Smithie.”

“Right. Now?’ He shook his head.
“None ‘a that shit. Not one thing,” he stated.

“You got an idea why?” I asked as
Shirleen slid mugs in front of Smithie and me.

“Got a bouncer. Hired him, good
guy, checked out. I think he snowed me ‘cause my girls… they’re scared of him.”

The skin at the back of my neck
prickled.

“Usually,” he went on, “that kinda
shit happens, it’s because he’s creepin’ and I just fire the asshole. But he wasn’t
creepin’, not that I could see.”

I nodded.

Smithie kept talking. “But I fired
him anyway. When I did, he told me he was filing a wrongful termination suit. I
have no idea what that shit is. I just know I don’t want that kind of bullshit
hassle. So I kept him on, kept my eye on him and set Lenny on him. Lenny’s
close to graduating from DU so he’s got other shit on, but it don’t matter.
Neither of us is findin’ anything. We need a girl in there to keep her eye on
shit and either give me a valid reason to can his ass or give me reason to beat
his ass until he’s close to not breathing. I prefer number two. But I could
live with the number one, long’s it happens fast.”

“So you need me to waitress,” I
tried.

And failed.

“I need you to dance.”

Oh shit.

“Uh, Smithie—”

He cut me off. “The waitresses
don’t often go backstage. Whatever’s happening is happening back there.
Bouncers will go back, provide presence, protection or so they can walk the
girls to their cars. I usually ask another one to do that shit, but he comes up
on rotation ‘cause I gotta be careful not to single him out and give him shit
that he can give
me
shit about.”

“I don’t dance,” I told him.

“Daisy’ll teach you.”

She would. She’d taught Lottie, Jet’s
sister, Smithie’s headliner, and the premier stripper in the western half of
the United States (not kidding).

Shit!

“We have another problem, and that
is that I’m a regular there so your guy has probably seen me. He’ll know my
name, particularly my last one, and he might figure out what’s going on,” I
shared.

“I already got that covered, seein’
as I been hearin’ about what you do from Darius and I been thinkin’ about
talkin’ to you,” Smithie replied. “So I set it around that you got your
apartment exploded and lost your job. You need money, and it ain’t like you got
judgment on the girls for what they do since twice a month your ass is at a
table by the stage cheerin’ them on. All ‘a them are where they are ‘cause they
got in tight places. No doubt about it, you’re in a tight place. Not one a’
them will blink, your ass hits my stage.”

He had it all covered.

Crap.

I drew in a breath, sat back and
grabbed my mug to take a sip, my eyes on Smithie, my mind whirling.

On the one hand, this sounded like
a juicy case the likes I would not hesitate sinking my teeth into (if it did
not require me taking my clothes off in front of an audience). On that same
hand, Smithie was in the posse; he meant something to me and he cared about his
girls. He wanted them protected, he was worried about them, was powerless, and
I knew this was likely striking deep. So I wanted to help him.

On the other hand, this job
required me taking my clothes off in front of an audience.

Well, at least this gave me one
good reason that I ended things with Ren the day before. If we were together
and he heard about this, he would lock me in his bedroom and not let me out
until I was his pregnant love slave.

That might seem overkill, but trust
me, with this, it wasn’t. Love slave wouldn’t be enough. Pregnant wouldn’t be
enough. Both of these would mean I was tied to him in a way I couldn’t come
untied, and therefore both would be the only acceptable requirements for
release.

Then he’d probably ask a priest to
marry us there, standing by his bed with its wine-colored sheets, me wearing a
cream nightie.

Then he’d let me out.

Alas, at that moment, all of this
seemed good to me.

Ugh.

So it was decided.

“Right, I’ll take on the job,” I
told Smithie. “I’ll dance, but only if it’s up to me if I go all out with that
in a top off kind of way. Your girls and customers will have to deal if I go
with keeping on the bra. It might be I’ll rise to the occasion or the stripper
vibe will carry me away and I’ll go all in. But right now, that’s freaking me,
so you’re going to have to ride that with me.”

“Done,” Smithie immediately agreed,
and that was when I knew how deep this was striking.

He was
way
worried.

“I have to be all about Ava the
next couple of days, Smithie. But soon as I can, I’ll work with Daisy. I’ll also
set Brody on an electronic search, Darius on looking into things. I’ll need a
name, address and social and if you got it, car info, including the plates,” I
told him.

“You’ll get it within an hour,” he
told me.

I looked to Daisy to see her making
her way to the table balancing three plates up one arm with the other hand
carrying a bottle of syrup.

I looked back at Smithie, “You need
to set up an account with Daisy. She’ll discuss rates and payment information.”

Daisy gave me a huge smile, set the
syrup down and placed a plate in front of me.

“Done,” Smithie muttered, his eyes
on the plate she was setting in front of him.

But it was then, it hit me.

And it hit me hard in a good way
that at that moment in my life I really needed.

This wasn’t happening.

It had happened.

I had my first official client.

I was an investigator.

I grinned down at my plate and
picked up the fork and knife Daisy put there.

“I’ll get the butter,” she murmured
and I looked up to her to see her moving away.

But she was doing it looking at me.

And when I caught her eyes, she
winked.

She’d done this, my kickass Daisy.
She’d planned and instigated this so my morning wouldn’t totally suck.

God, freaking
loved
Daisy.

I kept grinning.

Shortly after, I ate five of Daisy’s
pancakes.

I did this because I hadn’t eaten
the night before.

And I was hungry.

* * * * *

“You good, honey?” Stevie asked in
my ear.

It was early afternoon. I’d made my
calls to set Brody and Darius on Smithie’s case. I was working at Fortnum’s and
Stevie had just called me.

Also, word had gotten around about
Ren and me. I knew this because not only were Indy and Jet at Fortnum’s (like
normal) but Roxie, Sadie, Stella and Ava were also there. Jules was at the
shelter for runaways where she worked, and since we were all heading out early
to go to the church for the rehearsal, she had to stay there and sort some
stuff before she left. I knew this because she called and told me.

They knew, but no one got in my
face or space.

But that didn’t mean all of them,
including Tex (Duke was still a no-show), weren’t being watchful, though cool.

It felt nice.

I knew that the word would spread,
but I was glad the ones who knew last night gave me that time, and when they
let the word out, they made it what it was.

Safe for me.

And I knew by Stevie’s tone he was
going to do the same.

“I’m hanging in there, Stevie,” I
told him.

This was when he proved me right by
letting that go and asking, “T minus two hours and twenty minutes before
rehearsal. You’re there?”

“Absolutely,” I answered.

“You still in for dinner? Because I
can call the restaurant and change our numbers without them charging us. Tod
will be cool. We have a big enough party and folks are ordering off the menu.
It’ll be good.”

“I’ll be at the dinner too, honey.
Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I replied.

“Okay, sweetie. See you soon.”

“’Bye, Stevie.”

“’Bye, baby.”

I smiled into the phone, slid it
into my back pocket and my head snapped up when I heard Indy breathe, “Holy crap,”
and felt the vibe all around change.

But I made no move and uttered not
a sound.

This was because Ren had entered
the store and he was currently stalking to me.

Then he’d stalked to me.

Then he’d grabbed my hand and
tugged me from the table I was about to clear and he yanked me down the center
aisle.

He turned us at the self-help
section and tugged me down the row to the side aisle which had a wall of books.

Once there, he pulled me around,
pushed me into the shelves and got in my space
and
my face.

Deep in the first, way close to the
other.

“You kissed Smithie?”

I was not following. I had no idea
how I was one second in one place, another second standing with Ren in my
space. And I had no idea because I was totally freaked due to his actions
breaking a very important breakup law.

Maybe the most important there was.

That was, if you shared friends and
acquaintances, during breakups any guy who wasn’t a dick didn’t show their
faces for ages. Ren was also classy. And classy guys gave you plenty of time to
get over it so the hit when you saw them again didn’t kill you. It just maimed.

So by my estimation I had at least
five months and twenty-nine days before I saw him again.

And anyway, what he asked made no
sense whatsoever.

“Come again?”

He pushed deeper into me and
growled, in a statement this time, “You kissed Smithie.”

Was he suggesting I’d made out with
Smithie?

And thus, was he high?

“I… no, I…” I trailed off.

Pull
it together Ally!

“You kissed him on the cheek,” Ren
gritted out.

Oh.

I did do that.

“Well, uh, yes. I did that,” I
confirmed.