Rock Chick Reckoning (Rock Chick #6)(80)

A final, farewell ful doggie rubdown.

This isn’t right, my brain sounded panicked and confused.

“Mace –” I started again.

Mace stopped rubbing Juno down and headed toward his bag.

“Stay wel , Stel a,” he said, not looking at me, bending to his bag and lifting up, throwing the strap over his shoulder and turning to the door.

Oh my God, this isn’t right! My brain screamed.

I had to do something. Anything. And I had to do it quick.

“I broke my arm when I was twelve. Fel off my bike,” I blurted.

Mace stopped on his way to the door. His side to me, he only turned his head when he looked at me.

I swal owed. “When I got home, my Mom was gone, I don’t know where. My Dad was the only one there.” Mace didn’t move and didn’t speak.

My breath wasn’t taking a hike, it was coming fast and scared. Al thoughts of wanting Mace out of my life were gone.

Poof.

Vanished.

“Dad didn’t –” I began but Mace interrupted me by shaking his head.

“Too late,” he told me and my stomach clenched.

“Let me finish,” I whispered, Mace shook his head but I kept talking. “My arm was hanging funny, it hurt so much I thought I’d pass out from the pain. You’d think that’s al I thought I’d pass out from the pain. You’d think that’s al I would remember –”

“Too late,” Mace said again.

“But it wasn’t what I remembered.” I pressed on. “He was so pissed. Dad was. He was watching some golf tournament on TV and he was pissed at me because he had to take me to the hospital instead of –” Mace interrupted me again. His body turned toward me and his voice was back to low and vibrating in that scary way. “Too f**kin’ late.”

“Don’t go,” I whispered, changing tactics, my head coming together, my thoughts, for the first time in days, final y clear and focused.

I knew what I was doing, letting him have sex with me, sleep with me, move in with me. I knew I was doing it because I wanted it, I wanted him. Actions speak louder than words but I’d so wrapped myself in that cotton wool Floyd told me about, I didn’t hear the muffled communication.

I held my breath.

Mace stared at me.

I stared back.

“Please, don’t go,” I said again.

Part of me expected him to grin in triumph, come forward, pul me in his arms and kiss me.

I decided I’d have to act pissed off for awhile and then, once I gave him a load of shit, I’d let it go.

Instead, his mouth got tight, he turned on his boot, and he muttered, “For f**k’s sake, arm the alarm.” Then he was gone.

My body was twisted in order to look over my shoulder at the closed door.

What just happened? My shocked brain asked.

I didn’t answer.

I knew what just happened.

I slid down the cupboard, put my coffee cup beside me on the floor, closed my eyes and pressed my forehead into my knees.

I felt Juno pushing her nose into my neck, giving doggie comfort as best she could but I didn’t turn to her.

Instead, I slid straight into the place that knew me wel .

I slid directly into black.

* * * * *

The gig was almost over. The Rock Chicks were sitting at tables up front and center, al of them looking subdued and a little worried.

The Hot Bunch, Tex and Duke were al on duty, guarding the doors, the stage, wandering the crowd. I’d seen them al .

Al of them.

But Mace.

Even though the show was shit (al my fault and I knew it), the crowd was preparing for “Ghostriders”.

Instead, I pul ed my arm in a sweep in front of me, disengaging my guitar strap from my shoulders. I set my guitar in its stand and walked across the dusty, faded rugs that covered The Little Bear’s stage. I sat next to Floyd on the piano bench. He was staring at me, his eyes startled.

For the past four hours, the entire band and The Rock For the past four hours, the entire band and The Rock Chicks had al tried to get through to me. I was so deep in black; I just went through the motions like an automaton. I didn’t know what they asked, I didn’t know what they said, I didn’t even know my own replies.

I leaned into Floyd and whispered in his ear.

He put his hand over the microphone. “Stel a, girl –” I closed my eyes tight then opened them and looked into his.

“Just do it,” I begged.

He gave me a long look, nodded to the band then started playing.

The room went silent in shock.

I looked at the rafters, blindly taking in the trademark Little Bear bras nailed to them then I pul ed Floyd’s microphone my way, closed my eyes and started singing.

And what I sang was Bil y Joel’s, “And So It Goes.” And I sang it for Mace who wasn’t even there but I did it anyway because nothing said what I needed to say better than those beautiful, heartbroken lyrics.

Floyd played the final notes to the song and I kept my eyes closed, waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting and hoping.

I opened my eyes and looked at the crowd.

The minute I did, they roared with applause.

But it didn’t hit me the way it normal y did.

Because Mace wasn’t there.

He didn’t charge up to the stage, taking me in his arms and tel ing me beautiful things.