Rock Chick Redemption (Rock Chick #3)(43)

“You wanna talk about it?”

I shook my head.

“You wanna talk about anything?”

I shook my head again.

“Al right, girl. I’l give you today. Tomorrow, we’re talkin’

about it.”

“I’m leaving town as soon as I shower and get dressed,” I said.

“How’s Hank feel about that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” I lied about the second part.

Silence.

I looked from the window back to Uncle Tex. He was staring at me again. I think he was finding it hard to keep his peace.

Then he said, “So be it.”

I was surprised he gave in so easily. Surprised and relieved and maybe a little sad. I got up and kissed the top of his head, took my coffee mug and headed to the shower.

* * * * *

I stood on the sidewalk, Uncle Tex next to me, my suitcases on the ground either side of him, staring at my car. “Wel , I’l be,” Uncle Tex said. “Never seen that before.” I slowly turned my head to look at him. He kept staring at my car. Then he went on. “Can’t say this is the best neighborhood, but four slashed tires? That has to be a record.”

“Uncle Tex –” I started.

“Welp!” he boomed, bending over to pick up my suitcases. “Guess you aren’t leavin’ today.” I had a sneaking suspicion my four slashed tires had nothing to do with this being a bad neighborhood.

Uncle Tex walked into the house with my suitcases and didn’t look back.

I turned back to my car and stared at it.

After awhile, I heaved a huge sigh and I went into the house.

* * * * *

I was sitting on the couch, feet up, watching Independence Day and Wil Smith was seriously kicking some alien ass. Uncle Tex had been fielding phone cal s for the last hour.

Jet cal ed. Indy cal ed. Nancy cal ed. Daisy cal ed. Eddie cal ed. Eddie cal ed again. Eddie cal ed a third time. Every time, Uncle Tex covered the mouthpiece and boomed out a name, making the covering-of-the-mouthpiece action moot.

Every time, I’d get tense, thinking it was Hank. Worried it was Hank. Wishing it was Hank. Then, when it wasn’t Hank, I’d shake my head and Uncle Tex would make some I’d shake my head and Uncle Tex would make some ludicrously bad excuse for me and hang up.

Another phone rang and I knew it was my cel . Uncle Tex was sitting next to me and he stared at me while I ignored my purse ringing on the floor by the side of the couch. Then he got up, grabbed my purse, rooted through it and pul ed out my phone just as it stopped ringing and stuck it out at me.

I shook my head.

“Maybe it was Hank,” he said.

Shit.

He knew I was waiting for Hank to cal .

I shook my head again.

He flipped open my phone and started pressing buttons.

He did this for a long time. Then, my phone started making alarming noises and I couldn’t help myself, I yanked it out of his hand.

“Stop that!” I snapped.

“Find out who phoned, maybe Hank’s tryin’ to get hold of you.”

“He knows your number.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me. Maybe he just wants to talk to you.”

“Wel , I don’t want to talk to him.”

Uncle Tex stared down at me and then walked in front of the coffee table, his shins pushing my legs aside, forcing me to sit up. He sat on the coffee table right in front of me, blocking my view of Wil Smith and making me worried about the future of the coffee table when his bulk settled on it.

it.

“You’re in my way,” I told him.

“Look at me, girl.”

I tried to look around him at the TV.

“Roxanne Gisel e Logan, look at me.”

I looked at him. I’d had years of “Roxanne Gisel e Logan”. I was conditioned to do what I was told after my ful name was uttered by an authority figure.

“What?” I clipped, total y uppity.

Okay, so I was conditioned to do what I was told, but I was uppity enough to do it with il grace.

He leaned forward and his eyes were bright, so bright, they were fevered, and something about them scared me.

I held my breath and waited for what was coming next.

“You’re at a crossroads, darlin’. You got two paths to go down.”

I stared at him and he continued.

“I was at your crossroads once. I chose the wrong path.

Once you go down, it’s f**kin’ impossible to find your way back.”

I let out my breath, but only to suck another deep one in and hold it.

His beefy hands settled on my knees and he got closer.

“Halfway down my road, a six year old girl wrote me a letter.”

Oh shit. Oh shit.

“No,” I whispered but the word wasn’t audible, I think only my mouth made the form of the word but without sound. My breath caught with something fierce and I knew, pretty soon, I was going to lose al control.

With effort, I sucked air in my nose, keeping the tears at bay.

“She didn’t stop me from losin’ my way, but she stopped me from losin’ myself.”

“Quit talking,” I whispered and I heard the words come out this time but Uncle Tex ignored them.

“Now, I got a chance to return the favor.”