Rock Chick Redemption (Rock Chick #3)(65)

I marked them, she sounded serious. Daisy might be sweet-as-pie and cute-as-a-button but I got the definite sense she could open one major can of whoop ass.

* * * * *

Hank’s house had three bedrooms. The master, at the side of the house next to the kitchen with a smal , three quarter bathroom attached, and there were two bedrooms at the back, off the living room, separated by a ful bath. One of these rooms was what appeared to be a weight room-slash-junk room, made more so by my boxes and suitcases.

Annette and Jason had brought my stashed clothing and also packed up most of my clothes, shoes, my jewelry case, my high school yearbooks, photo albums and some picture frames fil ed with photos of family, and friends and carted it al out to Denver.

Apparently, they thought I was going to stay for a while.

The other bedroom was Hank’s office. It had an old comfy looking couch, a table with TV, a desk, his computer and a bag fil ed with bats that was lumpy at the bottom (with what appeared to be softbal s) sitting in the corner. I figured that room was his lair. He’d disappeared there when I cal ed Daisy and I didn’t disturb him.

After I cal ed Daisy, I got undressed and ready for bed, found Hank’s CDs in the TV room, picked “Born to Run” (because I was in Hank’s house and that demanded Springsteen) and Shamus and I settled in with my lilac, embossed stationery.

I had set aside my stationery, was amusing myself (not) by thinking how my life was certifiably f**ked and “She’s the One” had just started playing when Hank arrived.

He stopped at the side of the bed and stared down at me. He did this for a while; so long, it made me uncomfortable.

“What?” I asked.

“Been waitin’ a long time to meet the girl in this song.” I felt my body stil at the importance of what he just said.

So did Shamus, his head came up and he looked over at Hank too.

The lyrics to this song weren’t cryptic, even so somehow to me they col ided with the thundering, unbelievably cool music that told what I considered the real story; starting expectantly and then exploding and then drawing out to a beautiful, vibrating cl**ax.

Every girl would secretly want to be “the one” even though she might lie to herself that she did not. It was a man’s view of the woman he desired, and even loved: bitter, sweet, defiant, admiring and f**king sexy as hel .

Regardless of al that, the chorus was a repeat of “she’s the one”, present tense, which said it al .

“Whisky,” I said quietly because I didn’t know what else to say.

He tugged off his t-shirt, dropped it on the floor and turned out the lamp. I heard rustling in the dark while he took off the rest of his clothes and then the bed moved as he got on it.

He lay down beside me but didn’t touch me and we both stayed stil in the dark.

I waited for him to touch me, turn into me, something, but he didn’t and Shamus settled his head on my bel y again.

To cover my confusion (and disappointment, if I was honest) I asked, “What’s the deal with Daisy’s husband, Marcus?”

Hank answered, “He’s bad news. Runs guns, has a stable of girls and deals drugs as a hobby.” I got up on my elbow and turned, looking down at his shadow in the dark, wondering if I should laugh. “You’re joking,” I said and I real y hoped he was.

“Nope,” he replied and my hope died.

Holy cow.

I didn’t want Daisy to be married to a bad guy. I real y liked Daisy. I wanted Daisy to be married to someone like Hank.

I asked, “Wel , how does that work, with Daisy being one of the clan?”

“Daisy’s a new addition, she’s only been around the last few weeks.”

I gasped at this piece of news. It was almost as unbelievable as knowing her husband was a crime lord.

“But, I thought you’d al known her for ages.”

“She took to watchin’ out for Jet when she had her problems and she stuck. Marcus isn’t a part of it and somehow it works.”

Boy, these people were nuts.

“What’s the deal with Marcus and Eddie?” I asked.

“Eddie wants Marcus in prison and has been workin’ to make that happen for a long time. Marcus doesn’t want to go to prison. They hate each other.”

That did not sound good.

“I don’t see this working for long,” I said. “What happens when Eddie puts Marcus in jail?”

“Daisy knows the score, so does Marcus. It’s not your problem and it isn’t mine. When that happens, we’l al deal.”

For Hank, it was simple as that. There was something very cool about that.

Even so.

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I told him.

He sighed and turned to me (but, I noted, he stil didn’t touch me). “Roxanne, I like Daisy, hard not to like her. But she’s made her choice. Something happens to Marcus, and she reaches out her hand to ‘the clan’ as you cal it, I expect everyone wil take hold.”

“Including you?” I asked, needing to know the answer to that as much as I needed oxygen.

“Includin’ me.”

I felt something settle in me. It wasn’t in my bel y, my heart or my mind. It was everywhere. It was in my soul.

Hank got up and walked through the dark room and turned off Springsteen in the middle of “Jungleland”.