Rock Chick Redemption (Rock Chick #3)(9)

Naughty Girl Martini

This is how it got better, and worse.

* * * * *

I met the cats. There were a lot of them. As in, a lot.

Some of them Uncle Tex was getting paid to watch, most of them were Uncle Tex’s.

“Is it legal to have this many cats?” I asked, jiggling a laser light on the wal and watching a cat named Petunia, who had splotches of ginger and splotches of white, try to crawl up the wal to get at the red dot.

“Nope,” Tex said standing by where I was sitting on his couch and gazing at my laser cat play like I was the Master Cat Queen and no one could jiggle a laser light as wel as me.

I couldn’t help myself, even with al that was on my mind, I laughed. After al these years, and al our letters, it was good to know Uncle Tex felt the same way about me as I felt about him.

“I thought Hank and Eddie were cops. Do they know about your cats?” I asked.

“Those boys have had bigger fish to fry these past months. What with Indy gettin’ kidnapped and shot at al the time and Jet wrestlin’ with a loan shark carryin’ a knife and runnin’ from a crazy ra**st.”

The red dot arrested on the wal as I blinked at Tex.

“Petunia’s goin’ loco, darlin’ girl, jiggle!” Tex said, staring at the wal .

“Kidnapped… shot at… rapist… ” I said, or kind of, spluttered.

Uncle Tex turned to me. “It’s a long story.”

“I think we have time.”

“It’s actual y two long stories” he said.

“I stil think we have time.”

He sat down next to me on the couch, took the laser light away from me and started jiggling it another direction, trying to get a cat named Rocky interested.

“Rocky’s too damn lazy, gettin’ fat,” he muttered.

“Uncle Tex.”

He sighed.

Then he told me two long stories.

* * * * *

“Can we cal Mom?” I asked after I’d gotten over Indy and Jet’s stories of murder, gunplay, pot farms, strip club mayhem, knife wielding men, rampant kidnapping and assault by taking a shot of Uncle Tex’s homemade, gut-dissolving hooch (okay, maybe it took two shots, one for each story). “Not ready for that,” Tex answered me.

I nodded. I’d give him time. Hopeful y, one day, when my love life was sorted out, we’d have al the time in the world.

Then I leaned into him and put my head on his shoulder and, surprise of surprises, he let me.

“You wanna tel me why you’re here?” he asked in his soft boom.

I stiffened then sighed.

“Not ready for that,” I said. “But soon.”

I felt him nod and then he rested his head on top of mine.

“Tel me one thing, you through with him?” He meant Bil y.

I closed my eyes then opened them.

“I’m working on it.”

He nodded against my head. “Good.”

* * * * *

Uncle Tex took me to get my car so I could go back to my hotel room to rest and get ready for the party. When I got out of his car, he told me that in Denver, people wore jeans.

“Give me your cel phone number, so I can get hold of you,” I said, talking to him through his open window.

“Don’t have a cel .”

I stared at him.

Then he slammed War into the 8-track player (yes, I said 8-track) and hurtled down Broadway with “Low Rider” blaring from the speakers of his bronze El Camino. Uncle Tex, I realized quickly, was kind of living in the 70’s and didn’t feel like leaving it.

I went to my hotel, asked at reception where the nearest mal was, drove to Cherry Creek, went directly to the nearest phone store and bought Uncle Tex a cel phone. He could have his 8-track but he was also getting a goddamned cel phone. Not having one in this day and age was sheer lunacy. (Okay, so Uncle Tex was as close to a functioning lunatic as I knew—Bil y notwithstanding—but stil .)

I went back to the hotel, changed out of my fancy Meet Uncle Tex Outfit, and put on a pair of corduroys that were kind of a cross between green and gray and had a silvery sheen because Denver might do jeans but I didn’t, at least not at a party, or, I should say, at least not at a party where Whisky was. Hank may have ceased to exist for me but he hadn’t actual y ceased to exist and I was relatively certain he was going to be at the party. A girl had her pride. I kept the turtleneck and boots and threaded a glittery ribbon belt through the belt loops.

Then I turned on my cel .

Nine cal s, nine voicemails, al from Bil y, al getting steadily angrier and angrier until the last one.

“I’l find you Roxie.”

I knew he would, I was counting on it.

One more time.

Then freedom.

* * * * *

Uncle Tex picked me up and I gave him the cel phone. “I’ve charged it and put my number in it. You can pass it around the party and get everyone’s numbers.”

“You should have saved your money, won’t use it.”

“Uncle Tex.”

“Won’t use it.”

“Uncle Tex!”

“Darlin’ girl, that’s sweet but I won’t use it.” I crossed my arms on my chest.

“Okay then, I’l pass it around the party and get everyone’s numbers.”