Rock Chick Regret (Rock Chick #7)(120)

Chapter Twenty

Bon Bons

Sadie

Art was filled, shoulder-to-shoulder, with people.

I’d never had an opening this huge.

Even before my father was arrested for trafficking drugs and half my contacts shunned my openings (the other half only continuing to come to drink my champagne, look down their noses at me and feel superior), no opening had been this popular.

My artist, Lisette (who painted unbelievable watercolors), was beside herself with the turn out.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was not prospective buyers but the ever ready to party Rock Chick/Hot Bunch crew, complete with Hector’s entire family, Indy’s Dad Tom, Tod and Stevie, Tex and Nancy and Duke and his wife Dolores. Even the Zano clan came, Uncle Vito and Angela, Dom and Sissy and Ren and some woman I didn’t know.

Indeed, every single Rock Chick and their respective Hot Bunch Guy was there. All the girls looking glamorous, all the men looking knockout gorgeous wearing suits and shirts with collars opened at the neck.

That said, Duke had dressed up how I guessed any Harley biker guy would dress up, he still had the bandana around his forehead and the leather vest but his black t-shirt had long sleeves and no saying emblazoned on the chest and he’d switched to black jeans. Tex, on the other hand, didn’t look any different and was wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt.

I didn’t even know they’d been invited (Ralphie’s doing, no doubt). But I had to admit, I was happy they were there.

It felt different with them there. Good. Safe. My openings had not only never been that crowded, they’d never been that filled with laughter.

“I told you pigs in a blanket would be a hit,” Shirleen said from beside me, nabbing (at my count) her fourth gourmet “pig in a blanket” off a passing tray and shoving the entire thing in her mouth.

She wasn’t wrong; the blanketed pigs were going down a treat. Everyone seemed to love them.

“You were right Shirleen. I promise I won’t have another opening without pigs in a blanket,” I assured her, crossing my heart and putting up two fingers so she’d believe me.

“Damn straight,” she replied, her tawny eyes smiling then her gaze moved across the room and she went on. “Hector sure cleans up good.”

I looked at Hector.

She was not wrong.

I’d gotten ready at his house that morning and he’d dropped me off at Art. The day had been busy, hanging the paintings and going over everything one last time even though I didn’t have to. I was obsessively organized, never procrastinated, always checked and double-checked every detail and was a list maker. The entire thing was ready to roll with no hiccups days in advance (as usual). Even the installation had gone easier than normal because Daisy, Roxie, Stella and Ava came to help.

Hector had stayed away all day, he didn’t even call. It felt weird being away from him that long. Since Ralphie let him in the brownstone over a week ago, it seemed like he was always around or, at least, never far away.

When I said it felt weird, I meant I didn’t like it.

At all.

I liked having him around.

And that meant I was seriously in trouble.

After we were done with the hanging and everything was ready, Ralphie took me home so we could dress for the opening.

Hector told me that morning he’d meet me at the gallery. He showed up half an hour after the festivities started wearing a suit. One look at him and my heart stopped.

His suit, at first, I thought was black. But, on closer inspection, I realized it was a very dark gray. He also had on a tailored, collared shirt that was one shade lighter than the suit and black cowboy boots. That’s it. It seemed simple but, on Hector, it was highly effective.

Sometime during the day he’d had his hair cut though, he’d had it cut in a way that now it looked sexy, messy, long-ish and still in need of imminent cutting but it looked good on him, way good, too good.

Honest to God, he never looked better.

However, he was very far away from me and over the last two hours, had stayed that way. When he arrived, he’d come to me and kissed the top of my head but that was it.

At first, this weirded me out.

I was still living the dream, the dream of Hector and Sadie together, sanding floors and making s’mores and owning a pug that raced around the backyard.

Him staying away made me think I’d done something wrong.

I’d reverted to my designer armor (it was an art opening and I did own the gallery, I couldn’t exactly wear flannel, like Tex). I was wearing a slim-fitting, brush-the-knees, ecru skirt that was covered in opalescent beading. My top was stretchy, ecru, knit silk, long-sleeved and off the shoulders but very snug. I had a velvet ecru ribbon tied as a choker around my neck, pointed-toed, spike-heeled, ecru satin mules with bugle beads stitched on the toe and my hair pulled back severely from my face and fastened with another velvet ribbon at my nape. It was definitely an Ice Princess outfit.

I knew Hector didn’t like my armor and I thought it pissed him off.

But even though he stayed away, I knew he knew where I was at all times (don’t ask me how, I just did). Sometimes, when my eyes would stray to him, I saw he was watching me. Sometimes, his face would grow soft. But other times, he looked like he was trying to figure me out (those times were not my favorite times, I didn’t want to be figured out, no way).

I tried not to think about it and instead did my job making sure the champagne flowed, the trays of hors d’ouevres were plentiful and, above all, I mingled.