Rock Chick Regret (Rock Chick #7)(39)

Disaster nearly struck when I hit Blanca’s kitchen, the plates teetered and some forks and knives fell to the floor.

Before it could get worse and I had to buy Blanca a new set of stoneware, Indy turned from depositing her load on the counter and deftly grabbed the plates in my hands as Blanca bent down and picked up the cutlery.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Chavez,” I said to her, feeling like an idiot.

She straightened and ordered, “Blanca, mi hija, you call me Blanca.” Then she put the cutlery in the sink and swept out.

But Jet was at the sink, rinsing dishes and for some bizarre reason she was giggling.

I didn’t want to know but I did want to know and not having the willpower to stop myself I asked, “What’s funny?”

She threw me a dazzling smile (Jet was Eddie’s fiancée, she was blonde, green-eyed and very pretty but when she smiled, she was a heart-stopper).

“Do you speak Spanish?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Mi hija means, ‘my daughter’.”

Oh my.

Blanca just called me her daughter. Her daughter.

That could not be good.

I moved closer to Jet. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Indy giggled a little as Jet handed her a rinsed plate to put in the dishwasher.

I started to organize the plates and cutlery on the counter so Jet could more easily rinse them.

“Do, um, Mexican-American women call people that for –?” I started.

“Nope,” Jet interrupted me. “I didn’t get an hija until…” She looked to the ceiling then finished, “I think it was the third time I saw her.”

“You win!” Indy cried and then burst out laughing. Without hesitation Jet laughed with her.

And at that moment, I couldn’t help it, they were so engaging (even though it seriously weirded me out, all of it), I laughed with them.

Blanca came in depositing more stuff and then started banging around the kitchen again, preparing to serve dessert.

“Can I do something?” I asked her.

“Sí, you can make the coffee,” Blanca answered and I was relieved. I could definitely make coffee and do it one-handed. I’d had loads of practice at that at Buddy and Ralphie’s place.

She showed me where to find the coffee stuff then swept out again, carrying dessert plates.

Immediately, when Blanca left, on a whisper I asked Jet, “Do you speak Spanish?”

“A little,” Jet replied, squirting dishwashing liquid into a dirty pot and then turning the tap into it.

“What does mamita mean?”

She looked me, eyes knowing, and grinned big. “It means ‘little mama’, it’s an endearment, like a guy calling his girl ‘babe’.”

Oh my.

Hector called me “babe”.

Blooming heck.

I kept going. “What about mi cielo?”

Jet blinked. “Hector called you mi cielo?”

I nodded.

Her big grin went even bigger. “It means, literally, ‘my sky’ but it’s also an endearment, a little, um…” She looked for a word. “Stronger than mamita,” she finished.

I didn’t know what to make of that but I wasn’t sure it was good. I mean, it was good if I was a normal, Veronica Mars-type person but it wasn’t good as I wasn’t a normal, Veronica Mars-type person (which I wasn’t).

“He calls you mi amor, you’re really in trouble,” Jet went on before I could run screaming from the house.

“Why?”

“That means ‘my love’ and that means he’s serious,” Jet replied then went on with a big smile. “Or, I should say, more serious.”

I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into her and whispering, “I think I’m in trouble.”

“Sister, you are definitely in trouble,” Indy said and she was smiling at me too, like this was a good thing.

I didn’t think this was a good thing. In fact, I was more than a little worried it was a very, very bad thing.

I shook off my feelings of foreboding and, lastly, because I had to know, so I asked Jet, “What was Blanca saying in the living room when Hector and I arrived?”

Jet shook her head. “She was talking too fast and I’m not fluent or anything but I think the gist of it was that if Hector, Eddie and Lee didn’t wreak vengeance on, um…” she stopped.

“It’s okay, I get it,” I said softly because I saw she was uncomfortable. She gave me a different smile, this one less dazzling but far more sweet.

Somehow Blanca (who didn’t know me from Eve), having a tizzy on my behalf made me feel strange but it wasn’t a bad strange, it was a weird, happy strange.

It wasn’t that strange. I used to feel that way around my Mom.

But it was a strange I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Jet’s eyes slid to Indy but I had exhausted New Sadie’s reserves so I turned away and finished up the coffee.

Surprisingly, and thankfully, they didn’t push it.

* * * * *

The last incident happened after dinner was over.

We were all heading back to the living room for more coffee and Blanca had claimed Hector. They walked in front of me, her arm around his waist, his arm around her shoulders, head tilted low as she talked to him in Spanish.