Rock Chick Renegade (Rock Chick #4)(138)

“Three times,” I gave in.

Shirleen’s brows flew apart and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Three times in one go?” she breathed as if she, personally, was going to find Vance and give him an award for Best Cherry Popping in the History of the World.

“Two, um… goes,” I answered.

“Still…” she sat back and gave me a huge smile, “hold on to that one,” she commanded.

I nodded again. That I would try my damnedest to do.

“We’re with them,” we heard from behind us and everyone turned to look as a bouncer was trying to keep Heavy and Zip away from our table.

“Hey guys!” I called, thankful the menstrual-cycle-slash-sex-talk was done before Heavy and Zip got there.

“See!” Zip snapped at the bouncer and he and Heavy pushed through.

I got out of my chair and made introductions. Neither Heavy nor Zip looked too happy to be sharing libations with the ex (hopefully) drug dealer Shirleen but they kept their mouths shut, sat down, ordered drinks and trained their eyes to the stage making it clear they weren’t there for small talk at a strip club with a gaggle of women and two g*y guys.

“Ain’t this fun?” Daisy said, wiggling in her chair, happy as a lark.

I couldn’t help myself, even after the cherry-popping-third-degree, I smiled at her.

“Yeah,” I said low.

Daisy’s eyes came to me, they got soft and she winked.

My pug liked Daisy’s wink. He got all squirmy happy and gave me tons of sloppy puppy kisses.

We drank, we chatted, we drank more, we watched the strippers, we drank more (getting tipsy), we laughed and giggled (because we were getting tipsy), we drank more, Lottie came on and we all went as nuts for her as the rest of the audience.

We were settling in our seats with fresh drinks, the other strippers had started to do their thing post-Lottie when I heard, “You!”

This was a high-pitched, female screech and I turned to look.

“Oh shit,” I muttered when I saw Jackie, Vance’s ex… whatever, pushing through the crowd toward us. What on earth was she doing there?

Considering the fact she was a woman and she was gorgeous, the bouncer didn’t even try to hold her back.

I came out of my chair.

Jackie got right into my space and right into my face and my body went still.

“You bitch!” she screamed.

“Uh-oh,” Ally muttered.

“What the f**k?” Heavy asked. I could feel him moving behind me, coming in close.

“Move away,” I warned. I didn’t want Smithie to get mad at me and I didn’t want our fun night to end by being ejected from a strip club because I had to kick one of Vance’s ex-bimbo’s asses (again).

Four other girls pushed in around Jackie and Jackie swung her head (and hair) around to them.

“This is the bitch I told you about,” Jackie informed her friends and all five of them turned to glare at me, mouths in girlie-bitch-pouts, hands on hips.

I feared I wasn’t going to get my earlier wish.

“Who you callin’ a bitch?” Daisy was up and even though she was at least five inches shorter than any of the women confronting us, she was all bitch-pout, hand-on-hip, attitude right back at them and it must be said, a lot scarier than any of them.

“Stay out of it,” one of Jackie’s friends snapped at Daisy.

Um.

I didn’t think that was good.

“Don’t tell her what to do,” Ally entered the fray, she was up and moving around the table.

Fuck.

That definitely wasn’t good.

“You stay out of it too,” another of Jackie’s friends disengaged from the pack, getting ready to confront Ally.

Indy was up and tense, so were Jet and Roxie.

I didn’t figure Lee, Eddie and Hank would pat me on the back for getting their women into a catfight at a strip club even if it was against a bitch, bimbo, skank-from-hell.

“Ladies –” Stevie tried to play peacemaker and I had the fleeting hope that Stevie’s quiet magic would work.

“Shut up, homo,” Jackie sneered at Stevie and she barely got out the “mo” part of “homo” when I lost all thoughts of peacemaking and worrying about my friends.

It was then that my head crackin’ mamma jamma snapped into place and I moved.

I took Jackie by the wrist, swung it in a wide arc, spinning her around. I ducked, positioning myself and her, I bounced her off my back and she went flying into the tables. She crashed, as did the tables and all of our drinks (and a number of empties) to the floor.

I watched Jackie struggle amongst the overturned tables, her arms and legs pumping, soaked with appletinis, cosmopolitans and rum and Cokes when I felt my hair being tugged backwards.

I reached back, grabbed both wrists of the hands that were in my ponytail and whipped one of Jackie’s friends around to my front. I felt another girl grab at me but I stayed focused and planted my feet, dropped one of her wrists and flipped her on her back using what had become my signature move. She landed with a thud of flesh on flesh, right on top of Jackie and both women grunted in very unladylike ways.

Then I dealt with the next one who was pulling at my shirt. I tagged her with a calf in the back of her knees, she teetered, I gave her a nasty shove in chest and she landed on Jackie and the other girl with a high-pitched screech.