Rock Chick Renegade (Rock Chick #4)(153)

So in some ways it was good being a badass’s girlfriend.

Though the kids who were enjoying their firework celebrations probably wouldn’t agree.

* * * * *

In March, we packed Sniff and Roam into the GMC. Nick waved us off, promising to break up Boo’s wet food and the four of us headed to Ignacio, Vance’s hometown.

A week before we left, Vance had called his Mom and told her we were coming to visit.

She obviously hadn’t been expecting a call from her long-lost son and she flipped out then burst into uncontrollable sobs. That’s when Vance handed the phone to me (and I gave him a dirty look, which he ignored). I calmed his Mom down and found out that we were more than welcome, we could come anytime.

Anytime.

She said this like, fifteen times.

About an hour out of Ignacio, I was fidgeting in my seat, more than even Sniff normally fidgeted, totally flipped out.

I looked at Vance who was sitting back, driving with only his left wrist on the steering wheel, eyes on the road, thoughts hidden, cool as a cucumber.

He sensed my agitation, his eyes slid to me and he said, “Still.”

“Still, my ass,” I murmured.

Vance chuckled. So did Roam.

We drove up to the house and Vance barely got his new, shiny, black truck stopped when the door flew open and a beautiful Native American woman, a hint of gray in her thick, black hair and cheekbones I’d sell my soul for, came flying out of the house.

She ran half the way to the truck then halted. Her body went solid and she stared at her grown son, seeing him for the first time in twenty years.

Vance dropped down from the truck (still, I might add, cool as a cucumber, acting as if he came to visit every weekend) and he waited for me to round the hood to get to him. He took my hand and we walked up to his Mom, Roam and Sniff hanging back.

She was a tiny, little thing and she watched us coming, her eyes leaving Vance only once to slide to our linked hands and then to gaze momentarily at me. When we got close she looked up at Vance like pretty much everyone did, like he was a god fallen to earth (sometimes, normally post-orgasm, I suspected that he was but I never told him that, though I did share my suspicions with Ally, Indy, Jet, Roxie and Daisy and they’d all laughed themselves stupid).

“My son,” she whispered as if she couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yeah, Ma,” Vance said.

At his words she burst into tears.

Unfortunately so did I. What could I say? Even a head crackin’ mamma jamma and a social worker who’d witnessed dozens of reunions was going to lose it in the face of that kind of reunion.

Vance held his Mom. Roam slid his arm around my shoulders and I stuffed my face in his neck.

Finally after a good long bawl, she looked at me. “My name is Roslyn,” she said, wiping her face and trying to get control.

“I’m Jules,” I told her, doing the same as she was.

Then for some ungodly reason, we burst out crying again, moving into each other’s arms.

The guys just left us to it and unpacked the truck though I heard Roam mutter, “Shit, silly bitches.”

“Don’t say bitches!” I shouted at his back just as the screen door slammed.

Roslyn laughed.

I watched her and it hit me that her son looked a lot like her.

* * * * *

We stayed with Roslyn for a couple of days. His Dad was mysteriously “on a fishing trip” which Vance took in stride but it pissed me right the hell off though with effort I kept my mouth shut.

We found out his brother, Owen, was living in Santa Fe. Owen and his family came up on our last day when Vance’s Mom had a barbeque for us at noontime before we were going to take off.

The reunion with Owen didn’t go so well. Owen sized up Vance immediately and didn’t like what he saw (pure jealousy, if you asked me).

Owen was married with two young boys, was shorter than Vance and clearly took after his Dad in the looks department. Vance looked like his Mom, as in gorgeous. Owen wasn’t much but then again I could be prejudiced, Owen was kind of a jerk, I thought that right off.

Around about the dessert stage of the festivities, Owen teetered over the rim of happy-drunk and got shitfaced drunk, loud and obnoxious in a way you knew he did it a lot especially when both Roslyn and Owen’s wife got very tense and started to shrink into themselves.

The whole time we were there Vance had been, well, Vance, cool and laid back. It put Roslyn and all of us at ease and our time with his Mom had been good. She was funny and sweet and obviously happy to have us with her. Sometimes though, I’d catch her looking at Vance in a way that was lost and infinitely sad. Thank God Sniff was there, his motor mouth usually served to snap her out of it.

But his brother’s drunken behavior got a reaction from Vance, who looked at his two nephews, his mother and sister-in-law then he took his brother around the front of the house for a chat.

The chat degenerated when Owen became not only drunk, loud and obnoxious but also seriously pissed off. We heard the shouts all the way to the back and I got up and ran around to the front, the whole party following me. I tried to intercede as Owen yelled in Vance’s face and Vance stared him down.

Owen turned an enraged face to me and screamed, “Shut up, bitch. Who the f**k’re –”

Then quick as a flash (as was the way of Lightin’ Crowe), Owen was up against the house, Vance’s forearm to his throat and Vance in his face.