Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick #2)(64)

He grinned as if what I said was amusing, leaned down and touched his lips to mine.

Then he walked away.

I sighed, watched him go and I had to admit, I enjoyed the show

Guess I was spending the night with Eddie.

“Not your f**kin’ boyfriend, right?” Smithie yel ed at me.

Wonderful.

The night started out good, busy but quiet. No bachelor parties, no brawls, no men with knives.

This luck didn’t last long.

“Jet!”

I was at the waitress station when I whirled at my name to see Indy, Al y and two men, one slim, the other Hispanic, standing behind me.

“I f**king love that outfit,” Al y said, her eyes huge and approving.

“I do too,” the slim man said. “Can I borrow it? It would be divine with ‘She Works Hard for the Money’, don’t you think?” He turned to Indy but he didn’t wait for an answer and glanced around, “No… wait… is there a gift shop here that sel s those tops?”

This must be Indy’s neighbor, Tod, and Tod’s partner, Stevie.

“I borrowed your shoes,” I said to him, “Thank you. I stil have them, I’l get them back to you tomorrow.”

“Keep ‘em,” he said, waving his hand. “The dress they went with ripped. Irreparable. It was traumatic. I loved that dress. The shoes are just an ugly memory now.”

“But…” I stammered, sort of in shock at his generosity,

“those are great shoes.”

He shrugged.

“Just think of me as the shoe fairy.” Then he acted like he was bonking me on the head with an imaginary magic wand, “Make your own good memories in those shoes.” I gaped for a second, and then he winked at me. I couldn’t help it, so I smiled at him and then turned to Indy.

She did belated introductions and I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see your other life. You don’t mind, do you?” Indy answered.

I shook my head and, for some reason, I didn’t. It was way too late in the day, my secret was out and nearly everyone had seen my Smithie’s uniform anyway.

“Be sure you’re in my station,” I pointed at some tables.

“I’l take care of you.”

“Hey, you!” Smithie shouted, lumbering down the bar toward us, pointing at Al y, “Or you.” He pointed at Indy,

“You friends of Jet’s?”

Both Indy and Al y nodded.

“Either of you dance?” he asked when he made it to the waitress station.

Uh-oh.

Not good.

“Smithie…” I started.

“Quiet, Jet, I’m f**kin’ recruitin’.”

At his words, Indy, Al y, Tod and Stevie al looked to the stage, then they looked back at Smithie.

“Not that kind of dance,” Al y said.

“Trust me, you’d make a f**kin’ fortune.”

“Can you spel ‘yikes’?” Tod whispered loudly to Stevie.

Smithie ignored him.

“Think about it, get my number from Jet, cal me. You’d be drivin’ a Porsche in a month,” he promised.

“You told me I’d be driving a Porsche in a month,” I cut in.

“Wel , you got a f**kin’ uptight, f**kin’ cop boyfriend who don’t want you onstage and I’m stil a f**kin’ dancer down.

I’m scoutin’ and these girls are talent.”

“Um… thank you?” Indy said, or more like, asked.

“You’re f**kin’ welcome,” Smithie replied then turned to me and raised his brows. “Hel o? This ain’t a social club for hot chicks and g*y guys. Get to work.”

Then he lumbered back down the bar.

Tod turned to Stevie, “See, I told you it would be interesting.”

Stevie gave him a look.

“Anyone sees us here, we’re getting kicked out of the Gay Club.”

“Pul-leese,” Tod took off toward my station, “who’s gonna see us here?”

Indy and Al y waved as they went and settled at a table.

* * * * *

An hour and a half later, I was just finishing serving Indy and Company’s fourth round of drinks when I turned, again at my name. “Wel , hey there, Sugar Bunch.”

It was Daisy. She was wearing a pair of platform go-aheads (toeless mules that were backless, and thus, when wearing them, you had to “go-ahead”) and a spangly dress with so many beads and sequins it glittered like a disco with so many beads and sequins it glittered like a disco bal . The hem was cut at a wide slant starting at her upper thigh on one side and going down to mid-calf on the other, the entire hem sporting a beaded fringe. She had so much cle**age bursting forth that I feared one of her br**sts would pop out at the slightest movement. Completing this ensemble, her hair was two sizes larger than last night and seemed, at first glance, to take up most of the room.

“Daisy!” I greeted her.

She gave me a brief hug, like we’d been friends for years instead of just meeting once under supremely scary circumstances.

She let me go and said, “After meeting you last night, I got nostalgic. Thought I’d stop by, see how the old gang was doin’.” She looked at the stage, “But I don’t know any of these girls.”