Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick #2)(99)

“I didn’t want to worry you. I wanted you to live your life,” I told her.

“You and Mom are my life, stupid.” Then she shoved me again, “I’m moving back to Denver.”

I shoved both her shoulders.

“Are not!” I shouted.

She grabbed onto my hair, yanked and didn’t let go.

“Am too!” she yel ed.

Then we went down, mostly yanking each other’s hair and yel ing, “Let go!” but we also rol ed around, she bit my shoulder and I elbowed her in the ribs. It was nothing we hadn’t done before, though, the last time we did it we were in junior high.

Al of a sudden, we were soaking wet. We froze and looked up and Mom was holding an empty plastic pitcher.

Then we looked down at ourselves. We were wet through.

Lottie was okay; she was already wearing a skin-tight black tank top. Though her mascara was running down her cheeks.

I was wearing a white, long-sleeved, scoop-necked tshirt, which had been rendered virtual y see-through with the water. I was also wearing my laciest bra, you could see it, but thank God it was holding up and not exposing the whole show.

“My two girls, rol ing around on the floor of a coffee house. Goodness gracious, get up, ” Mom snapped, standing and utilising the Diva Threat pose much better than I could do it, even with one arm.

We got up.

I turned to Lottie.

“Are you real y moving to Denver?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she answered.

“But you love LA,” I said.

“Johnny and I split up. LA’s shit without Johnny and I miss the mountains. I’m comin’ home.”

She smiled at me.

She didn’t miss the mountains, she missed her family.

I smiled back.

I had to admit, it would be nice having Lottie home.

“You wanna job?” Smithie, suddenly, was there.

Dear Lord.

I performed the introductions, sopping wet and not giving a damn. “Smithie’s my boss at the strip club. Smithie, this is my sister, Lottie.”

“I know who the f**k she is. She’s Lottie Mac, Queen of the Corvette Calendar,” he said to me and turned to Lottie,

“You dance at my club, I’l give you a f**kin’ marquee. I’l give you a spotlight. I’l clear the stage for your dances. I’l have to buy a f**kin’ velvet rope and hire new bouncers.

Shee-it, you’l be drivin’ a Porsche in a week.” Lottie looked at him.

“That works for me,” she said, as if that was that.

“What?” I yel ed.

Smithie turned to me.

“You make it a sister act, I’l take you off unplanned vacation and f**kin’ put you in my wil .”

“I’m not dancin’ a pole,” I shouted.

“Al right, calm down. Fuck,” Smithie said.

It was then I felt something not unpleasant but somewhat scary slide across my skin and I looked up to see the gang of hotties al standing, watching and every last one of them flashing a grin.

“What are you lookin’ at?” I snapped, not to any one of them in particular, but in their general direction.

Don’t ask me why I didn’t run and hide in the books, I just didn’t. I guess that wasn’t me anymore.

“Babe, you just made me a regular,” Mace said.

I glared and his grin deepened into a smile. I’d never seen Mace smile, I’d never even seen Mace grin, and I felt my ni**les go hard.

Lottie final y noticed the boys and her mouth dropped open.

“Good Christ,” she whispered.

“Don’t mind them,” I said, “They’re here al the time.” Slowly, Lottie turned to look at me.

“You were holding out on me,” she replied. “I should have bit you harder.”

* * * * *

Indy took us to her duplex to get us some dry clothes. Unfortunately, my mascara was running down my cheeks too so we also did a quick makeup fix.

Tod came over, announced there was a sale at King Soopers and Stevie had bought a year’s worth of shaved turkey so we al went over to their side of the duplex to have turkey and Swiss sandwiches.

We walked in the backdoor to the kitchen and were confronted with a chow dog, smal for her breed, with an enormous ruff around her neck but her bottom was almost completely shaved. She looked like a miniature, beige lion— with attitude. She barked twice, her front feet coming off the floor, her claws clicking on the tiles when she landed.

Then she ran to each of us in turn, head-butting our shins.

I knelt down to give her cuddles and she panted in my face and al owed it as if she was prizing me with a sacred treasure. Then she pranced out of the kitchen, fluffy tail fur bouncing on her bald ass.

“That’s our dog, Chowleena.” Tod smiled down at me,

“She likes you.”

* * * * *

We were sitting around the dining room table, Lottie, Indy and Tod comparing lash-lengthening strategies when my phone rang. It said “Daisy cal ing.”

I flipped it open. “Hey, Daisy.”

“Hey Sugar, what’re you up to?” she asked.

“Wel , I think my Mom is on the longest date in history with a crazy ex-con, Vietnam vet who has a shotgun, grenades, tear gas and twenty-five cats. And I got in a wet-t-shirt, knock-down, drag-out fight on the floor in Fortnum’s with my sister who’s just in from LA. Oh, and we did it in front of most of the boys on Lee Nightingale’s payrol ,” I said.