Rock Chick Revolution (Rock Chick #8)(102)

“Son, we’re havin’ a drink,” Vito returned, lifting up what looked like a Manhattan.

“A,” Ren started, his voice on that one syllable rumbling and another chill ran over my skin, “word.”

Vito and Ren went into a staredown.

Indy and Roxie squeezed in through the limited space Ren left at the door, but they didn’t move in much further, just because movement in that kind of volatile environment could mean bad things.

I held my breath.

Surprisingly, Ren won the staredown when Vito turned to Mom and Dad and said, “Mal, Kitty Sue, my nephew needs a word.”

Mal?

Oh God.

Dad’s lips got tight.

Oh shit.

Mom murmured, “Of course.”

Dad just looked between Ren and Vito and nodded.

Vito moved toward the door.

Ren moved us out of his way and looked at Dom. “You too.”

Dom, incidentally a man with looks that could make him Ren’s brother, not cousin (except he had wave in his hair and his confidence had swagger), was playing it smart for once. I knew this when he immediately made his way toward the door.

They disappeared behind it.

Mom spoke. “Ally, honey, I had another pork tenderloin that I just popped in the oven, and you know I always have backup Pillsbury crescent rolls. It’s okay.”

Pillsbury crescent rolls could be served at peace talks to put the negotiators in good moods. However, I was thinking their magic wouldn’t work here.

I looked at Mom and told her, “He’s a hotheaded Italian American badass. I think he needs to do what he needs to do.”

“He needs to do what he needs to do,” an attractive, petite, stylish woman who was sitting on one of my mom and dad’s couches confirmed.

She rose.

I took in Ren’s mother, then his two sisters who had been flanking her on the couch.

His sisters looked like female versions of Ren, long, lean and attractive.

His mother had silver hair, lots of it, and it was fashioned in a becoming style that curled in at her shoulders. She also had fabulous cheekbones and exotic features that had not dimmed with age. Looking at her, it came semi-clear why Ren’s dad didn’t share with this woman that he was what he was. Because she was currently a knockout; erase thirty-five years, she would be breathtaking. So even with just her looks, a man would do a lot to keep hold of that.

But I knew she was much more than just beautiful. Therefore Ren’s dad likely would do anything.

And he did.

She stopped in front of me and offered her hand. “You must be Ally.”

I took her hand and held it. “Yes. And you’re Mrs. Zano.”

“Amalea,” she corrected on a hand squeeze.

“Amalea,” I repeated on my own hand squeeze.

“As I told your mother,” she went on. “I was under the impression we were invited.”

Vito.

Jeez.

“I’m really sorry for the misunderstanding,” I replied.

“No misunderstanding,” she returned, letting my hand go then finishing on a sigh, “Just Vito.”

It was clear that there had been a lot of Just Vito times in her life.

I forced a smile.

I mean, what else could I do?

“We’ve met your lovely family.” She turned and held out a hand. “Meet Lorenzo’s sisters. Giovanna and Concetta.”

At their mother’s unspoken command, both women were approaching me, hands raised.

When I took her hand, the taller one muttered, “Jeannie.”

And when I took her hand, the one with the longer hair muttered, “Connie.”

They were uncomfortable. Then again, it would be impossible not to be.

We all stepped back but stayed in a loose huddle as I felt Indy and Roxie close to my back, and I tried to figure out a way to break the tension. Alas, my usual ways to do something like that were things you didn’t do when you first meet your man’s family.

I decided on, “It’s nice to finally meet you. Ren talks about you and it’s all good.”

It was lame but at least it was polite.

“Then he’s lying,” Jeannie stated. “At least about Connie.”

I blinked.

Connie glared at her sister. “Hardly. If he’s lying, it’s about you.”

Holy crap.

“Connie works his nerves,” Jeannie told me.

“He actually disowned Jeannie once,” Connie told me.

“Pfft,” Jeannie made a noise with her mouth. “He was eight.”

“He wasn’t eight, and I can’t repeat what he said the last time you crashed your car, called him and told him you’d forgotten to re-up your AAA and you needed a loan to get another car,” Connie retorted then looked at me in order to share, “She crashes her car a lot.”

“Is three times in three years a lot?” Jeannie asked me.

I thought it was, but luckily Connie saved me from replying by snapping, “Yes.”

“Girls,” Amalea said quietly, and they both clamped their mouths shut.

Yowza.

Impressive.

And evidence was suggesting I’d like Ren’s sisters.

“While we wait for that situation outside to sort itself, I’ll get my daughter a drink,” Dad announced, getting close and leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Beer? Margarita? Something else?” he asked.