Rock Chick Revolution (Rock Chick #8)(104)

“Jesus,” Hank muttered.

“Fine to say that, but don’t take L. Ron Hubbard’s name in vain,” Lee muttered back.

All the women giggled.

Then we all dashed away from the window as Vito climbed into his Caddy. Dom took off toward the Acadia and Ren turned to come up the walk.

I sucked back more margarita and didn’t bother trying not to look like I was sucking it back this time.

Ren came through the door.

Before I could make a move to get to him, Dad did.

I knew my Dad. I (mostly) knew Ren. However, I had no clue what was about to happen.

But if you’d asked me to guess, what happened would be so far down on the list, it wouldn’t even make the list.

And what happened was that Dad lifted his hand, Ren took it, and Dad announced, “Welcome to the family.”

Indy grabbed my hand. Roxie put hers to my back.

As for me.

I melted.

* * * * *

The women (all of us, including Ren’s mom and sisters) were in the kitchen doing the dishes.

After the Vito fiasco and Dad welcoming Ren into the family, things went a whole lot better. It became clear very quickly that Ren didn’t blink at much of my or the Rock Chicks behavior because his sisters might not be as nutty as us, but they weren’t far behind. It also became clear Ren got his class from his mother because she was brimming with it.

Conversation, understandably, started stilted, and also understandably got less so as time went on and drinks were consumed.

So dinner wasn’t a disaster and now we were cleaning up.

Or, I should say, the women were.

“Can I ask why it’s always the women in the kitchen doing the dishes after, I’ll add, it was the women in the kitchen doing the cooking?” I queried.

“Have you seen your brother let loose in a kitchen?” Indy asked, drying a platter.

“Not recently,” I answered.

“It’s not pretty,” she returned. “He doesn’t even rinse his dishes before he puts them in the dishwasher. I’ve given up and told him just to put them in the sink.”

“You do know he does that so you would do that. In other words, he does a crap job so he won’t have to do the job at all. Or, in your case, anything,” I educated her. “He did that when he was at home, too.”

“This is true,” Mom, at the sink, muttered to Amalea.

“Well, it was a smart move because he doesn’t have to do anything,” Indy replied. “And it takes longer to complain about it than it does just to rinse his bowl and put it in the dishwasher.”

“Caving,” I stated.

“You’ll see,” she retorted.

“No I won’t,” I told her. “Ren cooks and does the dishes and he does both well.” I looked to Amalea. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

Amalea smiled at me and opened her mouth to speak, but Indy got there before her.

“You’re joking,” Indy said, and I looked back her way.

“Not even a little bit.” I grinned. “And he serves tater tots with breakfast.”

I knew that would get her.

It got her.

Indy’s eyes got wide and she whispered an envious, “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” I replied, still grinning.

“That’s… that’s like… that’s…” she stammered.

“Righteous?” I gave her a word.

“Totally,” she agreed.

“Hank does the dishes and he’s good at it,” Roxie put in. “He also makes great eggs, and he’s a grill master.”

“Whenever I suggest we grill something to Lee, he says we should go to a steak joint or invite ourselves over to your place,” Indy said to Roxie.

I took the rinsed serving bowl Mom handed to me and started wiping while saying, “You’re letting Lee get away with too much. You need to crack down.”

Indy shoved the platter in the cupboard. “I’m not sure cracking down works with Lee.”

In mixed company, I couldn’t suggest what would, so I didn’t say anything

“Just sayin’,” Connie put in. “Ren does all that stuff because Jeannie and me were like Lee.”

“This is true,” Amalea murmured to Mom.

“He was a brownnose, always suckin’ up to Ma,” Jeannie stated, and Amalea’s back snapped straight.

Uh-oh.

“He was not a brownnose. He was a good son,” Amalea stated. “After slaving in the kitchen to feed a family of four, it was nice to have someone do the dishes. And, I’ll add, nice to have someone who saved me from having to slave in the kitchen every once in a while.”

So that was how Ren learned how to cook.

“Total brownnose,” Jeannie muttered, wiping the stove.

“This is what I wish,” Amalea started. “I wish for you both to have sons and daughters, sons that look out for you, daughters who don’t, so you’ll understand precisely how it feels.”

Oh man.

Seriously set down.

She was good.

I bit my lip and gave big eyes to Mom.

Mom grinned huge at me.

Jeannie began concentrating closely on cleaning the stove like Mom was performing surgery on it later, while Connie shoved more leftovers in the fridge but did it without speaking,