Rock Chick Revolution (Rock Chick #8)(120)

“Um… yes, but I didn’t know you did it when you were making coffee,” the man replied.

“Crime don’t happen when you want it to,” Tex returned. “You gotta be prepared. You gotta plan. And that’s why we’re havin’ a meetin’. Now shut it and wait until we’re done.”

The man gave big eyes to Jet and I. He also appeared indecisive, like he didn’t know whether to wait as Tex ordered, or take his life in his hands that Tex might not like it and flee.

Obviously not a regular.

“We’ll be right with you,” Indy assured him as she moved to walk around the counter.

“We’re done meeting anyway,” I announced then looked between Tex and Mr. Kumar. “The plan’s in place. I’ll give you both a heads up when we put it in action.”

“Thank you, Ally,” Mr. Kumar said. “The neighbors will be very happy to hear this news.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Kumar,” I replied.

“What’ll it be?” Tex boomed to the customer.

But he wasn’t looking at Tex. He was watching, with some alarm, as the apparent walking corpse of Mrs. Salim shuffled to Mr. Kumar carrying a pile of seven books in her arms.

All hardbacks.

I fought the urge to leap over the espresso counter to relieve her of her burden just as Mr. Kumar took the books from her and led her to the book counter.

My eyes went there to see Jane standing behind it, and I began to look away when I looked right back.

One of the pink Rock Chick books was sitting on the counter and she had her fingers to it; not leafing, lightly brushing. As Mr. Kumar and Mrs. Salim approached, she jolted, like she didn’t expect customers (ever) then gave them a small smile.

This wasn’t unusual, Jane being startled. She lived in her own world most of the time. And anyway, selling a book didn’t happen frequently so seven of them would surprise anybody.

But I wasn’t thinking about that.

I was thinking about how she was touching that pink book.

Jane loved books. She was an avid reader. And as a book lover who worked in a bookstore her whole life, she treated them with reverence.

That wasn’t what I saw.

Her touch on that pink book was reverent, for sure.

It was also loving.

Hmm.

Before I could move that thought to fruition, Indy interrupted it.

“I got broody Lee last night,” she whispered to me as she dumped her empties by the sink.

I tore my mind from Jane and looked at Indy. “What?”

“Broody Lee,” Indy answered. “Schedule goes, I get broody Lee at least once a week. A tough case is happening, maybe three or four times. Rock Chick stuff is going down, he veers from broody to annoyed to resigned. Last night, I started with broody Lee because of the meeting and super broody Lee because I told him he needed to quit giving you shit and start giving you support.”

Oh crap.

“Indy, I love it that you did that, but you don’t have to do it,” I told her. “In fact, please don’t do it again. I don’t want to be the cause of trouble between you and my brother. Let this be between Lee and Hank and me.”

“I also told Eddie he needed to sort Lee out,” Jet put in. “And Hank. He said he’d have a chat with them.”

I stared.

“Really?” Indy asked.

Jet nodded. “Yeah. He says he’s seen the tape and he’s also seen veteran officers go into a situation like that and not be able to keep their cool when things go south the way Ally did.”

Whoa.

Wow.

Righteous!

“Seriously?” I asked.

“You were the shit,” Tex boomed, flicking the latch on the coffee grinder to fill the portafilter and doing it so hard the entire grinder shook. “It was f**kin’ frustratin’. Whole thing took, like, two seconds, and I only got one punch in on the motherf*cker. Then he was down. Splat!”

Indy looked at Tex, then at the customer, then at Tex. “Can you please watch your mouth in front of customers?” she asked him.

“No,” he answered her, then packed the coffee grounds down before shoving the filter up into the machine so the thing lifted off the counter an inch.

“Okay, then can you please not abuse my seven thousand dollar espresso machine?” Indy asked.

“No,” Tex answered then went on. “Been doin’ this years, woman.” He flipped a switch and patted the top of the machine (hard). “This bitch is built to last.”

Indy glared at him then rearranged her face and looked at the customer. “I apologize for my barista.”

“Once you get your coffee,” a blonde who’d just approached the counter, a regular I knew by the name of Annie, stated knowingly, “it’ll totally be worth it. Trust me. He abuses me all the time, and I don’t care as long as I get my coffee.”

“I don’t even know you,” Tex boomed at her.

“I come in every day at eight fifteen,” she shot back, and she was not wrong. She did.

“I’m supposed to remember that?” Tex asked.

“Yes,” Annie returned. “Because, for years, I’ve come in every day at eight fifteen.”

“I’m sorry, Annie,” Indy said.

“Just as long as the crazy guy never loses his touch with the coffee, again, I don’t care,” she replied then ordered. “Half and half mocha latte with a half a shot of almond syrup.”