Rock Chick Revolution (Rock Chick #8)(126)

“Lee’s angry,” she replied.

He was.

Crap.

“Is that why you didn’t tell anyone you were going to do it? Because you had a feeling they would be angry?”

She nodded.

Jeez. Jane.

I shared space with her nearly every day, I meant something to her, she meant something to me, but I had no idea her well ran this deep.

“The newspapers?” I pressed.

“That was me,” she said quietly. “When stuff was going down with Stella, they called here. I said no comment. Then I sent letters anonymously. The reporter who reported it doesn’t even know it’s me.”

Another mystery solved.

“These readers that write to you. Can that be traced?” I asked and she shook her head.

“They go to somebody else and they send them to me. But I’ve been assured it’s untraceable.”

“Brody’s pretty good, Jane.”

She pressed her lips together.

I studied her. She was worried.

Then I said, “Leave it to me.”

Her brows drew together. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing, until I have to. Then I’ll take care of it.”

It was her turn to stare at me before she asked, “Why are you helping me?”

I smiled and gave her hand another squeeze before I lifted it up between us and got closer.

“Because, no matter how old we get, we always need to believe in fairytales.”

It was then, Jane smiled back.

Mostly, I knew, because she agreed with me.

* * * * *

“Oh my God, Herb!”

“What?”

“My God!”

“Woman! What?”

“You might wanna leave some for the other guests.”

I took a handful of cashews (Indy’s addition to the party and part of what Herb was gobbling up) and popped a few into my mouth, watching Roxie’s Mom and Dad (and Tex’s sister and brother-in-law), Herb and Trish—in town from Indiana for the big event—fight in Blanca’s backyard.

Don’t be alarmed. I’d been around them more than once. This was what they did.

Blanca was Eddie and Hector’s Mom. I’d known her ages, and when she did something, she went all out.

Tonight, even though this was “just family” (for Rock Chicks though, this meant a huge shindig), Blanca didn’t let the team down.

There were bright colored paper lanterns strung in zigzags in the air from house to fence posts across the backyard. There were lit lumieres lining the fence all around. There was low music playing, all love songs, in English and Spanish. There were tables groaning with food, and in the middle were large, bright bouquets of flowers (the flowers, Sadie’s contribution). Blanca had even set up a bar where her eldest son, Carlos, teamed up with Willie Moses, were making people drinks.

Jet had made caramel layer squares (three batches). As I mentioned, Indy had brought the cashews. Ren and I brought a mixed box full of bottles of liquor and a couple cases of beer. Roxie, Stella and Sadie had spent the morning helping Blanca and her daughters Rosa, Gloria and Elena in setting up and cooking.

Tex, wearing another suit (and for once, seemingly content in it), and Nancy, wearing a pretty mint green dress with a fancy thing that was kind of a hat but way smaller so it was mostly a decorated headband (and it had a cool-ass feather) got hitched earlier by the Justice of the Peace. They did this while Indy, Duke and I stood by Tex, and Trixie, Ada (Nancy’s old neighbor, and by “old” I mean that in two ways) and Blanca stood up with Nancy. Jet and Lottie, by the way, Nancy’s daughters, walked at her sides guiding her to Tex.

The deed done, it was time to party.

My favorite time.

And now Herb and Trish were, as ever, going at it.

Herb looked at the table where he had been stuffing his mouth (a table covered in food) to another table five feet away that was also covered in food then across the yard to yet another table which was—you guessed it—covered in food.

Then he looked to his wife. “It’s not like Blanca’s gonna run out.”

“You don’t eat from the bowl, Herb,” Trish shot back. “You get a plate and you never double dip.”

“First, I don’t need a plate when I can stand here eatin’,” Herb replied. “And second, I don’t got cooties. Who cares if I double dip?”

Gross.

“I do,” Trish retorted, and I bit back my verbal agreement.

He glared at her.

Then he declared, “I need a beer.”

“You’ve already had five,” Trish informed him.

“Do we got limits?” he asked.

“You can’t get drunk at Tex’s wedding like you did at Roxie’s,” she returned.

“Why the hell not?” he asked.

“Because it’s rude,” she answered

“It’s a party!” he pointed out loudly.

Surprisingly, Trish had no reply to that. Then again, Herb was absolutely right.

Herb stormed off.

Trish turned to me. “Roxie told me you’ve found yourself a man.”

“I have, Mrs. Logan,” I confirmed.

“Run,” she stated then huffed away.

When she did, Jules moved in, noting, “The requisite Herb and Trish scene.”