Rock Chick (Rock Chick #1)(137)

I started to punch in Lee’s cell number.

“I’m still pissed you’re not pregnant,” Ally said into the lounge chair.

“For goodness sake, why?” I asked.

“I’m never gonna get a niece named after me.”

I hesitated before hitting the call button. “Ally, I hate to break this to you but it’s likely genetically impossible for me to have a girl. I don’t think Lee’s boys will allow the female chromosome to dominate.”

“You can name a boy ‘Ally’,” she tried.

“I’m not naming a boy ‘Ally’. He’ll get the shit knocked out of him in school.”

“Muhammad Ali didn’t get the shit knocked out of him, he knocked the shit out of everyone else.”

“Muhammad Ali was born with the name Cassius Clay. Cassius Clay is a kickass name. No one would f**k with a Cassius Clay.”

“No one would f**k with Muhammad Ali either.”

I couldn’t debate that point.

I gave up and hit the call button.

Lee answered after the first ring. “Yeah?”

I got a thrill down my spine at Lee’s voice saying that one word. I wondered when that would stop happening and I hoped the answer was “never”.

“Hey. Do we have plans Saturday night?” I asked.

“I thought I’d take you to Barolo Grill.”

“Yippee!” I cried.

Shit.

Did I say that out loud?

I snapped my mouth shut.

Silence on the phone.

“Lee?”

“Gorgeous, I know you don’t like it when I say this but you’re incredibly cute.”

That gave me a thrill down my spine too.

I’d never, in a million years, admit that to Lee.

“Whatever,” I said instead. “Anyway, Tod’s asked me to do Drag Duty.”

Lee, who was good at this relationship stuff, said immediately, “I’ll tell Dawn to make it an early reservation.”

Hee hee.

Lee was going to get Dawn to make our dinner reservations.

At the beautiful, fabulous, romantic Barolo Grill.

I loved that and I didn’t even care, not one bit, what that said about me.

“That sounds good,” I said and I couldn’t help it, I sounded happy. This was maybe because I was happy.

“Is that it?” Lee asked.

“Yes, no, yes,” I answered, because I didn’t want it to be.

Shit.

“Which is it?”

I lost my courage. “It’s no. Later.”

“Later.”

Before I heard the disconnect, quickly, I pulled myself together and told myself that even Rock Chicks could fall in love.

Then, I said, “Love you.”

Silence for a beat then, quietly, “Love you too.”

That didn’t only cause a thrill, it gave me a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I hit the off button and Ally said, “You guys are kinda making me sick with all this gushy stuff.”

I stared at her. “I just said ‘love you’. That’s hardly gushy.”

“It’s gushy for you.”

This was true.

“Did Lee say it back?” she asked, squinting at me.

“Yeah.”

“It’s gushy for him too. Off-the-charts gushy.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Girls!” We heard Kitty Sue call from inside the house, luckily saving me from the gushy conversation.

“We’re out here!” I yelled.

Kitty Sue opened the door and stuck her head out. “Come inside. I only have a minute and I have to do this now.”

Then she was gone.

Ally and I looked at each other. Kitty Sue was using her Mom No Backtalk Voice and, with years of experience, we both knew better than to argue.

Kitty Sue’s arrival was a surprise.

“Do you know what this is about?” I asked Ally.

She shook her head.

We got up, wrapped sarongs around our waists, grabbed the phone, our drinks and the egg timer and went into the house.

Kitty Sue was standing in the living room.

“What are you drinking?” she asked Ally when Ally had rounded the stairs.

“Rum and diet,” Ally answered.

Kitty Sue yanked the glass out of her hand and downed it in two gulps.

Ally and I stared at her while she did this then turned our heads to look at each other.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Kitty Sue because I knew something was wrong. Kitty Sue was no teetotaler but she wasn’t one to chug, especially not rum. I’d only seen her chug once, during an out of control, marathon game of Scattergories one Christmas Eve and she’d not been able to think of an “s” word for the food category and that was so lame, we made her chug a beer as penance.

Good times.

“I’m not good at this,” Kitty Sue answered me, breaking into my trip down memory lane.

“At what?” Ally said.

“Being… doing… I don’t know. Girls, sit down.”

Ally and I exchanged another glance, then we sat.

That’s when I noticed a small wooden chest. It had hearts and flowers painted on it and some fading glitter stuck to it as well as some old stickers. It was sitting on the ottoman between my couch and armchairs.