Rock Chick (Rock Chick #1)(27)
Jane headed off to Evergreen after the morning rush to put a note under Duke’s door, telling him to call me the minute he got home (with a little PS to Dolores, inviting her to Girl’s Night Out next Wednesday).
I had decided that the morning’s weakness with Lee was temporary insanity and the aftereffects of sake. I was back to my decision that Lee and I weren’t a good idea. Most especially if he could (and would) leave me hot and bothered for whatever scary shit he did for a living. I knew my control was slipping but I had a new plan. All I had to do was not end up in his car, his company, his condo and especially his bed. That was the extent of my new plan.
The minute Jane left, I called Rosie’s parents in North Dakota. He had them as next of kin on his employment records. In order not to freak them out, I pretended I was an old friend from high school, calling to catch up.
“Isn’t that a funny coincidence?” Rosie’s Mom said. “Two nice gentlemen came around yesterday saying the same thing!”
I glanced at Ally with my “uh-oh” face and she returned an eyebrow raise.
Either it was Lee or it was Terry Wilcox. One spelled disaster for me and the other spelled disaster for Rosie.
I gave my name and number, disconnected and told Ally.
“Probably Lee, he has ways,” she decided.
Great.
“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” she asked.
“Lee and I have a bet, the kind of bet I don’t wanna lose.” It wasn’t a total lie. If Lee found Rosie, I would lose a lot, peace of mind, my grip on reality, things like that.
“So you bet Lee you’d find Rosie before he did and return a bag of diamonds to a bad guy?” Ally stared at me like I’d just had half my brain sucked out by brain-eaters.
“Yep.”
“Girl,” she drawled, “you’re so gonna lose.”
Lucky for me, Ally was into the underdog.
The door to Fortnum’s burst open and Andrea Cocetti stormed in.
Andrea was at school with Ally and me and she was in our pack. Rumor had it that Andrea made out with Richie Sambora backstage after a Bon Jovi concert but this had never been publicly confirmed or denied (privately, though, she admitted to both Ally and I that it didn’t happen and thus, in secret, I reigned supreme with my Joe Perry encounter).
We’d stayed friends over the years but didn’t see each other often. Andrea got married about twelve minutes after we graduated and now had four kids. Four kids, especially hellions like Andrea’s, were a good reason not to see each other that often.
Now, Andrea was Andrea Moran. She was pushing a stroller, dragging a child alongside her, while an older one followed, carrying a purse the size of an overnight bag and a diaper bag stuffed full to bursting, all this done with such practiced ease, it was as if they were all merely accessories, including the children.
“You hooked up with Lee Nightingale!” she shrieked, causing the four customers who were calmly sitting around reading and enjoying their coffees in quiet surroundings to jump and stare. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Over the years, Andrea, too, had been drafted in some of my Lee Maneuvers. Andrea, too, was on Kitty Sue Nightingale’s Christmas Card List and therefore in her address book and therefore, no doubt, received a call. Perhaps, considering a day had passed, during the second wave.
“It only happened yesterday,” Ally said.
Andrea ignored Ally. “Have you and Lee done it yet?” Her voice was still, really, really loud and the four customers stopped staring at Andrea and swiveled their heads to look at me.
I sighed then said, “We’re taking it slow.”
“Slow!” Her eyes moved from me, to Ally, and back to me, they looked like they were going to pop out of her head. “I… you…” She made a strangled sound and I was starting to get concerned. “That isn’t possible. Slow isn’t possible. Lee Nightingale doesn’t move slow. One second he’s looking at you, the next second he’s walking away and he has the little satin bow from your panties as a souvenir.”
God, I hoped it wasn’t that fast that would be disappointing.
What was I thinking? It wasn’t going to happen at all.
“That isn’t true,” Ally replied. “He’d take the little satin bow from your bra. Not all panties have them but most bras do. Sometimes they’re rosettes, he’d take those as well.”
I stared at her.
“You’re joking,” I breathed, really not wanting to be a little satin rosette bouncing around with hundreds of other little rosettes and bows in Lee’s sock drawer.
Ally shrugged. “That’s the rumor.”
“Have you seen them? How many of them are there?” Andrea asked.
“I haven’t seen them, it’s just the rumor, I’m just keeping rumors straight. Maybe when Indy stops taking it slow, we’ll find out.”
I calmed Andrea down with an iced, hazelnut, decaf latte and promised her I’d call her the minute I did it with Lee. At this rate, post-coital, I’d be on the phone for a week.
Once Andrea was settled, I noticed a guy who’d arrived practically the minute the door opened. He’d already bought three espressos, which he sucked down in one swallow and he’d been reading a sports magazine now for three and a half hours. He had dark blond hair a week or two past needing a cut, a killer bod, compact with muscles and not an ounce of fat. He was wearing a white t-shirt, jeans and running shoes.