Rock Chick 02 Rescue (22 page)

“Maybe,” I said to Amy. The answer was more like

“probably”. As much as it would hurt to leave Fortnum’s, Fortnum’s meant running into Eddie and that I couldn’t do.

Amy turned to Eddie and smiled.

“Jet was a hoot to work with. Not so much here. Can’t real y have much fun here. But…” She turned to me and her smile broadened, “remember that time when we went to visit Donna’s kid when he was getting chemo and you got al the kids on the ward together and pretended to have a shoot out in the elevator bays using your hands as guns?

That was hysterical.” She turned back to Eddie, “Jet even did a tuck and rol on the floor and accidental y knocked over a male nurse. I nearly peed my pants laughing.” Her face flushed as she realized she’d just told a hot guy she’d nearly peed her pants.

My face flushed as I realized Amy had just told Eddie about my tuck and rol in the hospital corridor. It was not a crowning moment of glory for me.

I stopped counting and stared at her in horror. It was definitely not the time for a trip down memory lane.

Eddie smiled at Amy. The effect was mesmerizing (even for me, and the smile wasn’t pointed in my direction) and it was al the encouragement Amy needed.

She forged ahead, turning to me, bright-eyed and firmly in the throes of a mini Eddie Daze.

“And when we played that practical joke on David when he had that new girlfriend?” Amy looked back to Eddie,

“She was a screaming bitch, by the way, she
totally
deserved it.”

“That was a good one,” Jody chimed in, licking her finger and counting bil s.

“Amy…” I started but Amy was warming to her theme.

“He was having dinner with her at Wazee Supper Club and Jet walked in wearing curlers in her hair, ratty slippers and an old bath robe and started shouting at him about going out with his floosies while she was at home with their six kids.”

“I’l never forget it,” Jody said, “We al went down to watch. That was worth missing the Broncos on Monday Night Footbal .”

Amy went on, “Now he’s married to Lisa and we al
like
her.”

I closed my eyes and silently asked the Good Lord if he was busy and maybe could he help me out.

“And remember when…” Amy started.

The Good Lord asked me to leave a message.

“Amy, Eddie doesn’t want to hear this stuff,” I interrupted.

“Yes I do,” Eddie said.

Wonderful.

Jody’s head came up and she looked closely at me.

“See, he does,” Amy went on, oblivious, and she made to start talking again but Jody came away from her drawer and into Amy’s station.

“I’l help you count, Jet. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do, what with your Mom and al .”

I felt the tension ease out of my body and I would have kissed her if I didn’t think she’d bitch-slap me for even trying.

“Thanks Jody,” I said.

“I’m so sorry, Jet. I didn’t think,” Amy mumbled and smiled tentatively at Eddie then started to concentrate on my deposit.

I guess the Good Lord got to his messages quickly and sent an angel in the form of Jody as his stand-in.

Whatever. It worked for me.

* * * * *

I actual y needed it laced with Jack Daniels but I’d take it as it came.

Eddie got in and turned to me.

“So, you used to work there.”

I avoided his eyes, looked out the windscreen and sipped more coffee.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“You’l have to teach me the tuck and rol . Maybe I can use it during a shoot out.”

Where were freak flashes of lightening when you needed them? At that point, I didn’t care if it took out me, or Eddie, or both of us.

I turned to him. “Do you get in shoot outs often?”

“Not real y.”

“Then you’l be safe.”

He grinned.

“How’s the kid?” he asked.

I stared at him, confused.

“What kid?”

“The one you had the shoot out with in the hospital,” he answered.

Out of nowhere, I felt the tears hit the backs of my eyes and I sucked in a breath to try and control them.

It was Eddie’s turn to stare at me.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

Devin was a good kid and Donna was a good friend.

She and her husband moved to Montana after he died, couldn’t face the memories and wanted a fresh start. If her last letter was anything to go by, the tactic wasn’t working.

I got myself under control and said, “You can take me home now.”

“I thought we were going to the grocery store.” I looked away and sipped coffee.

“If Lavonne’s stil at home, I’l ask her to take me.

Lavonne may be smal and she can be nice but mostly she’s mean as a snake, no one wil mess with her. You can go and do… whatever it is you do on a Saturday.” He started the car.

“This Saturday, I’m taking you to the grocery store.” Wonderful.

* * * * *

I grabbed a cart and hit the store at my usual pace, which was otherwise known as the I-don’t-have-time-for-this-I-had-to-be-out-of-here-twenty-minutes-ago pace.

I threw things in the cart on the trot and Eddie wandered.

I lost him in the produce section and he caught up with me while I was price checking canned chil i. I made my choice and started the dash but he caught my arm.

“Are we in a race?” he asked.

I looked at his hand on my arm and then at him. Then I lifted my hand and counted things off on my fingers.

“I have to get home and eat. Then I have to help Mom with her exercises. Then I have to pay bil s and balance my checkbook. Then I have to make dinner because Mom and I try to have a sit down dinner on Saturday night no matter what. Then I have to…”

He moved in so close, my breath caught.

“Am I invited to dinner?” he asked.

Damn.

I walked right into that one.

“Don’t you have better things to do? Basebal games to watch? Criminals to bring to justice?”

He shook his head.

What could I say? No?

Okay, maybe I could say no but that’d be rude.

“Oh, I guess,” I sighed (as if
that
wasn’t rude).

For some reason, he looked amused.

Then we both heard, “
Mi hijo!
”

I turned to see Blanca headed our way, pushing a cart that was loaded down with enough food to feed the Denver Broncos, the Colorado Rockies and the staff at NORAD.

She was trailed by another short, female Eddie relative who had a look on her face that was very similar to the one Eddie was wearing.

Eddie bent low and kissed his Mom on the cheek. Then Blanca walked to me, reached up and grabbed both sides of my face and hauled me down for a big, old smackaroo right on the mouth.

When she let me go, she turned to the girl behind her.

“This is Jet, Eddie’s girl,” she said and then turned back to me, “This is my youngest daughter, Gloria.” We greeted each other. I didn’t bother tel ing her I wasn’t Eddie’s anything (or, at least, trying not to be) and I noticed Gloria had a dimple just like Eddie’s.

“You two are grocery shopping,” Gloria said and it was obvious this fact was borderline hilarious to her.

Blanca nodded her head with approval, as if they’d caught us at Dil ard’s fil ing out our wedding list. Then Blanca’s eyes lit. “You’l come to my house for dinner tonight,” she announced.

No.

No, no, no.

“We’re having dinner at Jet’s, with her Mom,” Eddie answered and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

For about a nanosecond.

Blanca’s eyes widened, then narrowed. Then she burst out in a flood of Spanish and I caught the words,
madre de
ella
,
primera
, and
comida
and I knew I was in trouble.

Blanca ended on, “Then you come to my house tomorrow.” No!

No, no, no, a thousand times no.

I opened my mouth to say something, but Eddie got there first.

“We’l be there at six.”

My mouth stayed open.

This was going to put a
major
crimp in my plans to keep Eddie at arm’s length (that would be Gul iver’s arm if I was Lil iputian).

“Bring your mother,
Chiquita
. I can’t wait to meet her,” Blanca said.

How come everyone was after me but no one could kil me or maim me? It would make my life so much easier.

“Mom would love that,” I told her, and she would. It would be a meeting of the minds. A meeting in hel .

Gloria was smiling, ful -on.

“Maybe we should invite the cousins,” she suggested.

I turned and glared at Eddie, thinking maybe he’d help, but instead he wrapped his arm around my neck and pul ed me into his side.

Blanca stared at us with an expression that could only be described as blissful.

Then she snapped out of it.

“Gloria, get another cart,” Blanca ordered, “we’l have to go back through.
Hasta mañana
,” she said and she was off, on such a mission, she went without any kisses good-bye.

I turned to Eddie and, as his arm was around my neck, this put us ful -frontal so I tilted my head back. “You could have done something about that,” I snapped.

“Like what?” he answered, his face a lot closer than was comfortable.

I tried to pul back but it didn’t work.

“I don’t know. Politely declined somehow.”

“I’m having dinner with your mother before you have dinner with mine. Come hel or high water,
Mamá
is gonna one-up your mother somehow. Trust me, sooner is better than later, it gives her less time to plan.” Without thinking, I said, “My life sucks.” Eddie tensed.

“It’s dinner with my mother, it isn’t the end of the world.” It was for me.

“That’s not what I meant.”

It was, in a way, but not in the bad way Eddie took it.

His eyes got serious.

“We need to have another chat,” he said.

“No!” I nearly shouted, panic stricken, “No more chats.” His brows drew together.

I tried to calm down and said, “At least, not until I figure out what
I
have to say.”

“How long is that gonna take?” he asked.

About four lifetimes.

Of course, I was going to have to speed it up.

I needed my life to get back to its normal, everyday boringness.

But first, I needed to go to the liquor store and buy a bottle of Jack. I didn’t drink Jack but I thought now was a very good time to take up bourbon.

Instead of imparting any of this information on Eddie, I said, “I don’t know.”

Then he said, “You’ve got until tomorrow.” My mouth dropped open, then I snapped it shut, then I said, “You’re giving me a deadline?”

He loosened his arm but held me around the neck and pushed the cart with his other hand, moving us forward.

“You aren’t exactly a fast mover and any time I give you, you’l use to retreat. That’s not gonna happen. So yeah, I’m giving you a deadline.”

I decided it was a good time to stop talking.

We made it through the rest of the shopping ordeal without incident until we hit the check-out line. I wasn’t without incident until we hit the check-out line. I wasn’t paying attention and before I knew it, Eddie slid his credit card into the card-reading machine.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Paying for your groceries,” he answered.

I stared. Then I glared. “You can’t pay for my groceries,” I said.

“Why not?”

I didn’t know.

“I don’t know,” Then it hit me, “They aren’t your groceries,” I finished.

“I’m eating some of them, aren’t I?”

This was true, he was.

He turned from me, back to the cashier.

Guess that conversation was over.

I bent over and pounded my head on the little check-writing desk.

“I’d let
him
pay for
my
groceries,” the cashier decided to throw in.

I didn’t respond.

I walked to the end of the check-out, commandeered the cart the minute the bag boy put my last bag in it and, without looking back, motored out the door.

* * * * *

I felt a moment of elation. My car was not only running, it looked waxed and happy-shiny, like it had a new lease on life.

Eddie parked, I threw open the door to the truck and walked to Mr. Greasy Coveral s.

“It’s fixed!” I cried.

“Yeah, it had a blah, blah, blah, with its blahdity, blah, blah. Then there was the blah, blah blah.” Of course, he used words for the “blah blahs” but I didn’t understand a single one of them.

“How much?” I asked, looking happily at my car, which represented freedom, independence and no more borrowed rides or bus and taxi fares.

“Seven hundred and fifty dol ars.”

My breath caught, my heart seized and I was sure I was going to throw up.

I looked at Mr. Greasy Coveral s.

“Why didn’t you cal me before doing anything?” I asked.

Mechanics were supposed to cal , tel you what it was going to cost before sucking away your lifeblood. That’s how it worked. I thought it was the law.

“That’s the charge
before
detailing it, the oil change, putting in a new filter and plugs and changing the wipers.

Oh, and you had a brake light out.”

I started hyperventilating.

Mr. Greasy Coveral s watched me like I was a particularly inept performance artist. Then he looked at Eddie. Then back at me when I yel ed.