Rock Chick 06 Reckoning (27 page)

Crazy Rock ‘n’ Rol Denverites.

The good news was there were also a couple of squad cars and uniforms out front, providing what Vance cal ed

“presence” which did double duty of helping to control the crowd and making bad guys think twice.

My being “adopted” by the Denver Police Department definitely had its perks.

* * * * *

We’d never played this good.

Never.

* * * * *

“Tomorrow, we’l talk about your set list,” he growled.

I looked at him, noticed right off he was ticked and had an instant buzz kil .

I’d been creative with the set list. We were playing songs we’d rehearsed for the hel of it but rarely, if ever, played.

These included Son House’s “Death Letter”, Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper”, Bil y Joel’s “Only the Good Die Young”, Benatar’s “Hit Me with Your Best Shot”, AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck”, and Warren Zevon’s “Lawyers, Guns and Money”.

Furthermore, we played two songs that we’d never played at a show and no one had ever heard outside of rehearsal.

The songs were written by Buzz and Leo. I wasn’t a songwriter but they were and they were pretty good at it.

We’d never played them, not because I didn’t let us but because Buzz and Leo weren’t comfortable with it.

I decided that, seeing as al of our asses were on the line, it was now or never.

Buzz and Leo disagreed.

Floyd, Hugo and Pong thought it was a great idea.

The band fought.

My side won but this meant we were twenty minutes late taking the stage.

And so it goes with rock ‘n’ rol .

The crowd loved the new songs. They loved al of it. They were fucking eating it up.

Mace, however, clearly did not appreciate the irony.

“It’s my band,” I told Mace. “I write the set lists and I don’t take any lip.”

This was a lie. I took lip al the time.

Mace glared at me and he was so good at it I felt it prudent to snap my mouth shut. So I did.

As with each break, Mace put a hand in my back and steered me backstage.

They were taking no chances tonight; al the Hot Bunch, Tex and Duke were there again. The same dril as the night before. The difference was, while the boys of the band worked the groupies or the bar, I spent my breaks sequestered in the dressing room with the Rock Chicks.

“Holy crap! That was great!” Indy shouted when I entered the room.

I saw that this time around, Vance was playing bodyguard. Last break, it was Luke.

Vance gave Mace a nod, Mace accepted it with a return chin lift, glared at me one last time and shut the door behind him as he left.

“I loved your version of ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’. That was fantastic!” Roxie yel ed, not holding any grudges from our earlier throw down.

I smiled, took a pul from my beer and threw myself on the ratty couch Monk should have replaced twelve years ago.

“They ain’t wrong. You are
hot
to-
night,”
Shirleen hooted.

“Shirleen likes her some hip-hop and every once in awhile, the blues, but the way you play it, girl, I’m thinkin’ of claimin’

back rock ‘n’ rol .”

“You can’t have it, Shirleen.” I smiled at her. “Tonight, I think it’s mine.”

“Damn tootin’,” Daisy put in on a tinkly-bel , girlie-giggle and she knocked her beer bottle against mine.

“So, how are things with you and Mace?” Al y asked, bored with the Stel a Accolades and wanting to get to a juicier subject.

“Al y,” Ava said and then rol ed her eyes at Jet.

“I’m just asking,” Al y retorted.

“Non-starter,” I answered Al y after taking another swig of my beer not about to share about Mace’s demons, not yet. I hadn’t even dealt with them yet, I didn’t even know if I
could
deal with them. “I don’t have time to deal with Mace and the band and my dog and the front page of
The Post
and my gigs and the idiot Monk and getting shot at and Eric –”

“Eric?” Jet asked.

“My boyfriend,” I answered.

There were some gasps. Unfortunately Al y was taking a sip from her Fat Tire when I answered and thus spewed it across the room forcing Ava and Roxie to jump wide of the beer spray.

“Your
what?
” Al y semi-yel ed, stil spluttering.

“Wel , he wasn’t my boyfriend but he was, kind of. We were seeing each other,” I explained.

“Were?” Indy asked.

“After Mace and I, erm,” I bit my lip and my eyes slid to Vance who was studying his boots then I looked back to Indy. “
Did it,
” I whispered to the girls and then went on talking in my normal voice. “We al had a showdown, Mace, Eric and me. During the showdown, Mace told Eric he fucked me.
Bluntly
. Eric didn’t appreciate that.”

“I bet he didn’t,” Shirleen muttered, making eyes at Daisy.

“Why didn’t you tel
us
about Eric?” Al y demanded to know.

I shrugged. “Wel , Eric and I were together but we weren’t. It’s hard to explain. Then I found out he was a Fed

–”

“
What?
” It was Daisy’s turn to splutter through a defunct swal ow of beer.

“Yeah, a Fed. He’s investigating Sid too and got close to me to do it. But he said he fel for me. Told me straight out, right in front of Mace, right after Mace told him he fucked me.” I paused, not wishing to share further because sharing meant reliving. I was stil nursing a mini-buzz and I needed to keep it going for the last set and reliving that particular memory would kil the buzz dead. “It’s complicated,” I finished.

“It ain’t complicated, it’s fucked up. That’s what it is,” Shirleen commented and she was not wrong.

“I can’t believe Mace told him he fucked you. Did he use those words?” Ava asked and at my nod, she went on.

“That’s just rude.”

“That’s just the Hot Bunch. They’re al straight-talkers,” Indy reminded her.

“Stil , this Eric guy has a thing for Stel a. He could at least
try
to be sensitive,” Ava continued.

This made Shirleen, Al y and Indy burst into gales of laughter and Daisy, Roxie and Jet started giggling.

Shirleen wiped an eye. “Mace? Sensitive? Ava, girl, you are too much.”

Ava gave Shirleen a look.

I gave Vance a look wondering what he thought of al this.

Jules, again, had passed on the night out with the Rock Chicks, preferring to stay home and keep herself and her unborn baby safe.

This, I thought, was a good decision.

Vance had given up on his study of his boots and was now wearing a shit-eating grin and watching me.

Apparently what Vance thought about al of this was that it was highly amusing.

I rol ed my eyes.

His grin got wide.

Whatever!

There came a knock at the door and Vance went tense.

“Scout,” Hector’s voice said from the other side of the door and it was my turn to go tense.

“Scout?” Roxie breathed, her huge eyes swinging to me and al the Rock Chicks swayed with the excitement fil ing the room.

“I’m unavailable,” I said to Vance quickly but he ignored me and opened the door.

Damn it!

Monk walked in with Hector and a balding, middle-aged man who stil managed, even thin on the top, to look cool wearing jeans, a light blue col ared shirt and black boots.

“Stel a, beautiful, you’re on fire tonight,” Monk raved, clenching his hands together like a greedy, maniacal banker in a bad movie.

I stood and murmured my thanks, my eyes on the scout.

My eyes being on the scout had the added benefit of al owing me to avoid Hector, Vance, Monk and the Rock Chicks.

I took a pul from my beer, swal owed and asked, “And you are?”

“Dixon Jones. A&R. Black Fat Records,” he answered.

Oh.

Wow.

I’d heard of Black Fat Records even though they hadn’t been around very long. They were smal and they were choosy. They found good talent, they took good care of them and they had a kil er marketing department.

If I’d ever wanted The Gypsies to be signed, it would be with an outfit like Black Fat Records.

“Enjoying the show?” I asked like I didn’t care, which I didn’t. Not real y.

But then again, I did.

What the ef was wrong with me?

Dixon Jones smiled at me, it was genuine and it threw me.

“You write the new material?” he asked and this threw me too.

I shook my head. “That’s Buzz, my bass player. He writes the music. And Leo, my rhythm guitar. He writes the lyrics.”

“Those songs were tight. It’s good to see you branching out of covers,” Dixon commented and this threw me most of al .

“You catch a gig before?” I asked, doing my damnedest to stay outwardly calm.

“Anytime I’m in Denver, The Gypsies are playing, I come,” Dixon replied.

Oh my Lord!

“So why haven’t you ever met my girl here?” Monk pushed in and clapped Dixon on the back. It gave me the creepy-crawlies to be referred to as Monk’s girl, so much so, even though I tried to stop it, my lip curled.

Dixon looked down his nose at Monk and replied,

“Except when they’re playing The Pal adium. I usual y avoid The Pal adium.”

Monk got a little pale and stepped back.

I couldn’t help myself, I smirked at Dixon Jones. Al of a sudden, I liked him.

“Couldn’t miss tonight,” he said, lifting a copy of
USA
Today
I hadn’t noticed he was carrying. “Rock ‘n’ rol in the face of certain danger. I figured it’d be good but shit. Gotta tel you, Stel a, you and your boys delivered beyond expectation. Your set list is inspired.”

Then Dixon snapped the paper open and turned a page to face me.

On the page was a grainy photo of me and Mace making out last night onstage. I didn’t look at the caption; I was too busy staring at the photo. I, of course, had never seen myself kissing Mace (or anyone) and I was weirdly fascinated.

The photo was probably taken by a cel phone camera. It didn’t look great but it didn’t look bad either. In fact, the way I was bent over Mace’s arm, the drums in the background, Mace’s fist wrapped around the neck of my guitar, my hands clutching his broad shoulders, our lips locked, it looked hot.

Smokin’
hot.

Shitsofuckit!

“Holy crap,” Indy whispered.

“
USA Today
?” Jet breathed.

“I didn’t see that one,” Daisy muttered.

“Great fuckin’ picture,” Al y observed.

I took a step forward, my hand coming out to take the paper but I didn’t make it. Vance got there before me, tagged the paper and took a step back.

“You need to focus on the show,” Vance said to me, folding the paper and tucking it under his arm.

I stared at him, shocked. So did Dixon Jones. The Rock Chicks al looked at each other and they did it knowingly.

Not good.

Something was up.

I turned to Vance. “What are you? My manager?” Vance looked at his watch then back to me. “For the next two minutes, yeah.”

“Are not,” I snapped.

“Focus, Stel a,” Vance shot back.

“We need to talk,” Hector said to Dixon and I turned angry, confused eyes to Hector.

Dixon was also looking confused.

I looked back at Hector and read his intent.

Oh no.

This was
not
going to happen!

“Don’t talk to him,” I said to Dixon.

Now Dixon was looking at me and he stil appeared confused.

The Rock Chicks huddled closer except Shirleen. She approached Dixon.

“Yeah, Hector and me and you, we
all
got to talk,” Shirleen said to Dixon.

Oh dear.

This was getting worse.

“And me!” Daisy pressed forward.

Oh no!

Even worse!

“No!” I shouted, trying to move but for some reason Al y and Ava had me in a death grip.

Dixon swung his gaze from me to Daisy to Shirleen.

“Who’re you?” he asked Shirleen.

He asked Shirleen but Daisy answered.

“Managers. We
all
manage The Gypsies. Just like any real good, smokin’ hot rock band, they’re a handful, comprende?”

“They’re not my managers,” I told Dixon.

Shirleen had her fingers curled around Dixon’s upper arm and was leading him to the door. She leaned in toward his ear and lied, “She says that three times a day.” I looked to the ceiling and silently said a short, pointed prayer.

My prayer went ignored and, with a bemused glance over his shoulder at me, Dixon Jones disappeared behind the door.

I turned woodenly and looked at Al y. “What just happened?”

“Ask me no questions, I’l tel you no lies,” Al y replied.

My eyes narrowed and I could actual y feel my pulse beating in my throat.

Then I shouted, “What the ef does that mean?”

“That means,” Jet materialized in front of me, “you have to trust us.”

This was not good.

Not good at al .

They were up to something.

And I was pretty certain I knew what it was
and
I didn’t like it.

I shook my head at Jet. “Not with a scout I don’t.”

“Trust us,” Indy said, coming to stand by Jet.

Ef that!

“You al are fucking nuts. Everyone is fucking nuts! The world is fucking nuts!” I yel ed just as the door opened and Mace walked in.

Completely oblivious to my tantrum, Mace looked at me with stil angry eyes and announced, “Time for your last set and, Stel a, if there’s one fuckin’ song about death or guns,
I’m
gonna shoot you.”