Rock Chick 07 Regret (57 page)

He guided my hanger over the grill and dumped the bag of marshmallows on the side shelf but kept his arm wrapped around my neck, his eyes trained on my marshmallows.

“Carlos, Rosa and Elena were the good kids, Eddie, Gloria and me… not so good.”

I felt this somewhere deep and the laughter left my body.

Hector’s arm gave my neck a squeeze. I knew he wanted my attention so I looked up at him.

He was watching me closely.

“Now what’s in your head?” he asked softly.

“She loves you all the same. The good and the not so good,” I whispered, referring to Blanca.

“Always has,” he replied.

Immediately I replied, “You’re very lucky.”

At my words, he curled me so my front was against his and his face dipped to mine.

I saw that look in his eyes, the warm, intense, eyes-soft, face-hard, signifying-possession look but something else was there. Not pity but maybe understanding that he had something beautiful that I had not. I knew instinctively he didn’t feel sorry for me but he felt something.

“I know,” he murmured and there was a great deal of feeling in his soft words.

Perhaps sensing I’d had enough, perhaps wanting a s’more, he showed me how to make them and we ate them. Then we made out by the grill in the now-chilly Autumn air, our mouths tasting of s’mores (Hector’s kisses were amazing but when he tasted of s’mores, they were simply
heaven
).

After s’mores, we walked upstairs and lay, fully-clothed (but shoeless) on his bed and watched a movie (
The Big Easy
, I hadn’t seen it in years and forgot how good it was).

Then, likely inspired by the movie (thank
God
), Hector played out a certain part but his effort lasted longer, was a bit more creative, included more than just fingers (moving on to lips and tongues) and it finished a whole lot differently.

Before he snapped out the light, he put balm and a new bandage on my tattoo.

Then he tucked my back to his front, YoYo snuggled close into the crook of my lap, Hector held me tight and I laid there, listening to him breathe (and YoYo snort) until I knew he was asleep.

Then I rewound my day from start to finish.

Then I rewound it again.

Then I did it again.

Then I felt the wetness slide silently down the sides of my eyes, soaking into the mound of pillows I shared with Hector, I put my arm on his at my waist and linked our fingers.

In his sleep, his fingers tensed until they held mine tight.

Only then did I fall asleep.

* * * * *

Hector

Hector felt Sadie’s fingers relax in his and he knew she was finally asleep.

He took in the scent of her expensive perfume, knowing and liking the fact that it was on his sheets.

His arm wrapped tighter around her waist, pulling her deeper into his body.

Her head tilted forward, his went with it, he buried his face into her hair but he felt the wetness her tears left on the pillow against his cheek.

His eyes opened in the dark.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered.

Chapter Twenty

Bon
Bons

Sadie

Art was filled, shoulder-to-shoulder, with people.

I’d never had an opening this huge.

Even before my father was arrested for trafficking drugs and half my contacts shunned my openings (the other half only continuing to come to drink my champagne, look down their noses at me and feel superior), no opening had been this popular.

My artist,
Lisette
(who painted unbelievable watercolors), was beside herself with the turn out.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was not prospective buyers but the ever ready to party Rock Chick/Hot Bunch crew, complete with Hector’s entire family, Indy’s Dad Tom, Tod and Stevie, Tex and Nancy and Duke and his wife Dolores. Even the Zano clan came, Uncle Vito and Angela, Dom and Sissy and Ren and some woman I didn’t know.

Indeed, every single Rock Chick and their respective Hot Bunch Guy was there. All the girls looking glamorous, all the men looking knockout gorgeous wearing suits and shirts with collars opened at the neck.

That said, Duke had dressed up how I guessed any Harley biker guy would dress up, he still had the bandana around his forehead and the leather vest but his black t-shirt had long sleeves and no saying emblazoned on the chest and he’d switched to black jeans. Tex, on the other hand, didn’t look any different and was wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt.

I didn’t even know they’d been invited (Ralphie’s doing, no doubt). But I had to admit, I was happy they were there.

It felt different with them there. Good. Safe. My openings had not only never been that crowded, they’d never been that filled with laughter.

“I told you pigs in a blanket would be a hit,” Shirleen said from beside me, nabbing (at my count) her fourth gourmet “pig in a blanket” off a passing tray and shoving the entire thing in her mouth.

She wasn’t wrong; the blanketed pigs were going down a treat. Everyone seemed to love them.

“You were right Shirleen. I promise I won’t have another opening without pigs in a blanket,” I assured her, crossing my heart and putting up two fingers so she’d believe me.

“Damn straight,” she replied, her tawny eyes smiling then her gaze moved across the room and she went on. “Hector sure cleans up good.”

I looked at Hector.

She was not wrong.

I’d gotten ready at his house that morning and he’d dropped me off at Art. The day had been busy, hanging the paintings and going over everything one last time even though I didn’t have to. I was obsessively organized, never procrastinated, always checked and double-checked every detail and was a list maker. The entire thing was ready to roll with no hiccups days in advance (as usual). Even the installation had gone easier than normal because Daisy, Roxie, Stella and Ava came to help.

Hector had stayed away all day, he didn’t even call. It felt weird being away from him that long. Since Ralphie let him in the brownstone over a week ago, it seemed like he was always around or, at least, never far away.

When I said it felt weird, I meant I didn’t like it.

At all.

I liked having him around.

And that meant I was seriously in trouble.

After we were done with the hanging and everything was ready, Ralphie took me home so we could dress for the opening.

Hector told me that morning he’d meet me at the gallery. He showed up half an hour after the festivities started wearing a suit. One look at him and my heart stopped.

His suit, at first, I thought was black. But, on closer inspection, I realized it was a very dark gray. He also had on a tailored, collared shirt that was one shade lighter than the suit and black cowboy boots. That’s it. It seemed simple but, on Hector, it was highly effective.

Sometime during the day he’d had his hair cut though, he’d had it cut in a way that now it looked sexy, messy, long-
ish
and still in need of imminent cutting but it looked good on him, way good,
too
good.

Honest to God, he never looked better.

However, he was very far away from me and over the last two hours, had stayed that way. When he arrived, he’d come to me and kissed the top of my head but that was it.

At first, this
weirded
me out.

I was still living the dream, the dream of Hector and Sadie together, sanding floors and making s’mores and owning a pug that raced around the backyard.

Him staying away made me think I’d done something wrong.

I’d reverted to my designer armor (it
was
an art opening and I
did
own the gallery, I couldn’t exactly
wear
flannel, like Tex). I was wearing a slim-fitting, brush-the-knees, ecru skirt that was covered in opalescent beading. My top was stretchy, ecru, knit silk, long-sleeved and off the shoulders but very snug. I had a velvet ecru ribbon tied as a choker around my neck, pointed-toed, spike-heeled, ecru satin mules with bugle beads stitched on the toe and my hair pulled back severely from my face and fastened with another velvet ribbon at my nape. It was definitely an Ice Princess outfit.

I knew Hector didn’t like my armor and I thought it pissed him off.

But even though he stayed away, I knew he knew where I was at all times (don’t ask me how, I just did). Sometimes, when my eyes would stray to him, I saw he was watching me. Sometimes, his face would grow soft. But other times, he looked like he was trying to figure me out (those times were
not
my favorite times, I didn’t want to be figured out, no way).

I tried not to think about it and instead did my job making sure the champagne flowed, the trays of hors d’ouevres were plentiful and, above all, I mingled.

It was about an hour after he arrived that I understood why he stayed away. He stayed away because I was working and he was giving me space.

And, at that thought, I quit panicking and I also quit sinking down in the warm, comfy water where the possibility of a “Hector and Sadie” had taken me and instead, I executed a below the surface back flip.

I turned away from Hector, who was now standing talking with Tom and Hank, and looked at Shirleen.

“Hector’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on in my life,” I told her bluntly and I didn’t even care what she thought about me saying it.

“Mm-hmm,” Shirleen agreed, her eyes still locked on Hector. “Never fancied me a brown boy but, given the chance, I wouldn’t say no to Hector Chavez. No fuckin’ way.”

After she said that, she tore her gaze from Hector, looked at me and I grinned at her. She grinned back then her eyes flicked over my shoulder and her grin died.

“Shit. Society bitch, three o’clock and closing in. Gotta go,” Shirleen whispered and then, poof, she was gone, disappearing in the crowd.

Dazed at her quick disappearing act, I turned around and watched Monica Henrique bearing down on me.

Oh no.

What was
she
doing there?

She’d hated me since the whole Nanette thing went down!

And she was
definitely
not on the guest list and hadn’t been since The Daisy Incident.

And there was no way Ralphie would invite her, she’d come before and Ralphie instantly loathed her.

“Sadie!” she screeched, fake smile on her face, throwing her arms out straight in front of her like we were best friends reunited after years apart.

Before I could escape, she grabbed my upper arms and pulled me in for air kisses, first one cheek then the other then she leaned back, still with her hands on me.

“Oh my
God!
” she continued to screech (loudly), her eyes on my cheek. “What happened to your face?”

Someone, please tell me she did
not
just say that.

I felt people turning to look at us and I wanted to cut and run.

Of course, I did not.

My back went straight, my chin jutted out and I ignored her unbelievably insensitive question.

“Monica. Lovely to see you,” I said in a voice that made it clear I felt the opposite.

She ignored my tone and let go of my arms but only to get close to my side and link her arm with mine.

“Sadie, I don’t know if you know this,” she whispered conspiratorially. “But
Daisy Sloan
is here.” And she said Daisy’s name like it tasted bad.

My body stayed frozen stiff but my head turned slowly to look at her.

“I know,” I said. “Daisy was
invited
.” I stressed the last word to make my point but it flew directly over Monica’s head or, more likely, she ignored it because she was a bitch.