Rock Chick Regret
Page 28

My eyes got round as I repeated, disbelief dripping from my words at his stunning prevarication, “Daisy was in on the rescue and her nails… slipped a bit?”
It was at that Hector stopped fighting back the grin and let it happen.
I stared. His grin was nearly as good as his smile. Who thought that could even be possible?
Then, before I could answer my own question, his head dipped.
Then, seriously, no kidding, his lips touched mine in a barely-there kiss.
After that, while I was blinking rapidly and trying to remember how to breathe, his head came up and he said, “Time for you to go home.”
All I could think was; he was so right. It was time for me to go home.
Tomorrow I’d think about all of this. Tonight, I was done. So done.
“Time for me to go home,” I agreed.
His grin turned into a blinding, white smile, he leaned in again but only to kiss the top of my head this time.
He took my hand in his and he walked me back into the bar.
Chapter Six
It’s My Lip Gloss
Sadie
“He’s here, he’s here, oh my God, he’s here… and he looks good!” Ralphie chanted, dancing around by the window.
Oh my God.
Hector was here. It was seven o’clock and Hector was here.
I looked at the display on the DVD player. No, it was seven-oh-two.
But Hector was still here.
To take me out to dinner.
And he looked good!
And we were going to “talk”. I knew we were going to “talk” because Hector called Art in the early afternoon and told me so.
I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t even want to go to dinner!
How did this happen?
Oh… my… God.
* * * * *
That afternoon at Art I unwittingly answered the phone (as you do when, say, you run a business) and without even a hello Hector said in my ear, “I’m standin’ in the Station, Eddie’s with me and he says you haven’t come in yet.”
Oh my.
“Well –” I started.
He interrupted me, “You don’t come in they gotta let Harvey go.”
I tried again, “I just –”
“They let Harvey go and you don’t tell them what Ricky did to you I still got four Balducci brothers to deal with rather than bein’ down to two.”
My body went tight and I stared unseeing at the counter unable to process his words.
“What?” I asked.
“I think you heard me,” he answered.
I heard him all right.
“I heard you. I just don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean,” he explained but I could tell he was losing patience, “if Ricky and Harvey are out of commission, I just gotta go after Marty and Donny.”
I kept staring at the counter. “Why are you after the Balducci Brothers?”
Silence then a soft, “Mamita, are you shittin’ me?”
Quietly I answered, “No.”
More silence then, still soft, “Tonight, after dinner, we’re gonna talk.”
He gave me an opening, my back went straight and I took it.
“Hector, about dinner –”
“Seven o’clock, you aren’t there, I’ll find you.”
Disconnect.
I kept staring at the counter and tried to decide if Hector could find me.
Then I decided Hector could very likely find me.
Then I spent the next six hours alternately having panic attacks and letting Ralphie talk me into things. Things like closing down the shop. Things like going to Cherry Creek Mall. Things like buying a new outfit for my dinner with Hector. Things like buying that new Coach handbag I did not need. Things like agreeing it was a good idea that Ralphie bought the cute doggie food and water bowls even though I knew Buddy would lose his mind. Things like trying on everything Ralphie threw at me in thirteen different stores without losing my patience or calling on the Ice Princess (not even once).
* * * * *
“Ralphie, calm down,” Buddy said to the still dancing Ralphie.
Ralphie was in no mood to calm down. He rushed to me and grabbed my arms.
“Sweet ‘ums, your outfit is perfection. He’s wearing jeans, a shirt and a leather jacket. Thank God we didn’t go OTT with that slutty top from Bebe.”
There was no way on earth I was ever going to buy that slutty top in Bebe that Ralphie forced me to try on. Of course, I didn’t tell him that in Bebe or now.
The doorbell went, thoughts of slutty tops flew out of my head and all the breath went out of lungs in a whoosh.
Then without looking at Ralphie or Buddy, I turned on my stiletto heel, rushed to the powder room and slammed the door.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
Ralphie talked me into keeping my hair loose and giving it what he called “just a wee bit more volume” so there was tons of it falling in waves and ringlets around my face, on my shoulders and down my back.
I went light on the makeup mainly because heavy looked, well, heavy. The scar on my cheek was still too angry to hide without looking like I was trying to hide something. Anyway, my hair did the work a heavy makeup job would do (as I mentioned, there was loads of it) and I also had my signature MAC lip gloss on, a soft pink with a gentle shine.
I loved that lip gloss.
I had on a silvery-purple blouse with a mandarin collar, rows of soft, generous ruffles floating down in a V at the bodice and little ruffles making up the short sleeves. I paired this with my new Lucky jeans, a thin silver belt and silver strappy sandals. Finally, I was wearing my diamonds-in-platinum tennis bracelet and my diamond stud earrings.
I stared in the mirror thinking maybe I was still OTT.
Did one wear diamonds and platinum when one went out with the ex-DEA agent that put one’s father in prison?
Did one wear a silver belt and silver strappy sandals ever?
Was one absolutely mad that one was not climbing out the window right now?
A sharp knock came at the door and I jumped.
“Sadie! Hector’s here,” Ralphie called unnecessarily as I knew Hector was there, just two seconds ago, Ralphie was chanting it.
“Coming!” I shouted back and then realized Hector would know I was in the powder room. If I stayed in there very long Hector would wonder what I was doing. I didn’t want to go out there to have dinner with Hector but I also didn’t want Hector to wonder why I needed a long bathroom break.
“Blooming heck,” I said into the mirror. Then I pulled in a deep breath and whispered, “You can do this Sadie, it’s just dinner, a talk. You can talk to Hector. You’ve had boyfriends, you’ve had lovers. Okay. They didn’t stick around very long because your father warned them off but you aren’t a frightened little virgin. You’re a grown woman. An experienced, grown woman. An experienced grown woman who can take care of herself. You can talk to him, tell him you aren’t interested. Get him to understand and back off. You can do it. Right?” I leaned in closer and repeated, “Right?”