Rock Chick Renegade
Page 18

I walked into Nick’s living room. Nick was lying full-out on his couch.
“Hey Jules,” Nick said, grinning at me.
“Would you like your hemlock now or should I put it in the Thanksgiving turkey?” I asked Nick, throwing myself in an armchair. Boo jumped up in my lap and out of habit I began to stroke him. He settled in and began to purr.
“Like you’re cookin’ the Thanksgiving turkey. Please,” Nick returned, his eyes sliding to the TV.
Vance settled into another armchair. He nabbed a can of pop from the coffee table that he’d obviously been drinking and sat back, crossing a scuffed, cowboy-booted ankle on his knee.
“Jules doesn’t cook. You should know that. Kitchen plus food plus Jules equals disaster,” Nick told Vance.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vance responded, his eyes cutting to me and there wasn’t any anger there anymore, just amusement.
“Nick. Shut up,” I said and I was sure my eyes still had anger in them.
“She can be rude sometimes too,” Nick shared, his gaze never leaving the TV.
“I’ve already learned that,” Vance said.
I leaned forward and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box sitting on the coffee table. I took a big bite, chomping on it and deciding to watch the football and ignore both of them.
“She makes a killer margarita though,” Nick went on, a font of Juliet Lawler information and happy to impart it on anyone.
“I don’t drink,” Vance said.
This was such a strange comment that both Nick and I looked at Vance.
“No?” Nick asked.
“Recovering alcoholic,” Vance said, now his eyes were on the TV.
I moved my eyes back to the TV too, shocked at this knowledge and not wanting to make a big deal of it.
I couldn’t imagine Vance as a drunk or out of control in any way. He seemed to be totally on top of every situation.
I took another big bite of pizza, chewed and pulled off a bit and fed it to Boo who was staring at my slice of pizza with desperate kitty eyes.
“How long you been dry?” Nick asked.
“Ten years. Dried out in prison,” Vance replied.
Nick and I looked at Vance again.
“Prison?” Nick asked.
“Two years. Grand theft auto.”
I swallowed hard and turned back to the television.
“Christ, man,” Nick said softly, “you must have been what, a teenager?”
“Sent down when I was twenty,” Vance replied.
I took another bite of pizza and gave another piece to Boo.
Boo was in heaven. I was freaking out.
“Close with your folks?” Nick asked.
“Nick…” I decided to cut in. He was getting a bit nosy.
He was the only father I ever knew and any father’s duty was to be hard on his daughter’s dates. Especially when they informed you they were recovering alcoholics and ex-cons. But this wasn’t high school and this was a bit much.
“Haven’t seen ‘em since I was ten,” Vance answered without hesitation.
My head swung around and I looked at Vance. He was leaned back in his chair, eyes on the TV, casual and laid back, seemingly unaffected by Nick’s third degree.
I looked hard at him, an expert at reading people, it was part of my job, but he gave no indication he was uncomfortable in any way.
“Why not?” Nick asked, giving up on football and turned fully to Vance.
“Father turned me out. Wasn’t a good place to be so I didn’t go back.”
I took another bite, forced my eyes to the television and fed Boo another tidbit. I tried to take my mind off a ten year old Vance turned out of his home but I couldn’t. I couldn’t imagine any ten year old being turned out of their home (even though I did what I did, it still surprised me, practically every day) and I didn’t even want to consider the idea that it happened to Vance. In fact, I hated the idea so much it caused me physical pain. My stomach began to hurt, like I was going to be sick, but I forced myself to eat the pizza like nothing was wrong.
“Well, there you go.” Even Nick couldn’t go on after that piece of information was shared.
“Can we watch football?” I asked the television.
“Yes ma’am,” Nick answered.
The room went silent. I finished my pizza and found my mouth was dry, probably for more reasons than just eating a slice of pepperoni pizza. I picked up Boo, got up and dumped him on Nick’s stomach.
“I need a beer. Nick?” I asked.
“No, Jules. I’m fine.”
My gaze moved to Vance. He was looking up at me and I could read nothing in his eyes.
“Another pop?” I asked.
He shook his head but kept watching me. I looked at the floor and started from the room.
I had to pass Vance’s chair to get to the kitchen. As I did, I slowed and as if it had a mind of its own, my hand came out and I ran the backs of my fingers along Vance’s jaw.
Do not ask me why I did this. I couldn’t tell you. When I was done, I didn’t look at him, I didn’t stop, I just kept on walking to the kitchen and I didn’t look back.
And when I got into the kitchen I filed my touch in my memory filing cabinet and locked the door.
* * * * *
After Monday Night Football was over, we said goodnight to Nick. Vance, Boo and I walked through the back room and over to my side. I opened the backdoor, Boo shot in, I turned and stood in the door showing Vance he was not invited inside. There was a step up from the back room to my kitchen so I was looking down at Vance and he was looking up at me.
“Well, nice date, I had a good time. Thanks,” I said, even though I’d screwed up the date totally, so much it really wasn’t even a date. However, my intention was to make my message clear. No entry.
Vance looked at me a beat. Then his shit-eating grin spread on his face, he put a hand to my belly, pushing me back as he stepped up and walked in, clearing the door. He shut the door behind him, took his hand from my stomach and turned to my alarm panel. Then he hit a four digit code and I heard the sequence of buzzes that meant my door and window sensors were armed.
I had the fleeting feeling of anger that he shoved inside but this was swept away by surprised admiration when I watched him set my alarm.
“How do you know my code?” I asked when he turned back to me.
He just kept grinning at me and then he started walking toward me.
My admiration cleared.
Um… not good.
I started backing up.
“Erm… Crowe, the date’s over,” I told him.