Rock Chick Rescue
Page 11

“Hey! What the hel you doin’? Do you not see the twenty people who want coffee out there?” Tex boomed to Eddie.
Eddie ignored him and dragged me into the bookshelves, back a half dozen rows to the Crime section (which was appropriate, I thought). He turned in then walked me al the way down the shelved row to the book-lined, side wal before he stopped.
We were well away from the coffee crush and well hidden; no one came looking for books during coffee time.
Eddie maneuvered me so my back was to the books then he moved in, his body in front of me, his left hand resting on a shelf by my head.
“What’s going on?” I asked, deciding to act innocent.
“You tel me,” Eddie said.
He saw through my act. How I knew this, I was not sure. It could have been either the narrowing of his eyes or the tightening of his jaw when he clenched his teeth after he was done speaking.
“I was helping Tex make coffee,” I told him.
He shook his head.
“Let’s talk about last night.”
My hopes were dashed.
Damn.
“Last night?” I asked.
“Last night.”
“What about last night?”
I had to admit, I was feeling a bit like I felt last night. At least my heart was beating as hard as it was last night.
“About you having a blade at your throat.” I gave up on innocent and tried nonchalant. “Oh, that.” Nonchalant wasn’t a good cal . If Eddie’s eyes were burning into me before, they were scorching now.
“Yes, that,” Eddie said.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I told him.
He stared at me for a beat as if antlers just sprouted from my forehead. Then he said a bunch of stuff in rapid-fire Spanish.
I knew a little Spanish, what with having four Mexican ex-boyfriends, and I think I caught some naughty words but I couldn’t be sure.
He reverted to English.
“You cal having a knife at your throat nothing?” I didn’t answer, thinking maybe silence was the way to go.
Wrong again.
He got closer and because he was already pretty close, this “closer” was predatory.
“You had a knife to your throat before?”
“Not that I can recal ,” I told him.
His black eyes got kind of a scary glitter.
“Would you forget something like that?” he asked.
“Probably not,” I al owed.
He came nearer and, at this point, his body was brushing mine.
“Why didn’t you cal the police?” he asked.
“It didn’t seem that big a deal,” I answered.
“Someone holds a knife to your throat, it’s a big deal.
You report it to the police.”
Normal y, I would agree with him.
“Dammit, Jet, for once, talk to me,” he said and it certainly wasn’t a request.
I stayed silent. Not being a bitch, mainly because I didn’t know what to say.
“Do you know Slick?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Vance says he was after your Dad.”
I nodded my head.
“Do you know what this is about?”
I shook my head again but then I said, “Slick told me Dad owed him something.”
I could tel by the look on Eddie’s face that this was not good news and my heart started beating even faster.
“I know Slick,” Eddie said, “and Slick is not a nice guy.”
“I got that impression when I met him,” I agreed.
At that answer, there was more teeth clenching.
“Where’s your Dad?” Eddie asked.
“He’s coming in this morning for donuts.” Eddie’s free hand came up and he dragged his fingers through his hair. He did this occasional y, pul ing his hand through his hair. At close range, it was fascinating. But then again, at deep range it was fascinating too; it was just that I’d never seen him do it close up.
Eddie started talking again, shaking me out of the moment. “I gotta tel ya, I’m not getting a happy feeling about this.”
“I’l take care of it,” I told him.
That made Eddie’s face change. I couldn’t read what it meant but I saw the change.
“How’re you gonna do that?” he asked.
I shrugged.
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
I shook my head.
“So how’re you gonna take care of it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’l figure something out.” His eyes flashed.
“Something that requires another trip to the bank machine?”
I winced because I felt the question in my gut. I felt it for two reasons. One: Eddie asked it and it hurt that his asking it, and this whole conversation, meant he knew my Dad was a bum. Two: because there was nothing left in the machine.
Whatever it was I did to fix this mess would probably require me taking a trip to the Stripper Boutique and buying a g-string and pasties, which truly was not a happy thought.
“Jet,” Eddie said and I stopped thinking my unhappy thoughts and looked at him.
His face wasn’t pissed off anymore. His eyes were different. That difference communicated itself to me in physical ways, reminding me of his proximity and also reminding me that he was hot.
“That wasn’t fair,” I told him.
He didn’t answer.
I carried on, “It’s none of your business. None of this is any of your business.”
“I’m making it my business.” He told me, “Fair warning, Jet, I’m making you my business.” I felt a flutter in several areas of my body simultaneously.
I felt a flutter in several areas of my body simultaneously.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that but I was sure it scared the heck out of me.
“Don’t worry about it, Eddie,” I said, wanting to make a move, get away from Eddie (far away from Eddie) and find my Dad and sort this out. “I’l take care of it.”
“What if you can’t?” he asked.
“I can.”
“What do you do if you can’t?” he repeated.
“I can.”
I mean, I did have years of sorting out al my family members’ problems. It wasn’t just Mom’s breakdown after Dad left. It wasn’t just her stroke. It wasn’t just giving Dad cash and a place to crash every time he rol ed into town. It wasn’t just letting Lottie cry on my shoulder, both close up and long distance, when some guy walked al over her heart. It was everything. In my life, “Who you gonna cal ?” was not answered with, “Ghostbusters”. It was answered with, “Jet”.