Rock Chick Regret
Page 105
Right?
Then I saw his face grow tight and thoughts of my Mom’s approval of Hector disintegrated.
Oh no.
What now?
“No joke?” Hector said into the phone, his eyes moving to me and I did not like what I saw. Not at all.
“Right,” he went on. “We’re comin’ down.”
Without saying good-bye, he flipped the phone shut, tossed it on the nightstand and then stared at it, face still tight, body now tense.
“Hector?” I called.
His chin dipped and he looked at me.
“Maybe we’ll go to an island today,” he murmured.
Damn and blast!
“What?” I asked.
His face went soft and he muttered, “Shit, Sadie.”
“What?” I snapped.
He rolled us and once he got to his back, he did an ab curl, his hands tugging at the backs of my knees so we were sitting with me straddling him. His head tilted back, mine down, my hands on his shoulders, his arms loose around me.
“Your gallery has been torched,” he told me.
Convulsively, my hands moved to his neck and my fingers squeezed.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“Fire started at five this morning. It’s out now, they don’t know how much damage yet but it didn’t spread.” He paused then asked, “You insured?”
I was speechless so I nodded. For some reason, all I could think of was my lovely gift wrap and organdie ribbon, now probably reduced to ash.
And Lisette’s paintings!
I closed my eyes tight and, not even thinking about it, I dropped my head until my forehead was resting on Hector’s.
“Lisette’s paintings,” I whispered, his arms tightened and I opened my eyes.
“You wanna go down there?”
“No,” I told him. “But I’m going to go.”
His hands went to my waist, he lifted me off him and to the side. He came over me, off the bed, hands back to my waist, he pulled me out of bed and set me on my feet.
Without a word, he tagged my hand and led the way to the shower.
* * * * *
After Hector and I had our (yes, our!) shower, I called Buddy and Ralphie to give them the news.
Buddy answered and I felt weird. After last night, I thought they’d be mad at me but Buddy’s voice was its usual soft and sweet.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Yes. Did Ralphie –?”
“He told me. He’s upset, thinks he hurt your feelings,” Buddy interrupted.
“He didn’t hurt my feelings. I was worried I hurt his.”
“No, he gets what you were trying to do. He overreacted, as usual.”
“It wasn’t his fault.”
Buddy changed the subject. “Are you really movin’ to Greece?”
“Not anymore,” I answered.
Silence for a second then, teasing, “Damn, there went my vacation plans.”
I smiled into the phone, relief rolling over me for a brief shining moment then my smile faded and I said, “I’ve got bad news.”
More silence then I told him about the gallery.
Then he shouted, “What?”
I winced.
I heard him cover the mouthpiece and even though it was covered, I heard Ralphie’s shrill scream.
Buddy came back to me. “Ralphie, YoYo and me’ll meet you there.”
“See you soon,” I said and we disconnected.
I dressed in my Lucky jeans, a slimfit, long-sleeved, white t-shirt, the black belt with the rose buckle and motorcycle boots that Daisy, Roxie, Tod and Stevie gave me. I left my hair long to dry in crazy, natural waves and ringlets and did a half-assed pass with blusher, shadow and mascara (though, I spent more time on my lip gloss, you had to be careful with lip gloss, even when you were about to view your burned out building, if you didn’t you’d look like a clown).
Hector and I climbed into the Bronco and headed into town.
We hit LoDo and I saw Hector avoid the Nightingale garage which would be the perfect parking opportunity.
“You can park in the garage,” I told him as he navigated early morning downtown traffic.
His eyes came to me briefly then went back to the road.
“I’m thinkin’ you’ve scaled enough mountains for now, mamita,” he muttered and his casual kindness made that happy glow grow a smidgen wider.
He drove until he found a spot on the street three blocks from the gallery and he parallel parked.
Then Hector and I walked hand-in-hand toward the gallery.
As we approached, I saw the crowd forming a U in front of what was left of Art. Traffic had been diverted, there were barricades up in a wide arc in front of the gallery, the fire trucks and police cars were still there and people were standing around the barricades in the street.
Without apology, Hector shoved his way through the crowd to the barricades and walked right through.
A uniformed officer looked at him and gave him a chin lift. Hector and I walked into the opened area where firemen and police were milling about.
I stared at my building. The brick on the outside was blackened, the windows had shattered, the inside was blackened too and water was everywhere.
Hector walked us to Detective Marker who was standing watching us approach. We got close and stopped.
“Jimmy,” Hector said, dropping my hand but his arm slid around my shoulders and he pulled me into his side.
“Hector,” Detective Marker greeted then his eyes came to me. “Sadie.”
“Detective Marker,” I replied and looked back at my gallery.
My heart sunk at the same time my body sagged despondently into Hector’s side. In response, his arm curled around my neck and tightened.
“Donny Balducci’s a firebug,” Detective Marker remarked, his gaze never leaving the building.
“Yeah,” Hector agreed, his eyes also locked on what was left of Art.
My head tilted back to look at Hector.
His face was stony.
My gaze drifted to Detective Marker.
He looked a weird mixture of angry and resigned. In other words, he had what could only be called a Cop Look.
Then Hector started talking again.
“Jack’s sending the tapes by courier to the Station. We got them on the cameras, Jack saw ‘em break in and called it in. Said he saw Donny with the gasoline either Marty or Ricky with him, he didn’t get a good look at the second guy but he knew it was a Balducci. They made fast work of it. The place was ablaze and they were gone before anyone got here.”
“I hope its Ricky,” Detective Marker replied, fishing his phone out of his suit jacket.
Then I saw his face grow tight and thoughts of my Mom’s approval of Hector disintegrated.
Oh no.
What now?
“No joke?” Hector said into the phone, his eyes moving to me and I did not like what I saw. Not at all.
“Right,” he went on. “We’re comin’ down.”
Without saying good-bye, he flipped the phone shut, tossed it on the nightstand and then stared at it, face still tight, body now tense.
“Hector?” I called.
His chin dipped and he looked at me.
“Maybe we’ll go to an island today,” he murmured.
Damn and blast!
“What?” I asked.
His face went soft and he muttered, “Shit, Sadie.”
“What?” I snapped.
He rolled us and once he got to his back, he did an ab curl, his hands tugging at the backs of my knees so we were sitting with me straddling him. His head tilted back, mine down, my hands on his shoulders, his arms loose around me.
“Your gallery has been torched,” he told me.
Convulsively, my hands moved to his neck and my fingers squeezed.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“Fire started at five this morning. It’s out now, they don’t know how much damage yet but it didn’t spread.” He paused then asked, “You insured?”
I was speechless so I nodded. For some reason, all I could think of was my lovely gift wrap and organdie ribbon, now probably reduced to ash.
And Lisette’s paintings!
I closed my eyes tight and, not even thinking about it, I dropped my head until my forehead was resting on Hector’s.
“Lisette’s paintings,” I whispered, his arms tightened and I opened my eyes.
“You wanna go down there?”
“No,” I told him. “But I’m going to go.”
His hands went to my waist, he lifted me off him and to the side. He came over me, off the bed, hands back to my waist, he pulled me out of bed and set me on my feet.
Without a word, he tagged my hand and led the way to the shower.
* * * * *
After Hector and I had our (yes, our!) shower, I called Buddy and Ralphie to give them the news.
Buddy answered and I felt weird. After last night, I thought they’d be mad at me but Buddy’s voice was its usual soft and sweet.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Yes. Did Ralphie –?”
“He told me. He’s upset, thinks he hurt your feelings,” Buddy interrupted.
“He didn’t hurt my feelings. I was worried I hurt his.”
“No, he gets what you were trying to do. He overreacted, as usual.”
“It wasn’t his fault.”
Buddy changed the subject. “Are you really movin’ to Greece?”
“Not anymore,” I answered.
Silence for a second then, teasing, “Damn, there went my vacation plans.”
I smiled into the phone, relief rolling over me for a brief shining moment then my smile faded and I said, “I’ve got bad news.”
More silence then I told him about the gallery.
Then he shouted, “What?”
I winced.
I heard him cover the mouthpiece and even though it was covered, I heard Ralphie’s shrill scream.
Buddy came back to me. “Ralphie, YoYo and me’ll meet you there.”
“See you soon,” I said and we disconnected.
I dressed in my Lucky jeans, a slimfit, long-sleeved, white t-shirt, the black belt with the rose buckle and motorcycle boots that Daisy, Roxie, Tod and Stevie gave me. I left my hair long to dry in crazy, natural waves and ringlets and did a half-assed pass with blusher, shadow and mascara (though, I spent more time on my lip gloss, you had to be careful with lip gloss, even when you were about to view your burned out building, if you didn’t you’d look like a clown).
Hector and I climbed into the Bronco and headed into town.
We hit LoDo and I saw Hector avoid the Nightingale garage which would be the perfect parking opportunity.
“You can park in the garage,” I told him as he navigated early morning downtown traffic.
His eyes came to me briefly then went back to the road.
“I’m thinkin’ you’ve scaled enough mountains for now, mamita,” he muttered and his casual kindness made that happy glow grow a smidgen wider.
He drove until he found a spot on the street three blocks from the gallery and he parallel parked.
Then Hector and I walked hand-in-hand toward the gallery.
As we approached, I saw the crowd forming a U in front of what was left of Art. Traffic had been diverted, there were barricades up in a wide arc in front of the gallery, the fire trucks and police cars were still there and people were standing around the barricades in the street.
Without apology, Hector shoved his way through the crowd to the barricades and walked right through.
A uniformed officer looked at him and gave him a chin lift. Hector and I walked into the opened area where firemen and police were milling about.
I stared at my building. The brick on the outside was blackened, the windows had shattered, the inside was blackened too and water was everywhere.
Hector walked us to Detective Marker who was standing watching us approach. We got close and stopped.
“Jimmy,” Hector said, dropping my hand but his arm slid around my shoulders and he pulled me into his side.
“Hector,” Detective Marker greeted then his eyes came to me. “Sadie.”
“Detective Marker,” I replied and looked back at my gallery.
My heart sunk at the same time my body sagged despondently into Hector’s side. In response, his arm curled around my neck and tightened.
“Donny Balducci’s a firebug,” Detective Marker remarked, his gaze never leaving the building.
“Yeah,” Hector agreed, his eyes also locked on what was left of Art.
My head tilted back to look at Hector.
His face was stony.
My gaze drifted to Detective Marker.
He looked a weird mixture of angry and resigned. In other words, he had what could only be called a Cop Look.
Then Hector started talking again.
“Jack’s sending the tapes by courier to the Station. We got them on the cameras, Jack saw ‘em break in and called it in. Said he saw Donny with the gasoline either Marty or Ricky with him, he didn’t get a good look at the second guy but he knew it was a Balducci. They made fast work of it. The place was ablaze and they were gone before anyone got here.”
“I hope its Ricky,” Detective Marker replied, fishing his phone out of his suit jacket.
