Rock Chick Renegade
Page 123
Vance, for your information, stayed silent through this exchange however he wore his shit-eating grin the entire time.
Luckily, Nick cooked a backup pork tenderloin (just in case) so all was saved.
Vance gave me my present later in bed when nothing but the moonlight was shining down on us. It was an ultra-wide, hammered, silver ring that went all the way up to my knuckle. It was gorgeous.
I put it on my right ring finger and Vance took it off and put it on my left but not before kissing my finger and looking at me with that “mine” expression on his face.
I could see it, even in the moonlight.
What was more, I could feel it.
Since then, I’ve never taken that ring off.
* * * * *
The week between Christmas and New Year’s was busy because I was going back to work after New Year’s and Vance and I had a lot to do, considering we were splitting houses.
He brought a bunch of his stuff to my house and I moved some of my stuff back but left a lot of it at the cabin.
We doubled up on kitty paraphernalia so Boo could go back and forth with us (Boo liked riding in the Sierra, by the way, crazy cat) without us carting around litter boxes and kitty bowls.
I bought Vance some bookshelves for his cabin. He bought me a stereo so I could listen to music there. He also put in decent locks so no one would steal the stereo which I thought was a smart move.
He gave me a key.
* * * * *
Lee was recruiting new Nightingale Investigations Men not to mention a new receptionist and he hit the jackpot that week before New Year’s.
Darius, finally disentangled from the drug trade, went to work for Lee. Word on the street, Vance told me, this was not a popular move. Though I don’t think anyone at Nightingale Investigations ever cared if something was popular.
Hector, who miraculously didn’t blow his cover, ended his long investigation by getting his man. After that, for reasons only known to Hector (and I knew this for certain because Indy tried na**d gratitude on Lee, like, seven times, and got nothing), he quit the DEA and went to work for Lee.
The kicker was Shirleen, also now drug-trade-free, was looking for a way to spend her days. She and Darius also owned a bar and ran a poker game. She shut down the game, hired a good manager for the bar and became Lee’s receptionist.
No one really knew why Lee hired a crazy, ex-drug-dealing woman with a huge Afro and no experience whatsoever to be his receptionist (and we talked about it a lot, mostly over brunch at Dozens), but then again he’d also hired Dawn so go figure.
* * * * *
The only downer about the New Year’s Party Indy and Lee threw at their duplex was when the fireworks started going off and I freaked out.
I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t control it, the noise… I just panicked.
Once he ascertained I wasn’t going to go off half-cocked and run screaming into the night, Vance left me with the girls (and Tod and Stevie) all crowded around me. Then he, Luke, Mace, Lee, Hank and Eddie (not to mention Tex and Duke) took off, each one wearing a scary-angry look on their face. In about ten minutes there was no more noise and they all came back with a shitload of confiscated fireworks.
So in some ways it was good being a badass’s girlfriend.
Though the kids who were enjoying their firework celebrations probably wouldn’t agree.
* * * * *
In March, we packed Sniff and Roam into the GMC. Nick waved us off, promising to break up Boo’s wet food and the four of us headed to Ignacio, Vance’s hometown.
A week before we left, Vance had called his Mom and told her we were coming to visit.
She obviously hadn’t been expecting a call from her long-lost son and she flipped out then burst into uncontrollable sobs. That’s when Vance handed the phone to me (and I gave him a dirty look, which he ignored). I calmed his Mom down and found out that we were more than welcome, we could come anytime.
Anytime.
She said this like, fifteen times.
About an hour out of Ignacio, I was fidgeting in my seat, more than even Sniff normally fidgeted, totally flipped out.
I looked at Vance who was sitting back, driving with only his left wrist on the steering wheel, eyes on the road, thoughts hidden, cool as a cucumber.
He sensed my agitation, his eyes slid to me and he said, “Still.”
“Still, my ass,” I murmured.
Vance chuckled. So did Roam.
We drove up to the house and Vance barely got his new, shiny, black truck stopped when the door flew open and a beautiful Native American woman, a hint of gray in her thick, black hair and cheekbones I’d sell my soul for, came flying out of the house.
She ran half the way to the truck then halted. Her body went solid and she stared at her grown son, seeing him for the first time in twenty years.
Vance dropped down from the truck (still, I might add, cool as a cucumber, acting as if he came to visit every weekend) and he waited for me to round the hood to get to him. He took my hand and we walked up to his Mom, Roam and Sniff hanging back.
She was a tiny, little thing and she watched us coming, her eyes leaving Vance only once to slide to our linked hands and then to gaze momentarily at me. When we got close she looked up at Vance like pretty much everyone did, like he was a god fallen to earth (sometimes, normally post-orgasm, I suspected that he was but I never told him that, though I did share my suspicions with Ally, Indy, Jet, Roxie and Daisy and they’d all laughed themselves stupid).
“My son,” she whispered as if she couldn’t quite believe it.
“Yeah, Ma,” Vance said.
At his words she burst into tears.
Unfortunately so did I. What could I say? Even a head crackin’ mamma jamma and a social worker who’d witnessed dozens of reunions was going to lose it in the face of that kind of reunion.
Vance held his Mom. Roam slid his arm around my shoulders and I stuffed my face in his neck.
Finally after a good long bawl, she looked at me. “My name is Roslyn,” she said, wiping her face and trying to get control.
“I’m Jules,” I told her, doing the same as she was.
Then for some ungodly reason, we burst out crying again, moving into each other’s arms.
The guys just left us to it and unpacked the truck though I heard Roam mutter, “Shit, silly bitches.”
“Don’t say bitches!” I shouted at his back just as the screen door slammed.
Roslyn laughed.
I watched her and it hit me that her son looked a lot like her.
* * * * *
We stayed with Roslyn for a couple of days. His Dad was mysteriously “on a fishing trip” which Vance took in stride but it pissed me right the hell off though with effort I kept my mouth shut.
Luckily, Nick cooked a backup pork tenderloin (just in case) so all was saved.
Vance gave me my present later in bed when nothing but the moonlight was shining down on us. It was an ultra-wide, hammered, silver ring that went all the way up to my knuckle. It was gorgeous.
I put it on my right ring finger and Vance took it off and put it on my left but not before kissing my finger and looking at me with that “mine” expression on his face.
I could see it, even in the moonlight.
What was more, I could feel it.
Since then, I’ve never taken that ring off.
* * * * *
The week between Christmas and New Year’s was busy because I was going back to work after New Year’s and Vance and I had a lot to do, considering we were splitting houses.
He brought a bunch of his stuff to my house and I moved some of my stuff back but left a lot of it at the cabin.
We doubled up on kitty paraphernalia so Boo could go back and forth with us (Boo liked riding in the Sierra, by the way, crazy cat) without us carting around litter boxes and kitty bowls.
I bought Vance some bookshelves for his cabin. He bought me a stereo so I could listen to music there. He also put in decent locks so no one would steal the stereo which I thought was a smart move.
He gave me a key.
* * * * *
Lee was recruiting new Nightingale Investigations Men not to mention a new receptionist and he hit the jackpot that week before New Year’s.
Darius, finally disentangled from the drug trade, went to work for Lee. Word on the street, Vance told me, this was not a popular move. Though I don’t think anyone at Nightingale Investigations ever cared if something was popular.
Hector, who miraculously didn’t blow his cover, ended his long investigation by getting his man. After that, for reasons only known to Hector (and I knew this for certain because Indy tried na**d gratitude on Lee, like, seven times, and got nothing), he quit the DEA and went to work for Lee.
The kicker was Shirleen, also now drug-trade-free, was looking for a way to spend her days. She and Darius also owned a bar and ran a poker game. She shut down the game, hired a good manager for the bar and became Lee’s receptionist.
No one really knew why Lee hired a crazy, ex-drug-dealing woman with a huge Afro and no experience whatsoever to be his receptionist (and we talked about it a lot, mostly over brunch at Dozens), but then again he’d also hired Dawn so go figure.
* * * * *
The only downer about the New Year’s Party Indy and Lee threw at their duplex was when the fireworks started going off and I freaked out.
I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t control it, the noise… I just panicked.
Once he ascertained I wasn’t going to go off half-cocked and run screaming into the night, Vance left me with the girls (and Tod and Stevie) all crowded around me. Then he, Luke, Mace, Lee, Hank and Eddie (not to mention Tex and Duke) took off, each one wearing a scary-angry look on their face. In about ten minutes there was no more noise and they all came back with a shitload of confiscated fireworks.
So in some ways it was good being a badass’s girlfriend.
Though the kids who were enjoying their firework celebrations probably wouldn’t agree.
* * * * *
In March, we packed Sniff and Roam into the GMC. Nick waved us off, promising to break up Boo’s wet food and the four of us headed to Ignacio, Vance’s hometown.
A week before we left, Vance had called his Mom and told her we were coming to visit.
She obviously hadn’t been expecting a call from her long-lost son and she flipped out then burst into uncontrollable sobs. That’s when Vance handed the phone to me (and I gave him a dirty look, which he ignored). I calmed his Mom down and found out that we were more than welcome, we could come anytime.
Anytime.
She said this like, fifteen times.
About an hour out of Ignacio, I was fidgeting in my seat, more than even Sniff normally fidgeted, totally flipped out.
I looked at Vance who was sitting back, driving with only his left wrist on the steering wheel, eyes on the road, thoughts hidden, cool as a cucumber.
He sensed my agitation, his eyes slid to me and he said, “Still.”
“Still, my ass,” I murmured.
Vance chuckled. So did Roam.
We drove up to the house and Vance barely got his new, shiny, black truck stopped when the door flew open and a beautiful Native American woman, a hint of gray in her thick, black hair and cheekbones I’d sell my soul for, came flying out of the house.
She ran half the way to the truck then halted. Her body went solid and she stared at her grown son, seeing him for the first time in twenty years.
Vance dropped down from the truck (still, I might add, cool as a cucumber, acting as if he came to visit every weekend) and he waited for me to round the hood to get to him. He took my hand and we walked up to his Mom, Roam and Sniff hanging back.
She was a tiny, little thing and she watched us coming, her eyes leaving Vance only once to slide to our linked hands and then to gaze momentarily at me. When we got close she looked up at Vance like pretty much everyone did, like he was a god fallen to earth (sometimes, normally post-orgasm, I suspected that he was but I never told him that, though I did share my suspicions with Ally, Indy, Jet, Roxie and Daisy and they’d all laughed themselves stupid).
“My son,” she whispered as if she couldn’t quite believe it.
“Yeah, Ma,” Vance said.
At his words she burst into tears.
Unfortunately so did I. What could I say? Even a head crackin’ mamma jamma and a social worker who’d witnessed dozens of reunions was going to lose it in the face of that kind of reunion.
Vance held his Mom. Roam slid his arm around my shoulders and I stuffed my face in his neck.
Finally after a good long bawl, she looked at me. “My name is Roslyn,” she said, wiping her face and trying to get control.
“I’m Jules,” I told her, doing the same as she was.
Then for some ungodly reason, we burst out crying again, moving into each other’s arms.
The guys just left us to it and unpacked the truck though I heard Roam mutter, “Shit, silly bitches.”
“Don’t say bitches!” I shouted at his back just as the screen door slammed.
Roslyn laughed.
I watched her and it hit me that her son looked a lot like her.
* * * * *
We stayed with Roslyn for a couple of days. His Dad was mysteriously “on a fishing trip” which Vance took in stride but it pissed me right the hell off though with effort I kept my mouth shut.
