Rock Chick 07 Regret(160)

I turned away. “Take me to Ralphie and Buddy’s.”

His fingers curled around my bicep and he pulled me back to facing him.

“No fuckin’ way. You sleep in my bed.”

“Take me to Ralphie and Buddy’s!” I yelled.

“No,” he bit off.

I jerked my arm from his hand.

“Fine,” I snapped. “Let’s go home.”

He leaned to the side and hooked his helmet on the hand grip of his bike. Then both his hands came to my neck.

I tipped my head back and glared at him.

“I said, let’s go home,” I repeated.

“You don’t even hear what’s comin’ out of your own mouth.”

“Yes?” I asked, saccharin-sweet. “Enlighten me. What’s coming out of my own mouth?”

“You said, ‘take me back to Ralphie and Buddy’s’ then you called my place ‘home’.”

At this canny, scary and life-altering observation, I took in an audible, very shocked breath but he kept talking.

“How long’s it gonna take for this shit to sink in for you?”

I decided my best bet was to keep quiet and simply glare and this was exactly what I did.

Hector’s hands went away from my neck; he angled to the side again and grabbed his helmet.

“Helmet up,” he ordered, his voice sharp and still way beyond ticked off. “Don’t give a fuck if you’re hot, wet and panting or pissed as hell, you’re sleepin’ by me, in my bed, at home.”

Without a decent retort (or, at least one that would compare to his) and with no other choice, I “helmeted up”, got on his bike behind him and he shot out into the street so fast, the loose hold I had on his waist was lost and I had to lean close and wrap my arms around him.

Wasn’t this just great?





Chapter Twenty-Four



Next!



Sadie





I clomped on my boots into the house in front of Hector and stopped in the doorway of the darkened kitchen. He reached into me, flipped on the kitchen lights then I clomped to the counter and slammed my purse on it.

I dug out my cell phone, shoved it in my back pocket and, without even glancing at him, I clomped out of the kitchen and upstairs to the bedroom.

I dragged out my pajamas (hot pink with tiny peach polka dots on the bottoms, peach camisole) and clomped into the bathroom.

I slammed the door.

Then I locked it.

Then I pulled out my cell, threw down the lid to the toilet seat and sat down.

I scrolled down to Jet in my phonebook and hit the green button.

She said I could call her anytime, day or night.

And she was marrying a Chavez man.

For these two reasons, on the ride back to the house, my mind whirling from one option to the next, I finally decided to call Jet.

I heard one ring, two then three then Eddie’s voice saying, “Yeah?”

Great.

Just great.

Eddie answered Jet’s cell.

“Hi, Eddie!” I chirped. “How are you?”

“Sadie?”

“Yes.”

“You okay?”

“I think so. I haven’t been kidnapped and no more property I own has been burned to a cinder… that I know of… so, yes, I’m okay.”

I heard him chuckle.

“Can I talk to Jet?” I asked.

“Yeah. She’s right here.”

I crossed my legs, leaned forward with my elbow on my knee and jerked my foot impatiently.

Jet came on the line. “Sadie?”

“Hi, Jet.”

“Is everything all right?”

I didn’t really know how girlfriends did this kind of thing. Did they exchange pleasantries first and ease into it? Or did they just go for it?

I decided against easing into it.

“Heck no!” I replied.

Silence for a second then, “What’s up?”

“You said I could call, is it too late?”

“No, it’s fine. What’s going on?”

Still not easing into it, I told her.

Everything.

From Hector’s demand I put on a tank, to the Fred and Wilma argument, to Natalie’s revelations, to Hector going berserk and finishing on the conversation by the bike.

When I was done, there was a moment of silence then she asked, “That all happened in one night?”

“Yes. One night. Not even a night, a few hours,” I told her. “You’re marrying one of them. I figure you have to be an expert. Is Eddie like this?”

She laughed then said, “Um… yes.”

Why was she laughing?

What, I must ask, was funny about this?

“Oh… my… God! How do you stand it?” I exclaimed.

“There’s a lot here, Sadie. Maybe we should break it down,” she suggested.

“Please do,” I agreed graciously.

“First off, I wear what I want but I don’t go over that line that would send a hot-blooded Mexican-American man over the edge. It’s just not worth it. A little cleavage, he has to get over it. The skirt you wore to Stella’s gig, unacceptable.”