Rock Chick Revolution

  “What the hell?” I screeched.

  “Ally, Jesus, what’s the matter?” Ren asked, exiting a hall to my side.

  For once, his powerful frame in trousers and a dress shirt did nothing for me.

  “Dawn works for you,” I snapped, and it came out an accusation, as it should.

  He didn’t glance at Dawn as he headed to me, but his face said a lot and all of what it said made me feel better.

  Slightly.

  In other words, he didn’t like her.

  He got close to me, took the carrier of coffee then took my hand and spared Dawn a glance to order, “Hold my calls.”

  “Of course, Ren,” she said, sweet as sugar on an eyes-hooded smile that said—right in front of me—she’d hold anything he asked.

  Bitch.

  Ren led me down the hall and into an office, which I again did not take in, mostly because I was fuming. He then led me to a big desk. He put down the coffee, grabbed the donut bag from my hand, tossed it with the coffee then pulled me loosely into his arms.

  When he had me there, he said quietly, “Dom hired her.”

  That explained a lot.

  “Before he reunited with Sissy,” Ren went on.

  Well, that was a relief.

  Ren kept talking.

  “I’ll admit, her attitude often leaves a lot to be desired. Lucky and Santo hate her. And she does not hide she’s attracted to Dom or me.”

  Great. Just great.

  Ren wasn’t done, unfortunately.

  “She has also given us no reason to discipline or terminate her. I know she worked for Lee. but I saw her resume and personally checked her references. Although Lee said he had issues with her which led to her termination, he didn’t share those with me but did share they had nothing to do with her performance. Her other references were stellar. The other applicants didn’t come close. We were in a jam and needed somebody. So I agreed to take her on.”

  His arm tightened and he dipped his face close.

  “I see you aren’t fond of her, though I had no idea until now you weren’t, but she’s very good at her job, honey.”

  “She’s a bitch,” I declared.

  “That may be so—”

  “No, Ren. She’s a bitch,” I cut him off to say. “The reason Lee terminated her was because she was on the phone in his office with one of her friends, who’s also likely a bitch, and she was talking trash about Jules when Jules was in the hospital.”

  His jaw got hard.

  I kept at it.

  “Lee was not down with that so he got shot of her ass. And, heads up, you might wanna check your phone logs because they have cameras everywhere at Nightingale Investigations, and she was caught catting with her friends repeatedly.”

  “Noted,” Ren murmured.

  “And last, remember when I told you I wouldn’t hesitate to get into a bitch smackdown with a sister who was a bitch?” I asked.

  He bit his lip and I knew it was to stop both from quirking, but I ignored that and he stopped biting his lip to answer, “Yes.”

  “Well, just saying, she even looks at me funny, in your reception area you’re gonna have a knockdown, drag out, hair pulling, nails scratching bitch smackdown catfight that might be so extreme, it’ll make the papers.”

  “That’s noted, too,” Ren replied immediately, but now his lips were actually quirking.

  “I’m not being funny,” I informed him. “She already gave me a nasty look and nasty words and told me since you were taken, her only hope was Dom, who everyone knew had a wandering eye.”

  All amusement fled his face and his eyes narrowed.

  Finally.

  “She said that?” he asked.

  “Absolutely,” I answered.

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  “You got that right,” I told him.

  “What nasty words did she give you?” he asked, and I felt his vibe beginning to weigh down the air, but I didn’t care. If that meant Dawn would be out of his office, life and my life—forever—I’d bear the beast.

  “She said she heard I had a thing with you and she prayed it wasn’t true, but God doesn’t listen to her.”

  His jaw got hard again, this time the muscle jumping there. He looked toward the wall that separated his office from reception, murmuring, “I’ll check the phone logs.”

  “You might want to check company email, too,” I advised.

  He looked back at me and nodded.

  “Now that I’ve had a run-in with Dawn, I need coffee and donuts about seventeen thousand times more than I normally need coffee and donuts,” I shared.

  The mood in the room shifted. His lips quirked again then he moved in to brush them to mine and let me go.

  Ren saw to the coffees while I disbursed the donuts and after I’d snarfed down half of my Bavarian cream, he asked, “When’s your meeting with your brothers tonight?”

  “Five thirty,” I answered through cream and dough.

  He grinned as he watched me speak.

  I took a swig of coffee and another bite.

  Then he stated, “I’ll make a reservation for eight. Will that give you enough time to do that and get ready?”

  Something hit me and I panicked.

  He noticed it immediately. Then again, I’d stopped snarfing down my donut and froze, staring at him.

  “Ally?” he called.

  “Uh…” I mumbled.

  Shit!

  “What?” he asked.

  “Well, um…” I started but trailed off.

  His brows knit. “Is something the matter?” he asked.

  Fuck. I had to tell him.

  Whatever. We were living together. He’d find out eventually.

  “It’s Monday,” I declared.

  “Yeah,” he prompted.

  “Monday night is Castle night,” I told him, and his head jerked.

  “It’s what night?”

  “Castle night.”

  “What the fuck is that?” he asked.

  “It’s a TV show,” I answered, and he blinked. I hurried on. “If we do a late dinner, we might not be home in time to watch it.”

  He stared at me.

  “Though, we can DVR it before we go, which would work,” I allowed grudgingly. “But I usually try to watch it as it airs.”

  He kept staring at me.

  Then he queried slowly, “We’ve had our first date delayed for over a year—so long we’re actually living together and committed to each other before we actually have it— and you want to delay another night for a TV show?”

  “It’s Castle,” I explained simply, because no way was I going to explain why I really didn’t want to miss it.

  “Is it that good?” he asked.

  It was. But mostly it had Nathan Fillion. That was, it had tall, funny, talented, good-looking (did I mention funny? And tall?) Nathan Fillion.

  My celebrity crush.

  Do you feel me? No way I was going to share that.

  I just said, “Yes.”

  “Can you wait to watch it until tomorrow?” he asked.

  I might be working a pole tomorrow.

  I totally didn’t share that.

  “Sure,” I said and took another bite of donut.

  Ren studied me.

  I swallowed, washed donut back with coffee and threw him a smile to throw him off track.

  This failed.

  “Are there any other TV shows you feel this way about?”

  “Um…” I started, because there were.

  Luckily most of them were cancelled, but unfortunately my collection of series DVDs had been incinerated in an apartment bomb.

  I decided to answer, “The most important one is Castle.”

  This was true. Mostly because that was the only one still airing that had Nathan Fillion in it.

  I made a mental note to hit a computer and order Firefly from Amazon and ate my last bite of donut.

  “Maybe I should ask you twenty questions,” he suggested on a mut
ter, balling up the donut bag and tossing it in a bin behind his desk.

  “Shoot,” I invited.

  He looked at me. “Tonight. Sexy dress. Heels. Champagne. And twenty questions.”

  “You got it, babe,” I murmured then licked Bavarian cream residue from my fingers.

  I finished this then found myself plastered against Ren where he went about tasting Bavarian cream on my tongue.

  He tasted of cinnamon twist.

  It was an awesome combination.

  He lifted his head and whispered, “Let’s go see your new office.”

  “Righteous,” I whispered back.

  He gave me a squeeze then let me go, but grabbed my hand. We carried our coffees out of his office, down the hall and into reception.

  However, he stopped us there, somewhat close to Dawn’s desk.

  With a bright smile pinned on her lips, she looked up at him. “Anything you need, Ren?”

  “We’re goin’ across the hall to check out Ally’s space.”

  “Right,” she chirped.

  “And one more thing,” he started, and she tipped her head to the side, eyes avoiding mine but glued to Ren, all ears.

  Bitch.

  “I’m livin’ with Ally, so obviously I will not take kindly to you bein’ rude to the woman who shares my home,” Ren stated. Her face froze and my body jerked in surprise. His hand tightened in mine and he kept going. “But just to say, no matter who walks through those doors, rudeness will not be tolerated. You can take that as a verbal warning. Next time, it’ll be written. Do you understand me?”

  Her face was getting red, from embarrassment or anger, I had no clue.

  I also didn’t care.

  Inside my head, I was doing cartwheels while outside I was struggling with gloating.

  Her voice sounded strangled when she replied, “Of course, Ren.” Her eyes came to me and she tried to cover by stating, “I’m sorry if something I said was misconstrued as rude, Ally.”

  Misconstrued.

  Hardly.

  “Apology accepted, Dawn,” I replied magnanimously.

  Ren was done and I knew this when he tugged me to the door.

  But I was me. Ally. So I went with him.

  But I also turned back and gave Dawn a huge smile. I lifted my coffee to my lips then out, making a smoochy face in a modified blowing of a kiss.

  Dawn glared.

  I grinned.

  Ren pulled me through the door.

  It closed behind us and he walked me to the door across the hall while muttering, “Was that necessary?”

  “Totally,” I answered.

  His eyes on the door, his lips quirked again then they stopped doing that and he whispered, “What the fuck?”

  He pushed down the handle as I heard why he was asking that question.

  There were voices coming from inside.

  He opened the door, pulled us through and we both stopped and took in the activity.

  Daisy was on hands and knees on the floor, arranging big carpet sample squares.

  Shirleen was at a wall, taping up paint chips; or more accurately, taping up more paint chips to the dozens already taped there.

  And then there were Buddy and Ralphie who’d joined our tribe during Sadie’s Rock Chick Ride. They were a gay couple who clicked right in like they’d been there years. Ralphie was male-model gorgeous (but better groomed). Buddy was bald, African American and a nurse at Swedish Medical Center. They had a tape measure and they were measuring the floor.

  “How’d you get in?” Ren asked instead of saying hello, and all eyes came to us.

  “Did a stint in juvvie ‘cause of the skills I got to get us in,” Daisy answered.

  I decided that I needed to discuss this with Daisy so she could teach me those skills, then she motioned to me.

  “Good you’re here, sugar. I’m thinkin’ oatmeal. But I really like this gray. It says class to me. We want warm, but we want classy. We also want professional. It’s a difficult balance and the walls and carpet are the foundation so we gotta get it right.”

  I looked down at her adjusting her carpet samples then I looked through the space and that feeling swept through me again. The good one. The excited one.

  The happy one.

  Two offices along the back, both with room-length windows to the outside, and both had windowed walls facing reception. The conference room down one side, also with a glass wall facing reception. An opened door sharing a wall with the outside hall and one with the conference room that I could see was a small kitchenette, which could take a little fridge and a coffee pot. It also had a small sink.

  Perfect.

  Utterly.

  “Ally?” Daisy called.

  “No oatmeal,” Shirleen said before I could answer Daisy. “Beige,” she stated, ripping off a paint chip with six shades of beige on it. “That’s the only thing that goes with oatmeal.” She tossed the paint chip over her shoulder and it fluttered to the floor. “Boring,” she went on and ripped another paint chip off, this one more shades of beige, sent it sailing and decreed. “No.” Again with the paint chips, one (beige again), two (greens), three (blues), four (grays), as she repeated, “No, no, no, no.”

  Daisy was waving her hands around her head fending off the raining paint chips, snapping, “Shirleen, quit throwin’ them chips. You’re gonna give me a paper cut.”

  “Sweet ‘ums!” Ralphie squealed, making an excited approach then reaching in and clasping his fingers around my wrist.

  He pulled my hand from Ren’s grasp and yanked me further in. As I gave a smile to Buddy, who was smiling back at me, Ralphie pushed me, adjusted me and stopped us facing the blank wall across from the inner offices.

  He lifted his arms in front of him, hands up and fingers splayed wide, floated them out and stated in a weighty voice, “The Majestic.”

  I turned my head to look at him. “The what?”

  “The Majestic,” he repeated. “You must come to the gallery and see this painting we have. It’s perfect for this space. Utterly.”

  “I’ve seen it, Ally,” Buddy called, and I looked over my shoulder at him. “It actually is.”

  Ralphie moved away from me and snapped at Buddy with his fingers. “Give me your phone, sweets. I’m calling Sadie right now. She needs to close up, get over here and see this space. She’ll totally agree.”

  Buddy zipped up the tape measure, reached to the back pocket of his jeans and asked, “Where’s your phone?”

  Ralphie assumed a look that could only be described as aghast, dragged a hand down his side and asked, “Put a phone in my pocket and destroy this line?”

  It had to be said, Ralphie, in fabulous skinny trousers and a tailored pink shirt, looked like he’d just stepped out of a GQ magazine. A phone would destroy that line.

  He’d made a good call.

  “I called Ralphie to get some interior design help,” Daisy said, and I looked to her to see she was gaining her feet.

  She had also been hiding her outfit in her earlier position, and as it fully hit me, it took a while for it to process through my system so I didn’t hear her next words.

  This was because she was wearing a jeans mini-skirt with a little poofy ruffle at the edge, a pink tank top that should get a medal for its act of heroism by stretching itself nearly to the limits in keeping her bosoms contained, a bolero vest that was edged in what looked like silver rope, and a hot pink, champion-boxer-wide, buckle-at-the back leather belt covered in rivets that formed the shapes of lassoes, wagon wheels and cowboy boots.

  And, not to forget, her feet were encased in pink cowboy boots with wagon wheels stamped in the toe and lassoes decorating the sides.

  A theme.

  “Comprende?” she asked, and I focused on her face.

  “What?”

  “Ralphie is gonna help us decorate and get this place stylin’,” Daisy said to me. “I have office furniture catalogues that’ll be comin’ in the mail in a few days. I figure your office, t
he big one.” She waved behind her. “I’ll be out here.” She waved to her feet. “We’ll set up a desk and computer in there for Brody and Darius to use when they’re around.” She waved to the small office. “And obviously that’s the conference room,” she finished, tipping her platinum locks toward the conference room.

  “Daisy,” I took a step toward her, “I think Dad’s got an old desk in the garage. I can get him to unearth that and get it here. We’ll get you a decent desk. Other than that—”

  I said no more because Daisy snapped, “What?”

  “Oh no, child,” Shirleen entered the conversation. “You got a choice spot here. You don’t move some old desk into it, slap a computer on the top and say ‘I’m in business.’ You gotta send the right message. And that message is you ain’t Rockford. You’re Allyson Nightingale, a fine piece of badass ass with class who can take care of biz-nezz.”

  “And the right message is also cherry wood,” Daisy proclaimed.

  “Oak,” Shirleen countered immediately.

  “Black,” Ralphie stated and looked at me. “It’ll set off The Majestic.”

  “Uh… guys, I don’t have any money for carpet, paint, office furniture or fancy paintings,” I shared.

  “Sadie will give you a discount,” Ralphie assured me on a big smile.

  “Okay, let me amend,” I began. “I have some clothes. Someday hopefully soon, I’ll have an insurance check that will need to be used to buy me more clothes and various and sundry other items, like jewelry, roller brushes and CDs. And whatever paltry sum I have after that I’ll need to use to live on until Daisy and I make a go of this.”

  Daisy chimed in, “Me and Marcus’ll—”

  “No, honey,” I cut her off gently. “You won’t.”

  Daisy’s face fell.

  “A minute,” Ren said, and then I found myself dragged into the hall with my hand in his.

  I knew what was coming, so the minute he stopped me in front of him, I started, “Baby—”

  “You got twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  Then I snapped it shut and closed my eyes.

  I opened them and leaned in, putting my hand with the coffee cup to his chest.

  “That’s very sweet, honey, but no way. I haven’t even talked to you about paying you back for the year’s rent. I can’t take—”

  “You aren’t taking.”