They didn’t seem at al flipped out that they’d been the victims of violence last night. They were just hanging out, doing girl talk over coffee.

Honest to God, it was bizarre.

Indy, redheaded, blue-eyed and built; Al y, dark-haired, brown-eyed and slim; Jet, honey blonde, green-eyed and pretty; Roxie, also blonde but darker, blue-eyed and seriously stylish; Ava, another blonde, total y knockout, bombshel gorgeous with light brown eyes and I’d already described Jules’s movie star glamour. These weren’t exactly your average women.

But I suspected their attraction for the Hot Bunch had nothing (or, if not nothing, than not everything) to do with the fact that their looks ranged from classical y beautiful (Jules), to sultry (Indy), to girl-next-door hot (Jet), to sassy-girl-next-door luscious (Al y), to sophisticated elegance (Roxie), to downright sexy (Ava), to in-your-face stunning (Daisy). I suspected it had more to do with the fact that this crazy, scary life didn’t faze them, not even a little bit.

And if it did, they didn’t let it show.

They kept bickering and I looked out the widow, letting them fight amongst themselves and letting my thoughts move elsewhere. My wound was beginning to ache and my mind was fil ing with thoughts of Linnie, thoughts such as wondering if her parents had been told yet or if we’d need to do a fundraising gig to pay for her funeral.

Then I decided not to think about Linnie because it might make me cry and thus ruin girl talk and instead I decided to think about the current state of affairs.

It was early afternoon after a wild night, late to bed sleep in. We’d just finished the Big Ole Stick to Your Ribs Southern Breakfast of eggs, homemade biscuits, sausage gravy, sausage patties and grits.

For your information, I’d never seen so much white food on one plate in my life and never wanted to again.

Now, waiting for our “orders” from Lee (whenever they were going to come), we were finishing up yet another pot of coffee.

Earlier, after letting Juno out, brushing my teeth and washing my face, Mace found me and handed me my phone.

“Eric,” was al he said.

“Later,” was al I said.

“Now,” he finished.

I figured he might leave me alone if I did as I was told, so I cal ed Eric and told him I’d be unavailable for awhile. Eric asked why. I told him I wasn’t at liberty to say. Eric asked if I was okay. I told him that I was fine. Eric told me I didn’t sound fine. I told him not to worry, I was. Eric told me he couldn’t help it, he was worried. I told him please not to worry, I’d be okay and I’d cal him in a few days. Eric said he didn’t like it, could he see me now? I opened my mouth to speak and Mace yanked the phone out of my hand.

Then he said into it, “She’s done talkin’. She said she’d cal you. End of conversation.”

Then he flipped my phone shut.

I stared at my phone in his hand because I was relatively certain if I looked in his eyes, I’d scream in his face.

He tucked it in his back pocket and without a word he turned and walked away.

I stared daggers into his back and when daggers didn’t actual y form from the lethal energy emanating from my eyes, I gave up and Juno and I went into breakfast.

The boys were gone. We had an in-house bodyguard standing in the kitchen, wearing a suit, a gun in a holster at one side of his belt and a walkie-talkie at the other side.

Roxie, an animal lover, claimed Juno’s attention by lavishing my big dog with pets, kisses and surreptitious scraps of leftover sausage patties.

I ate and then got put on the hot seat.

“Hel o? Stel a? You in the room?” Ava asked.

“Sorry, my mind wandered,” I said.

“I’l bet.” Stevie smiled kindly at me. “After last night there are lots of places for it to wander.”

I smiled back at him for his quiet understanding.

“Are you gonna spil or what?” Al y was getting impatient, interrupting Stevie and my moment and not having the time for quiet understanding.

“Al y –” Jules started softly.

“I’l spil ,” I suddenly announced.

Everyone’s eyes turned to me and, deciding to get it over with quickly and get them off my back, I started talking.

“It isn’t that interesting. Mace and I met, he asked me out, I went and we connected. It went fast, got intense quickly. It was good. No, it was great. Then he broke up with me. The end.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to everyone else.

Then Al y said, “Give me a break.”

“No, real y. That’s it, in a nutshel ,” I told her and it was.

“Why did he break up with you if it was great?” Roxie asked.

“I used him up,” I explained.

“What?” Jet asked.

“I used him up. I needed him too much. Took too much and didn’t give enough.”

“These boys have got a lot to give,” Daisy replied, sounding confused.

“Yes, I know and he did give a lot and I took al he gave.

The band always cal ing and me…” I stopped, looked back out the window and started again, “He had a job, he was always working something for Lee then he’d come to me, someone would cal and he’d be out again, doing something for Pong or Buzz or Linnie or whoever. I’d stay home while Mace took care of my business. I was so tired of it.”

My gaze swung back to the gang and I continued.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my band but sometimes, wel , let’s just say I needed a break. Mace gave it to me.

We were together for five months. He always took the cal s, dealt with the crises. I slept. I never said, ‘You sleep, I’l deal with it.’”

”Or, better yet, tel your band to sort it out their damn self,” Daisy cut in.

“They can’t,” I told Daisy.

“They won’t if someone keeps doing it for them,” Indy told me, making it sound simple.

I closed my mouth and looked out the window again. She didn’t get it. I was the leader of a moderately successful local band. The leader of the band did what they could to keep the band together. It was an Unwritten Rock Band Law. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But if a band was good, especial y as good as The Gypsies, you did al you could to make it work before you ever considered cal ing it quits.

“Seems to me that was something you could talk about, work on,” Ava suggested.