Though, I wasn’t certain sure about hanging out at a strip club.

* * * * *

At Indy’s request, I phoned Jack at the offices to ask him to put a callout for rides to the club as we’d already been drinking heavily and apparently the Hot Bunch didn’t only act as protectors and bad business cleaner-uppers, they were also on call to be designated drivers when the Rock Chicks were tying one on.

This, by the way, was my fourth call to Jack that day.

This was how the last call went:

Me: “Jack?”

Jack (loud and angry): “Would you quit f**kin’ callin’? I was just clipped. It took six measly stitches to close it up. For the last time, I’m f**kin’ fine!”

Me (snappy and impatient): “Well! Don’t blame me for worrying! No one has ever been shot keeping me safe before!”

Jack (after an angry sigh): “I’m beginnin’ to wish I hadn’t put on the vest.”

Me (full of attitude): “Jack, you’re just going to have to deal. It’s like they do when someone saves someone’s life and for the rest of that someone’s life, the other someone looks out for them.”

Jack (now angry and confused): “What?”

Me (just confused): “I don’t know. I think it’s Asian. Maybe the samurai?”

Jack (muttering): “Jesus. Chavez owes me big for this.”

Me (deciding to move on): “Anyway, we need designated drivers. We’re going to Smithie’s.”

Jack: “I’m on it.”

Disconnect (without a good-bye).

Well!

* * * * *

Hector, Matt and Bobby showed up, everyone squeezed into SUVs (tightly) and we rolled out to the strip club. Hector took Ralphie, Buddy, Daisy, Ally and I in his Bronco. The men escorted us in, right past the long line outside that was standing at the velvet rope (without the doorman even looking twice at us) and through the doors. We’d barely cleared the doors when a big, on the good side of middle aged black man approached and, just like Tex, he cleared a path through the club and shoved some men away from tables at the front, left side of the stage. We followed in his wake.

“VIPs, f**kin’ move,” he shouted at the men at the tables and they scurried immediately.

Wow, the Rock Chicks were something!

Jumping the velvet rope and front row seats at a strip club!

How bizarre (and cool) was that?

Then he turned to me and opened his mouth but before he said a word, Jet was there.

“No, Smithie, she doesn’t dance.”

Smithie turned wide eyes to Jet. “What? You think I’m crazy? Askin’ Seth Townsend’s daughter to strip for me? He’d have my balls for dinner, battered and fried.”

Oh my.

Me?

Stripping?

Oh.

My.

Jet looked like she was going to mouth off so I intervened.

“I’m Sadie,” I told him unnecessarily and put my hand out.

My small hand was engulfed in his big one and he squeezed.

“I’m Smithie and I know who you are. Heard about you. Thought all the talk was bullshit but you actually do look like a f**kin’ fairy princess.”

I smiled at him and leaned in. “That’s nice but I know it’s not really true.”

He’d leaned in to listen but leaned back, brows drawn and said, “Bitch, look in a mirror. You’re right out of a f**kin’ movie.”

I was a little shocked he called me a bitch but by the way he spoke I didn’t think he meant anything bad by it.

Then he leaned back in and proved me right when he went on, “It’s too f**kin’ bad they don’t fry men for what Ricky Balducci did to you. He got the chair, I’d be happy to flip the f**kin’ switch.”

My eyes got big at what he said but not the part about him obviously knowing I’d been raped. I’d realized by that time the Rock Chicks didn’t keep secrets, not even personal ones. He pulled away again, dropped my hand and looked at Hector.

“You stayin’?” he asked Hector.

“Nope. Lenny on tonight?” Hector replied.

Smithie nodded, said (bizarrely), “He’s on her,” then he left.

Hector curled me into his heat with an arm around my neck and I looked up at him.

“Boys’re busy but you’ll have rides home,” he told me. “Lenny is one of Smithie’s bouncers. He’s good. Lee tried to recruit him but he couldn’t work for Lee and study for his Master’s at DU at the same time. Even though he’s good, he’s untrained so don’t make it tough on him, keep him in sight at all times and don’t let the girls talk you into anything stupid.”

I nodded. Hector kept talking.

“I get done before you leave, I’ll come get you, we’ll sleep at my place. You get done before I get here, you go home with Ralphie and Buddy and I’ll be there later.”

I tilted my head to the side and asked, “Do you want me to wait up for you?”

He shook his head and answered with a demand, “Give me your keys.”

I gave him my brownstone keys and the alarm code. He kissed me quick and hard and he was gone, leaving me swaying.

Then we sat. Lenny, a huge, tall, muscular, midnight-skinned black man materialized and positioned himself behind my chair. Shirleen talked me into trying appletinis (they were fab). We gossiped, giggled and sometimes watched the strippers.

I sat there thinking it was definitely my second best day ever.

Not just my friends and the Balducci Blowout party but also because, that afternoon, Vance took me to my father’s storage locker. Hector was busy but at his arrangement (which, personally, I thought was ultra-sweet and super thoughtful and worth some sort of payback but I’d have to think of something other than a building or an island, maybe something that involved lingerie), Daisy and Kitty Sue met us there.

Vance opened the locker and, with a hand on the small of my back, pushed me in walking in behind me. He turned on the light but it hit me before the unit was illuminated.

The smell.

My mother’s perfume, White Shoulders.

I hadn’t smelled that smell in years.

I took a step back and my shoulder ran into Vance’s hard body.

I stopped, frozen for a moment then twisted my head to look up at Vance.

“Her perfume,” I whispered, tears stinging the backs of my eyes.

His hand slid up my back to my neck and his fingers curled there, giving me a squeeze.