Page 24 of Rock Chick Rescue

It was still a coffee rush when we got to the front, but I saw Dad sitting on the back of one of the couches, eating a chocolate iced, custard filled donut and drinking a latte as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

The minute he saw me, he shouted, “Princess Jet!”

Eddie still had his finger in my belt loop, so I couldn’t rush to Dad and warn him to flee.

Instead I just called, “Hey, Dad.”

Dad looked to Eddie and saw Eddie’s hand behind my back.

“Chavez, looks like you don’t let grass grow.”

“Ray,” was Eddie’s reply.

Dad’s eyes moved to Indy and he smiled, then to Lee who’d come up with us.

“Fuckin’ A,” he breathed, the smile dying out of his face and he looked almost panicked. “You’re Lee Nightingale.”

“Yep,” Lee confirmed.

“Fuck,” Dad said.

I found this confusing. I looked from Dad to Lee and opened my mouth to speak when the bell over the front door rang and I heard someone call my name.

I turned and stared.

It was Oscar, my latest ex. We’d broken up about a month before Mom’s stroke. Before that, we’d been together for two years. The break up was by mutual consent (mutual in the sense that I talked Oscar into it) and we’d stayed friends. He helped move Mom and me into our new apartment. He was a good guy and sometimes I missed him.

Oscar was about two inches taller than me, had warm, brown eyes, fantastic, thick, dark hair and some acne scars, which lucky for him only served to make him look more interesting.

I turned to him as he walked to us. He looked upset.

This was not good. Oscar had a short fuse, which, upset, could quickly grow into something much harder to control.

“Oscar! What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Your mom called, said some asshole called you a racist.Mamitawhat isthatshit all about? I wanna have a word with him. Who is this fuckwad?”

What did I tell you?

My mother.

I wanted to run screaming out of the store, but my belt loop was pulled again and again my shoulder came into contact with Eddie’s chest. This time, it stayed there.

“I think I’m the fuckwad,” Eddie said.

Oscar’s eyes moved to Eddie and he saw the way we were standing. I think he misinterpreted it because his temper flared directly to the red zone.

“Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Oscar shouted, and everyone (and there were a lot of people) turned to look.

“Calm down,amigo, we’ve straightened things out,” Eddie replied.

“Oscar, it’s okay,” I put in.

Oscar wasn’t listening. “You don’t call my woman a racist and thenstraighten things out. And I thought I told you to get your hands off her.”

I forgot to mention, Oscar also had a possessiveness issue. It was one of the reasons we broke up. Not to mention his confronting Eddie was stupid. Anyone could see by looking at the two of them that Eddie could wipe the floor with him. Eddie was taller, leaner and had about a half an ounce of body fat, which was clear to see from the skintight white T-shirt he was wearing.

“Your woman?” Eddie asked, his body tensing. He looked down at me. “You seein’ this guy?”

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