Kristen Ashley - Rock Chick Revolution

It was after work at Fortnum’s where, fortunately, nothing else happened, except Roxie, Tod and Stevie showing with about five hundred bags from various stores at Park Meadows Mall (okay, maybe four hundred). It was also after Ren got home late from work, but he still made me chicken parmesan.

But the dishes were still on the dining room table. The pots in the sink.

This was because, once I’d taken my last bite, Ren said to me, “Thinkin’ about it all day, couldn’t get my mind off it, so now I want your mouth on me.”

I hadn’t been thinking about it all day, but I was thinking about it right then. And what I thought about it was that it was a fantastic idea.

Therefore I immediately got up, sashayed to and up the stairs and into his bedroom.

He followed me, hitting the room, eyes hot but lips quirking.

I’d then commenced in obliging.

You know the rest.

That brought us to now.

I lifted my head and looked down at him. I felt my insides warm at the contentment in his expression, and asked, “Do I have to turn Catholic?”

His face blanked, his hand at my ass stilled, and he did a slow blink.

Then he demanded, “Say that again.”

I didn’t say it again.

Instead, I explained, “You’re Catholic. I’m not. And you’re Italian. And seeing as the Pope lives in a sovereign city-state in your homeland, I’m thinking that’s important. And since we’re committed and you’ve promised we won’t be about meatloaf and missionary, I’ve gotta have some detail about what else the future has in store for me.”

His hand not at my ass lifted to cup my jaw before he said quietly, “That’s not something you tick off a to-do list, honey.”

“No. But it is something you consider and look into if it’s important to the man you love.”

Ren closed his eyes.

A second later, I found myself on my back with Ren looming over me, but he did this with his chest pressed mostly on mine and his hand still cupping my jaw.

His eyes moved over my face and his face had the look.

My insides got warmer.

Then he stated, “It’s not necessary you convert, Ally. But it’s important to me that my kids are raised in the faith.”

“Wouldn’t it be important, to raise kids in the faith, that I knew about said faith at the very least, but better, practiced it?” I asked, and the look intensified so my insides got melty.

“You’d do that?” he whispered.

“I don’t know. Is here an initiation ceremony where I have to drink blood of the calf or something?” I asked and he grinned.

Then he answered, “No.”

“Okay,” I replied. “Then maybe you can set it up so I can talk to somebody.”

He dropped his head so his forehead touched mine, all the while muttering, “Fuckin’ fuck me.”

That meant a lot to him.

I loved that. I loved that I gave that to him.

But I didn’t tell him that.

I shared, “I’m obviously no expert, but my guess is the Pope frowns on the f-bomb, Zano.”

I saw his eyes smile.

Then I didn’t see anything because he was kissing me, slow and sweet.

Then he did other things to me slow and sweet that I wasn’t sure the Vatican approved of.

Much later, drowsy, sated, happy, my man’s arms around me, his body curled into me spooning, I decided we’d had a good day without anything exploding and another day without us fighting (so far, a record). Further, his breath was evening, which meant he was heading toward sleep.

So I’d tell him tomorrow about my plans for the future that didn’t have to do with me discussing conversion with a priest.

Ren moved to the sink, dropped his plate in it and moved to me sitting on the counter.

He pulled my coffee mug out of my hand and set it on the counter. Then he pulled my legs apart and moved between them. With a hand at my ass, he yanked me close.

His face dipped to mine and his voice was sweet when he noted, “You got lots of bags upstairs, baby.”

“Yep,” I agreed.

“You got a dress for me?” he asked.

“Yep,” I repeated, and this was true. Roxie, Tod and Stevie bought me four of them and they were all smokin’ hot.

“Good. Date night tonight.”

I grinned.

Ren kissed me.

Then he kissed my neck.

After that, he let me go and on a, “Later, honey,” and walked to and through the front door.

I watched.

Smiling.

* * *

It was mid-morning when the bell over the door rang.

I was in Fortnum’s with Indy, Jet, Tex and Jane. Stella and Mace were also there, both of them at the counter. Stella was shooting the shit and sipping a latte. Mace was being silent and badass as he held his woman in a casual-but-affectionate embrace at his side.

Duke had not showed. I told myself this wasn’t because he was avoiding me, but because he’d hopped on his Harley with his wife Dolores for an impromptu ride of the Rockies.

However, even as I told myself this, I wasn’t very convincing.

Everyone looked to the door to see Tod walking in carrying two big thick scrapbooks.

One was stuffed full with copious pieces of paper and fabric swatches protruding from the sides. The other one looked new.

The first was Ava’s wedding planner.

The second, seeing as she’d only been engaged for a little over three weeks, was Sadie’s.

Tod was a drag queen and a flight attendant. He was also the unofficially-official wedding planner to all the Rock Chicks. This meant a lot of headache, arguments, browbeating and unnecessary powwows sprinkled with a few hissy fits.

It also meant every single Rock Chick had the wedding of her dreams that went off without a hitch.

Nevertheless, Tod, with the planners in tow, did not bode good things.

The door closed behind him and his eyes came to me.

“Good to see you alive, girlie,” he called.

“Good to be alive, Tod,” I called back.

“Do me a favor,” he kept talking loudly, “stay alive until Saturday. And a call to the bomb squad to do a sweep of the church and function room would come in handy.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” I heard Mace mutter, and I looked to him to see his expression was serious.

Then again, the way things were, he and Tod were right.

“I thought we had the final read through of Ava’s shindig last weekend, Tod,” Indy noted, moving his way.

Tod dumped the books on a table and looked at her. “That was the final read through. Now we’re having the final final read through. And tomorrow, before the rehearsal, we’re finalizing the final final read through. But also now, we’re deciding Sadie’s wedding colors.”

Indy looked around the store and then back at Tod in order to point out the obvious. “Sadie isn’t here.”

“I know, she’s busy at the gallery,” Tod replied, slapping open the smaller album and I saw a plethora of colors on the page. But he said no more.

With experience of the planning stages of Tod organizing a wedding, it was understandable that Indy’s tone was cautious when she stated, “Honey, we can’t pick Sadie’s wedding colors without Sadie here.”

Tod looked up at Indy and I felt everyone brace (except Mace, he sighed).

But I grinned.

“Not another word,” Tod warned.

Indy opened her mouth to give him another word.

He gave her The Hand. “No. Sadie’s a millionaire. I have no budget. None at all. I’m pulling out all the stops. She told me I could. And anyway, Stella and Mace are going to be married on a beach in Hawaii.”

“We are?” Mace muttered to Stella, and I heard Stella’s throaty laugh.

Tod must not have heard any of that because he kept going.

“And everyone knows Ally’s going to do something like elope to Vegas. So this is my last shot at greatness. Not that I didn’t kick butt with your wedding,” he said to Indy, then turned his attention to Jet. “And yours too, girlie.”

He had, indeed, kicked butt with both of their weddings. It seemed practice made perfect because Indy’s was awesome, Jet’s was fantastic, and Roxie and Hank’s was the bomb. Not to mention, plans for Ava’s were far from shabby. So without a budget, Sadie’s was undoubtedly going to rock.

It also should be noted that going to Vegas was what I had always wanted to do.

However, I wasn’t certain how Catholics felt about Vegas.

I added this on my mental list to discuss with the nun or priest who Ren set me up with for my literal come to Jesus (and Mary, God and the Holy Spirit) meeting and shared, “I’m thinking it might be a full mass.”

Tod’s head snapped to me, his eyes alight.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jet, the voice of experience, said under her breath to me.

“Seriously?” Tod cried.

“Unless there’s a Catholic priest who dresses like Elvis and has a wedding chapel in Sin City, yeah,” I answered.

“Oh girlie,” Tod’s eyes were getting bright, “you’ve made me so happy.”

Don’t think I was crazy. I was a Rock Chick. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Tod lifted his hands to the sides of his head and wriggled his fingers, announcing, “I feel it! It’s coming over me! You!” He suddenly pointed at me. “Buttery yellow, the creamiest of creams and a bright grass green. You,” he pointed at Stella, “a white bikini, I’m thinking crochet, a lei, maybe a band of flowers around your forehead, and a fabulous sarong.”

Again with Mace muttering, this time through a smile, “That works for me.”

“Tropical island paradise will be your theme,” Tod kept at it and looked at Indy. “And Sadie, ice blue and shimmery glittering winter white.”

That wasn’t bad for Sadie. In fact, perfect.

But no way I was doing yellow and green.

Red and maybe black.

If the Pope approved.

I didn’t share this with Tod. Mostly because the door opened, Ava blasted through it and sauntering in on her heels was Luke with a half-grin going.

Ava did not have a half-grin. She was fuming.

“Tod,” she snapped. “I’m here, but not for the final-final-read-through-preliminary-to-the-finalized-final-final-read-through.”

Clearly she’d got the memo.

“I’m here because the wedding is off!” she finished.

“No!” Tod exclaimed, then proceeded not to react to the dire news that it appeared Ava and Luke were at odds (then again, that happened occasionally; she busted his chops often and Luke, having chops of steel, got off on it) but to something else. “It’s too late to get any of the deposits back!”

“Calm down, man, the wedding isn’t off,” Luke announced.

“It is,” Ava retorted angrily, whirling on her man.

“It isn’t,” Luke replied calmly, staring down his nose at his woman.

“Are you going to dance with me?” she asked.

“Vertically?” he asked back, and I pressed my lips together in order not to laugh.

“Yes!” she snapped.

“Yeah, baby,” he said. “I’ll dance with you vertically, in the bathroom on the plane on the way to Bermuda.”

This was not the answer she was looking for, therefore she whirled back to Tod and ordered, “Start making calls. It’s over.”

“I’m not… I can’t… it’s…” Tod stammered, hand to his throat, eyes wide and filled with panic. Then he shrieked, “The custom order baby blue, aqua and teal M&M’s have already arrived! There’s nine pounds of them already parceled out and ribboned up for wedding gifts! What am I going to do with nine pounds of baby blue, aqua and teal M&M’s?”

“Give them to me,” Ava retorted. “I intend to eat them all in one sitting.”

“Don’t make any calls, Tod,” Luke contradicted Ava’s order as he also ignored her response to Tod.

Ava again whirled on Luke. “I’m not marrying a man who can’t set aside the badass for three minutes in order to dance at our wedding.”

“Yes you are,” Luke replied.

It was at that, Ava had had enough.

I knew this when she shouted, “I’ve been in love with you since I was eight! And I’ve been dreaming of dancing with you at our wedding,” she leaned toward him, “since I was eight! And if you can’t give me three minutes of that drea—”

She didn’t finish.

This was because Luke’s hand flashed out, caught her behind the neck and pulled her to him so she landed face first in his chest. He then bent his neck and his face disappeared from my view as he spoke in Ava’s ear.