We were listening to Stella and The Blue Moon Gypsies playing “Jessica” by The Allman Brothers Band. Indy, Ally, Jules, Daisy, Roxie, Jet and I were up front, right at the stage, shaking our booties like the crazy Rock Chicks we were.
Luke had taken me back to the loft and the minute the elevator doors opened I flew into my getting ready to rock preparation. Mace came over while I was in the bathroom laying on my Rock Makeup.
Before he left to do Secret Luke Things in the Night (his planned activities, I will note, he didn’t share with me but then again I didn’t ask, probably because I didn’t want to know), Luke walked into the bathroom, grabbed my hips, twirled me around, pressed me back against the sink and laid a hot and heavy one on me.
When he lifted his head, I asked (or more like mouthed, but with a bit of sound coming out), “What was that for?”
He framed my face with his hands (which for Luke was a weird thing to do, a sweet weird thing but weird nonetheless) and stared at me, a strange look on his face that made my stomach feel funny but in a good way, a scary good way. What he didn’t do was answer. He simply kissed my nose and left me with Mace.
I decided it was best for my peace of mind not to think about what was on Luke’s mind when he touched and kissed me like that. It was even better for my peace of mind not to think about what I felt when Luke touched and kissed me like that.
Instead, I focused on rock ‘n’ roll – my constant, my touchstone, the only thing other than Sissy that could get me through anything.
I pulled on my supremely faded jeans and a thick tan belt, the leather tooled with flowers and vines that had been painted. I topped this with a fitted, chambray cowgirl shirt, complete with pearl snap buttons at the breast pockets, down the front and four up the cuffs. I wore this over a white tank top and finished the outfit off with tons of silver and my fawn-suede cowboy boots.
It was cowboy chic, not rock ‘n’ roll chic but I was in Denver and Denverites swung both ways.
Mace wasn’t Mr. Talkative. In fact he was actually kind of broody but, like all of the Hot Bunch, this character trait worked for him (in a big way). I did find out that his name wasn’t actually Mace, his name was Kai Mason, he was from Hawaii and he wasn’t talkative. I found out the last bit because the first two bits took me a gazillion questions to get out of him so eventually I gave up.
The girls (and Mace) did dinner then we all went to the gig at Herman’s Hideaway on Broadway.
Santo had disappeared which I decided to take as a good sign that the bad guys were no longer after me. However I wondered what this meant regarding my tenure at Luke’s loft since, if the bad guys weren’t after me anymore, I wouldn’t need to stay with Luke anymore.
Another thought to put on the list to consider later.
We sent word to Stella that we were there but other than that we didn’t bother her pre-gig. As always she’d have a drink with us during a break.
Stella and the Gypsies came out only fifteen minutes late (they were usually half an hour late or more). They looked pissed off but ready to rock. This wasn’t unusual either, the band fought all the time. They were constantly in danger of breaking up but somehow, likely using all of the piss and vinegar she had (which was a lot), Stella kept them together. She was like the mother of a dysfunctional family and I knew (because she told me) that it took all her energy. If she wasn’t practicing guitar or the band wasn’t rehearsing, she was caught up in some band member’s mess. She did this because the Gypsies played so well together they were worth the struggle. She also did this because she cared about them, from what I knew probably more than they deserved.
Stella started the set with serious head-bouncing energy including the guitar riffs and piano of The Doobie Brothers’ “China Grove” and didn’t give herself a breather before she slammed straight into Molly Hatchett’s “Flirtin’ with Disaster”. She didn’t make us wait for the famous “black” portion of her set list starting with Ram Jam’s “Black Betty”, sliding straight into The Black Crowes’ “Kickin’ My Heart Around”, taking it easy a bit for the Doobie’s “Black Water” and Alannah Myles’s “Black Velvet” then twanging through the Black Rebel’s “Ain’t No Easy Way”. She gave us a break from screaming out lyrics and bouncing around like lunatics by slowing it down with The Marshall Tucker Band’s “Can’t You See”, one of the few songs she didn’t sing herself but handed off to her bass player, Buzz. It was after that Stella and the Gypsies started the “Jessica” jam.
Stella didn’t often pull out “Jessica” but when she did the crowd ate it up. This was no exception and the Rock Chicks at the front were acting like it was our last meal.
Stella was rocking into Melissa Etheridge’s “Bring Me Some Water” when Mace and I peeled off from the rest of the Rock Chicks for a beverage break, getting Fat Tire orders from the girls before we went to the bar.
I was standing amongst the crush at the bar when I looked up at Mace and noticed his eyes were locked on Stella. I followed his eyes to the stage and watched for a few seconds while she rasped out Etheridge’s lyrics.
Stella was definitely Rock Chick Hot, tall, built and wearing low slung, faded Levi’s with a heavily tooled and riveted black belt with a kickass buckle that was a wide set of wings. She had on a faded black, fitted tee with the rebel flag mostly peeled but still discernable on the front and finished with scuffed, black cowboy boots. She had long, thick, dark brown hair that she held off her face just at the top with a clip at the back and she wore even more silver at her neck, ears and fingers than I did.
“You like Stella?” I screamed at Mace over the music and his eyes cut to me. His face was closed and I knew right off he wasn’t going to answer me and I was not invited to question him further.
Before I could push this (because I felt the need to be ornery as we were at a rock gig and something about Mace invited being ornery just to see if I could get a rise out of him and Mace was staring at a friend of mine like he wanted to carry her to a deserted island, build a hut out of palm fronds and never leave) when his body got tense, his eyes focused on something and he stepped close to me. Real close.
I turned and my mouth dropped open when I saw Ren had materialized out of nowhere, right in front of me. He was real close too, ultra close, but his eyes were on Mace.
I looked over my shoulder. “It’s okay Mace, I know him,” I shouted.
Mace’s eyes didn’t leave Ren nor did he move away from me but he answered in an unhappy voice. “I know.”
Ee-yikes!
I stood there, the meat in a Hot Guy Sandwich. Normally one would savor a moment like this but the bad vibes flowing weren’t conducive to savoring.
I looked back to Ren. “Hey Ren,” I said, trying to be cool.
“Where’s Sissy?” Ren replied, shattering my always tenuous hold on cool.
Uh-oh.