As he did al of this, the Rock Chicks and my eyes fol owed him.

Mace did one more (very weird) thing before he left.

He yanked the paper out of Al y’s hand, ignoring her surprised, “Hey!” and he shoved it under his armpit.

Then he was gone.

I stared at the closed door.

The Rock Chicks stared at it too.

Slowly, Shirleen turned to me.

“Shirleen’s not thinkin’ good thoughts,” she announced.

“You got that right, sister,” Jet muttered.

Effing hel .

Chapter Fourteen

Maybe in a Towel

Stella

I wrapped the sheet around my body and then shuffled on my bottom to the edge of the bed.

“You okay?” Al y asked.

“I’l make coffee,” Ava muttered and headed into the kitchen.

My feet hit the floor and I headed toward my robe. “I think something bad just happened,” I said softly, not certain I wanted to share but too scared at what I was feeling to keep it inside.

“You think?” Shirleen asked. “Air was so heavy you could cut it with a knife.”

I looked at her as I struggled to put the robe on over the sheet. Her eyes were sharp but her face was soft and that combo eloquently showed her concern.

I felt the tears hit the backs of my eyes again. I pul ed breath in through my nose and decided maybe I shouldn’t share.

“What was in the paper?” I asked, changing the subject and dropping the sheet.

“Unh-unh, girl, what just happened?” Daisy was standing, hands on her slim, faded denim-covered hips.

I took a moment to peruse Daisy’s ensemble which was faded denim from head-to-toe, literal y. She was wearing a bil ed, slouchy, denim cap on her platinum blonde head, pigtails peeking out from under it at the back, wispy bangs at her forehead. She had on a tight, faded, buttoned up, denim vest, so much cle**age bulging forth from the v-neck that she was forced to leave one button undone taking the vest from indecent to mildly  p**n ographic. Completing her look, she wore jeans, skintight al the way down to her ankles, and denim covered, pointed toed, spike heeled mules.

I al owed myself another moment to marvel at her ability to pul off this ridiculous outfit as if it was the height of couture before she snapped, “Wel ?”

I grabbed my sky-blue lace undies and pul ed them on while saying, “I think I just did something stupid.”

“More stupid than not just lettin’ Mace back into your life without this idiotic rigmarole? Bul ets flyin’, Hot Bunch boys puttin’ their asses on the line, threats against al you al …” Shirleen whirled her finger around to take in al the Rock Chicks. “Stil , you al act like getting a booty cal from one of the Hot Bunch was like being tortured. I just don’t get it.”

“It’s hardly a booty cal , Shirleen. They get in your head, move into your house, push you around, tel you what to do, so damn bossy,” Indy sprang to my defense heatedly as I walked toward the kitchen. In fact, Indy’s words were so heated it seemed she was having a flashback.

Shirleen put a hand to her chest and reared back. “Oh is that it? Wel excuse me! You poor child!” Then she made a snorting sound. “Shee-it, any one of those boys wanted to push me around, I’d say bring it on. Hel , I’d pay for one of

‘em to move into my house. They don’t even have to do me; just walk around so I can watch. Maybe in a towel.” Jules looked at me and rol ed her eyes.

“You don’t understand,” Roxie put in.

“Nope. That’s right, girl, Shirleen does not understand.

So what trauma are we up against now?” Shirleen’s eyes moved to me. “You havin’ too many orgasms or what?”

“Is there such a thing as too many orgasms?” Annette asked before I could answer. Even though I barely knew her and she’d never been to my house in her life, she was opening and closing my cupboard doors, searching for I didn’t know what.

“No, child, that’s the point,” Shirleen replied with barely restrained patience.

“For what it’s worth,” Annette went on, giving up on her search and turning to the group. “I’m with Shirleen on this one. Jason ain’t no slouch in the orgasm department but we got a deal, him and me. It’s like those lists you make with movie stars. If, say, you got a chance at The Rock, you could take it without getting in trouble with your partner. Me and Jason got a list, me, the Hot Bunch, Jason, the Rock Chicks.”

Everyone went silent and stared at Annette.

Al except Shirleen, she said, “Mm, girl, you got good taste. That Dwayne Johnson is one shit-hot black man.”

“He’s Samoan,” Annette informed Shirleen.

“That boy is black,” Shirleen shot back.

“Half and half,” Annette, clearly a bevy of The Rock Information, went on.

“I want the black half,” Shirleen returned.

“Oh my God, can we stop talking about The Rock?” Jet yel ed.

“I don’t mind a short conversational switch to The Rock,” Daisy said. “Have you seen Walking Tall? ”

“Yeah, about seven thousand times,” Annette replied.

“I prefer Faster, ” Shirleen shared her opinion. “There was no sex scene, which was a minus, but the role required two hours of him bein’ broody. Him bein’ broody for two hours is a definite plus.”

“I made a DVD of half an hour, continuous loop of him fighting Vin Diesel over and over and over again in Fast Five, ” Annette shared. “You wanna come over and watch it, I’l make popcorn.”

“Oowee, Vin Diesel,” Shirleen breathed.

“I am so there,” Daisy stated.

“Count me in,” Shirleen said after recovering from visions of half an hour continuous loop Johnson vs. Diesel action.

I sat on the edge of a platform, fel to my back and stared at the ceiling.

Were we real y talking about The Rock?

He was, of course, hot, but I had other, slightly more important things on my mind.

Al y’s face fil ed my vision.

“You with us, Stel a?” she asked.

“No,” I replied.

“Okay, maybe we should quit talking about The Rock.” I heard Shirleen give in.

My eyes moved to Al y. She was on her hands, leaning over me.

“What was in the paper?” I asked.

Her head came up and she looked over her shoulder.

There was a weird noise made by one of the Rock Chicks, which one I didn’t know.

Al y moved out of my eyesight but sat down beside me as I lifted up to sitting position.