Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick, #2)
Kristen Ashley
Acknowledgements
First, I want to thank Kel y “Kelita” Brown for being my best friend for over twenty years; demonstrating how the words “as such” can be so danged funny; teaching me how to play the drinking game “Ooblie Dooblie”; naming her daughter after me; and editing this book during school holidays.
Second, to my biggest fans and cheerleaders, The Premier Rock Chicks, Cat “Lily-Landa” Kruzek and Dena
“Lotus Blossom” Cocetti and my Rock Guru, Wil Womack, thank you for reading, liking every word… and tel ing me you did. Love you guys.
Third, thank you to my readers, my family and my friends for being so supportive of my writing and the first book in the series, Rock Chick. By the way, this book you can flip straight forward to Chapter… erm…
No, you don’t want to miss al the fun (wink, wink).
Last, to my stepdad, Reggie “Reggae” Lovel , thank you for showing me what unconditional love means after Mama had her stroke. And thank you for taking care of Mama al the years after her stroke (and the ones before). And thank you for loving me so… freaking… much.
Rock on…
*
Chapter One
My Name Is Jet
My Name Is Jet
Don’t get excited, I’m not cool and hip. My real name is Henrietta Louise McAlister and that suits me a lot better than Jet. Dad was a fan of Paul McCartney and Wings so he nicknamed me after the song.
I’m not a Jet in any way, shape or form. When someone notices me, which is rarely, and I tel them my name, they look at me funny.
I’m five foot seven and I have ash blonde hair and hazel eyes. Therefore, I’m an in-between girl; not tal , not short…
not blonde, not brunette… not green-eyed, not brown-eyed.
Just kinda not.
*
This is my story, such as it is.
*
I was born in Denver, Colorado (therefore a rare “native”) twenty-eight years ago to Ray McAlister and Nancy Swanowanski. I have a little sister who’s two years younger than me, her name is Charlotte but we cal her Lottie. Dad started cal ing me Jet straight away and Mom went along with it because she’d do just about anything to make Dad happy enough not to leave. He was kind of a lying, cheating sonovabitch (wel , not kind of, he was one). That’s how I got the name and that’s how it stuck.
Anyway, none of Mom’s ploys worked. Dad left when I was fourteen. He came back to visit (which drove Mom nuts), sent a few Christmas and birthday cards (none of which had money in them, which drove Mom nuts) and phoned on occasion (usual y col ect, ditto with Mom going nuts) but mostly he was gone. Since, when he was around, he was pretty hilarious and definitely over the top, Lottie and I missed him.
I did wel in school and had friends. I graduated and got a job as a tel er at the Arapahoe Credit Union. It was steady, quiet, you knew what to expect and I liked working there.
Lottie, who got al the personality in the family (she was just like Dad), left town the minute she graduated. She went to LA to be an actress. She didn’t become an actress, as such. Instead, she got a boob job, got her ash blonde hair highlighted true blonde and became somewhat famous for being real y good at lounging on muscle cars with half her ass hanging out. I see her picture every now and again in a magazine some guy is flipping through or on a calendar at the garage where I get my oil changed. Maybe I shouldn’t be proud, but I am; she’s happy so I’m happy for her.
*
Things were going pretty steady until eight months ago. I have to admit, my life was kinda boring and things have certainly become a heck of a lot more interesting.
I’d never want my Mom to go through what she went through for me to have an interesting life though.
See, Mom had a stroke eight months ago. It was bad; she lost her whole left side. Then she lost her job, her insurance and her apartment. Since she was in a wheelchair, I had to move to a different apartment with Mom
— the kind of apartment with rails in the bathroom and bigger hal s and doorways that wheelchairs can get through. A lot of old and disabled people live in our building, either because they have to or because they’re preparing for when they have to.