Hendrix: A Pittsburgh Titans Novel
Hendrix: Chapter 15

I walk into the diner and do a brief glance around as I tug off my gloves. I spot Rory in a booth at the back as she waves to get my attention. She rises as I head her way.

Funnily enough, she looks a little like Stevie Nicks. Long, wavy blond hair that reaches well past her mid back with long bangs framing her face. She’s tall and curvy, dressed in a sort of gypsy-esque flowing dress with a long, black-lace overlay coat. She wears wrist bangles and big hoop earrings.

“Stevie,” she exclaims, and I don’t need her outstretched arms to know I’m expected to hug her. I got a super tight one last night before she and Hendrix left.

Her surprise visit meant that Hendrix and I didn’t stay together last night. While Rory wanted to take an Uber home so he could come to my house, the two of us wouldn’t hear of it. Of course, Hendrix couldn’t drive, so he accompanied her to his place, but we both agreed it was poor form to leave a houseguest alone like that.

I was invited to Hendrix’s, but I didn’t want him to have to drive me all the way back home this morning. He had a mid-morning skate, and I wanted him to be able to sleep in.

So here I am, having spent the night alone, and yet I couldn’t be happier because it meant that I got to meet Rory. And tonight, my dad and Hendrix are coming over for dinner so they can get to know each other a little better. It was Hendrix’s idea, and while my dad grumbled when he suggested it last night, I could tell he was secretly pleased to see the guy I’m interested in take some initiative. No one has ever done that before because my dad has always intimidated my prior boyfriends.

“I’m so glad you could do this,” Rory says as we release. I take off my coat before sliding into the booth opposite her. “Last night wasn’t conducive to deep conversation.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I feel confident in teasing, “Looked like you had plenty to talk about with my dad.”

I watch Rory carefully for her reaction. I’m not disappointed when she gives me a conspiratorial grin rather than a shy blush. “Your dad is a fascinating man and I had a fantastic time hanging out with him.”

“He’s the best.”

A waitress approaches, and I turn my coffee cup upright to indicate I’d love some of what she has in that pot. “Do you ladies know what you’re having?”

I glance at Rory and grab a menu. “Do you? If so, order, and I can figure mine out quick.”

When the waitress is gone and I’ve got my coffee doctored up with lots of cream and a little sugar, I say, “I have to tell you… because you’re the first family member I’ve met, but Hendrix is just…”

My words falter, and I glance out the window. Rory patiently waits me out, and I turn back to her. “He’s… amazing. No, wait. That doesn’t do him justice. I guess there’s not really one word that could do it. Even my dad likes him, and that’s saying something.”

“We raised a good boy,” she agrees.

I lift my eyebrows as I sip my coffee.

She laughs and plays her fingertip along the rim of her own cup. “Oh, I’ll give my sister and her husband credit, but I had a hand in it too. And while I can’t admit it to my other nieces and nephews, he’s by far my favorite.”

“He talks about you all the time. You had a profound influence on him growing up, and even now… he just adores you.”

“And he adores you,” she says, and that causes me to blush.

And feel more pleased than I have a right to feel. “Really?”

Rory tips her head to the side. “Can’t you tell, Stevie? You seem like a confident woman. Surely you see it. Feel it.”

“I think so.” I unroll the utensils from my napkin and place it on my lap as I collect my thoughts. “But… I’ve got relationship hang-ups, so sometimes it’s hard.”

“Someone cheat on you?” she asks sympathetically.

Laughing, I shake my head. “Actually, not even close. The few serious romantic relationships I’ve had fizzled more than anything.”

“Why did they fizzle?”

“Two reasons. I didn’t feel deeply enough for them, and they couldn’t handle that I owned a bar, which means I had responsibilities that sometimes took priority over them. I work a lot.”

“Hendrix is proud of what you do, and he’s got his own time management issues, so that shouldn’t be a problem for you two.”

“It’s not at all,” I assure her. “Our time is limited by our careers, but we make the most of what we have.”

“I still feel bad Hendrix insisted on coming back to his place last night.”

I shake my head, holding out a hand. “Don’t. Hendrix and I have all the time in the world, and we agreed you should be escorted home.”

“You’re both sweet,” she says softly. “But let’s talk about the other reason your relationships fizzled. You said you didn’t feel deeply enough for them.”

I give her an admonishing look. “Are you asking me my innermost feelings about your nephew?”

“I am indeed,” she says with a lifted chin.

I snicker and lean forward, hands wrapped around my warm coffee. Therapy early in life and journaling taught me the value of sharing emotions with good communication. “I feel a lot for Hendrix. More than I’ve ever felt before. I mean, it’s all new and exciting, but there’s something that just feels very old and settled between us. I’m not sure if that makes sense. He feels so very sure and dependable to me, and yet I lose my breath around him all the time, and it’s like I’m holding on to a live wire.”

“Well, well, well,” Rory murmurs as she leans back slightly, her eyes pinning onto me. “This might be the real deal.”

“It’s only been a few weeks,” I remind her.

“You can know those things in just a few hours, if you have the right conversations.”

Images of Hendrix dragging me to the storeroom flash before me. “Something about him the night we met hit me hard.”

I tell her about the pool game—which she already knew about since Hendrix told her—and how he got me to admit right off the bat I was attracted to him.

“And then I asked him why he was with Tracy for so long if things were so bad between them, because my biggest concern at that point was he was rebounding. And he assured me he was not.”

“I can attest he would not have rebounded with Tracy. He didn’t love her, and half the time, I’m not sure he even liked her much.”

I nod in understanding. “He told me he worked hard at it—his relationship with her. That he didn’t want to have regrets when he walked away, and hearing that meant the world to me. To hear he’s the type who doesn’t walk when things get hard.”

“Because of personal experience?” she asks.

I know Hendrix didn’t tell Rory about my mom. I’ve not asked him to keep it secret, but I know he’d never share those details. Just as I’d never share the personal stuff he confides in me.

“My mom abandoned me when I was two.”

“Your dad told me he raised you, but he didn’t say anything about your mom.”

“That’s because he’s a morally upright person. My dad despises my mom, but he’ll never talk bad about her to someone who doesn’t know her personally and has seen the bad things she’s done. He believes people should be judged on their merits.”

“I already judge your mom for abandoning you,” Rory says. “I don’t see how a mother could do that.”

“That’s a conversation we need alcohol for, but suffice it to say, she’s back in my life, and we’re attempting a relationship. But she’s not a strong woman. She doesn’t know how to do the hard work, as evidenced by the fact she threw her arms up when raising a kid got tough. She’s sort of gotten herself into a pickle and needs me to bail her out. As such, whatever we become to each other probably won’t have much substance to it. It’ll sit on a tissue paper base and will be easily torn by disappointments she’s sure to hand out.”

“Sounds like you’ve got everything figured out. You’re a smart cookie, I can see that.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’m trying.”

Our breakfast comes and we chat about Rory’s life. She slides in surreptitious questions about me, but they’re really roundabout ways of learning more about my dad. She likes him, I can tell. I could tell my dad liked her back. In fact, I’m pretty sure had Hendrix not whisked her out as the evening ended, my dad would’ve made a move, but I keep that to myself.

“I read one of your books,” I say after my plate is clean and my coffee’s been refilled. I reach into my tote sitting beside me. “Will you sign it for me?”

“Oh, sweet girl… of course. I’m honored and flattered.” She takes the book and studies the cover. “My very first one.”

“It was so good. I’ve never read mysteries before, but I got so sucked in.”

Rory pulls out a Sharpie from her purse, and I watch as she scribbles something on the first page before handing the book back to me.

Stevie,

I’m so happy to have met you and even happier you’re in Hendrix’s life.

XOXO,

Rory Valentine

“Thank you,” I whisper, pulling the book into my chest. “I’ll always treasure this.”

“You keep my boy happy, and I’ll keep you in signed books, okay? I’ll leave the next one at his house for you since I’ll be leaving later today.”

“Oh, you should stay longer.” I twist to put the book in my tote.

She waves her hand. “I’ve impeded enough.”

“No way,” I assert. “Please stay.”

“I totally appreciate it, but no… I’m going to head out.” She raises a hand to signal for our waitress, miming she wants the check. When her eyes come back to me, she says, “But seriously… I’m thrilled for Hendrix. You are absolutely lovely and just what he needs.”

I frown at her. “What exactly does he need?”

“You,” she replies.

I grin. “But why? He seems to have everything. He’s got an amazing life without me.”

The waitress arrives, hands Rory the check, and I pull out my wallet.

“This is my treat,” Rory says.

“But—”

“You can buy our next breakfast, and I’ve no doubt there will be another. But you asked why Hendrix needs you?”

I nod, slipping my wallet back into my purse.

“Because you’re exactly what he’s been searching for, and trust me… he’s been looking.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, thinking it’s all far too vague to have any significance.

“What do you know about professional athletes?”

I ponder, then shrug. “They’re wealthy?”

“Yes, and most of them are young… straight out of college or even younger. Thrown into the limelight with lots of money, loads of adoring fans that pump up their egos, and scores of women just waiting to get into their pants.”

I wince. “That’s not making me feel good.”

“And it shouldn’t, if you were interested in Hendrix a few years ago. Trust me… that boy had his fancy sports cars and went through women like—”

I hold up my hand. “I can imagine.”

Rory laughs. “Sorry. Anyway, that’s not who he is now. He’s been ready to settle down, and that’s why he was trying so hard with Tracy. He’s ready to replace his life partner.”

“Which is all the more reason I’m easily confused as to why he’s interested in me. Tracy and I—from what little I’ve heard—are like night and day.”

“You two have nothing in common,” Rory affirms. “She wanted Hendrix for his money and his fame. Moreover, she wanted all of his attention and adoration. If his eyes weren’t on her at all times, she felt slighted. If he didn’t spend every minute of his free time with her, she was put out. She demanded everything and gave nothing in return. I see none of that in you, and on top of that, you’re a million times prettier.”

I don’t know about that. I may not know much about Hendrix’s former girlfriend, but I saw her that first night, and she’s gorgeous. But I’m confident enough to know that Hendrix is attracted to me.

And Rory has affirmed for me that Hendrix likes more than just my physical appearance.

Pulling out her wallet, Rory slides free a fifty-dollar bill and sets it on the table. It’s far more than the bill and a generous tip, but she pushes it to the side, showing her intention to leave it all.

“When it all boils down,” Rory says, reaching across the table and taking my hand, “I trust in Hendrix because I see the way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, and the happiness he exudes either when you’re around or when he’s talking about you. No need to analyze a damn thing… you’re it for him.”

Her words pack a punch and rather than fortify me, they make me feel uneasy. “But… we’ve only been seeing each other a little over two weeks.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” She doesn’t let me answer, instead sliding out of the booth. I grab my coat and tote and do the same. Rory’s hands come to my shoulders, her eyes locking with mine. “Just trust me on this… you’re it for him, and if you let yourself have a little freedom to accept something good, you’ll realize he’s it for you.”

I’m unwilling to agree with her vocally because, in the back of my mind, I know that mothers leave little daughters behind, so it would be a hell of a lot easier for a man to do that to a grown woman.

I’m not ready to let go of those fears just yet, so instead I smile at her. “I hope you’re right.”

Rory pulls me into a hard hug and then we walk out of the diner. One more hug, farewells and promises to stay in touch, and she walks west down the block to her car, and I head in the opposite direction.

Just as I’m in my car and putting on my seat belt, my phone rings. Fishing it out of my bag, I see it’s my mom. I’m feeling so good after that time spent with Rory, my tone is cheerful when I answer. “Hi, Mom.”

“Stevie.” The hair stands up on the back of my neck because my name comes out as a pained sob.

“What’s wrong?” I demand.

“Um… I’m… at… your… house…” My mom’s staccato burst of words gives way to weeping.

“Mom,” I yell into the phone as I crank my car.

She seems more in control, although she’s still crying. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know where to go. They dumped me here.”

“Who dumped you there? What’s wrong with you?”

“They roughed me up a bit… wanted to send a message. I’m bleeding, and I don’t know what to do.”

My stomach pitches. “I’m about ten minutes away. There’s a key taped to the underside of the first rocking chair. Get inside the house, and I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” she says tremulously. “Okay… I can do that.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She doesn’t respond, and I listen hard, but I think she’s hung up. At least I hope that’s what she’s done. She said she was bleeding, and I don’t know if that means she has a busted lip or a knife wound to her stomach.

I consider calling 9-1-1, but no… she would have said if it was life-threatening. I’m almost positive.

Calling 9-1-1 will bring the police along with an ambulance, and that could get my mom in a world of trouble. It’s best to wait and assess the situation.

With the car in gear, I check my mirror and pull onto the street, hopeful I’m making the right decision.