Saving Grace (3 page)

Was Chord Robbins for real? Grace marched from the kitchen and into what must be another living room. This one was blue whereas the one the boys had been painting with marinara sauce was brown. If memory served she’d also walked through a gold living room too. How much living did this family do? These weren’t her kids and she shouldn’t care, but she did. In some small way, she felt responsible for them. They were good kids they just needed structure, and they craved attention.

Chord followed her into the room, put his hand at the small of her back, and led her through that room, into another which was some sort of music room with a huge grand piano and a giant silver stuffed elephant, and finally to the front door. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done for my family. I’m sure you have plans for the evening and would love to get back to them.”

Grace’s purse was on the floor by the door. She leaned over and picked it up. “So this is how you deal with confrontation? I bet your coworkers love it.”

He was definitely a ‘my way or the highway’ sort of guy. She’d put money on the fact that he probably never took constructive criticism.

“Again, thanks for helping out—”

“Helping out? The man your daughter went out with was on his way to raping her. True, she would have learned a lesson, but it’s one I’m not comfortable with anyone learning. She’s going to sneak out again.”

“When that happens, I’ll take care of it.” His tone was pacifying like he was calming a crying baby.

“How? By asking her if she’s learned a lesson?” She rammed her arm through the loops on her purse and shoved it up on her shoulder. “Coco is shaken up. She needs to talk about this, take some self-defense courses, and to fully understand what’s at stake when she gets in the car with a stranger.”

He shrugged. “We’ve discussed it and will again at length. She’s knows the difference between right and wrong. I trust her.”

“Are you high?” Her voice was squeaky, but stupidity did that to her. “She’s fourteen. She’s not an adult. Her reasoning skills—”

“Do you have children?”

He had her there. “No.”

“Well then, when you do, you might see things differently.” He ushered her out the door and to her car. He opened the driver’s side door. “Thanks again.”

“Wow. You really do think you’re doing a great job.” She slid behind the wheel. “I’m going, but think about this, based on the last hour, who’s the better parent?”

She slammed the door, shoved her key in the ignition, rammed the gearshift in first, and punched the gas petal. If only she’d had a loud sports car or motorcycle so she could lay some rubber, but her car didn’t roar so much as mosey.

Chord Robbins was a piece of work. It was a wonder he’d made it this far. She stepped on the clutch and shifted to second. Maybe by the time she got down the driveway, she’d make it to fourth and be able to squeal her tires as she slammed on her brakes before pulling out onto the road. Who was she kidding? The brakes didn’t stop on a dime or a half dollar or even one of the giant round sewer grates.

The Robbins children weren’t her problem…but she liked them. CoCo might have had her snotty moments, but she craved female attention. Grace could tell the girl was warming to her. And the twins. She smiled. HW had all the verbal skills while Cart had a mechanical mind. HW could charm the skin off of a snake while Cart took the toaster apart to see how it worked. They needed rules and consequences…but it wasn’t her problem.

She pushed them from her mind. There were more pressing issues. Like rent money for Uncle Vernon and where she would sleep tonight and the fact that the brownies she’d been making for the kids would have been her dinner. Glancing at the gas meter, she found it hovering on empty. She turned into the parking lot of the nearest gas station and pulled up to a pump. Her last fifteen bucks was about to be a memory. Being a grownup had its advantages, but living hand-to-mouth wasn’t one of them. She was thirty-one and had nothing to show for it except a pink Karmann Ghia that belonged to her mother, a guitar that belonged to her father, and a voice that some said rivaled Adele. In her mind, she should have made it by now, but in reality, her fifteen minutes of fame had been centered on her left nipple.

Her stomach rumbled.

If she showed off her right nipple would it balance things out? Maybe her left nipple was yin and the right one was yang. Was the key to financial freedom, playing her guitar topless?

Her stomach growled loudly demanding food. Glancing down at the girls, she shook her head. Yin and yang weren’t that remarkable. If she were lucky, she’d make enough for something off the value menu at McDonalds.

Fame had never been her dream, but making a living from her music was the only thing she’d ever wanted out of life. Considering the facts that she was hungry, homeless, and her uncle’s rent money was due, she was willing to admit that her dream hadn’t gotten her very far. That brass ring she’d been reaching for her entire life was choking her like a dog collar. Was it time to give up on the only thing she’d ever been good at?

***

Two hours later, Chord was fit to be tied. He’d tried to put the twins to bed, but they were still up watching Star Wars Episode I. CoCo wasn’t talking to him and had slammed the door in his face when he’d brought up the subject of her little adventure to SXSW.

So now, he slipped on his boxing gloves. He needed an hour or so of punching something to work Grace Kelley out of his brain. He’d looked her up on the internet, and apart from the nipple episode—which he’d viewed several times on YouTube—there wasn’t much about her other than a couple of videos of her singing. She had a voice he’d give her that, but she was so…

He delivered a right cross and then a left. Grace Kelley was a pain in his ass. He continued to pound the bag. His shoulders ached and his knee hurt, but he kept at it.

Her parting words rattled around in his head. “In the last hour, who was the better parent…”

Goddamnit, he was. He glanced at his watch. True it was eleven-thirty on a Thursday night, and his twins should be asleep because they had school in the morning, but he was the better parent. Hell, she didn’t even have kids. By default, that made him the best parent.

Winning by default was still winning. He shook his head. No it wasn’t. It was disqualification, and there was no victory in that. He started in on combos—jab-cross-hook and then a hook—jab and then he mixed things up. Variety was the spice of life. Lately his life was anything but spicy. Grace was definitely spicy. Then again, too much spice gave him heartburn.

Maybe he’d teach CoCo some self-defense, and not because Grace had suggested it. He tried to make himself believe that, but his subconscious wasn’t buying it.

When he’d walked into the house, he couldn’t believe the calm energy. The kids listened and did what she said. No back-talk or mumbled commentary. That’s what he’d always thought parenting would be—not the constant battle over every single thing. He worked the punching bag until he was good and sweat lathered. His shoulder was screaming, but he kept going.

After thirty minutes with his kids, Grace had them wrapped around her little finger. He punched the bag so hard, he felt it vibrate all the way to his feet. The twins nearly turned feral when he’d walked back into the house without her. The brownies had only pacified them for a minute, when he’d left them in their playroom in front of the TV he could tell they were planning something. He would take whatever they dished out because he loved them. He just didn’t have it in him to discipline them. Too many times to count and for the smallest infraction, Chord had felt the lash of his father’s belt, and he’d vowed to never hurt his kids the same way. His kids would feel love and not hate from their father.

Grace thought she was the better parent. His ass. He actually was a parent, which worked in his favor. He might not be able to make brownies or charm the twins into cleaning under their nails, but he was doing okay. No one but him cried any more. They were all doing okay.

The hole left when Alice had walked away from their family was getting smaller. He’d loved her…sort of. He was beginning to realize he’d loved the idea of the perfect family more than he’d loved the woman he’d gotten pregnant and married.

Grace was Alice’s polar opposite. Where Grace was tall and willowy, Alice was petite and blonde. Grace was mouthy, and Alice just nodded and agreed with everything he’d said. Until one day, he’d found her closet empty and a goodbye note on the kitchen table.

He’d only met Grace for a short time, but he was certain she wouldn’t have taken the coward’s way out and left a note. Grace would have talked it over with him. She’d definitely tried to discuss his kids when he’d walked her out, but he’d shut her down.

His personal life was none of her business. He only took criticism from people he respected. At work, the players and the coaches understood earning his respect took time…but one skinny brunette with huge almond-shaped brown eyes had dared to lecture him.

If he was being honest, he admired her for it. She had balls, and she wasn’t afraid to step in and take over. These days, there weren’t too many people who’d help a girl they didn’t know, take her home, and stick around to make sure she was all right. If his ego hadn’t gotten in the way, he might have offered her a job as a nanny. Then again, life with her would have been a daily battle.

But she’d been right. She didn’t even have kids, and in half an hour, she’d proven she was the better parent.

On Monday morning Grace stood outside the Austin Convention Center playing
Love Ya Baby
and smiling at the SXSW attendees meandering by. Her guitar case had a nice coating of ones and fives—a couple hundred bucks if the running tally she’d kept in her head was correct. If tips kept up like this, she’d have Uncle Vernon’s rent money by next Monday, which was good since it was due on Tuesday. That gave her a week of playing and smiling. She added a nod and a wink to the hipster couple that’d just thrown in a fiver.

“There she is.” A child’s voice came from over her right shoulder. She turned around and saw two little boys each holding a hand of a teenaged girl. They waited for the light to change and then crossed the street. It was CoCo and the twins.

She looked around for their father, but didn’t see anyone around his height nearby. Good God, had they all snuck out? Clearly, CoCo was rubbing off on her brothers.

“Hey guys.” Grace checked her wristwatch. “Why aren’t y’all in school?”

“Spring Break.” HW said while Cart smiled an elated no-school-this-week smile.

“Cool. What are y’all up to?” Grace kept an eye out for their father. “How’d you find me?”

“It’s all over Twitter. Your fans are tweeting that you’re playing here.” CoCo held out her phone for Grace to see.

There were lots of tweets. She looked closer. Her name was no longer Grace, but @nipplelady107. So there were one hundred and six other nipple ladies that came before her?

Grace continued to play and watch for Chord Robbins. “Tell me you didn’t sneak out.”

Coco shook her head. “Nope. We took a cab. Our babysitter, Mrs. Jenkins fell asleep so I left her a note telling her we were going to visit a friend and would be back this afternoon.”

“Does your dad know you’re here?” Grace’s fingers glided over the strings.

CoCo surveyed her pink sparkly flip-flops and shifted from foot to foot. “Not exactly. He’s at work.”

“Text him. Tell him you’re with me, and I’ll take you home later. You can’t keep leaving the house without permission.” It looked like she’d be taking a break this afternoon. She needed all the tips she could get, but she couldn’t leave these kiddos to navigate downtown Austin alone. She’d love to take them to the new Austin Children’s Museum—The Thinkery, but that cost money she couldn’t spare.

“Okay.” Coco drew out the last part. Her fingers whizzed over her phone and then it beeped signaling that the text was sent. If only Grace could see the look on his face when he read it. Not that she usually wallowed in the discomfort of others, but hey, eating crow was a great source of protein.

“We came to help you.” HW grinned and dug around in his back pocket. “CoCo told us you sing on the street to make money.” He produced a harmonica, and then his face crumbled. “Only it doesn’t work so well since Cart took it apart and put it back together again.”

Grace smiled kindly. “No worries. Why don’t we go to Zilker Park, ride the train, and have snow cones?” That would cost her all of twenty bucks. True, she needed every cent, but sometimes money needed to be spent. Kids needed to get out and experience the world—see things, do things that didn’t revolve around TV, computer games, or smart phones. Her aunt and uncle hadn’t had much money so they’d made up for it by spending time with Grace…and the other kids.

“Really?” HW’s green eyes turned the size of drink coasters. He and Cart exchanged a look, and both nodded excitedly.

“Think that’s a good idea, Cart?” She wanted him to talk for himself instead of always having his brother do it for him.

Cart nodded and grinned at her like he knew she wanted him to speak, but he didn’t feel like it.

He was smart and sneaky—Grace liked that about him.

“Hey Grace, when you get a chance, can I talk to you,” CoCo eyed her brothers, “in private?”

“Sure.” Grace knelt down, gathered up the money in her case and shoved it in her pocket. She unhooked her guitar strap, placed it gently in the case, and closed the lid. “I’m parked in the garage. Everyone hold hands.”

She took Cart’s left hand, HW took his right, and CoCo grabbed HW’s other hand. They walked across the street and down two blocks.

“So, when was the last time y’all rode the Zilker train?” She made sure everyone stayed together while they walked down the sidewalk. None of the kids had a jacket. Today, the high was in the sixties, but tonight it would be in the forties. She needed to get them home before sunset.

“Never.” HW looked up at her. “Is it fun? Do they got a conductor?”