You don’t go on the lam with him and get yourself shot. Your old man gets involved with the Russian Mob this gets your ass kidnapped once you get rescued you kick him to the curb.
Then she watched him die and nearly got herself killed in the process. Then she made a tremendously bad decision and stood by him even after his shit got her kidnapped. Being a woman, of course, first, she busted his balls. Before it all went down, Lanie found out about her man working for the Mob. The proof of this was he was now very dead, and she had scars from the bullets her dead fiancé bought her, because he wanted to give her some crazy-ass, out-of-season flowers for their wedding and he got involved with the Russian Mob to do it. This was because, before Lanie’s man Elliott Belova got shot to death, Belova had been even more messed up than she was. Under normal circumstances, Hopper would find that an admirable trait in any woman mostly because he knew by experience it was a rare one. No, Lanie Heron was messed up because she stood by her man. Fuck, he’d seen her create a scene when the diet cherry 7Up she was pouring fizzed over the top of the glass. This was not simply because the woman was pure drama. She was also one serious messed-up bitch. She looked like a fucking model except better because she was real, right there, walking right to him, her eyes locked to his. Even when she came to the Compound to shoot pool or to a hog roast, communing with the brethren of the Chaos Motorcycle Club, she didn’t dress down. He kept leaning against the post that held up the roof over the patio area of the Compound, holding a beer and watching her move. Hopper “Hop” Kincaid watched her wind through the loud, rowdy, drunk bikers and their groupies, heading his way. But more, thank you for the hours of rock beauty you’ve given me while listening to them. Thank you for inadvertently helping me make some beautiful points by using your songs. And to Bob Seger, a man who can tell a mean story through a rock song.
That’s saying something! And I said they were wee gifties to you, but they were your wee gifties to Lanie and Hop. Amy, bathroom sex got better because of you. But knowing I can live my days doing my gig with the understanding that you’re out there, hard at work broadening my horizons, is even better. I know without you as my rocks, I’d be in some serious trouble. This book is yours.Īcknowledgments The usual suspects… Chas and Rikki, if you didn’t take my back, I wouldn’t be able to spend so much time creating my worlds. To all those wounded beauties out there who valiantly battle their monsters every day and find the strength to keep on keepin’ on.
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