Stephanie realizes she and Joe aren't going to work out. Ranger is in the wind. It is time to leave Trenton and get a new life.
"Damn it!" I screamed as I swept into the apartment, weeping mad. Joe Morelli and I had another argument, but this one was especially bad. I finally admitted I wanted nothing to do with raising children, not his, nobody's which my way of saying and not Ranger's either. Rex wasn't waiting for me in his aquarium, perhaps he was asleep. I tapped the glass, but there was no movement. I tapped again and then saw the partially exposed back end. I shook the aquarium but nothing moved. Rex was dead. My very best friend, the one who gave me all his attention and asked for nothing more than a few hamster kibbles or other treat was gone. A deep long moan erupted from my chest and I sank to the floor, devastated.
I wrapped Rex in a small box and buried him in my parent's back yard while my mother and grandmother were shopping. I wanted privacy for the final farewell. Walking back through the family house I realized how emotionally draining life had become. I left the house at 18 for college and high hopes. After barely graduating from Douglass College, I married what I thought was an up and coming attorney, Dickie Orr. He was up and coming alright, months after our wedding he was up on our dining room table with Joyce Barnhardt, a boil on my backside since elementary school. I don't know if he came or not, before I left but they and the whole neighborhood knew my opinion of them.
My job with EE Martin Lingerie Company was the second failure. Who would have thought working for the mob would lead to lay-offs. Bump offs, yes, but I assumed if you didn't get involved in the other side of the business, you had a life time job. The FBI organized crime force had other ideas.
I blackmailed my despicable cousin Vincent Plum into letting me work as a bond apprehension agent. I had no training and in inane fear of guns. These years later I still have no training and my fear of weapons remains as strong as ever. I barely make enough money to pay rent, food, car and other items are optional. My job was never going to allow me to make a decent living, let alone afford a decent car, better apartment, filled refrigerator or retirement money.
My other problem was my sex life, or rather my love life. The sex was great. I had two men in my life, one wanted me as a Burg wife and the other just wanted the sex, or so it seemed. As of today I knew Mr. Burg housewife, Joe Morelli, was off the table, in the trash. My second option, the fantastic to look at, sleep and shower with, Carlos Manoso a.k.a. Ranger was off on some secret government business, I suspect mercenary work; not exactly and ideal lifetime mate. My life was like an ailing transmission, I was stuck in low gear and wasn't getting anywhere fast.
The apartment was now empty, Rex was no longer there, I could never be Joe's wife and mother of his children, Ranger was out of town, somewhere. He never told me when and where he was going. Yes he had offices in Miami and Atlanta but he could also be on a mission never come back. There wasn't a single thing holding me here now except memories; rockets through the walls, homicidal killers coming through the windows, a man blowing himself up in the entry and Ranger getting shot in the hall, dead man on my couch. I had to leave, escape the apartment, Joe, Ranger, Trenton, and my life.
My bank account was unusually flush after several high bond captures. Being a bounty hunter was hit or miss with income. My bills were all paid, my rent was paid. I called and cancelled my phone. Next trek was to the basement, home for Dillon the apartment's janitor/landlord. For a 6 pack he had helped me above and beyond normal landlord duties; replacing locks, broken windows and vacuuming up excess water each time the firemen left my apartment.
"Dillon, I'm leaving for good. Here is another month's rent to cover the sudden departure. I'm leaving a lot behind; furniture, clothing, television, DVD player. Take what you want, sell what you want. Also here is the signed deed to my car. Maybe some fool will buy it."
Back in my apartment I made a final call to Vinnie, my boss. "I quit." I had quit many times so he'll assume this is just another emotional hiccup giving me time to truly escape. I opened my purse and removed all the tracking devices, laying them on the table. Finally I went to the bank where I closed the account leaving money in to cover the rent check I just wrote and one to the phone company. The rest went into cash. I took a cab to the train station. No good byes.
##############
The train went south. I left the train and I took a westbound bus traveling along the Gulf Coast. My destination didn't matter as long as it had a beach. With only a couple of thousand dollars in my wallet, I decided to rent a room in a home instead of a motel. After changing clothes I bought sunglasses, sunscreen and a big floppy hat and headed for the sand. I've always done my best thinking at a beach.
I found "the spot" away from usual pedestrians, dogs, and beach combers. Alone day after day watching the waves and eating doughnuts my "thoughts" were getting nowhere.
Every morning an hour after dawn, a lady jogged down the beach. Forty five minutes later she returned. She was tall, light brown skin, long curly hair held in place with an Atlanta Braves baseball cap.
On the 10th day the lady ran past me, stopped and came up and sat down. No words were uttered and after 30 minutes she got up and continued jogging. On the third visit she sat and after 30 minutes spoke, "Must be some problem. Even Alexander the Great used a sword to untangle the Gordian knot. I have several swords if you need to borrow one. That house," she said pointing, "The white one that looks like a space ship or igloo." She then stood but before leaving she added, "The Hawaiians have a term for you people with white skin. They call you shark bait. Please don't quit and decide to swim to Cuba. The sharks come close to shore at night and will be attracted to your light skin. I'd rather not find whatever was left of you washed up on the beach one morning."
Yes, I mused, my problems were a giant Gordian knot: Joe Morelli is mother and Grandma Bell, my parents Helen and Frank Plum; my job, and of course Carlos Manoso, aka Ranger. But most of all, my biggest problem was Stephanie Plum who had lost her identity, had no idea where she stood in this universe and if she should remain.
The last thought was frightening. Yes, I had thought about swimming out forever. Is that why I go down to the water's edge and stare trying to find answers or courage to end it all? Would I drown first or be torn to bits by sharks? It was the coward's way out and I wasn't sure if I was a coward. After all, as a child I jumped from the garage roof attempting to fly. My first bond apprehension was Joe Morelli, Trenton's bad ass cop and though I got shot in the ass, I stuck with bond apprehension. It wasn't a job for sissies.
The next morning I walked over to the space ship house and rang the bell on the back deck. A noisy Bassett hound came howling to the door. "Hush Winston" and the woman opened the door and looked at me. "Coffee?"
"Yes ma'am, please."
The lady set a big mug of coffee on a glass table and sat down on what appeared to be a glass chair. I figured the woman weighed more than I, so I sat. The coffee was rich but bitter. Where was the sugar and cream? "It has chicory in it, takes some getting used to."
We sat and sipped our coffee. She was waiting for me to say something, but I truly didn't have words.
"My name is Beth. It's my real name. You can tell me your real name or give me an alias, doesn't matter."
"Stephanie."
By your accent I'd say New Jersey?
Yes ma'am.
We usually see northers down in in winter, you flew down early.
I sighed, "I took a train, but I know what you mean."
Beth paused, set down her coffee, "You look like you've lost weight. Your eyes are dull, your skin looks dehydrated and your clothes are a bit loose."
Don't know how, I sit on my butt all day, my diet is heavy on doughnuts and soda. I try to drink water but I don't get enough, I know.
"..And the coffee is the last thing you need," Beth said as she began to rise from the glass or clear plastic chair. "Let me get you a bottle of water. Then I'll make you something to eat."
The food was an omelet with zucchini and mushrooms inside. Normally I would dig out the vegetables, but I ate the whole thing. Where were the toast, butter and jam? "I didn't realize I was that hungry, thank you."
"I need to make some phone calls; it will take an hour or so. If you want to take a shower, I'll set out fresh clothes. Let me show you the bathroom."
The bathroom was futuristic. The tub was huge, suitable for two. The shower stall sprays coming down the walls, but no controls; next to the shower stood a glass tube.
"Talk to the shower. It starts at 98 degrees. Tell it warmer or cooler to suit your needs." Then pointing to the tube she said, "That's a drying tube. Step in and the warm air will dry you. Saves on towels. If you need a towel or wash cloth, they are in here," she said as she pulled open a drawer.
Beth pressed a tile and cabinet opened revealing everything I'd need: shampoo, conditioner, body wash, deodorant, skin lotion, hair dryer and various combs. "Rinse out your undies, you can put them on after they dry. I'll bring you clothes. Take your time, I'll be busy. If you need to nap use the living room couch for now. Or you can go outside and sit on the deck. There's more water in the refrigerator, you need to hydrate."
The drying tube didn't finish drying my hair, I used the hair dryer for touch ups. Looking in the mirror I hardly recognized myself. My eyes had dark discoloration under them, my skin was dull and tired looking, my hair had lost its shine. On the other hand my belly was full, my body clean and the clothes almost fit. Life was good at the moment. I found the living room and stretched out on the only horizontal item I could find. I assumed it was a couch. Like the bathroom, the living room may have come from Star Trek.
I was awakened by the sound of the door opening. Beth returned from her daily run. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you."
You've been so kind, but I don't know why I'm here.
You are probably to use one of my swords on your problems. Come look at the collection. We ascended the curved stair case to the second floor. We paused at the first large room. "This is my home office, I'm an architect. I have the main office in town. Moving down the hall, "This is my bedroom and this last room is my collection room." The door was sturdy and had a security system only Hector would understand. Inside the walls held glass cases backed by heavy duty wire mesh. Every door was locked. Behind the doors were a variety of swords I had no names for. There were also rifle and hand gun collections. I recognized a .38 like mine and a Glock like the men at Rangeman use. On another wall were strange instruments, I guessed to be bows. In the middle of the room were display cases of sticks and strange metal objects. "These are Martial arts weapons," Beth answering my unasked question.
"You use these?"
"Yes, the swords were my father's. The rest are mine. Some of these are for recreation, some for hunting and some Martial arts, Finally these are for protection."
"Are you in danger?
"It is getting very dangerous especially here along the coast. It is a folly to believe the authorities will protect you."
We made our way to the deck and sat in the shade while watching the ocean roll in and out. "Do you have a job Stephanie?"
No, not currently. I'll have to find one soon.
Are you wealthy living off family money?
Giggling, "No.".
Are you broke?
"Just about."
And what are you planning to do?
Beth, I'm not sure, I guess start over. I have a business degree, that and two dollars might buy me coffee at a diner, but not Starbuck's."
What do you mean start over?
With my life.
I'm not going to pry. In time if you want to talk about fine. Right now, I desperately need an office assistant. I'm a damn good architect but a lousy office manager. I have one associate right now and he's a worse manager than I. We need someone to take on all the smutz running a business leaving us time for designing.
"Smutz?"
I almost said something vulgar but don't if you'd be offended.
Laughing out loud, "Beth, that wouldn't be a problem. Sometimes I have a potty mouth.
What would I do?"
"Initially schedule appointments, travel arrangements, type correspondence, keep a daily log. We have accountants, so no heavy bookkeeping. Antonio or I may need help with assembling presentations. You do computer graphics"
Not graphics, just general computer skills.
What did you do previously?
My last job of several years has been bond apprehension agent.
Bounty hunting?
Yes, for the last few years I've used the computer to find people, research their businesses, anything necessary to find them."
"So you know how to dig out information?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Actually that works in perfectly for all the government hoops and regulations we have to navigate. You'd become a company employee, regular pay checks, health insurance including eye and dental. Do you have a car?"
"No ma'am I arrived by bus."
I have two vehicles, an ancient VW beetle and a Harley."
My eyes lit up, "It is a hog? I have a license."
I live here for most of the year, but travel a great deal. I'd love to have someone live in this house; it is big enough you'd have your own privacy. That way I wouldn't have to get a dog sitter or kennel Winston each time I leave on business. I have a housekeeper who comes twice a week so housekeeping wouldn't be an issue.
Oh finally, I'm not a lesbian so I won't be coming after you. I'm a grieving widow, my husband was killed in Iraq.