A/N: Okay. This is a multi-chapter story. I don't actually have a great track record of finishing those, but...I actually have a firm idea of where I want this to go, so hopefully that'll help me finish it some. So this is my first Plum story. I guess since none of you people reading this have ever read any of my other stuff (probably), I guess I'll tell you a little about myself, 'cuz I'm cool like that and I can write it in an Author's Note. Anyway, here's something that might make you go away...CUPCAKE FOR THE WIN! I love Morelli. I love Ranger, too, and I love him and Stephanie together, but not...TOGETHER together. That said, that doesn't necessarily mean she's gonna pick him, so HA. Only I know, at the moment. This tales place...probably after the sixteenth book, because I haven't read the seventeenth book yet. Therefore, if any of this happens to go down in the seventeenth book, PLEASE. DON'T. TELL. ME. I don't want to know. I want to read the book myself. Wow, this is a long A/N. Long A/Ns fail, but they're kind of awesome at the same time. Anyway, on with the show! Oh, and about the title, I couldn't come up with anything else. If you have any other ideas, please suggest them to me, because I want a different title. xD Oh, and I also haven't read any of the between-the-numbers books except for Visions of Sugar Plums and the first half of Plum Spooky. I don't plan to read them, because they're dumb (except for Diesel. As far as I know, Diesel's awesome), so feel free to let me know if I did something from one of those books.

Plum Decisive: Chapter One

When I was in eighth grade, I couldn't, for the life of me, grasp quadratic equations.

For reasons unbeknownst, I'd been placed in the advanced Algebra class. I guess it had something to do with the fact that, in Jersey, if you can tie your own shoes, you're considered a genius.

So there I was, pretending to understand what the heck the FOIL method was and what aluminum wrap had to do with Algebra. And yet, I didn't fail my tests. It wasn't that I got better at solving quadratics, per se. It was more that I got better at cheating and had freaking amazing luck.

Seventeen years later, I'm a bounty hunter for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds, and, to me, the job was a little like the quadratic equations I'd struggled with in junior high.

Norman Fisker had been originally arrested for DUI, but was being formally charged with carrying a concealed weapon. Now, seeing as how this is Jersey and everyone carries concealed here, I normally would've felt bad for the guy, but he'd skipped his court date, and now he was standing between me and the $400 I needed to pay this month's rent.

I'd gone to school with Norman. He lived on the street where I grew up and where my parents still lived in the Burg, a middle-class, working-folks neighborhood in Trenton. As far as I knew, he was a good guy. Most of my memories of him were fond - big games of Tag and Red Rover with the other neighborhood kids, and stuff like that.

I figured as long as I was here, I could bum lunch off my parents. Since I was hungry and it would be really awkward to bring an FTA to my parents' house, I decided that was my first stop.

My car was "in the shop," (translation: I couldn't afford one on my current budget) so I was driving the powder-blue Buick that usually lived in my parents' garage. The monster was great for bringing in FTAs, with its giant, benchlike seats, especially if my sort-of partner Lula was along for the ride, but, as far as I was concerned, was about useless for everything else.

My mother and Grandma Mazur were waiting for me on the porch when I arrived. Apparently, they both had some sort of internal Stephanie Positioning Satellite, and they always knew when I was coming. It'd be great if I had that for when someone was stalking me, which was a good portion of the time, but whatever. That's what a cop boyfriend and a once-lover who owned a personal security company were for.

"Stephanie!" Mom exclaimed when I stepped out of the Buick. "Mindy Florez e-mailed me and said you and Joseph got engaged at Pino's last night."

The Burg had recently discovered the Internet, and most of the tattling-on-Stephanie-Plum had transferred from phone calls to e-mail.

"Morelli and I were discussing marriage. As far as I know, we're not engaged." At least, I didn't think we were. I'd been pretty drunk, and there was really no telling what Morelli had gotten me to agree to.

"Stephanie, you good looks won't last forever. Maybe you should be focusing on discussing a date for the wedding before Joseph decides to find someone younger."

I rolled my eyes. "First of all, I'm a whole two years younger than him. Second, Joe's like...a whole new breed of Morelli. He's not like that." I pushed past my mother and went into the house. "Hey, Dad," I called. He responded with a quick nod and a mumbled "Hey." The Godfather was on.

"I have some nice lunch meat from Gioviccinni's," (A/N: Is that how you spell it?) my mother said. "Roast beef and Colby Jack cheese."

"Do you have any dessert?"

"There's half a chocolate cake left from last night. You can take it with you when you leave."

Sweet. Dinner. No pun intended.

Mom made me a sandwich, and I sat down at the kitchen table to eat it. In the Burg, breakfast and lunch are eaten at the kitchen table, and dinner in the dining room. Always. In my apartment and at Morelli's house, breakfast and lunch are eaten over the kitchen sink, and dinner on the couch in front of the television. Sometimes.

"Mom, do you know if Norman Fisker is home?"

My grandma was the one who replied. "Elsie Nockert told me at the beauty parlor that Norm was going to Jamaica to try some of that pot business." Elsie Nockert was Norman's uncle, so she could probably be trusted to know that sort of thing. Besides that, she was a busybody, so she would probably know anyway even if he weren't her nephew. "That was over a week and a half ago, though, so he might be back now."

Great. Norm went to Jamaica to smoke the chronic and I was out $400 until I could bring him in.

I finished my sandwich and stood up. "He's FTA. I need to go check and see if he's home so I can bring him in. Can I have that cake to take home, now?"

Mom opened the refrigerator and handed me a plastic circular cake box. "Bring it back when you finish. I need it to bring the pineapple upside-down cake for your father's reunion next week." In Trenton, all events are potlucks, including high school reunions. "Please try not to get in the paper today."

"I'll try." I stepped out the front door and went down the porch steps to the Buick. Stepping in, I muttered to myself, "It's gonna be one of those days."