Waiting for Change

Disclaimer – I own nothing, I make nothing. I write for fun and unfortunately not profit. All recognizable characters belong to JE and not me. I think I would do more with Ranger and Tank if they did.

I am glad I left my guitar in the trunk of the BMW; the guys are getting a little too inquisitive on where I have been going once a week. All I say every time is that I am offline. I think that they were assuming I was going to Stephanie's, until they heard she was back with Morelli again. Tank knows where I am, just in case of dire emergency. I won't have my cell, I won't have any trackers. I never have time to just be me – not Ranger Manoso, bad ass bounty hunter, not Carlos Manoso, CEO of Rangeman. Just Rico Manoso from Newark, NJ. It is partially my fault, I play both roles so perfectly, and they are a part of me. But not the whole of me, there is so much more than I let people see.

I am guarded with my heart; I don't think the person who holds it really wants it. I am guarded with my life because it can so easily be used against me. I wish I could let her into my life; there have been several times I wanted to invite her in. Then she goes back to Morelli. I don't think my life is a place she really wants to be. I think it is fun to play with the "bad boy" for awhile, but she is a Burg girl.

I stupidly fell in love with the wrong woman. I know I sent her back to him, but if she really wanted me, she would have fought. Steph fights for everything else she wants, but never once tried to fight for me or for us.

I can't lay all the blame on her because I have said so many things designed to keep her at arm's length. I take what she can give me, because I know she isn't ready for me. I am not sure if she ever will be.

I drive the BMW to a garage I rented and switch it for the Black Ford pickup. I don't want to stand out where I am going. I take the guitar and put it on the passenger seat and grab my duffle bag so I can change. This is the place for bad ass black. I put on my well worn blue jeans, white t-shirt and blue and grey flannel shirt. I leave my hair down, happy that it is starting to grow back, but glad that it isn't all down my back again. I finish with one silver hoop and my dog tags.

I think Steph would be shocked if she could see me now. I know she only sees one dimension of me. That is another reason I regret falling for her.

I don't have time to dwell; I only have 45 minutes to get to Philadelphia for Tritone's open mic night. It feels good to have a chance to perform. I know some of the men might remember that I can and do play guitar and sing, but most of them wouldn't believe it. Some nights it just feels right to lose myself in the song.

When nothing else is going my way and I feel I have let others down or I have been let down. This is the one thing I have always turned to.

Before the Army, I had aspirations to be a rock star, like every other kid. I wanted to be famous. I took guitar lessons every chance I could, even when it wasn't "cool" to play. Even when I was teased and threatened, then I added time in the weight room to my schedule. No one messed with me once I put on muscle.

I had my future all planned and out and then Papa got sick. The time for childish dreams was over. I always played, but it was also time to get serious about my life. I had to find a way not to be a financial burden on my family. They had so much more important things to worry about then my guitar lessons.

I shake my head out of those memories. I made it on time. I always do, I find a great parking spot. Steph calls it my parking karma. I walk into the club and greet a few people. No one recognizes me as Ranger here, I am just Rico- it feels nice, free. These are the nights I think about walking away from it all and just being Rico.

Before I can get too deep into that line of thought my name is called as on deck. I am next, I never plan too much what I am going to play, the song usually just comes to me. When it is my turn, I grab my old acoustic and start to sing.

Waiting on the world to change by John Mayer is what comes out of the guitar. I guess it fits; I am waiting on the world to change or is it time for me to change my world?

A/N: This story was just dying to get out. I don't know how good at writing two stories at once I will be, but this idea has been growing for awhile. If everyone thinks it is a good start I will start trying to plan where this will go. Any ideas and reviews are welcome.

I think I need rehab for my Ranger addiction