Blood-Red Ready
There was blood-red oozing all over the interior of the tiny bathroom. My stomach lurched and I took a few slow, deep breaths to steel myself for the ugly task at hand. I, Stephanie Plum, bond agent, super hero bounty hunter could do this.
It was all my mother's fault, of course. She had cornered me the other morning about my human, ticking time bomb, uh, clock, that was about to ring in the death tolls of my baby-production years. It's not like I haven't been working on changing my life.
In fact, this time tomorrow I will be in the Bahamas, working with Ranger, alias Carlos Manoso, who really is the best detective slash bounty hunter that ever lived in my humble opinion. If things go well, I will make a huge bundle of cash, which is what I am diligently working the hardest to change about my current status; a major cash flow problem. Like zilch. I plan to get a new car and pay off my bills and as long as I stay away from Macy's, I should be good as gold, or green dollars anyway, after I get back from the Islands.
Then, yesterday morning, while looking in the mirror at my baggy eyes from lack of proper sleep due to the lack of a baby production associate, I had noticed IT!
'IT' was a white hair! No, it was a NEON silver hair! I had turned off the light and it actually glowed in the darkness of my seventies-styled bath. I was most definitely spending way too much time in the bathroom.
So, yesterday, in between picking up Neil Schomeill, who was FTA for larceny of a whole truckload of toilet paper from Wally World, I had stopped at our local pharmacy for hair color.
Secretly, I always wanted to be a red-head. Joe, my part time lover and all-time friend, had only the other day prompted me into becoming a red-head with his caustic remarks about how coloring my hair red would then complete the ultimate picture of a ditzy red-head if I did. There are just some things a woman cannot discuss with her lover.
I think my roots turned red right at that moment. I had stomped out of his life and back to my own tiny, sterile apartment.
Joe Morelli, a Trenton detective, was lean and lank in a six-foot frame of smoldering eyes that darkened to chocolate when we made love. However, that final remark about my character had me all hot and mad inside. I was not a ditz! Now, my arch enemy, Joyce Barnhart, was a superb ditz. And, somehow, she made it work for her. Currently, according to Burg News which I had gotten while visiting Zelder's Funeral Home on Pike St for Harry Troutman's viewing, Miss Dumbutt Joyce had recently trolloped off to the Bahamas with a somewhat famous celeb from NYC.
Which explained the blood-red crap all over the bathroom. Well, sort of… In the middle of trying to shake the bottle of hair color to mix it for application, the phone rang. Well, there I am in my birthday suit, mixing caustic chemicals with no prior knowledge of hair coloring techniques and also frustrated because I had spent my last five bucks on said hair color, when the phone rang.
Of course, my cell phone was in my bedroom and the curtains were open. Usually, I never open those curtains because I had previous bad karma from seeing ugly sights staring back at me on the other side of those curtains. Mostly wacko men who wanted to kill me or just mangle me beyond recognition. However, it was a beautiful morning, the birds were singing, and I was feeling brave this morning.
Bravery, yes, to be bold enough to dash to the bedroom for my phone and hastily run back to the bathroom, but not quick enough before the wacko guy outside my window sitting on my fire-escape saw me in all my glory.
Freaked out, I shut the curtain with one hand while opening the cell with the other. A bounty hunter has to acquire lightning quick reflexes to be a good bond agent and opening a cell phone with one hand while taking down a FTA is almost a requirement.
Ignoring the little dots in front of my eyes, I ran back to the bathroom while answering the call.
"Babe" said the voice on the other end.
"Ranger, there's a man sitting on my fire-escape!" I replied.
Now, Ranger is the absolute dream man for all women, perfect voice, eyes, and etcetera. Etcetera meaning seemingly sexually perfect also. And, he has Karma perfected. He knows when to call me, almost like he can smell trouble brewing about ten miles away. That's about how far he was from me at this moment, because his call number was from his office.
"Tank is about one minute from your apartment, he'll be right there."
"Great." I said.
I breathed a sigh of temporary relief and thunked my head against my hand. Ugh! If my mother got wind of this, the news would be all over the Burg about needing to color my hair because I was now an old maid with no prospects of ever getting married. That would be the worst news she could ever hear, that I would never marry. I could be elected President of the United States, but if I was not married, I would still be a loser in her eyes.
I was worried about her finding out since she seemed to find out everything about me. Now, my mother definitely has extra sensory perception regarding my life. It's like little imps are out there keeping track of my event schedule just waiting to report back to her!
Some of my past bounty hunter experiences have driven her to drink. "Sherry Larotti's mother never has to worry that neighbors will call her saying her daughter was on the news and hanging upside down in a tree while trying to capture some idiot who shot his own foot while chasing her. Why can't my daughter work a normal job?" my mother laments every other week or so.
I had just hung up the call when my cell phone chirped again.
Mom! Eek!
"Hi, mom." I answered.
"Stephanie? Are you feeling okay this morning?" she replied, "You sound upset."
"Mother, I just said 'Hi', how can you tell I'm upset with 'Hi'?"
"Uhm, well, a mother knows all and you sound like you're upset about something."
I was starting to get upset. Upset about feeling like I needed to color my hair. Upset about the guy sitting on my fire-escape, upset about Joe…
"Yeah, well, you know how it is when you get up some mornings thinking it's a great day, when everything just starts getting all gobbelty-gooked up… that would be me."
"Gobblety-what? Gooked? Are you coloring your hair? Do you need me to help you? Now, don't worry about that silver hair you have and don't pull it! Three will grow back in its place if you do!"
My mood was definitely going downhill fast.
"Mom, I kinda need to go, I have a ton of things to deal with this morning. And, yes, I plan to be there for dinner tonight." I sighed. My life was totally predictable where my mother was concerned.
Every Friday night, unless I was hanging in a tree somewhere, I arrived at my parent's house for dinner at six o'clock, PM. It was a ritual that prevented me from starving when my food supply was low. That would be about every week. Another item on my "to change" list in my life.
"Well, if you're certain you can handle coloring your hair alone, I'll see you at six sharp, we're having your favorite dessert. You don't want your father to have a coronary waiting for you". Some week, he might, but I always managed to stroll in right on time.
We rang off, I pushed the 'end' button and it chirped again.
"Now what?" I spoke with impatience into the phone.
"Is this a bad time?" It was Morelli. I wanted to scream "Yes!", but I forced myself to be calm.
"I am perfectly fine this beautiful morning." I tried to reply with as little emotion as I could muster.
"Sure, Cupcake," I could feel him grin at the other end, "It could happen with you, NOT!" he replied smugly.
I wanted to hit him in his smugly. But, that would not be good if I decided to reinstate him as my reproduction associate. What was I thinking?
"Whatever!" I hung up on him. The little gizmo chirped again. I sighed. It was Ranger, thankfully.
"Babe." Ranger said, "Are you okay?"
"Fine, the World is a lovely place. Is Tank here yet?" I replied as I blew my hair out of my eyes. I needed to color my hair and meet with my sister, Valerie to cut it for me. Valerie is an adorable little girl inside a womanly figure. She is practically perfect in every way, except for the failure of her first marriage and that her younger daughter is a lot like me. Valerie would never need to color her hair.
"Tank has apprehended the peeping Tom."
"I did not say he was a peeping Tom. How do you know he saw me naked?" I was really upset now. This was exactly what I feared, the entire State of New Jersey would know by noon! I plunked down on the toilet seat in exasperation.
"Naked, well, that would be the best way to see you, Babe." He replied. I could feel my bare doodah ding against the toilet seat.
I groaned.
"You're getting me excited Babe, don't start moaning," he warned. "Unless you need me to come up there right now and take care of the situation."
"It was a groan, not a moan. I'll see you at nine-ish like we planned." I replied. I clicked the red button on my cell.
Then, it happened. I picked up the bottle of hair color, vigorously shook it, the cap blew off and red hair color exploded all over the bathroom!
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