A short little story about our favorite playboy.
Chapter 1
Friday nights is the beginning of the week-end; time to kick back, cut loose and for the morally wobbly, hookup.
The building housing Diamonds Bar began life as a Hamilton Township family restaurant featuring fried chicken, wood wainscoting and homey wall paper; all fashionable in the 1960's and 70's. Only the chicken had disappeared. Poor lighting helped hide the seediness; the worn linoleum in the entry, tired restrooms, and the warped dance floor dating back to 1980. The only way to ignore the décor was to be shoulder to shoulder with the crowd, inebriated or drugged
The bar was long, seating thirty and standing room for an equal number. Two bartenders barely kept the chaos under control, four were needed. If fast service was needed, one ordered beer in a bottle taking, without complaint, what the bartender handed you. Only three qualities kept crowds in the club, cheap beer, the low $5 cover charge after 9 p.m. and the excellent DJ with an intense sound system. The real money was made across the back alley; a hotel with rooms for 30 minute intervals and pharmaceuticals.
Rangeman did not provide security at Diamonds Bar but was working tonight with the owner's begrudging approval. Rangeman Security's apprehension unit had determined their bond jumper would appear at Diamonds between 2000 and 2230 hours as he did every Friday night. Such devotion to schedule was stupid for someone who had skipped out on a million dollar bond in Atlanta. Rangeman Atlanta had contacted the Trenton office to return the FTA-failure to appear- back home.
Rangeman Trenton's head, Carlos Manoso, also known has Ranger due to previous Army work. Tonight he assigned six Rangeman employees for inside the club, two by the back door and two in the main room and two up front with the bouncers. The regular bouncers didn't mind having a hand for the Friday night crowd. All Rangeman working tonight were former military Special Forces; mind-blowing fit, with rock hard muscles, quick reflexes and nerves of steel. Every man wore ear devices and microphones for communication. Those working inside were also given hearing protection in the free ear as Diamonds was loud.
Antoine Ouellette was the head bartender. Tonight he was grousing about a substitute bartender. The large, muscular substitute seemed competent but Antoine wasn't sure the sub could keep up with the rush. "What type of name is Woody and who the heck wears a cowboy hat in Jersey?" he mumbled to himself. He had no idea Woody was the seventh Rangeman security member for the night.
Down the street waiting in a Porsche 911 Turbo Ranger and Stephanie Plum, a part time employee with Rangeman and heart interest of Carlos "Ranger" Manoso waited for word the FTA had arrived. Stephanie would begin the distraction using her feminine ways to lure the fugitive from the bar where he would be apprehended and shipped back to Atlanta.
"I've never been in this bar," Stephanie said.
"Consider yourself fortunate. It's old, dirty and loud. The entrance is narrow with a short hall to the main room. Bar is on the left side; Junior and Carl are at the bar occupying two seats. Carl will move for the FTA, Junior will offer you his seat. Have you studied the picture?"
"The FTA is rather unremarkable and young. What's his tag?"
"He's into creative accounting." Someone with disposable income bailed him out and then came crying to Rangeman for help. Since Mr. Money is a big contract, The Deacon couldn't say no."
At 8:15 pm (20:15 hours) a cab pulled up to Diamonds and a 30 year old bright copper haired woman stepped out. She was still dressed in her day work clothes; a dark green pencil skit and jacket with an ivory silk camisole underneath. Four inch Christian Louboutin heels perfectly matched the suit and the height brought her to close to six feet tall. Her hair was pulled back into a loose French twist. She looked at the bar with uncertain eyes. This is not what she expected. Daryl Piras had mentioned he had recently purchased the bar and needed her input on how to improve the décor and service. From the outside she thought, D-9 caterpillar would be the most appropriate decorating tool.
"Mr. Piras, I am not an architect or interior designer. I have some experience with efficient bar design, but the not rest of the establishment," Charlotte Williams tried to explain. But since Daryl Piras was one of the largest liquor distributors in the area and a major client, she would oblige his request.
"We'll have a quick drink" and then we'll head elsewhere for dinner."
Tank the 6'6" muscularly massive dark skin Rangeman watched the woman emerge from the cab, "Ma'am is this your first time at Diamonds?" he asked as the marque lights reflected off his hairless head. Tank wanted to say, "You are a bit high class for this place."
"Yes, I'm meeting Mr. Piras, the new owner."
"Mr. Piras has owned Diamonds for years ma'am," Tank replied as he opened the bar's door. Charlotte hesitated as she passed through the door. Tank's comment was the first warning; the second was the small front door passage into the bar. "Fire code violation" ran through her mind. She knew New Jersey's laws and figured someone had paid someone to overlook the obvious violation. The thread bare carpeting caught her eye as well as the dry wooden wainscot dating back to a 1960's family restaurant than a modern bar and dance club. The extremely loud music assaulted her ears, she had had enough, she turned to leave when someone grabbed her arm, "Where are you going?" It was Daryl Piras.
"I expected someplace quieter," Charlotte responded.
"We'll have one drink, you can look around and then we'll go to a quiet restaurant and we can discuss renovations. It's still early."
With reluctance Charlotte followed Daryl to the bar but there were no seats. Charlotte had been on her feet all day and not a fan of high heels, the thought of one more minute standing in the towering shoes with kicking-cockroaches-in-the-corner pointed toes was unthinkable.
"What do you want?" Daryl asked rather coarsely.
She desperately wanted to leave. Looking over the bar display she was surprised to see a quality bourbon among the offering. "Hunter's Bow neat, water on the side."
"I'd expect nothing less from you. It is most expensive drink here."
She ignored the comment.
"So what do you think of the place?" Daryl asked as he tried to gently turn her away from the bar. But she slipped his arm out and watched the smaller bartender pour her drink and set it on the bar. She put her hand over and around the shot glass to prevent others from tampering with it. The water was set down moments later. She drank half the water to quench her thirst and hydrate before drinking alcohol. She sipped the liquor once and set it down, abandoning it.
As Daryl continued to prattle on about possible decor changes, she looked at the bar's seediness. It would take a complete teardown and rebuild to make this place decent. "I told you I am not a decorator," she nearly shouting to be heard over the music. "But I am familiar with efficient bar design and this one fails miserably."
"How so?" He leaned over putting his nose closer to her chest smelling her expensive perfume and admiring the her luscious chest.
"To begin with, the bar is severely understaffed. You have approximately sixty services at the bar plus what the wait staff is gathering. You are losing money on the wait. Second, the bar is, for lack of a better term, is dated. The display is filthy and poorly arranged, the glassware supply is dangerously low, and the ice smells like the machine hasn't been cleaned in ages." She then turned towards the dance floor as she was no longer guarding her shot glass. "If you plan to make this a bar and dance establishment for the 21st century, the décor is 60 years too old. I shudder to think about the rest rooms. Maybe I ought to check them out."
It was still early in the evening but already the line for the woman's restroom was out the door. Only recently had building codes finally reflected women spend more time in a rest room than do men. The required undressing, sanitary needs unlike a man's "just shake it" plus the redressing, hand washing, makeup and hair adjustment took time. Women routinely spent at least three times longer in lavatories than men. As usual, the women's line snaked into the hall and was partially blocking access to the men's facility.
A gentleman, about 6'2", dark blonde with medium skin tone stepped in front of her, "Excuse me," he smiled as he tried to pass. He then suddenly stopped. "Whoa, a fellow green eyes, we must be related," he exclaimed. Charlotte wasn't going to look at him, she had heard green-eye lines all through her life, but this time she glanced at him. He had the same emerald eyes.
"I missed you at the family reunion," she kidded back. He laughed and continued on into the men's room. No sooner had the man passed than the room began to spin. She leaned against the wall until the dizziness passed. The blond green-eyed man exited the men's restroom hoping to see the green-eyed lady only to find her leaning against the wall in distress.
"Green Eyes, are you OK?" Lester Santos, one of the Rangeman security force asked.
"No, I'm feeling shaky. Maybe I'm I need to eat."
"Are you here with someone? I'll walk you back." He took her arm, walked her back to the bar but kept his eyes on her.
Charlotte returned to Daryl Piras and said, "I've seen enough, let's leave."
Daryl showed no interest in leaving, "No let's finish our drinks."
Charlotte didn't dare shake her head no for fear of the returning vertigo, instead she started to leave, "I'm hungry, I need to eat."
"You hardly touched your drink," he said grabbing her arm. "It's the most expensive liquor in the house. It costs me money."
More alarms went off in Charlotte's head, "I doubt that." Turning to the bartender, "May I see your Hunter's Bow bottle please?"
The substitute bartender, Woody, complied, noting the lady's date looked uneasy at the request. Charlotte examined the bottle shape, carefully scrutinized the labels on the front and back and handed the bottle back to Woody. "Thank you."
"Satisfied?" Daryl asked as he watched the substitute bartender return the bottle to the shelf.
"Yes, Mr. Piras and I'm leaving."
Before Daryl could argue, Lester approached her, "Excuse me, would you dance with me?"
"No, we are leaving," Daryl quickly countered.
Charlotte saw a chance to get away. "I'd love to dance." On the way to the dance floor she stumbled, but Lester caught her.
"You OK?" Lester asked. She looked pale and slightly sweaty.
"No, I really need to leave." She leaned up to Lester's ear, not realizing she was speaking into his microphone, "The bourbon is scotch and something is wrong with the water," she mumbled. Lester thought she might be drugged and walked her back to the bar but slipped in behind her so he could listen to her conversation with the other man.
Woody, the substitute bartender could just make out what Charlotte said into Lester's microphone about the water and liquor. He reached into the bottles and removed the Hunter's Bow, setting it in a cabinet. He then moved and quickly replaced her water with a new glass, placing the original one in a cabinet along with the Hunter's Bow bottle. Daryl and Antoine the main bartender did not see Woody's moves.
The DJ took a break allowing normal conversation to be heard, providing the clientele still had hearing. "Finish your drink," Daryl ordered, "Then we will leave."
Reaching into her jacket pocket she pulled out a micro-wallet and removed a $20 bill. "Mr. Piras, I will pay for my drink which is not what I ordered."
"What do you mean? You checked the bottle." Daryl said with raised voice.
"That's why I know it's not correct. This is cheap scotch, not quality bourbon. Also the label does not match the bottle shape. Someone is tampering with your stock, Mr. Piras. You could lose your liquor license here and maybe all your licenses."
"Maybe it's my supplier," he sneered. "They may be cheating me."
"Never," she shot back, maybe a little louder than necessary. Her company had sold him the Hunter's Bow and several other liquors on the shelves. "You need to investigate this before it gets reported to the liquor board." As Charlotte went to move away, Daryl reached into his pocket and pulled a quick release dagger, wrapped his left arm around Charlotte and said clearly, "You ain't reporting anything, bitch" and shoved the long blade into her abdomen. Lester saw the grab and pulled Charlotte back not knowing she had been stabbed. Losing control of Charlotte, Daryl reacted by trying to stab Lester who quickly deflected the blade and took control of Daryl's arm and bent it back.
The DJ ramped up the music drowning out at the action at the bar. "Let go of me, I'm the owner. I'll have you arrested," Daryl complained. Lester pushed Daryl down to the floor and the bouncer, another Rangeman security man arrived to take control of Daryl. Woody, the bartender, quickly grabbed the still full glass of liquor with a napkin and set it in a cabinet with the suspect water and liquor bottle before Antoine Ouelette saw what was happening.
As Rangeman Hal lifted Daryl to his feet, Lester was about to pick up the knife when he noted it was bloody. Looking at Charlotte he saw her examining her bloody hand while a red stain was spreading across her blouse. "Green Eyes, you are hurt." he stated.
Charlotte looked up nodded. Lester dipped his head towards his microphone, "9-11, assault with knife, roll sheriff and a bus."
Charlotte looked like she'd pass out so Lester picked her up in his arms. Bink, another of the Rangeman undercover men came over and with a handkerchief picked up the knife. Daryl, his Hal Rangeman escort, and Lester with Charlotte in his arms exited out the front door. Tank and Cal took control of Daryl while Hal and Bink returned to work. Lester moved Charlotte away from Daryl. Setting her down, Tank handed his handkerchief to Lester to use as a compress until the EMTs arrived.
The Rohypnol in the water was beginning to work. Charlotte looked into Lester's eyes and slurred, "Hey, handsome, you have green eyes too, bet we'd make lovely babies together." She then lost consciousness.
With all the commotion outside; police and ambulance, Rangeman's objective, the fugitive, walked into Diamonds. Tank saw him and spoke into his microphone, "FTA is in the house."
Bink inside noted the Atlanta fugitive made his way to the far end of the bar and found a seat. The regular bartender, Antoine Ouelette, had tried to slip out the back door and was detained by the Rangeman on duty in the back. Suddenly the bar had only one bartender, Woody. To keep a riot from breaking out in the bar with lack of service, Vince moved in to help Woody.
When things began to settle once again, Stephanie came into the bar, Ranger followed a few minutes later and found a dark area to provide extra security.
"Wow! Hard time getting in this evening," Stephanie said as she slipped onto a bar stool next to the FTA.
"Yeah, some problem at the far end of the bar when I came in," the man said.
"Could you tell what it was about?" Stephanie asked to keep the conversation going.
"Looked like a dispute between Daryl and some broad."
"Daryl who?"
"Daryl Piras, he's the owner."
"Do you know him?"
"We met a few days ago. He's always looking at the women and seems to hook up at the end of the evening. I suspect he propositioned the broad and she got upset. He may have even copped a feel and she let him have it and he decked her. She was carried out by some guy. Daryl left in cuffs."
Stephanie was no stranger to distractions and within ten minutes had the FTA following her outside like an eager puppy, at least until he met Tank and a cadre of police. The police were still there with Daryl and Antoine but the FTA realized he couldn't escape. "Oh damn," was all he muttered.
Stephanie played up her part running after the FTA, "Hey, he's with me! What's going on? Why are you arresting him? He hasn't done anything!"
Tank responded, "Ma'am he skipped his bond in Atlanta. We are returning him."
As the FTA was hustled into the waiting SUV, Stephanie stood with her mouth open as if surprised, but said nothing. After the SUV pulled away, Ranger came out, "Good job, Babe."
"What happened earlier?"
"A woman apparently got stabbed, maybe drugged as well," he said shaking his head. "The guys contained it to keep a panic from ensuing inside. The regular bartender tried to slip out the back but was stopped before he made the door. Woody and Vince are manning the bar for the rest of the night. Rangeman employees are versatile."
Stephanie glanced back at Diamonds, "This is the pits. It should be closed."
"It should have been closed twenty years ago," Ranger said as he held the Porsche car door for Stephanie.
In a hurried call from Daryl Prias still in police custody, to the usual second bartender came to the bar at closing, cashed out the till, and locked up for the night. Four hours later Diamonds was fully engulfed in flame. Daryl Piras and Antoine Ouellette were still being questioned by police.