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Bitter Ecstasy
Chapter 1 Washed Away
She had gotten into another fight with Morelli tonight.
Morelli had given Stephanie one of his infamous sermons about her job, marriage, settling down, children, and becoming a permanent housewife. He had scolded her like she was a juvenile delinquent up for sentencing on charges of stealing candy. He hadn't showed any emotion, his empty "cop-look" when apprehending suspects.
Stephanie had never seen this side of him before, until this past week, and it scared her. Maybe it was because they were aging. Maybe it was because he wanted her to be safe, and cared under his wing. Maybe it was because he loved her.
His love meant much to her, but it would never change of lifestyle.
Children were in the future, she had time. Women were having children in their 40s for goodness sake; she could wait. She needed to fulfill her own life before another one's. She needed to get everything out of her system.
Stephanie knew how much he loved her, and how much she loved him, but it wouldn't make a difference. Her path had been destined when she 'flew' off the roof of her childhood home when she was in elementary school. She would never submit to conformity. She never had, and never would.
The more he wanted her to, the more she pushed back. Sometimes too much.
When she'd had enough, she stepped into the humid air outside, wearing nothing but her pajama bottoms, a thin long-sleeve Henley shirt, and a pair of old Converse. Bob had tried to follow her, but she gave him a scratch below his chin, and gently pushed him inside. He hated rain.
She stood on the porch and listened to the steady pitter-patter of the July drizzle. She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh smell, a cleansing of the earth—very earthy and pure-- before stepping off and walking toward her own apartment.
Joe ran onto to the porch in his pajama bottoms and called out her name several times, but this time, she wouldn't be returning. She was never going to fit into his picture-perfect image of her as a housewife.
She needed, and loved action.
Even if it meant putting herself in danger.
The humidity clung to her hair, and she knew it was frizzy without looking in a mirror or the oily puddles on the streets. Few cars were out on the street this late at night. Good, she thought to herself, no one would see her and report it to the whole Burg.
The streetlights flickered ominously, seeming to foretell something. But Stephanie knew her future. It was a big mess. Even if her life was slowing down (she was now working at RangeMan Corporation, led by the infamously sexy badass, Ricardo Carlos Manoso AKA Ranger) for the better, she yearned for action and adventure. And interaction. Even if it was with criminals and the such. She had learned so much by experience life herself and learning it through books and office-work. She learned to fend for herself. Sometimes.
She arrived at her apartment complex, rode up the elevator, and entered her apartment. She gave it an once-over to make sure the closets and cabinets weren't hiding potential threats—bombs, mysterious powder, or ransom letters.
Phew.
She set her keys on the kitchen counter and went into her closet to get a fluffy white robe and undies before headed to the bathroom. The bathroom was musty and damp, from the humidity that built up in the closed room. Her mouth was feeling dry and numb. Stupid beer. And damn good salty pizza from Pinos.
Dehydration was not on her list of activities for tonight. So she went into the kitchen and got a bottle of water.
Stephanie hung the robe with the undies on a hook on the door. She turned on the faucet and let the cold water run until it heated up while she brushed her teeth. Afterwards, she looked at herself in the mirror. Ugh. It was a frightening image—dark patches under her eyes and sallow skin; her skin seemed ghostly under the bathroom light.
What a sight.
Stephanie peeled away the damp clothing that clung to her skin like a second skin, showing every contour of her body—her nipples taut against the flimsy fabric-- and set it on the ground beside the tub. Her bare feet touched the cold tiles and it was cold as hell, so she walked on her heels.
She stepped into the shower and turned on the water. She waited for the scorching hot downpour, to cleanse her body and soul like the rain outside. For a second it stung like thousands of shards of glass shooting into her back, but she got used to it. The pain felt good. She grabbed a natural sponge and poured Bath and Body Works Peach Nectar® shower gel on it. She scrubbed the planes and angles of her skin until it hurt, until the surface was red with friction, until she was literally squeaky clean.
The ringing of the phone suddenly interrupted her daze, but she ignored it. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now. Her mind was frazzled and her body shaking from the incident with Morelli.
She wanted to wash away all her anxiety. All the frustration that had built up in the past few years. Ever since she got involved in the business of bounty hunting.
And Ranger. And his forbidden kisses. Stolen caresses. Teasing jokes. Sexual innuendos.
What were they really?
Mere friendly gestures, or something more?
She had hoped and begged that it was something much more, but everything time she tried to get closer to him, he turned her away.
He shut down any emotion.
He stepped out her life.
Life was so unpredictable, wasn't it? One moment you are on the edge of an orgasm, and the next he's gone. That's what she had learned from the working at Rangeman and living at one of his Batcaves. You gotta fend for yourself.
See, I am learning a lot from experience.
So, she was alone.
The word never hit her until now. What did alone really mean?
She was an independent woman. Something she loved about herself, that she didn't need a man to make her whole. But when the loneliness set in on a humid evening like tonight, it really pained. She had no one to talk to, to laugh and joke with, to touch.
Stephanie let the water pour down on her as she stood their like a stone sentinel, her hands crossed over her breasts, looking like an Egyptian sarcophagus, as if shielding them from something dangerous. She was, in a sense, covering her heart from all the loss and suffering she had endured.
A single tear rolled down her cheek and a soft sob rumbled from her chest. She was alone, no one would hear her. As usual.
She finally turned off the water when it began running cold. She slid the cheap shower-curtain open and saw the fogged mirror across from her. It was as obscured as her future.
She slid open the window above her head in the shower and allowed the humid air in. The sound of the passing trucks and cars hit her. Life was so loud and obnoxious, wasn't it?
She slid out of the shower and let the rug beneath her feet soak in the water dripping from her body. So what if it got moldy from the moist? Her life was already miserable; it was just top off the domino effect.
She dried herself and her hair—a tangled, curly mess of brown. She didn't even bother to brush it; she let it settle on her shoulders, feral and free. When she was younger, Valerie and Stephanie would call their manes "alive". Something that made Stephanie grin, a bit. Valerie had changed much (okay, not that much, she was still little-miss-perfect with her oogie-woogums Albert Kloughn). Stephanie hadn't.
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She wrapped herself snuggly in the robe and stepped into her adjacent bedroom.
She stumbled into her bed and lay there for what seemed like eons. She lay awake. Just wondering where her life was going. Stephanie couldn't fall asleep, so she got out of the warmth of her bed and went into the kitchen.
She took out a rarely-used kettle (a wedding gift from Grandma Mazur, among others—"You need to entertain me and my friends at your snazzy mansion."), filled it with water, and boiled it. Hot chocolate on hot summer day seemed nice. Even if it was eighty degrees outside and her air-conditioning was off, she was freezing.
While she waited, she listened to her messages.
Stephanie, this is your mom. We were just wondering if you were coming over for dinner tonight. Grandma's been a bit cuckoo lately; we were hoping you could come over and take her to Stiva's for a viewing. Bye, honey.
Too late. Maybe tomorrow, she thought to herself. Grandma Mazur could always brighten up her dreary day.
Beep.
Babe. Call me.
Beep.
Three words. That brings the total for this week to (drum-roll, please): twenty-seven.
She picked up the phone and dialed Ranger.
"Yo."
"Yo yourself. You rang?" Stephanie said cheerfully, not wanting Batman to hear any hesitation or anxiety in her voice.
"We need to talk, I'll come over tomorrow morning at seven and we'll talk over breakfast."
"'Kay, see you then."
Whatever he wanted to talk about could wait till tomorrow. Right now, all Stephanie wanted was to settle down on the couch with a nice big mug of hot chocolate loaded with marshmallows and sink into the vortex of the television.
The kettle whistled and Stephanie stirred the boiling water in with the powder. She piled in tons of mini-marshmallows and stirred with a spoon until everything was melted, creating a thin layer of white foam on top of the bottomless abyss of chocolate. Yum.
She brought herself and the mug over to the couch and flipped on the TV. She watched the news for an hour, sipping the cocoa softly.
Death, gore, murder, mayhem, abuse, suffering, poverty, hate crimes, racial intolerance, manipulation, embezzlement, just to name a few.
One thing caught her mind:
Dance club Ecstasy in west side of downtown southern Manhattan: Greenwich Village, on the border of Chelsea, is under suspicion of drug smuggling and other illegal activities. New York City authorities are currently blocking off the premises for further inspection and questioning of the owners of the popular adult dance club. Authorities believe that this case could be part of the widespread drug-smuggling and prostitution-ring throughout the large North-Eastern cities, and in other clubs in all five boroughs of New York: Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, Bronx, and Staten Island. Authorities believe that this large warehouse club is the distribution center.
That brings us to our latest topic—
Stephanie turned off the television and sat staring at the blank screen. Stared at herself. There was a reason she never watched television.
Untamed young adults high on life. Bouncing off the walls, rebellious, carefree, living in a fantasy, untouchable my outside forces. Tsk, tsk. How naïve.
That was her before she got married to and divorced from Dickie Orr. That piece of buffalo dung. Now, she knew better.
She had learned her lesson the hard way, having married an idiot by the name of Dickie.
But that wasn't what caught her attention. It was the words prostitution. It got her mind churning. She thought it was the vilest, most inhumane thing. How could one buy something so valuable to a woman? How could one take it away? Dignity. Pride. Love for life.
Why would girls enter that career (if you could call it one)? A one-night-stand that could have very, very bad consequences. Internal scarring. Physically scarring.
Lula and her former life. Stephanie understood the reason- money. Lula learned the hard way. Stephanie respected her a lot for coming clean and being a great friend.
Stephanie shuddered.
Everything was miserable.
It made her feel worse. About herself for being so stupid in her own life and about the idiots out there.
Wow, my life is paradise, she realized. Stephanie wiped the pity tears off her bloated cheeks and giggled to herself.
I am really acting silly. My intergalactic, pompous, princess mode. Tomorrow, I am going to go about my day normally. I don't need a Morelli to satisfy me. I need to start appreciating life. I have a place to live, things to eat, and people who love me. What more do I need?
An hour in front of the tube seemed to clear her system, wash away all her anxiety in her own life.
Stephanie finished her steamy mug of irresistible yum and put the mug in the sink.
She looked at the clock. Past midnight.
Time for bed.
She gave her hamster, Rex, who was running on his wheel, a finger kiss and went into her room. She dug inside her cluttered bureau and found a pair of blue waffle drawstring pants and a white tank top and changed.
Without letting any of the evening's occurrences plague her mind, she fell asleep.
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Stephanie woke up to a soft kiss on the bridge of her nose, and a gentle hand wiping away strands of hair off her temple. She responded, "Go away, Morelli. Leave me alone."
She opened one eye, with her brows furrowed and leaped two inches off her bed.
"What are you doing here? You scared me shitless. It's not seven yet."
Ranger shook his head teasingly before saying, "You smell great. Rise and shine, babe."
"Thanks," she muttered. Her mentor: friend: sometimes lover had arrived and all she wanted to do was sleep in.
When she didn't rise he quipped in, "Having problems with Morelli? Are you scared shitless enough to let me into your bed and erase all your troubles?"
Men.
Libido.
All the same.
I groaned and rolled my eyes.
Did he hear me in my sleep?
Oopsies.
That wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to keep my mind straight in front of others, especially Ranger, the Cuban Sex God. I didn't want anyone to see me as some harmless, dependent life-form.
Stephanie rolled over onto her other side and stared at her closet. Wow, was it a mess. Luckily no one checked up on her cleaning. Too bad cleaning was NOT at the top of her list-of-things-to-do today.
She could feel Ranger smiling. She looked over her shoulder and saw him standing like some action-figure from a Marvel magazine/catwalk model for Calvin Klein. He was clad black-- his black T-shirt plastered onto him like a second skin and his cargo pants tight in special places that showed off one of his many special features. The black color accentuated his physique—all muscles and perfection. He made her feel warm in strange places.
When he didn't get her hint, she said, "Fine. Give me five minutes."
She stretched in her bed, fixed her tank top that had shifted over her breasts during the night, and swung her legs off the bed.
"What's next?"
"Do you have anything to eat for breakfast?"
"Does wheat bread, peanut butter, and olives count?"
"Babe, never a dull second with you."
She gave him her Cheshire cat grin and trotted into the bathroom. He leaned on the door-jam and watched. She looked at herself in the mirror and almost fainted, even if it wasn't anything different from the norm.
Her hair, damp when she fell asleep last night, had become a massive bird nest. Her hands moved to the brush lying on the counter. She brought it to her Afro and began taming it. It didn't work.
"Are you just gonna stand there and watch me?"
He put his hands out to demonstrate okay-okay-time-to-back-off and moved out of the bedroom. He knew to keep his distance, sometimes.
She returned to her business after watching his sexy ass move out of her vision. After bringing out the big guns and trying everything that she had, she decided that the best way without having to take another shower (it wasn't that she didn't want to; Ranger was out there!) was to put on a cap.
She opened her emergency drawer and took out a sports cap.
She brushed her teeth and went out to the kitchen. Ranger had already found some edible goods and was sitting on a stool on the counter. One eyebrow rose when she entered wearing the cap, but Ranger said nothing. He didn't want to get on a girl's bad hair day.
"Oh, those are granola bars I found at the 'healthy food' store that Ella recommended. They don't taste that good."
Ranger took a bite and closed his eyes, savoring the moment, just to rub it in her face. The deep moan he made caught Stephanie's breath. Oh my gosh, she said to herself. That sound was erotic music to her ears.
She took one out of the box and started eating the tasteless, cardboard-tasting piece of organic junk with some dried berry-like things. She continued the chew-and-swallow process and it started tasting normal, to a degree of course.
"Yum, almost as good as a Boston Cream," she said sarcastically.
Ranger locked eyes with her and shock his head slightly, "Babe, you can always manage to brighten up my day."
Second complement in less than ten minutes. Yes! Or was it a complement?
"So what's up?"
"I need to ask a favor of you."
Without even thinking, she said, "Anything."
"There is a large child-prostitution ring in New York City that involves ecstasy and other drugs. I'm going there with my men and we're going to infiltrate the clubs, particularly Ecstasy and get down to the bottom of it. This ring is part of a larger one throughout the east coast, so it will help us find the ring leader. It is dangerous, and it will involve staying in New York City for a while."
Her mind got fuzzy. The only word that stuck was: Child-prostitution? What kind of sick maniacs would do that? Drugs too?
"Babe, are you alright?" he said, with concern in his eyes, his hand over hers in a matter of nanoseconds.
"Yeah," she said, melting in the warmth of his touch.
"I know it is sickening to think of anyone doing such things, but that's why we're getting involved. The police haven't been able to get any leads yet, and it's been a few years already."
She shook off any doubts and asked, "And you need my help?"
"Yes."
I was definitely going to get myself involved in this. I could not imagine any child involved with prostitution or drugs—I was thinking Angie and Mary Alice and Julie. The thought was repulsive and I was going to stop it. Second of all, Ranger had just asked for MY help. I was usually the one pestering him. Of course I would gladly accept. Working with Batman and his entourage is any girl's dream, right? Third of all, I needed to leave Trenton. Morelli. My parents. The burg.
I needed some fresh air. I needed room to spread my wings.
I was going to help. I was stepping my little self into the world I had avoided since I got out of college—the clubs, drugs, sex, hangovers.
I took a deep breath.
"When do we leave?"
The Big Apple, the City that Never Sleeps, New York City, here I come.
The plot thickens. New York! Yay! Hope you enjoyed this installment and please comment. Suggestions are great!
Sincerely,
…C