I spent the next few days mulling over the idea of working for Ranger in Miami. The Menendez Preparatory Academy was heralded as one of the most prestigious private schools in the country. The campus was beautiful, the staff diverse and highly educated. The students were considered some of the best and brightest. Its graduates went to the Ivy League, became Rhodes Scholars, and two had even won Nobel Prizes. It sounded intimidating to someone who had barely made it into college and graduated with a GPA only slightly higher than the stoners. I had worked for Ranger in the past, but only on short-term jobs that had generally fallen on the eccentric end of the spectrum. This was a serious position and he thought I could do it.
I made the mistake of mentioning to my family that I was considering a different job while at dinner on Sunday.
"But why?" my mother asked. "I thought you liked that job. And just as I'm beginning to understand why you do it."
"My beauty parlor needs a new receptionist," Grandma Mazur said. "Josie Barnes was the old one, but she had to quit on account of she kept forgetting to write people's appointments down and Marla was triple booked for three days straight."
The ability with which I managed to repress a shudder was so admirable that I felt I deserved some sort of medal for it.
"Stephanie doesn't want to work at your beauty parlor," my mother said. "She's too young for that place. She should try to get a job up at First Trenton Bank. I heard they need tellers. That's a respectable job with benefits."
"Banks are all crooks," my father chimed in, surprising us all. "She should work at the GM plant. It pays good, gets overtime every week, has good insurance, and it's union."
While my parents and grandmother argued over the merits of their own suggestions and trashed the others, I shoveled in my lasagna and downed my wine. I wanted to get out of there.
"As much as I appreciate the help, I've already had a job offer that I'm going to look into," I said, pushing my plate away and walking into the kitchen for the cookies that were intended for dessert.
"Where? Does it pay well? Does it have health insurance?" my mother asked excitedly. So much for her being supportive of my career in bond enforcement.
"Yes, it pays well and has health insurance. It's actually a job with Rangeman doing private security at a boarding school."
"Oh," my mother said, clearly conflicted about how to feel. On one hand, security at a boarding school was likely to be fairly tame, but I'd also be working for Ranger. My mother worried about my connection to Ranger. She worried that he might maim my eternal soul by dragging me into crime or by getting me pregnant and refusing to marry me. "That sounds nice. What school is it?"
"It's called the Menendez Preparatory Academy. It's in Miami."
That caused everyone to whip their head up and around to look at me. "Miami? As in Florida?" Grandma Mazur asked.
"Yes, that one."
"Miami sounds fun and sexy. I bet you'd meet a bunch of hot guys down there. I've heard there are a lot of gay guys in Miami. Is that true? I saw a picture on the internet once of these guys who only wear these little things to cover their privates at the beach. I think they were called a c-string because they only had a band on one side," Grandma Mazur babbled, looking excited. "Maybe I should move to Miami. These winters are starting to get to me."
"Why would you want to move to Miami? You don't know anyone there," my mother said, and I swore there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes. Oh no. If my mother cried, I'd cry, then Grandma Mazur would cry and then my father would slit his throat with his knife. It would be a disaster.
"I haven't said yes to it," I said quickly. "Ranger offered it to me and said that we could go to Miami so I could check it out if I thought I might be serious. I'm going to tell him I would like to see the place and get a feel for it. It doesn't mean I'm taking it, but if I like it I probably will. I need a change. I want to get away from Morelli." I wrapped two cookies in a napkin and stuck them in my messenger bag. "I've got to get going. I need to talk to Ranger."
I waved goodbye and hurried out of the house before my mother could knock me out with a table lamp and lock me in my old bedroom with a flap on the door to shove food through three times a day. Earlier in the day I had purchased a ten year-old Buick from one of my elderly neighbors. He couldn't drive it any longer and didn't want it being sold by a car salesman, so he gave me a great deal on it with the promise that I would take care of it. He clearly was senile considering he made no mention of my track record with cars, but I didn't mention that because the price, its pristine condition, and the fact that it had less than thirty-thousand miles on it was too good to pass up. I had driven the Rangeman Honda Civic to my parents' house with the intention of dropping it off at Rangeman after dinner and hopefully catching a ride back home.
I pulled into the underground garage fifteen minutes later and parked in space number nine, as designated by the tag on the key ring. I made sure there weren't any fast food wrappers laying around before I got out and headed towards Ranger's apartment on the seventh floor. I stood in the foyer once I got off the elevator and debated about whether to knock or let myself in. I had a key and Ranger had once told me that he wouldn't have given it to me if he'd felt he needed any privacy, but it still felt awkward sometimes. House keys were intended for people in a relationship, which we weren't. We avoided discussing the fact that whatever type of relationship we did have extended beyond friendship, into romantic love, but stopped short of any sort of commitment. Ranger didn't have the time or space for commitment in his life. He was married to his personal demons and Rangeman was his child. His best friend was also his second-in-command at work. I figured I fell somewhere on the spectrum between toy and friend with benefits. If you don't count the fact that the benefits had been few and far between.
I was spared the need to make a decision because Ranger opened the door and startled me.
"Sorry, were you leaving?" I said quickly.
"No, the front desk called to say you had come up and were standing in the foyer."
Duh. I was on camera from the time I entered the building until I stepped into the apartment. I'd probably looked like an idiot. How long had I been standing there?
I followed Ranger into the apartment and was greeted by the smell of garlic and spicy peppers. There was classical music playing softly from the living room.
"Am I interrupting something?" I asked, worried that I had walked in on him entertaining a woman, even though Ella had made it clear to me every time I had spent the night at Rangeman that she enjoyed having me around because Ranger never had any other women over.
"I just finished dinner," he told me. "I was about to clear the dishes when I heard you were standing at my door talking to yourself."
"I wasn't talking—," I stopped, realizing that he was teasing me. I punched him in the arm, which made him smile.
He offered me a glass of wine and we took our drinks into his living room. The music was emanating from a channel on the television. The lights were dim, somewhere on the spectrum between let's get it on and hungover high school student trying to hide it from the parents. He turned down the sound on the television until it was a faint background noise, but left the lights alone.
"I wanted to see if you were serious about the job in Miami," I said after taking a large sip of wine.
"I wouldn't have mentioned it otherwise," he said.
I had figured as much. Ranger never said anything he didn't mean.
"I'd like to see the school and the Miami office and get a feel for whether I would fit in there. As much as I've talked about wanting to get away from Trenton, it freaks me out to think of leaving my family and friends and everything I've ever known."
"I'm flying down to Miami on Tuesday night. I have meetings all day Wednesday and Thursday. But I can extend my trip to take you to the school. You could spend the days I'm in meetings exploring the city and getting an idea of how the Miami office operates. It's a bigger city than Trenton, so the office has to work differently."
"That sounds great," I said. "I've never been to Miami, so I'm looking forward to it."
"Bring the red dress," Ranger said, running a finger along the nape of my neck. "I'll take you to dinner at my favorite restaurant one night."
"Is it appropriate for the red dress?"
"The red dress is appropriate anywhere."
I let Connie and Lula know that I'd be out of town for a few days, but didn't give them all the details. I told them Ranger had a job for me in Miami. I just didn't say that it would be a permanent one. I didn't want Vinnie replacing me until I was sure I was going to leave. He'd probably have Joyce Barnhardt and her fake boobs in the office before Ranger and I made it to the airport.
I spent Monday packing my suitcase with a variety of clothing, including the red dress. I figured I was going to be in Miami so it wouldn't hurt to wear it out one night. I contemplated whether or not to pack some protection in case things got intense with Ranger, but thought it likely that he would have some with him. When he had shown up in Hawaii a last year, he had been sure to bring an ample supply. Not that we had used them every time…
I had my suitcase packed and supplies gathered for Rex's stay at my parents' house when Ranger and Tank arrived at three Tuesday afternoon. Ranger knocked once on the door before he opened it. He stood for a minute and looked at my luggage.
"I thought you were just going for a few days to get a feel for the place. I didn't know you were planning to move this week," he said, picking up the suitcase by the handle rather than using the wheels like a normal human.
"You think you're being cute, but it's hard to know what to pack. And certain outfits need certain shoes."
"Babe, you wear jeans and a t-shirt ninety-percent of the time."
"But I'm going to be in Miami. I want to blend in by wearing cute summer dresses and bikinis. Plus, I need to look nice when I check out the school. And you insisted on the red dress." I pointed out as we hit the button for the elevator. I knew if he'd been alone, Ranger would have just taken the stairs.
"Forget I said anything. I'm just grateful you brought the red dress."
I was laughing when the elevator door opened and Morelli appeared. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He had a five o'clock shadow and bags under his eyes. He looked as surprised to see us as we were to see him.
"What are you doing here, Joe?" I asked.
"I was coming to talk to you. Where are you going?"
"To Miami."
"Why?"
"It's none of your business." I replied calmly, pushing myself past him into the elevator. Ranger followed silently and reached over to hit the button for the first floor.
"Is he going with you?" Morelli asked, jerking his head in Ranger's direction.
"Yes."
I saw Morelli clinch his jaw. "We've been broken up less than two weeks and you're running off on vacation with Ranger."
"Have you met Ranger? He doesn't take vacations. It's work," I said. I shifted Rex's cage to my left hip just in case I needed my right hand to punch Morelli in the nose.
"Yeah, that's what I heard about Hawaii."
Uh-oh. Ranger and Morelli were in very tight quarters. This was not the time to bring up Hawaii. I didn't have my stun gun on me. And my priority would have to be Rex until the elevator doors opened up on the first floor and I could get him safely out of the way.
Thankfully, the elevator doors slid open onto the first floor and we all got out.
"Why haven't you called me back?" Morelli asked as he followed me to Ranger's Cayenne.
"Because I don't want to talk to you, Joe. How hard is that to figure out?"
"Can't we work this out? It's not like I cheated on you. In Hawaii."
Ranger had put my suitcase in the back of the car and was headed to the passenger seat.
"We need to get going, Babe," he said, placing a hand on my hip that I knew had only been done to goad Morelli.
"I'm not having this discussion with you. I'm going to Miami to check out a job. Ranger is going with me because it is at his company. If I like it, I'm going to move down there. I don't care if you like it or not. I'm no longer your problem. You, your acid reflux, and your xanthan gum allergy can kiss my ass," I yelled. I yanked the back door open, slid gracefully onto the backseat, and put on my sunglasses as Tank pulled away from a shocked Morelli.
What really happened was that I hit myself in the head when I opened the door too hard, struggled to climb in carrying Rex's bulky glass cage and had to eventually step out and slide it across the seat before I could get in and shut the door. It didn't quite have the same effect. I could hear Morelli's voice, but not what he said as Tank pulled out of the lot.
"Thank you for not killing him," I said to Ranger. "I would have felt really guilty."
"We would have missed our flight," he replied. I thought he was joking, but it was always so hard to tell.
We arrived in Miami around nine that evening after an uneventful flight. I dozed off about halfway through it and woke up to find my head on Ranger's arm. I had only drooled on him a little, thankfully. A tall, skinny Rangeman employee was waiting for us at the airport after we hit baggage claim for my suitcase. We silently followed the man out to a parking garage and climbed into a black Escalade. It could have been a Rangeman car from Trenton. The only difference would have been the license plates. We drove east through the city towards the coast. Ranger had informed me that his office was located in an area called Brickell. Wikipedia told me it was known as the financial district and that there were numerous consulates located in the area. This was high-rent and Ranger likely provided services to a number of businesses and residents in the neighborhood. We pulled up to a ten-story building on one of the smaller roads along the river and into an underground parking garage. The Miami operation was clearly a lot bigger than Trenton, as the parking garage was two levels and with the exception of about ten spaces reserved for visitors it was filled with black cars and SUVs. Some of the spaces were empty, but had numbers to correspond with their license plates. We pulled into number fifteen and climbed out. I pulled out the extended handle on my suitcase and wheeled it to an elevator. Ranger gave me a look and shook his head.
"The wheels are there for a reason," I informed him.
"To help your biceps atrophy," he replied. I resisted making further smart ass remarks in front of the other guy. If I was going to work for him, I couldn't be seen doing something that other employees wouldn't be allowed to do.
The Rangeman guy got off on the fourth floor and we proceeded to the penthouse. Like in Trenton, access to Ranger's personal apartment required the use of a key fob. The elevator doors opened up to a large foyer with glossy, beige tiles. The lights were low and the only piece of furniture in the area was a small table that held an interesting, abstract sculpture in blues and greens. There was a dark cherry door directly across from the elevator and a metal door next to the elevator that likely led to the stairwell in case of emergencies.
Ranger's apartment ended up being a lavish, two-story affair with floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a spectacular view of the city. I imagined during the day that there was also an excellent view of the ocean. The main floor was open concept and the décor was neutral and modern, but in lighter tones than his Trenton apartment. There was a staircase that led to the second floor, which was easy to see from the main floor because of the glass half-wall that lined the hallway. Ranger's office was arranged in an open loft area. There was a set of double doors set off of the office and three other doors visible further down the hall.
"This place is amazing," I said as we moved further into the room. I could see a kitchen along the furthest wall with gleaming stainless steel appliances and black granite countertops. A dining area that seated six sat in a corner. "Why don't you live here all the time?"
"I've considered it in the past," he replied. "I'm still considering it someday."
We headed upstairs and went to the master bedroom, which had been behind the double doors. The bedroom had floor-to-ceiling windows along one entire wall. There was a walk-in closet and enormous master bathroom on the opposite wall. The bathroom was more luxurious than the one in Trenton. It had a glass shower and a deep soaker tub with jets that could easily fit two. Ranger had deposited my suitcase in the closet and was watching me explore the bedroom.
"Is there another bedroom?" I asked. "This place seems pretty big for just one."
"There's another one down the hall with a similar set-up, but it's smaller. There is also a room that was supposed to be my office, but I preferred to use the loft for work. It's now a small guest room. My family stays here if they are visiting. My grandmother doesn't live too far from here."
"So, I don't need to share your room?"
Ranger tilted his head slightly. "Technically, no. But it's no fun sleeping alone."
I bit down on the inside of my cheek. Sleeping next to Ranger was always a pleasant experience. Sleeping with Ranger was always magical. But it wasn't the time for that.
"I just broke up with Morelli," I said. "I need to keep my head clear."
"We've shared a bed plenty of times without it going any further than sleeping. I can keep it in my pants."
"You sleep naked."
Ranger grinned and walked out of the room.
