I wouldn't even care if I made money if Ranger could be mine, but he's not and never will be. He and the rest belong to JE.

Warning for Cupcakes, language and the squeamish. Joe and Stephanie see things a little differently.

Back In The ER Again

by

SueB

Chapter 10

"Christ! Shut down the goddamn jackhammer!"

There was no response.

Wasn't going to happen. My head was the concrete -- the jackhammer a result of some serious alcohol consumption.

The pounding revved up when I tried to alter my face down sprawl on the couch.

Better to assess the situation from where I was.

I opened one eye and stared into half of a pizza delivery box.

Six inches beyond was a splat of dog puke accounting for the other half.

My stomach did a guerrilla move, flooding my mouth with saliva. I fought to keep from making a splat of my own.

God!

From somewhere on the other side of the room I heard a deep "Whoruff! Whoruff!" accompanied by the eager thump, thump, thump of Bob's tail against the floor. No doubt he hoped I would feed him something more appropriate than cardboard. Each beat pummeled the space behind my eyes.

Groaning and keeping my head as still as possible, I slowly rolled off the couch and onto my knees. It didn't go well. Chance of Bob's getting a square meal any time soon wasn't looking good.

My bladder joined the revolutionary forces already mustered in my head and gut. I had to pee. The phrase 'like a racehorse' came to mind.

Problem. Old house. One john. Upstairs.

A million miles away.

I could do this. Even in my current state, I refused to piss myself. With my eyes pinched closed, I got to my feet. Two steps into the trip, I yelled.

"Fuck!"

A shard of broken whiskey bottle, stuck out of my foot. The world spun as I grabbed for it and landed hard on my ass.

"Hell! Fuck! Damn!"

I felt blood trickle between my toes and, fascinated, watched it drip down to pool in a sticky mass on the floor.

My stomach launched into full blown rebellion. I leaned over and hurled. Hmmm. Not much there. Guess I wasn't the one who ate the pizza.

I tried to inch away from the smell and realized it wasn't all coming from the new puddle on the floor. Some of it was me. I was wearing the same jeans and T-shirt I'd put on three days ago.

I think.

Obviously, somewhere along the way I'd lost my shoes and socks.

From where I sat the room looked like a war zone. Coffee table overturned. Chairs upset. Magazines on the floor. More broken glass. Too many beer cans to count.

Somebody needed to clean this shit up.

Somebody.

Me.

A new pain stabbed through me that didn't have anything to do with my overindulgence. Steph was gone. I was alone.

Except for Bob, but I didn't think he was going to be much help. He picked his way through the debris to lie down next to me. His head on my leg. His eyes sad but hopeful.

He blew out a humid, smelly sigh furthering my gag factor. I shoved him away, clamping my mouth shut.

This was all Manoso's fault.

*****

There was no mystery about why Buster's lumpy couch had been left behind. Steph and I certainly would have been more comfortable in my king-size bed at RangeMan, but neither of us wanted to leave the relative anonymity of her former apartment. Tank could find us using the tracker in my phone. He wouldn't show up unless I called him. It amused and frightened me to think the only person who actually knew where we were was Edna Mazur, but considering my conversation with her I thought the old woman would afford us a little privacy. Still, you never knew with Edna.

I'd let Steph talk me into another dose of medication and we slept for a while, curled together, my arm wrapped protectively around her. It felt right at the time, like a promise of things to come. But now we were awake again. Awake and silent. Sharing our warmth, but not our thoughts. I had a nagging question.

"Were you running from me?"

I hated the insecurity in my voice. I couldn't tell if Steph recognized it or not.

She inhaled sharply and held her breath. That told me I probably wasn't going to like the answer.

"You could have gone to RangeMan.........," I trailed off. It pained me that when she left Morelli's she didn't seek refuge in the one place I knew she had always felt safe. I had a lot of ground to make up.

She didn't look at me and it was a long time before she started to talk. I could hardly hear her.

*****

I found out what happened to the pizza when I finally made it to the door to let Bob outside. Two of Manoso's goons were leaning up against the hood of their signature black SUV munching away. Bob couldn't crap fast enough to get to them and beg for a bite. One of them had the gall to wave at me as he offered my slavering dog the better part of his slice. I'd be cleaning that up later. Bob would eat anything, but he had a delicate stomach. The other muscle head pulled out his cell. Had to report I was alive and well, I guess. Alive, anyway.

"Get the hell off my yard," I growled, "or I'm calling the cops."

Pizza Man thought that was funny. He smiled, pointed at the yard and then the curb calling out, "Public parking."

Hell!! Son of a Bitch!!!

I threw all of them, including my goddamn disloyal dog, an expressive Italian hand gesture and slammed the door.

The brief exchange with my RangeMan babysitters triggered flashes of memory: Manoso -- the hospital -- an escort home -- a shot to the jaw. Damn, one of those fuckers had hit me! Waking up to find those two thugs in my living room. My own living room!! Watching my TV! Think that's when I started throwing things. Before I passed out again. How pathetic.

Since not even Bob was here to watch my humiliation, I crawled up the stairs to the bathroom. I wasn't prepared for that reality. Steph was gone. I didn't expect to miss her so much in this room. Although she didn't seem to think it was funny, I'd always teased her about needing all that stuff to make her beautiful. Now there was no sign of her. Not a toothbrush, not a lipstick, not a brush, not even one of the ten or so tubes of mascara she seemed to own. I didn't miss her stupid ass shower gel. For some reason that stuff always reminded me of Manoso, but she refused to change brands. Said everything else made her itch.

At least she'd gotten rid of her RangeMan clothes when she moved in. I'd found the trash bag in her car when we unpacked -- she'd forgotten to pitch it -- and carried it right out to the garbage. Good riddance. She used to sleep in a ratty old black T-shirt. 'The Boys' and I preferred her in nothing at all.

*****

"I knew from the very first day that moving in with Joe was a huge mistake. Not so much the moving in part. I'd done that before. The giving up my apartment part. I was determined to make it work, but I wasn't used to flying without a net. I had to clear everything out, but I didn't have enough suitcases. I packed my RangeMan clothes in a big trash bag. It opened when Joe unloaded it from the car. Without even asking me, he put it in the garbage."

I moved a long strand of curls and skimmed the back of her neck as I ran my finger around the neckline of the shirt she was wearing. It was black.

"You're wearing my T-shirt."

She shivered at my touch, sat up and finally looked at me as she explained herself.

"I didn't want to have an argument before I'd even gotten in the house so I didn't say anything. Joe got called out to work that night. I retrieved the bag and hid it in the closet. I always sleep better in this shirt. I knew I shouldn't, but I wore it any time he went out of town."

"Babe."

*****

I felt a little better after showering. Able to check out the rest of the house. Steph's stuff wasn't just missing from the bathroom. There wasn't anything that belonged to her anywhere. She hadn't been here for eight days -- not since Manoso got shot. How could she have moved everything out last night? I mean I know I was asleep. Dead to the world. Okay, drunk. Okay, dead drunk. But you'd think I'd notice some commotion.

*****

"It was the same story. Quit working, get married, learn to cook, have babies. I should have known. I couldn't do it. I started moving my stuff out little by little. Joe never even noticed."

I raised an eyebrow. "Moving it out?"

She sighed. "It's all at Mary Lou's. I didn't have an apartment and my mother would have freaked if she'd known what I was doing. Val wasn't an option. She would tattle. By the time I packed up last night all that was left were my toiletries, a few clothes and Rex."

*****

We'd been doing so well until that new stalker appeared. Course if Steph hadn't let Manoso influence her and given up bounty hunting when I first told her to, she wouldn't have attracted all that attention. Her own fault. This psycho guy shows up, starts leaving her love notes and she gets all restless. I think she knew Manoso had dropped her -- just like I'd always told her he would. Don't know why she thought I couldn't protect her. Just because I wasn't Batman. Hell. I took her to Pino's to get her mind off things. I let her eat there, like a real date, instead of doing take out even though there was a game on that I really wanted to see.

She told me in the middle of my meatball sub that she was moving out, but I knew she didn't mean it. Come on, she didn't have anyplace to go. Manoso was out of the picture, she had no apartment. Move in with her parents? Not likely. Besides, no matter how many times she left, she always came back to me.

Then Manoso did his hero gig. And I missed the game completely.

*****

"While we were eating at Pino's, I told Joe that I was moving out. He didn't believe me. He thought I was out of options -- that I'd be back in no time. He acted like I hadn't even brought the subject up. Even tried to feel me up in the parking lot."

It broke my heart. Her big blue eyes were full of tears. She sobbed.

"I didn't know where I was going to go. I just knew I couldn't stay there. And I knew that I was never going back again even though you didn't want me. I couldn't pretend any more. And then you......then you......."

Oh yeah. I had a hell of a lot of ground to make up.

TBC