About ten minutes later, I was surprised to see Grandma coming down the hall with Rose White ten steps behind. I was even more surprised to see that they had Mabel in tow.
"Are we late?" Grandma asked, looking around for the rest of the mourners.
"Actually, you're right on time," I said, relieved that someone else, anyone else, had been kind enough to pay their last respects to Gordon.
"Excuse me," Lula said, trotting past us. "Gotta make a trip to the little ladies room." And she half walked, half skipped down the hall.
"What's with her?" Grandma wanted to know.
"Too much coffee," I said.
"That'll do it."
I gave a little finger wave to Rose and Mabel as they approached the lounge area.
"I heard there was going to be an open casket," Grandma said cheerfully. "I never got to see the body what with all that racing around, then all those gang guys were blocking the view, and after that the cops were gawking. All I could see was a ton of plastic wrap on ice, so I thought I'd come have a look-see."
I felt myself go red with embarrassment.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered to Arnold as Grandma made her way into the viewing room. "Grandma's always been so...inquisitive."
"Edna Mazur is your Grandmother?" he asked.
"You've heard of her," I assumed.
"Everyone's heard of her. Caught her in action at the Damiani viewing last year."
I grimaced. Damiani had an unfortunate accident, proving once again that smoking in bed can kill you. Especially if there's an open whisky bottle on the nightstand. The fact that Damiani was smoking this cigarette in another man's bed beside that man's wife may also have played into it, but charges were never filed for lack of evidence. Grandma showed up to the viewing in disguise. She had both halves of the casket lid open in less than thirty seconds, and managed to snap two pictures with her phone before Dave Nelson realized what was happening. Luckily, Grandma wasn't fast enough to post the pictures to Facebook before Dave deleted them. Six onlookers were still said to be in therapy. Apparently they were not prepared to cope with the sight and smell of the charred remains.
"You must be Gordon's father. I can see the resemblance. I'm so sorry for your loss," Rose said, offering her hand to Arnold. "I work at the bank. I helped Gordon with his account after Gloria passed."
"Thank you," Arnold said. "I'm glad to know someone was there for him. I sure wasn't." He put his hand over his mouth again, shame-faced. "I just didn't know how to handle his...you know, his problem. I didn't handle it. I hid from it." He began to sob. "I hid from my own son, in the bottom of a bottle. And now he's gone."
"If there's anything I can do," Rose offered.
"Actually, could I have a word in private?" Gazarra asked, steering Rose to a quiet corner. I assumed he had some questions about Gloria's death.
"Phew," Lula said, flopping down in one of the chairs. "What was in that coffee?"
"I feel fine," I told her.
"I guess maybe I should've just had the one," she said.
"How many did you have?"
"Two. Connie didn't like hers. It wasn't sweet enough, so I added some of those fruity sugar packets."
I paused for a beat.
"What fruity sugar packets?"
"They were in the employee lounge by the bathrooms. See?" Lula dug around in her bag and came up with what looked like a small pink sugar packet. "I like these. They're kinda orangey. Figured I'd see if I could pick some up at Costco."
I held out my hand for the packet and examined it. The label read, "One Pack, Once a Day, 100% Daily Fiber".
"This isn't sweetener, it's a laxative," I told Lula. "How many of these did you use?"
"I dunno. Two or three in each...uh oh." Lula didn't manage to finish the sentence before she was on her feet and trotting back down the hallway.
Mabel sat down on the couch beside me.
"This is Mabel. She lives next door," I told Arnold. "She's one of the ladies that helped us find Gordon."
"Thank you for coming," he whispered.
"I'm so sorry, Dear," Mabel said whole-heartedly. "Such a terrible loss."
Grandma returned from the viewing room, taking a seat in a wing chair. "Well, he don't look half bad for a Popsicle," she announced.
"Edna Mazur!" Mabel cried in disbelief.
"Dave did a good job," Margaret said reassuringly to Arnold, patting his hand, which she was still holding.
It was at this point that Rose returned to our group, standing behind me, and noticed, for the first time, who was consoling Arnold.
"M-M-Margaret?" she stammered. "What on earth?"
Arnold looked up, confused.
"This is awkward," Margaret said.
"Actually, we just bumped into each other, and I invited Margaret to sit with us while she waits for her friend," I explained. "Turns out, she and Arnold have a lot in common."
"This is Rose White, my co-worker," Margaret explained to Arnold. "She's also Thomas's grandmother. Thomas is the man I've been rather, uh, obsessed with," she admitted.
"Oh," Arnold said, not quite able to register shock given his emotional state.
"I'm so sorry for what I've been doing, Rose," Margaret blurted out unexpectedly. "I'm making a decision, right now. Life is too short for me to keep on living this way. I'm giving my notice at work first thing Monday morning. In fact, I don't even think I can handle giving two weeks. I'll make it effective immediately. Best to make a clean break. Go cold turkey." Her voice wavered with doubt just a little at the end, and I noticed Arnold giving her hand a little squeeze of support.
"Well, that's unexpected. Thank you, Margaret," Rose said, sounding both thrilled and not quite able to believe what she was hearing.
"You know, if I'm not going to be drinking, I'll need to find something else to do with myself," Arnold said to Margaret. "I've had my eye on an empty office downtown. It's on a side street, but parking is good and the electric is up to code." He took a shaky breath. "If I put out my shingle again, would you consider working as my secretary?"
"I'm going to need a job. But I'm just a receptionist. I don't know anything about being a legal secretary," she answered.
"I probably won't have many clients at first. I'll have plenty of time to teach you." He paused. "But, in the past, I've never been someone to rely on," he warned her.
"I understand." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, if we spent our days focused on resolving other people's problems, maybe we wouldn't have so much time to devote to making our own problems."
Arnold nodded in agreement, wiping the last of his tears away. He sighed with relief. "We could go to some of those general 12 step meetings together and help each other get through those rough spots without, you know."
"Going off the rails," Margaret agreed.
"I don't ever want to feel like this again. I feel like such a failure. I know there's more to life than this misery that I've been crawling through all these years."
"Let's do it," Margaret said, standing up. "Let's open a law office and start making a difference in this town."
"Right now?" he asked, startled.
"Right now, before the withdrawal kicks in and we change our minds."
Arnold grinned feebly, his chin still trembling. He glanced toward Gordon one last time, then nodded, and followed Margaret down the hall and out the front door.
"Well, I'll be. You got her to forget about Thomas and now she's out of my hair too," Rose said, patting me on the back. "See, I knew you could do it!" she laughed.
"What did I tell you," Grandma said, beaming at me. "Stephanie's got the touch."
"It was just a lucky break," I assured them. "I'm glad to see you two have made up," I said, turning to Grandma and Mabel.
"Humph," Mabel snorted.
"We called a truce because I needed a ride and Mabel didn't want to come to the viewing alone," Grandma explained.
"I told her to call someone else," Mabel said.
"Which I did," Grandma answered, indicating that she'd called Rose. "Who came running out and jumped in the car uninvited?"
"I didn't want to drive myself. I got lost last time I went looking for this fella," Mabel said. "Didn't want to chance it."
"Well, there he is, and you have yet to pay your respects," Grandma complained.
"Fine," Mabel huffed, struggling to her feet. She leaned on her cane a moment, catching her breath from the exertion of standing just as Lula returned once again.
"You ladies coming to Clara's after? Stephanie's going to get all dolled up for her date with Ranger tonight."
"That man is hot!" Grandma gushed.
"Is that the large Latino man I saw you with the other night?" Mabel asked.
I nodded.
"Ranger Manoso?" Rose asked, her eyes glinting with mischief.
I nodded again.
"Wish I could, but I have to get back to the bank to re-fill the ATM. It always runs low on Saturday night," Rose said. "But I can drop you ladies off, if you like," she offered.
"That would be great," Grandma told her.
Lula went rigid, then let out an audible fart. "Stephanie, you're gonna have to pick up Leticia on your own," she groaned, one hand clutching the back of a chair, the other pressed to her distended abdomen as she eyed Mabel's bag. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have a Depends in there, would you? I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to make it all the way to Clara's."
"Come on. Clara's is only three blocks from here," I told her.
"Yeah, three whole blocks," Lula said, eyes wide, as if I didn't seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation.
"Here," Mabel said, reaching into her bag and handing a large plastic baggie to Lula. "I got the good ones. These are re-fastenable," Mabel said proudly.
"Great," Lula said, toddling back down the hall.
"Gotta go," I said, taking off before I was forced to see Lula's spandex stretched across a pair of Depends.
"We'll meet you at Clara's," Grandma called back.
I didn't have Leticia's number, so I had no way to warn her that she was about to be late for a job interview. I was careful not to drive Ranger's 911 Turbo past the 3-2 Crew's barber shop as I made my way to Leticia's apartment. When I got there, the neighborhood was quiet, and the air was hanging in waves as I glanced up and down the street. Everyone was probably asleep, getting rested up for Saturday night.
I knocked as quietly as I could. Just like before, the door opened and Leticia yanked me inside.
"Girl, what you doin' back here? Huh?"
"I'm here to take you to Clara's for that job interview I promised."
"Right now?" she asked, gesturing up and down at herself. As expected, she was in her PJ's, no make-up, and her hair was a mess.
"Yep. Right now. I arranged for you to do my nails so you can show Clara your stuff."
"I done told you, I ain't got no license."
"Yes, but you can get one."
"Right," she laughed.
"I'm serious."
"Girl, you're messin' with my beauty sleep."
"At least come see the place before you decide. If you don't like it, I'll bring you right back," I promised.
She rolled her eyes at me, hands on hips, and sighed long and loud. "Okay, okay."
I sat on the couch and waited ten minutes for Leticia to get herself together. She had more Motown CD's than I'd ever seen in my life. She had gone Andy Warhol on the walls, using cheap frames to display labels peeled from institutional sized fruit or vegetable cans. My favorites were Clean and Fresh Laundry soap with a cartoon basket of towels, Clabber Girl Baking Powder, and Kentucky Cardinal Apples. On the end table sat what looked like someone had dumped a red lava lamp into a two liter bottle.
Leticia emerged from the bedroom dressed in jeans and a sleeveless tan leather vest with fringe and turquoise blue beadwork. She wore matching chunky turquoise jewelry trimmed in copper that looked home-made. Her hair was up in a sort of twist and slicked with a little dab of gel.
She noticed me staring at the lava-lamp-in-a-bottle. She picked it up, unscrewed the cap, opened a package of Alka Seltzer that had been sitting on the shelf beside it, tossed one in, and instantly the blobs came to life.
"How'd you learn to do that?" I asked, unable to tear my eyes away from the dancing dots.
"We didn't have 'lectricity much growin' up, but we always had fried food and heartburn," she said as she disappeared into the bathroom to do her make-up.
Twenty minutes later, we parked in front of Clara's. Leticia got out, staring at the weathered signage above the door of what used to be a house. Then she looked hungrily at the Buckets of Donuts logo painted on the plate glass next door.
"This is it?" she asked, looking doubtfully up and down the street. "This is the Burg?"
"You've never been to the Burg?" I asked, shocked.
There were only four staples in the Burg: bars, funeral homes, bakeries, and beauty parlors. This part of Hamilton wasn't much different from Leticia's neighborhood, except we had fewer bars on the windows, more car traffic than foot traffic, and nearly all the cars parked on the street were drivable.
"You ever been down Stark?" she asked, expecting me to say no.
"Lots of times. I'm a bounty hunter. That's where I met Lula," I reminded her.
"Yeah, well, I'm a ho, and I don't get off my block much."
"You'll be fine," I assured her, grabbing my dress out of the back.
I lead the way, holding the door. Leticia had insisted on bringing her own supplies, which she kept in two matching hard-case overnight bags. She followed me, her grip tight on the worn handles as she marched through the door.
Clara's was old fashioned, just like her clientele. The chairs and manicure stations were vintage, chrome tubing with cream colored pleather upholstery. Clara used to work in an enormous salon that was part of a large department store in the '60's. When the store closed, Clara bought the equipment and opened her own shop. The first floor of Clara's house had been converted into one large room with a bathroom at the back. Her apartment was upstairs. The long line of hair dryers, all twelve of them, were still in use. Clara's nephew was forever replacing dryer parts and changing light bulbs for her. She had a guy come in a few times a year to wax the linoleum, which was covered with red, ivory, black, and gray squares that loosely formed various checker-board designs. The ceiling was now a painted faux tin, to cover the cracks and imperfections that I used to stare at while getting my hair washed when I was a kid. Large framed prints of impossible to keep hairstyles covered the walls above the dryers, reflecting into the row of large of mirrors above the sinks. The smell was always musty fruit with just a dash of ammonia.
All eyes were on us as we walked in. I wasn't the best hostess, so I was a beat late introducing my guest.
"Everybody, this is Leticia. Leticia, this is Clara, Grandma, Mabel, and I know you remember Lula," I said, as I grabbed a chocolate cake glazed donut from the bucket that was always sitting beside the coffee maker. I hung the dress on a coat hook by the bathroom door. "Help yourself to coffee and donuts," I told Leticia as I took the seat Clara was offering me, holding my bag in my lap.
"Welcome, Honey," Clara said to Leticia. "Don't be shy. You can set up right there," she said pointing to one of the empty manicure trays. "Let me wash Stephanie's hair, and then you can start on her nails while I'm pinning her up."
Lula was sitting in one of the styling chairs, playing with a pack of bright pink and purple hair extensions. "Hey, girl," Lula called out. Then her eyes grew wide. She dropped everything, jumped up, and ran into the bathroom.
Leticia glanced my way.
"Too much fiber," I explained.
Leticia shrugged. "Ya know, Lula's always been full of it," Leticia answered, her usual spunk toned down a few notches as she helped herself to a donut.
We all heard the toilet flush, then Lula emerged, leaving the fan on as she closed the door behind her. As she walked across the room, I couldn't help notice the sound of spandex on plastic. I didn't dare look, thankful that Clara had just released the chair back. I closed my eyes and lay my head back into the sink.
I couldn't hear much while the water was running, but knowing Clara, she was making introductions. I heard snatches of conversation. Leticia and Lula looked at my dress. Lula was in favor of a matching blue, but Leticia disagreed. When I sat back up, Leticia was sitting beside me. Clara was talking to me about my hair. I had to keep my head facing forward while Clara was pinning me up. I couldn't see what was happening, but I could feel Leticia expertly preparing my nails and then gluing the fake nails on my right hand. I only hoped she knew what she was doing. I was half afraid they would be so long I might poke my eye out.
"Not too long," I said, trying to look down.
"I know, I know. Don't worry," Leticia told me.
"That don't look like much," Grandma said, looking over Leticia's shoulder.
"You're lucky I even have this shade, or these short little nails," she said. "I'd never wear these. They came from other sets."
I glanced down. My nails were a light tan color, virtually au-natural. "What are we doing? French Manicure?" I asked.
"Something like that," Leticia answered.
"I like it," Mabel said in approval.
"Sure you do. Because it's no fun," Grandma complained.
"Yeah," Lula agreed. "Stephanie talked you up like you was something special, and you're bringing us French Manicure?" she huffed, disappointed. "That's not even how you do it."
"I'm not done," Leticia said, patiently as she worked.
She placed my fingers under the portable dryer, and went back to her bags, digging around. She came back with a different bottle of glue, a fine brush, and a baggie filled with glittering gemstones.
"Holy cats, what's that?" Lula gasped, grabbing the baggie.
"Peeled those off a stained wedding dress I bought for next to nothing from the dry cleaner's," she said. "Must've got married in Vegas."
"Or Atlantic City," Grandma chimed in.
"Yeah, you can pick up some real good deals at the dry cleaners," Lula agreed. She dumped a handful of the tiny glass stones into her hand and let out a low whistle. The facets caught the light and sparkled like diamonds. "How'd a dress covered in thousands of sparklers end up at a Stark Street dry cleaners?" Lula wondered.
"I didn't ask no questions," Leticia answered.
"What kind of stains?" Lula asked.
"Dark ones."
I gave an involuntary shudder. And I thought my marriage had ended badly.
Leticia painstakingly painted a crescent of glue to the tips of my nails, then used a pair of tweezers to gently place each tiny diamond-like gemstone. I must have had a dozen or more tiny stones on each fingertip. Now she had everyone's attention.
Clara began applying the good make-up with her new air-brush, so I didn't get to look down again for quite some time.
"You're going to look like one of them magazine models," Grandma told me, watching Clara work. "I had Clara do me once. Costs too much to do it unless you've got a hot date, which you do. But it takes years off. Decades, even."
"I wouldn't mind losing a decade," I agreed.
"More than that, you won't be legal," Mabel said.
"I wish."
"Don't talk. Don't move," Clara said, working on my eye makeup.
"Good thing you got nice hands," Leticia commented. "Hands always give away a woman's age."
"Yeah," Grandma groused. "I thought about getting this loose skin removed," Grandma said, giving her under-arm chicken-skin a slap. "But not even plastic surgery can make these age spots go away," she said, examining the mottled dark patches on the back of her bony hands.
"Try lemon juice at night," Leticia suggested.
"I tried that once, for a week," Mabel said, to everyone's surprise.
"Did it work?" Grandma asked.
"It attracted ants," Mabel complained. "Maybe you should wait until winter to try it."
"That's no good. It's the sun that makes the spots so dark," Grandma said.
"Talc powder gets rid of the ants. They don't like it," Leticia said, trying not to laugh.
"Letty's very resourceful," Lula told us.
"So I've noticed," Clara said with a smile.
When they were finished with me, including a quick pedicure with the same polish, I gave Clara my Amex, and she applied the charges. She included Leticia's portion as a generous tip, so she could pay Leticia in cash on the spot while providing me with a receipt for Rangeman.
By six, I was flouncing out of the bathroom wearing the fancy undergarments, shimmering black and blue dress, the dazzling black shoes, the blue diamond earrings and necklace, the black and diamond bracelet and matching clutch. Leticia's manicure made my fingers look both long and very classy. It wasn't distracting from my appearance, but rather adding to it. I gave a twirl as the ladies erupted into applause and cat calls.
"Beautiful work," Clara praised Leticia. "Exquisite." She handed Leticia her card. "I'm on the Cosmetology Board. I'll make some calls. We need to get you a scholarship, so you can get licensed. There's a bright future awaiting someone with your talents."
Leticia didn't have words. She was just beaming.
"I'm tellin' you, you're gonna kill that man," Lula insisted. "He'll never be able to resist you in that outfit."
"Who's resisting?" a deep voice asked in a seductive tone, the Spanish accent unmistakable.
There was sudden silence as all eyes fell on Ranger. He had just stepped through the door. He was dressed to kill too. His black Armani suit was perfectly tailored. His form fitting dress shirt was fine linen. His black shoes were Italian leather. No tie. He didn't need one. His masculine stubble was conspicuously absent, but his well defined jawline didn't look any softer without it. His eyes were dark and assessing, taking me in while leaving me breathless.
"Ready to go?" he asked, trying to maintain his business voice.
"Whoa," Lula gasped, looking Ranger up and down.
"I'll say. Double-O-Seven ain't got nothing on you," Grandma told Ranger.
Ranger's mouth gave only the suggestion of a smile. He crooked his finger at me, and I moved to join him, grabbing my bag along the way. He opened the door for me, his hand at the small of my back. Phone-cameras began clicking behind us, and seconds later we could hear the squeak of noses being pressed to the glass. I slipped Ranger the keys to the 911, and he opened the passenger door for me, offering his hand, gently guiding me in. I watched in the side mirror as he rounded the back of the car. It should be illegal to be that gorgeous, I thought.
Without a word, Ranger drove us toward Rangeman. His mind was on the mission, and I didn't dare disturb him. I focused on transferring my essentials from my bag into the clutch. I decided on my wallet, the lipstick I just bought from Clara, my mascara, and Ranger's knife. There wasn't room for anything else.
We pulled into the underground garage. Then we both climbed out of the 911 and angled into the Panamera. Ranger started the engine, drove us out of the garage, up to the back of the moving van parked on the street. Then he took us up the ramps, into the van, and cut the engine again. I glanced behind us just in time to see Tank reaching up, then the door to the van slid down, and we were lost in darkness.