Earlier this year I read an interview with JE, where she seemed pretty happy to get rid of the number centered book naming thing. It made me wonder about coming up with 27 number themed titles, and then pairing up story ideas with them. In the end, I came up with 31 story ideas (more, if you count the multiple ideas for several of the numbers), and The Number Series was born. Some stories are longer one-shots, some are short, and some developed into multi-chapter offerings. All have the title somewhere in the story. I have no set posting schedule for them.
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All recognizable characters belong to Janet Evanovich, I'm just playing.
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The Wisdom of the Magic 8 Ball
Chapter 1
SPOV
The sun is shining in my eyes, and I curse the fact that I forgot to grab sunglasses on my way out the door this morning. Monday's always suck, but this one is going to suck especially hard. Taking a drink of the coffee I grabbed at the McDonald's drive thru, I contemplate going home and crawling back into bed. Surely, no one would begrudge me that, right? Not once the grapevine gets going.
Joe and I have been off again for a couple months. Nine weeks, if you want to get specific. So, I was a little surprised when he showed up at my apartment last Friday afternoon. I admit there was a little flutter in my chest when I opened the door, but I tamped that down because I wasn't sure I was ready to get back on the merry go round.
"Hey, Steph."
No Cupcake, just Steph. By the time we make it to the couch with no touching, shirt peeking, or 'the boys have missed you,' I know this is going to be a shitfest.
He's nervous, not really looking at me and the silence is getting more awkward by the second. "Just spit it out, Joe."
That gets me a half smile. "I'm heading out of town today."
"Work?"
His head shake does weird things to my insides. I can't help frowning. What is he not telling me?
"Are you ok?"
No words came out the first time he opens his mouth, and when he tries a second time, I wish they hadn't.
"The wedding's tomorrow."
That gets my attention and I sit up straighter. Who's wedding? Surely not ours; we haven't been together for a couple months, let alone in a place for marriage. The guilty look on his face clarifies things in an instant and I have to remind myself to breathe.
"You're getting married. Tomorrow. To who?"
He blows out a sigh and runs a shaking hand through his hair. "Meredith. You don't know her. After we broke up last time, I ended up going out and met her when she was out with friends. We clicked and hooked up for a week or so."
I digest that information, ignoring the little stabbing in my heart. I've spent a night or five with Ranger during this off phase, so it's not like I can even be mad at Joe. Doing a quick run-through of our conversation so far, it suddenly becomes clear. Hook-up. Wedding.
"She's pregnant?"
There's a small smile, followed by a small grimace, on his face. "Yeah. She told me about a week ago and we've been talking. That's why I'm here; I wanted you to know first. We're flying to Vegas tonight and getting married tomorrow. I could only get a couple days off, so we'll be back Monday around lunchtime, and we'll tell my family then. I didn't want you to get blindsided when you hear the news."
I can appreciate that, even as a small part of my heart is breaking with the knowledge that we've come to the end of whatever this is between us. I just expected that we'd go back to whatever it was we have and continue on as normal. Not anymore. Joe Morelli married to someone else, with a baby. It's hard to wrap my head around that. Honestly, there's a not-so-small part of me thinking, "better her than me."
I'm not entirely sure my brain and mouth are synched, especially when I blurt out, "Do you love her?"
He looks away from me for several seconds before clearing his throat. "I like her. She's easy to be with, and we have the same goals. I think the rest will come with time."
She's easy to be with. I'm not sure how to interpret that statement. It's petty, the part of me that's a little happy that he didn't fall in love with someone else right away. Then I feel like crap for thinking that. He's marrying the woman, having a baby with her, and he's hoping that he'll grow to love her. Yeah, better her than me.
We've been doing this on/off back-and-forth thing for years now. The all-stop is kind of jarring, but probably for the best, even if the squeezing pain in my heart lets me know I'm going to miss him. Not knowing what else to say, I go with "I'm happy for you, Joe." And I realize that a part of me really is.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. You with a baby. That's going to be interesting. Have your mom and Bella met her yet?"
He barks out a laugh. "No, I was afraid Bella would take one look at Meredith and just know."
"Bullshit! You're afraid Bella will scare her away!" The gentle kick to his leg lets him know I'm sort-of joking, and it gets a laugh out of him.
"Ok, it might have been that, too."
There's an awkward silence that didn't used to exist between us before he tells me he has to go. I walk him to the door, knowing this is the last time. He starts to push me against the wall for a kiss, but I twist away from him, arms over my chest.
"You're with someone else, Joe."
He looks shocked for a second, like he forgot, before he pissily says, "Didn't stop you and Manoso."
He's right, but there's one important difference in the equation. "You and I weren't engaged, let alone expecting a baby and getting married in less than twenty-four hours."
His hand rakes his hair again. "Sorry. You're right. Habit."
And doesn't that just sum up our relationship. A habit…that just got broke.
My voice breaks a little when I tell him, "Be happy, Joe. When it comes out, I'll make sure that everyone knows that there was no bad guy and I'm happy for you."
He nods. "Friends?"
"Yeah, but maybe we could avoid each other for a little while?" I didn't need a reminder that he was moving on and I'm still standing in the same place.
He nods again, stopping just before he opens the door. "I do love you, Steph. Always will."
My laugh comes out as a half-sob and his hand clenches on the doorknob. Does he expect me to say it back? He's marrying someone else, so he needs to be mentally moved to the 'ex' column ASAP. "You should really stop that. Meredith deserves your attention, not me."
He lets out another sigh before letting himself out, literally closing the door on the Plum-Morelli circus.
I'm more than a little proud of myself that I managed to wait until I could hear the elevator ding before I slid down the wall and sobbed. It hurt, knowing that he'd be with someone else from now on and that part of my life was over. I can admit that I'm not sure I could envision us married and I shudder at the thought of kids, but I'm also having a hard time imagining my life without him, or at least on the periphery as an option. Having him always there was a comfort, and I know that's probably not fair to him.
The rest of the weekend was spent hunkered down in my apartment, ignoring most phone calls, and working my way through all the junk food in my apartment. Ok, all the food in my apartment. I was able to find a miniscule amount of alcohol; a bottle of cheap wine and half a bottle of vodka tucked away in my freezer. Both found their way to my stomach. And then back out.
The memory of starting Saturday morning hunkered over the toilet was not a pleasant one and I force another drink of coffee down. By Sunday afternoon I had come to terms with it, or that's what I was telling myself. The other thing I realized this weekend, was that I was in a rut. Both with my job, and with my love life. Joe taking himself out of the picture should clarify things, but it really doesn't.
Parking down the street from the bond's office, I fish my sausage McGriddle out of the bag and take a bite. I've been doing the same things the same way for a while now, and it doesn't really feel like I'm getting anywhere. I'm loathe to admit that out loud. Maybe I should see this as a fresh start and shake things up a bit. The problem was that I didn't know how to go about it.
Finishing off the sandwich and hashbrown patty, I give myself a mental pep-talk. I can do this. I can do the job and I can face the gossip. It can't be any worse than the aftermath of The Dick.
I hear raised voices from inside the bond's office before I even enter. Once I'm inside, I stand quietly by the door and listen to Lula and Vinnie bicker while Connie ignores them in favor of filing her nails.
Finally, Vinnie's had enough and throws up his hands. He spies me and points. "Finally, you show up! We've got a stack of files and I'm losing money here! Take her with you!"
Cripes. It's 9am; I'm not exactly sleeping in over here.
Shooting Vinnie the finger, he shoots one back at me before heading back to his office. The door slam is loud, and we can hear the lock snick into place. We all hold our breath, knowing what comes next. Connie is ready and turns on the radio as soon as the sounds no one should have to hear at work start coming from Vinnie's computer.
Shaking my head, I do a mental hose down to clear my brain of the images. Lula's still looking at the door, contemplative. "That's the same video he always uses. You'd think he'd get bored and find something new."
Without thought, I answered, "If it's not broke, why fix it?"
That earns me a look from both of them.
"Anyway…Connie, do I have any files?"
She uses her nail file to point to a stack on the corner, still watching me. Snapping them up and concentrating on reading through them means I can at least pretend to ignore the looks they're giving each other. There are a couple small bonds, both from the Burg. The two medium bonds, worth $5000 and $7500, perk me up a little. The last file is a doozy. Jeffrey Kramer was a suspect in his wife's disappearance and skipped out on his court date. His bond was a high one, $250,000 because of the apparent overwhelming evidence and his penchant for international travel. My cut would be $25,000; sounds like a nice pick me up after this weekend and a cushion to give me some choices.
Flipping them shut and placing the files in my bag, I look up to find two sets of eyes focused on me. "What?"
It's Connie that answers. "Normally you'd have had some sort of sarcastic comment about Vinnie and his favorite farm animal tape. Spill."
No way am I spilling. Nope.
"You're back with Officer Hottie!"
"No, Joe and I are done."
They might be shaking their heads, having heard it before, but soon enough they'll know how true it is. The stab to the heart is dulled some, which is a good sign.
Lula reaches into her bag, and I take a cautious step back, unsure of what's in there. Connie and I share a look of confusion when she pulls out a small black ball and starts shaking it.
"Is white girl done with the cop?"
What the hell? I lean forward as she stops shaking the ball and turns it over. A freaking Magic 8 Ball. That's weird, even for Lula; and yet, at the same time, I can totally see her running around with one in her purse.
Ask again later.
Holy shit. I keep my face carefully blank even as Lula mutters, "See, even the 8 Ball thinks you're fibbing."
More likely, the 8 Ball somehow knows the shit that's coming down the pike.
Lula gives me an assessing once-over. "Girl, you're in a rut. You need to shake things up."
Tell me something I don't already know!
"See, I was reading this thing that said when you do the same thing over and over again, you eliminate the possibility of growth." She tilts her head to the side in thought. "And it also might mean that you're insane."
Connie snorts, but Lula nods, confident in her diagnosis. "You ain't growing. You keep getting together with Officer Hottie and then breaking up when he yells at you for gettin' messy and then you talk about giving up. We need to change up how you do stuff so you can start growing."
I try and use humor to deflect how close that arrow hits to home. "Nothing on me needs to grow! My pants are tight enough as it is."
Lula ignores me, already shaking the ball again. "Does Stephanie need to do things differently today?"
With a loud, "Ha!" she holds it out to me.
It is decidedly so.
Great. Even a kid's toy thinks I'm lame.
"Is this really necessary?"
Both Connie and Lula practically shout, "Yes!"
Blowing out a sigh and realizing that agreeing is the fastest way to get through one of Lula's hare-brained schemes, I ask, "So what exactly is the plan?"
Lula smiles. "Today, we're going to live by the wisdom of the Magic 8 Ball. We're going to leave things up to fate."
Oh boy.