Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind
By FlyingKit aka Christine
Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.
Chapter 5
It's amazing how fast priorities can changeHow wrong I was is now being shown to me. The thought that maybe I had genuinely gravely injured, even in jest, someone I cared about this much made me physically ill. As evidenced by my shaking body currently ensconced in Tanks lap. I jerked his face millimeters from mine with the force of my fists that were still wrapped around the cloth of his t-shirt. "Tank!" I ground out his name with force, "Tank, you…you don't really think that...that I-I-I hurt Bobby, do you?" I emphasized my point by shaking my fists with a fury that would have impressed even George Foreman.
Tank slowly reached up and grabbed my wrists and pried them from his shirt, slowly lowering them into my lap. He held them there with his left hand and stroked my hair with his right, thereby forcing me to look him in the eyes. His eyes were soft but his jaw was clenched.
"I know that you would never hurt him on purpose. But… I don't think you realize how much you have improved your fighting skills."
"oh Gawd! What if-if I really did…oh god…" I rasped out.
"SssHhh." He cradled me to his chest. "It's okay. Let me see if Bobby has checked in with anyone."
With that he released me and exited the Navigator, and retrieved his cell from the front seat. He flipped the phone open as he shut the front door. He paced the parking lot and dialed a number I can only assume belonged to a Rangeman employee. At first the call appeared to be going well from my silent-movie 'vantage point, but as I watched I saw Tank's face tighten and then he started to growl tersely at someone on the other end of the line. Shit! What the hell is going on! Please let Bobby be okay, dear Lord. Tank must have sensed my gaze and with a hard glance in my direction he stopped pacing and turned with his back to the SUV to finish the call. I couldn't tell what was being said but I knew Tank wasn't pleased with the call recipient …and he must not be pleased with me either. He hung up and turned back around to face me. In that moment I realized that Bobby was indeed unwell and I had a lot of ground to cover to make things right with the guys. Especially Tank and Bobby. I sighed. Can't I ever get anything right? I exited the Navigator and crossed the distance between Tank and I swiftly. I stopped a few feet in front of him and looked at him as calmly as I could. Trying desperately to wait out his response when all I really wanted to do was shake his arm and shrilly demand to know Bobby's condition. I clenched my hands into fists at my side to stop myself from doing something really stupid. Like trying to physically dominate Tank when he is just a tad upset with me right now. And they say an old dog can't learn new tricks. I can do this grown up patience thing. Really. I can.
"Sooooo? About Bobby…" Okay maybe I can't. Big surprise, huh? He cut of my inquiry with a sharp shake of his head.
"Come on." He grabbed my elbow, not too gently, and steered me towards my apartment building entrance. When we got to the lobby he turned me to face him briefly. He stared at me for a few moments which seemed like a millennia to my pitiful little ol' tortured soul. They say time can slow down in hell. You know, for the optimum benefit of searing flames licking at the condemned. He looked like he was finally gonna say something, but then clenched his jaw and shook his head. Like he was having an argument internally or something. Almost like an executioner. I just hope he isn't debating which method of disposal he was going to employ. You know like academically debating the benefits of designer concrete shoes in my size comparatively to a long flight to a third world country on a livestock filled plane with free-roaming chickens, with me as the star passenger trussed up to fry like the more doomed of my fellow passengers. Almost like that scene from that Indiana Jones movie. Except no cute bod in a fedora was gonna shove me outta plane to escape. Eeeppp!
"Go upstairs, hose off and change clothes." What a reprieve? Huh? "Make sure to pack a bag with mission gear, the less conspicuous the better." I guess that means black. "Pack light and enough for a few days." Shit. Shit. Shit. Why do I need a bag? Maybe he isn't debating anymore. GULP. But wait. Would he really allow me to pack formy trip to Timbuktu? Not likely, right? Right? "You have ten minutes and then I will break in and haul your ass out, ready or not. Now go." He shoved me in the general direction of the stairs.
Ohh-KAY. I swallowed and ran up the stairs to my apartment. NO WAY was I tempting fate and challenging Tank on this ten minute time limit thing. When I got upstairs I showered and dressed at super sonic speed. I'm still not sure if I even rinsed all the shampoo out of my hair. Not that transatlantic-traveling fowl mind soapy, greasy hair. I ran around like I had my head cut off already, scooping up gear out of my dresser drawer and transferring it to a cute navy colored duffle bag I got at Macy's. I glanced at my watch. Three minutes left. CRIPES! I threw on my black Doc Martins without lacing them up. Heck, teenagers could get away with that look, why can't I? Well, here's to hoping I don't trip over myself on the flight back downstairs. I looked in the mirror. Something's missing. I caught a glimpse of my gun locker. I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. LOSER! You almost forgot your backup piece. The 9mm Starfire wasn't that big and intimidating but it will do in a pinch. I added it to my duffle. I moved my Browning to the nylon shoulder holdster that I was now wearing thus completing the badass chic ensemble. Black Hanes t-shirt and black cargo pants tucked into my black boots. Fuck! Too black. Too intimidating. I look like just one of the guys. Not the look I am going for today with the trouble I'm in. I scooped up a short retro blue jean jacket and tossed it on to cover the gun from the casual observer… and because it was too cute not to wear. Plus it seemed to soften the look. I grabbed a multi-toned scrunchie and looped it through my hair to form a high no-nonsense pony tail. There. I think I want to remind the guys that I am soft and feminine…and not the enemy. I mean, if you were one of them could you hurt someone this girlie looking? Maybe it will help, maybe it won't. I know, I know. This is sneaky and underhanded reasoning, but hey, I can take all the help I can get. I locked up and ran out the front door to meet my fate with Mr. Chuckles downstairs. Don't ask me why, but somehow I have a feeling this day will not be as fun or as entertaining as a barrel of jolly, dancing circus monkeys. I'm good at picking up those subtle vibes, don't ya know. Mental sigh.
To be continued in chapter 6…
Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind
By FlyingKit aka Christine
Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.
whew! Back from social gathering and was bored as a gourd and "voila! Presto!" New chapter for the faithful. (Who knew making inane small talk would be cathartic to a ((gasp))writer ((still can't help but look around when I say that word)) with major blockage…what can I say, my mind was wandering. sigh. Beneficial to y'all, I guess in this case. wink and a nudge Eh, eh? Me humble, eh? Lol. Seriously, thanks for hanging in there guys. C.)
Chapter 6
6 hours 11 minutes and 37 seconds later…
Retrospectively it was needless to say the car ride with Tank had been a long one, emotionally anyway. Chronologically it was 'bout a hour and a half. But I digress. Taking into account that I had no earthy idea where we were going, when we would get there, or what was going to happen to me once we got there...I think that I was taking recent events in stride. I hadn't stuttered and the seat of my pants was still relatively dry. (Don't ask. Just take for fact that it wasn't my fault for once, it involved an enraged semi-truck driver and many creative hand gestures with subtitles.) And when we got on the unmarked black (what else) helicopter, I gave up trying to figure out Tank's current emotional threat-con level. I think I am doing pretty well with all of this. Fan-FREAKIN'-tastic actually. Then how come I am even now standing, with hide-nor-hair of Tank nearby, in a spooky, darkened, subterranean cave that masquerades as a parking garage trying to resist the urge to run into a corner and huddle in an invisibility cloak? Hey, it worked for Harry Potter! So what that I am wishing I had the stealth, magic and deductive reasoning abilities of a pre-teen! I can take the hits to my pride. No skin off my nose if it keeps my cute little tush intact. Hey! No laughing. It is little! I swear!
I looked up…and up and up at the stalagmite looming overhead that someone mistakenly told me was a man. Though I had yet to see him move or breath since Tank left me in his care to give me proof of his humanity. My personal pet rock. And I thought the guys were intimidating. Geez Louise! He had to be at least 7 feet tall and built like a stegosaurus, but not as cute and cuddly. This goon made Hannibal Lector look positively festive and happy go-lucky in comparison. I attempted to raise an eyebrow in query. After four valiant attempts of forehead scrunching, lip curling, and spastic facial manipulations, I gave up. Some talents no amount of training can give you. Genetic talents, I suppose. Oh-Kay. Plans A and B of intimidation and girlish perplexed inquiry, respectively, have crashed and burned. Must implement plan C. Terrific. What a relief to have that decision over with…If only I had a plan C. Dammit! Wing it, Duffus! What's the worst that could happen? I could be 'disappeared' into the east river, that's what! Um, hello! Where have you been lately, Madame Brainiac? You're probably already living on borrowed time with Tank! What's this dinosaur gonna do to you that ain't already gonna happen! Well hey, when you look at it that way…SHIT! What's it mean when your devil starts making complete sense? DOUBLE SHIT! I'm talking to myself… and I impressed myself with my own persuasive abilities. ArrghhhhHhh! If only I could harness this energy for the side of good. Ahem. Here goes nothin'.
"Soooooo Senor Rocky…Whatcha think is going on in that room upstairs right about now?" I rocked back and forth on my heels, shoulders slouched, with my hands in the pockets of my pants. The picture of nonchalance. I know because I practice this look in front of the mirror every morning. Never know when it might come in handy. Now step two of brainwashing for dummies: project your intent on your victim. La-te-da. Nothing to see here. Just an innocent babe in the woods. Nothing crafty going on. Nun-huh. No way. Come on. Buy it, you block head. Tell me what I want to know. You know you want to…
Chirping Crickets.
Okay that was productive. Let's see. How about…
"You know, it must be difficult. I feel so sorry for you." I gushed sincerely.
A few minutes rolled by. Be patient, Steph. Wait him out. This will work. Be patient. Be patient. My mental chant cycled while I examined the cuticles of my upraised right hand and propped my left on my hip.
"What's difficult?" I stifled a smile.
AHHAH! Got a live one. Time to reel him in.
"You know, your pain. It's a shame. Truly, for a big man like you to have to live with that stigma for your entire life. So sad really…"
I saw dino boy finally blink and turn to look down at me instead of continuing his boulder impersonation. Heh-heh. I smell rubber. He crunched his low uni-brow into a tight squiggle.
"Sad? What pain?"
Jackpot!
"Must be hard to function with that giant stick up your ass. Don't you feel like a huge Popsicle everyday? And man, buying pants that fit without chaffing must be a nightmare! Betcha have to use Vaseline everyday, huh? Poor baby." I made a tsking sound and patted him on the shoulder with consolation in my eyes.
"They warned me. Shoulda listened." He mumbled under his breath as his face turned red.
"Pardon? What was that, Box-O-Rocks?"
"You heard me! He said 'watch her and don't listen to a word.' But did I listen! Noooo! Had to think you might have something interesting to say. Especially after you have that facial seizure a few minutes ago. Lord O'Mighty! I hope you don't make that face all the time! It's a wonder you don't scare all the men away! You know, it's like, "AHHHH! It's the Bride of Frankenstein" quality. Heck, even an angry mob with torches would quiver in fear of your face possibly exploding! Oh! And if I have a pain in my ass it's 5'7" and looks like a 'Skipper does Rambo' action figure! I mean what is this look? Trashy Trenton-ite? Gun-runner Barbie? Mob Moll Marie? Do chicks 'round here really find that this 'on the corner' look works? And the name's 'Stone'. Not Rocky! Not Box-O-Rocks! So get it right, Jersey!"
GEEZZ! Vent much! Hello!
"I'm sensing some hostility here, Stoney-baby. Wanna talk about it? Come on. I know you sensitive artistic types need a creative outlet. Play your violin a little louder next time. Geez! I just didn't know you gabbed like a girlie-man. Who woulda thunk it? I mean, isn't it a requirement for Rangeman employees to be a little less Rickie Lake and a little more monosyllabic he-man-esque."
Before he could shoot back, I heard a buzzing sound. Rock-head walked over to the wall intercom unit and appeared to have an enlightening confab with someone on the other end. When he turned back around, I witnessed that my new pal-o-mine had turned his frown upside down…quite evilly I might add. He looks like the cat that ate the canary. Yikes! Maybe this provocation theory wasn't a sound idea. Too late now. HUGE mental sigh.
"Who was that, Pebbles?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" His devil smile grew in proportion to his horns. Man, I had known this guy for less than an hour and he was already learning how to tick me off like a pro. "Follow me, Jersey." He herded me to a shadowed corner and blurted out a series of random numbers at the wall. Just when I thought that maybe I had nagged him into a psychotic episode, a door opened revealing a state-of-the-art elevator car. After entering the car we stood side by side awkwardly. Only canned musak pumped into an audio system would have properly completed this 'ride to hell' vibe I was picking up on. But if that were true wouldn't the car be going down instead of up? Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.
The doors swooshed open after Stone entered in a code in a recessed panel. I hesitated. No way was I exiting voluntarily. He grinned and whispered in my ear. "Dead woman walking." Before causally hip-checking me out of the elevator's warm, secure cocoon of safety. It was my only escape route and I didn't want to leave it behind willingly. I sighed as I heard the doors clink shut. Doomed.
Stone grinned and grabbed my shoulders. "Don't worry. I've got your back, Jersey."
And he thought THAT was supposed to make me feel BETTER! He propelled me into a large conference room. There was a crowd of a dozen or so present. I scanned quickly and picked out a few faces in the crowd. All the favs were here. Cal, Lester, Tank, and …Bobby! He lives! He breathes! He walks! He… gulp… SCOWLS! And let me tell you, that scowl was NOT made any less menacing by the bandage on his forehead. As I made eye contact with him across the room, the crowd parted like the red sea. Everyone had backed a safe distance away and their heads bounced like fans at a tennis match. I imagined the theme from 'the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly' whistling in the back round. I was locked, squinting, into Bobby's gaze. I swear a single tumble weed rolled by between us. Lester stood slightly to the side of Bobby and behind. Looks like I know who is backing up Bobby-boy as a Second in this duel. Arghh! I glanced behind me and saw…Stone. I about faced before I could see the full smirk completely emerge. I closed my eyes in defeat. Serves me right for pushing Stone. Didn't I learn with Bobby? To quote my illustrious mother, 'Why me!'
To be continued in chapter 7…
Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind
By FlyingKit aka Christine
Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.
this chapter is dedicated to all m'dearies, normals and gun-toting babes alike C.)
Chapter 7
The Ok Corral must have been a scary place to have been present at that famous afternoon, but I think this afternoon was much, much scarier. Even though our environment was just a dusty office space with fichus trees in lieu of dusty desert and tumbleweeds. Okay, Steph. Brave front. Put on that 'street face' you been practicing. I scrunched up by nose and squinted my eyes menacingly. I wonder if this is near as intimidating as when Clint Eastwood did it in that movie? Somehow I think it's loses something in the translation. Bobby's pants still appear to be verradry and Les hasn't run screaming from the room in fear. Uh. Oh well. I did a mental shrug. It was a valiant attempt…when in Rome, and all that. I bet that Clanton gang didn't look near as intimidating as good ol' Bobby-boy and Les over there. GULP! Bobby looks like a tiger ready to pounce and somehow I think I'm about to ring the dinner bell. Have you ever noticed that your palms sweat when you are nervous? Mine do. Buckets really. I swiped them along the top of my thighs in an absent minded gesture. Apparently that was my second wrong move today. (Okay, okay. More than the second wrong move, but who can count that high now anyway. What do I look like, a computer!) I was contemplating how deeply my logic in general was flawed when I landed like a beetle, on my back, on the floor, apparently caught off guard by a kick to the back of my knee. I writhed in pain from the comfort of a fetal position on the carpet before I could even think the word 'Huh?'. I heard a grunt and a body landed with an audible THUNK atop my legs. Dammit! What the hell? It hurts! Freakin' knee. After regaining some mental equilibrium I looked down at the lump. There was a young latino hunk laying on me. Normally I wouldn't mind and make an exception to the male flesh contact rule I recently adopted, but under the circumstances... The guy was glaring at me. I mean REALLY glaring! He could strip paint with that gaze! Hell, he is practically snarling! AT ME? Who gave him rabies!Sure as hell wasn't me! So why Kujo the dog-face-boy act directed at little ol' moi? Who the fuck is this guy! I looked over at him and realized that he was being restrained at the windpipe by a huge black Bates boot. I followed the attached leg and realized it belonged to none other than Tank. He shot me a concerned look before returning his attention to Fido. I wanted to ask him what the heck was going on but voices were chattering and booming, coming in from all directions from the wall of people circling where Dog-boy and I lay in a heap. I felt like the main attraction at Barnum and Bailey! Cripes! Someone yanked latino boy off me unceremoniously. A hand, if that's what you could call the huge mitt before my eyes, was thrust into my face. I followed that lighter skinned appendage and found…
"Refresh my memory, Gibraltar, 'cause I'm a little, teeny, tiny bit foggy here. You know, with the sneak attack and all, but didn't you say, and I quote, 'I've got your back'? Hmmm? Remind me not to ask you to watch it again in the near future. Bad for my health." I grumbled unhappily as he hauled me to my feet. "SHIT! FUCK! OW! OW! OW-wee…" Stone scooped me the rest of the way up into his arms like a feather. And I ain't no feather, let me tell ya! Normally I would critique his Nurse Ratchett technique and make some oh-so-pithy-and-witty remarks but I was more centered on more important things. LIKE PAIN. I hate pain. Specifically if it's mine. Did I mention I am a total puss-wuss when it comes to pain? Oh Yeah! Hell, I cry when I have to rip off a band-aid! Bloody hell, as a kid my mom used to make me stuff a washcloth in my mouth when 'doctoring' my wounds after the 'flying' incident. I was fine until that rubbing alcohol bottle appeared. She swears to this day the screams cracked her prized Waterford vase in the china cabinet downstairs.
Stone carried me to a black leather sofa sitting against the far wall, right behind where Bobby and Lester were standing. I expected him to deposit me on it like a sack of potatoes but instead he eased himself into the seat, with me still in wrapped up in the branches he called arms, settling me on his lap. He wolf grinned down into my face.
"Is this the part where I say, 'My, grandma, what big arms you have?' Or would that be teeth? 'Cause it sure the hell ain't brains…" I grumbled unhappily.
He bounced me on his knee while trying to scoot me higher up in his lap to get a better grip on me.
"OW! My fucking knee! Do you MIND! That hurts you know!"
"Do you ever stop talkin', Jersey? I mean if that little stunt that Tiny Tio, " he hestitated to glower over at Dog-boy. Who would have thought someone actually named that mutt? "…pulled was gonna accomplish anything, I would have thought at the very least it would have made you shut your yap for two consecutive seconds." He chuckled at me.
"You little SHIT! You better not be laughing at me? I am gonna…"
"Oh hush, gal. You ain't doing squat anytime soon unless you can levitate and 'matrix' kick me. Seeing how I don't think you have mastered the force enough for that one, Yoda, I'll take my chances. Now be a good little girl and snuggle up tight to Mr. Stone and we'll be a-oh-kay. That's it." He settled my chest sideways leaning against his huge torso. I resisted the urge to knock on it to see if it was hollow or was indeed as solid as the rest of him. He grabbed my cargo pant leg and started hiking it up. "You are gonna be a well behaved Barbie until Doc can check you out."
"OH. MY. GAWD. Tell me you are not the 'Doc' you are referring to! Holy mother of God! A talking redwood can go to Med school!"
"Nah. No M.D. But close enough. I had enough schoolin' to get the gist before I left for the army. But, No, in this case I was referring to Senor Chavez over there." He indicated, with a roll of his head, a weasely looking man with dark eyes, dark hair and haphazard clothing. He looked about 5'3" tall and about a hundred years old! Okay, more like late fifties or early sixties. But he looked all worn horse. Someone definitely rode him hard and put him away wet. I shivered. This guy looked like that back alley dentist from little 'Shop of Horrors.' You know, the one who sniffed his own laughing gas. All jumpy and hopped up lookin'. Heck even the guy's gold-rimmed glasses were askew. Oh Noooo. Nuh-huh. Mr. Chavez approached us at a slow creep. I know, I know. I should say Doctor Chavez, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Before he could arrive, Stone learned in close with a smirk and whispered. "I know what you are thinkin', Jersey. He is better trained than he appears to be. Would this face lie? " He fluttered his eyelashes at me in an doe-eyed bambi-esque move. And he calls me Skipper! "Trust me." I rolled my eyes hard enough to win the burg 1st prize medal.
"Yeah. And look where THAT got me!" I harrumph at him and crossed my arms over my chest thereby digging my right elbow in his ribs.
"Hey knock that off, Skipper."
I smirked. "Oh. Did that hurt? Opps!" I poked him again. Heh heh.
He leaned in close to my face and purred at me,"Rat."
The moldy oldie finally reached the finish line, examined my half naked leg and finally reached the knee. Geez Louise. This might take awhile! He poked and prodded at me, much to my chagrin and shot off several rapid fire questions at me. All in Spanish. I blink perplexed at him and before I could try to figure out how to say 'no englais', Stone had jumped into answer after translating for me. I looked over at Bobby who was across the room yelling animatedly at Tank and then Dog-boy in turn. I was too far away to hear the whole of what was being said but from what I could easily decipher from the more audible of booms and wild undulating movements of his limbs, he wasn't that pleased. He turned to lunge at Tio after the idiot must have spewed some little barb at him. Tank grabbed Bobby before he could make full pressure contact with his windpipe.
"LESTER!" Tank bellowed. "Restrain that idiot before he gets himself killed!" He gestured to Tio.
Les smiled evilly. "MY PLEASURE, boss!" He hauled Tio to his feet. "Come on Tiny. We are gonna have a little discussion in the other room." Another anonymous goon magically appeared to slap cuffs on Tio. Between them Les and Goonie managed to drag him by the elbows past me. When he got close he spewed his venom.
"Fucking Bitch! No one touches one of the A team Boys!" Huh? Who's he? Mister T? "I'll fucking teach you a lesson even if he won't! I don't care how good a piece of ass you are! I'm gonna fuck you up, you cu…Ooopphhff!"
Les was grinning as he wiped the hate off Tio's face with his fist. "Ah.ah.ah! Tiny T here has got to learn some respect. And I am just…"
Before he could finish that remark Bobby had knocked Tio over riding him to the ground with the force of his tackle. He had his hands wrapped around Tio's throat in a chokehold and he was hammering the back of his head into the floor with several good whacks before anyone could react.
"NO" THWACK…"BODY"… THWACK… "TOUCHES"… THWACK…"MY"…THWACK…"STEPH!" SLAM! THUNK!
HOLY fucking SHIT! Bobby has lost it! Jumping Jesus! His eyes were almost empty of all that made him who he was. The Bobby I knew was gone replaced with this methodical killer! My loving, laughing, teasing, annoying Bobby… gone! Is this what happens when you are in this world too long! I shivered. If this is the price of admission, I think, I want out. I am SOOO not that type of gal. No way was I willingly going to become a cold-blooded assassin!
I must have been still reeling from this revelation because I lost some time somewhere. When I became cognizant of where I was, Cal, Hector, and Tank had separated Bobby from the fray. Tio was now gone from my sight. Good riddance. Les and Anonymous Goonie had disappeared, so it looks like they got stuck babysitting him. Hope they don't 'guard' him too well. Tank won't be pleased if he has to take Dog-boy to the hospital. That one might be hard to explain away to the ER staff, since it was a given the docs would report it, and thus even harder to explain away to Trenton's finest.
Bobby thrust his hands up in the air. "OKAY! Okay! I'm fine! LET ME GO!" The guys all released him. Bobby straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair in a very anti-'fine' way.
"No, you fucking aren't FINE! Listen the FUCK up Man! You just tried to kill that little fuck, Tio! What the FUCK is the matter with you! You better not EVER fucking touch him again! Chill out or I'm cutting you the fuck out from the team, fucking indefinitely!" Shit. I have never heard Tank say the F-word before. And he used it in every way imaginable. Not a good sign. "What in the FUCK were you THINKING! Get the fuck outta my sight!"
Bobby clenched his fists and a muscle in his jaw pulsated wildly. He jabbed a finger into Tank's chest. SHIT! Things are gonna get ugly real fast, real soon. I started to shake. I would never want Bobby to get hurt on my account, and that was what was gonna happen if he wasn't careful. I think Tank is as close to losin' it as Bobby is! I have never seen Bobby so crazed though. It might be an evenly matched fight. Bobby's adrenalin fueled insanity against Tank's brawny anger. Hmmm. No good can come from this.
Stone pulled me to him and whispered in my ear. "It'll be okay. Don't worry, Jersey girl. You are safe here with me." He winked at me and stroked my thigh with the right palm that had been resting on my leg. A volley of shivers marched up and down my spine. Although this time not form fear or worry.
"NO! YOU fucking LISTEN toME! No one…and I mean NO ONE messes with that girl!" He removed his outthrust arm from Tank to point in my direction. "That woman is MINE! You hear me! MY BLOOD! Abso-FUCKIN'-lutely NO ONE is EVER gonna lay a single finger on her the wrong way or they answer to ME! She is my FUCKING family! And don't worry I'm leaving the room before I fuckin' knock fucking anyone else DESRVING the FUCK out!"
Bobby glanced, mid tirade, at Stone and I. He froze. His look turned ominously dark. He stomped in our direction like a stampeding buffalo. Or maybe a more apt analogy would be like an angry lion. I suddenly feel like a wildebeast. And I know from my late night viewing of animal planet that the wildebeast is the animal kingdom's equivalent of a happy meal. Easy to take out, convenient and tasty. Even comes with a toy. GULP!
Stone abruptly thrust me off his lap, pushing me slightly behind him on the sofa, putting his body between me and Bobby. Bobby glowered even harder. His was a virtual thundercloud by the time he reached us.
"And YOU! KEEP." Finger jab…" YOUR"… Jab…"FUCKING"...poke…" HANDS"… jab… " OFF"...poke… "HER"…jab…"AND TO YOURSELF!" With that he swung a fist to hit him in the jaw but Stone twisted his torso away at the last minute to lessen the force of the blow.
"Don't do this Bobby." He stated quietly and slowly, as though as to a child. Stone had gone utterly rigid and menacingly still. And while I couldn't see his face from the position I was in, I knew it had to be scary if it was holding up to the scrutiny of Bobby's rage filled face.
"Later then. WE will DISCUSS your behavior and treatment of my SISTER!"
All of a sudden Bobby was hovering at my side. He leaned over to pick me up and I flinched. His face was still wrapped up tight in fury. Where was the face of the man that I had grown to love as a brother? I searched his visage. 'Where are you, Bobby?' I silently thought my question at him, pleading for an answer. Someone called his name. He hesitated from his task of picking me up and inclined his rigid warrior face to the source of that voice.
"Bobby, man. You hear me? Bobby! You do know it's Steph, right? It's not Junie, man. It's not your sister. It's just Steph. Not the June-bug. Junie's dead, Bobby."
Lester had reappeared, off slightly to the left of Bobby, sometime during the last few minutes of terror. He sounded like he was talking down a jumper form a 50 story high-rise. Bobby whirled on him.
"Fuck you, man! FUCK YOU. I fuckin' know it's Steph. It's my Angel here that we are talking about. I KNOW she's not JUNIE! Stephanie is just as much my sister as Junie EVER was! From this moment on STEPH is my SISTER! You fuckin' hear me! MY FAMILY! AND NO ONE HURTS MY FAMILY! STEPH MEANS THE fucking WORLD TO ME!"
"Hey man! Chill. No one is gonna hurt Stephanie. You know that Stone's cool, man. He ain't gonna hurt her. Just chill." Lester had his hands up in the air in the universal sign of 'hey, look! I'm unarmed. Don't shoot!'
"Back off, Lester!" Bobby turned back around and this time when he looked at me his face had softened. He eyes were slowly becoming more Bobby-esque. "shhhh. It's okay, Angel." He gently lifted me from the sofa and Stone's protection like a piece of spun glass. "We are gonna be fine. I'll protect you. You know that, right? Always and forever, Steph-Angel. Always and Forever." He made a small rocking movement while cradling me in his arms. His eyes glazed over and numb. Oh sweet lord. Bobby. Bobby. Sweet Bobby-boy. Whatever have you been through? I rested my head on his shoulder, hugged him, willing him to feel my strength and compassion. He looks so broken.
"Hey, Les?"
"Uh, yeah, Steph?"
"Is there a bedroom around here somewhere? You know, I am feeling a bit tuckered out for some reason." I faked a yawn. The one and only time in my life that I was not tired, I needed to be. What irony. "Maybe I can lay down for a quiet nap somewhere. Maybe Bobby can take me there…" I willed him to catch on.
Les nodded. "Sure thing. Good idea, Beautiful. Whatcha think, Bobby? Can you lug her upstairs or do I, with my superior strength, need to do it?"
It seemed to be working. Bobby shook off the trance long enough to figure out the conversation. "Like you could ever dead-lift more weight than me!" Bobby smiled. Whew. Never thought I would be so relieved to see this man smile.
"HEY. I think I am insulted over here, Mister Brown!" I pouted playfully.
His gaze was kinda goofy again as he turned his face to me. He stroked the side of my face. "Never could hurt you, Angel."
"I know."
"Go on. Take her up to your room, Brown." Les interrupted. I met his gaze over Bobby's shoulder as he carried me form the room to the bottom of a flight of stairs. "Be careful," he mouthed silently I nodded solemnly and discreetly.
When we arrived upstairs, Bobby kicked open a door and laid me gently on the king size bed. I held fast to his arm when he would have released me. "Stay. Please Bobby. Stay with me."I was terrified he would return downstairs to stir the hornets nest. He hesitated and then removed his socks, boots and T-shirt before turning his attention to me. He whisked off my boots, pants, shirt and weaponry before I could attempt to form a coherent thought. UH, What the heck is he doing? Think Bunny. No sudden moves. He grabbed his T-shirt and drug it over my head before laying me back on the coverlet. I blinked. He crawled up beside me, pulled down the covers and slipped us inside. Holding me tight to his bare chest he sighed.
Allllrighhhty then. Ahem. Looks like I am Bobby' teddy bear for the moment. I laid with my head on his muscular milk chocolate colored chest. Normally I would appreciate the 'Yummy' quotient presented before me but strangely enough I felt no stirrings of the infamous Mazur hormones. Maybe they expired? Perish the thought. I snuggled in close and hugged Bobby tight to me.
"Bobby?" I looked up at him and whispered.
"Yeah, Angel?" His brown eyes were still shocky but more normal looking. That was a relief.
"Are we okay? You and me, I mean…ahem… Are you gonna shove that boot up my ass as promised?"
He chuckled soflty. "No, Sweets. We're fine." He kissed my forehead and smoothed the furrow on my brow. "We never were anything but fine."
"Uh, okay, good. 'Cause I don't think I could take you out. I am still surprised I managed what I did earlier. Is your head okay? Did I do that?" I indicated his bandaged head. "Oh, man, I am SOOooo sorry, Bobby. Please forgive me."
He smiled. "Yeah, you did it. I'm proud of you for holding your own. Even though it WAS a sneak attack. And there is nothing to forgive, Steph. Now sleep." He forced my head back down on his chest. "I will be here when you wake up."
I settled in, thoughts whirling. What the hell is going on today! Will my life ever be normal! I think not with these guys in it. I sighed. I turned my thoughts to the man whose warmth I was huddled in. Poor Bobby. I didn't know he had a sister. I thought he was an orphan. Well I guess orphans can have siblings too. He told me about his youth and his experiences in foster care growing up in the City, but he never mentioned a sister. Must be too painful with her being dead and all. I always wanted a brother and if that's what Bobby needed, I was gonna give it to him. I think I love him more than I could ever love my perfect sister Val! I tightened my grip on Bobby. I would protect him. Funny, the thought of me protecting this big army lunkhead. But he's my lunkhead! I heard his breath even out as he stroked my cheek with the palm of his hand. His hand finally stilled after a few silent minutes. He must have finally fallen asleep. I was never gonna fall asleep while I was guarding him, I thought wearily, even as my eyes grew heavy. I swore as I faded into unconsciousness I hear him whisper: "I will never, ever, leave you, Angel. Never…"
To be continued in chapter 8…
Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind
By FlyingKit aka Christine
Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.
pouring chocolate syrup on the curb "this one's for m' homies." (sorry, watched Austin Powers sequel last night…can't account for taste. Especially mine C.)
Chapter 8
CRACK! BLAM!
The roll of thunder woke me from my slumber. Dang it! It sounded like it originated from inside this bedroom! That can't be right can it? I mean, last time I checked, it couldn't rain indoors. Can it? Damn that Al Roker and his misinformation.
I tried to sit up but was pressed steadfastly to a rock hard wall. Wait a minute. I felt around blindly with my hands. That's a big hand. That's a six-pack. That's a chest. Ah, that's right. Bobby. Sleeping. Naked torso. Check and Roger. It's all coming back. I mentally tapped my noggin. Steel trap, don't ya know. Now what was that sound? I smiled sheepishly up at Bobby. I blinked. He was pointing a Beretta at the bedroom doorway. I shifted my eyes. CRAP. I slammed the traitorous orbs fast. I am hallucinating. That's it. That entire trauma yesterday has finally taken hold and I am seeing things that really aren't there. Or better yet! I am dreaming! Though I am used to him starring in those; my nightmares aren't usually where he makes a guest appearance. Unless…
"OW! SHIT, Angel! What in the hell was that for! Don't do that now! Kinda busy at the moment."
OH Holy FUUUuu…
"Uh, Sorry. I thought I was still sleeping."
He sighed. "Don't you know mean dreaming? And you do get that you are supposed to pinch yourself not me, right?"
I tried to hide. Nodding my head, I unconsciously buried my face in the crook of Bobby's neck in search of safety. I mean, my realization wasn't complete if I didn't acknowledge it, right?
"It's not a dream. It's a FUCKING nightmare." The voice I dreaded ever hearing again growled.
I turned in Bobby's arm, legs still intertwined with his and our sheets, to watch this soap opera unfold.
"Ranger, what are you doing back here?" Bobby inquired, emotionless, as he stared at the shadowy figure still looming larger than life in the doorway.
I looked at Ranger and could have wept. The Cuban sex-god had lost none of his powers. He still oozed raw sexual male prowess like most people wore cologne. He looked the same, dammit! Luscious lips, long ebony hair secured at the nape, and to-die-for chocolate pools for eyes. His body was still as beautiful and hard as ever. He was encased in his black swat gear like a plump polish sausage. A little heat and they would peel away to reveal yummy, juicy goodness. Sweet lord. Is it hot in here! I think it's hot in here. I need to talk to someone about fixing the thermostat for this room. It's not fair! He doesn't look any worse for wear. He should after what he did to me by leaving me with not a single word since that day 7 months ago. Or should I say night. It was fucking night-time when he ripped out my still beating heart like the voo-doo priest in that movie 'Temple of Doom.' Funny, what one's mind chooses to remember. It's the little details in life that linger like bad breath.
Ranger's mirthless laugh jarred me from my hormone rumination and emotional flog-fest.
"I thought I knew why I came back to Trenton. Apparently, I don't have a clue." He turned to leave. "Get dressed and report in downstairs at Comm Central." He snarled.
"Hey, man, this isn't what it looks like…"
"Save it. I don't want to talk about it. No, I'm done talking. Actions always speak louder than words…"
A knife twisted in my chest. He couldn't be saying what I think he was saying, could he? Did he mean he came back here to see me? I am so confused. Did I read him wrong before? Did I misunderstand? I didn't think you could misinterpret the things he said and didn't say when he left. Maybe I was wrong. Wouldn't be the first time. Sure, as hell won't be the last. I feel like I am watching a foreign film and trying to read the rapid moving subtitles to keep up. When would I find the power of speech?
"You are making a big mistake…"
"No, Brown, I only made one mistake. Looks like now I don't have cause to regret it. Thanks for showing me the light. Though I should warn you to be careful what you crawl into bed with. Tell me, did she even wait for the sheets to cool before she brought you in?" With that he stalked out and down the hall. His footsteps echoed with a lonely finality. I shouted after him. "NOooo! RANGER! Wait!" I tried to scramble from the bed and follow him down the hallway, but I tripped and ended up on my butt. I heaved myself up to try again when a hand grabbed my arm. Bobby hauled me against him.
"Let him go."
"What! You're kidding right! He thinks we…"
"Yeah, he does." Startled I looked at Bobby's face. He had his death-mask on. Boy, he looks pissed.
I looked at him incredulously.
"B-but he..he.." I started to cry.
"Shhh. He's not worth it. He obviously doesn't deserve you. Let him go."
"That's just it, Bobby. I thought I had! But when I saw him again, standing there, even angry he looked…and I felt…oh NOooo…" I wailed. I'm sure my face was a spotty mess by now. Bobby rocked me in his arms, still stroking my back to sooth me. He placated me with low, soothing sounds as people are wont to do with small children.
After a good ten or fifteen minutes, when I had calmed, I shifted upright and he held fast. I looked deeply into his eyes.
"I thought I knew him and he hurt me. Then and now. I thought before that I could trust him with my heart as well as I trusted him with my life. I thought, for a second there, we could fix things. But we can't, can we, Bobby? Maybe we were never meant to be…"
"Angel. Things happen a certain way for a reason. Maybe this was just a cosmic way of showing you how things really are? I know it sucks but, maybe, you aren't destined to be together. I know how your mind works. All fairy tales and happy endings. That's not realistic, now is it?"
"But I love him. Or thought I did. Shit. I am so confused! Why do I always pick the bad boys…they only grow up to be bad men." I sighed and paused. "You might be right."
"The only love you need is the love you make for yourself in life. The love you make with friends and family. The love you have with the guys. " He hesitated, forced my chin up with his hand to stare at his eyes. "My love." I swallowed the tears that threatened to fall. "Not the kind where you wait for some stupid superhero to come rescue you."
God, how did I deserve such a friend.
I leaned up and pecked his mouth with mine. Wiping my eyes, I returned to stand flat on my feet.
"I love you, too."
"Uhhh…maybe I should come back. Now doesn't look like a good time." Lester's voice boomed over to us.
"Nothing to interrupt, man." Bobby called to him before he could leave. We turned to face Lester, who in turn was staring wide eyed at the broken bedroom door. Wood had splintered off in shards on the carpet and the door handle had gone through drywall behind it. Guess I just deducted what that lighting stuck earlier.
"HOLY SHIT."
"Exactly." Bobby returned. He slid behind me to pull me into his embrace with his arms snugly around my shoulders, while Lester examined the disaster area.
"Uh…I heard the boss was back. But somehow I think you two already know that."
"Yeah, we got that memo." Bobby stated as he gestured to the door. "Loud and clear."
"Oh man! Tank is gonna have his hands full! He is in with him now in the war room. Shit! What did you do? What did you say? What did he say!" Did I mention that Lester can be a real gossipy mother hen when he applies himself?
"It doesn't matter what he did or said. It's over and done with. Besides he is the one who left. He has no place here now."
"Uh, don't you think the Bomber should have some input on that?"
I had a new respect for Lester. I would have not had the cahones to say that to Bobby right now. He had started glowering with the first mention of Ranger. Now his hands were clenched and his jaw pulse ticking. He looked about ready to pop.
"It's okay, Les. Bobby and I talked. He's right.'
"Sure about that, Beautiful?"
No I wasn't. But… "Yeah, I'm sure."
Lester's face turned grim and he looked straight at Bobby but spoke to me. "Steph, can you wait outside for a moment? Bobby and I need to discuss something."
"Uh yeah. Sure." He startled me by escorting me to the hallway and shutting the broken door behind me. CRIPES! He could have at least given me my pants! I only wore Bobby's shirt, currently, and my little pink heart print undies. Somehow I don't think that was the appropriate attire for a war-meeting downstairs. The door reopened quickly and a pair of sweats were thrown in my direction before it was quickly slammed shut.
DAMN ESP!
Arghhhh. Well, at least nothing else can go wrong.
"We keep meeting in the strangest ways…"
Oh man! I jinxed myself. What's that saying? Oh yeah. Something about a Rock and a hard place…
"Awwww, cram it, Bam-Bam!'
"Bam-Bam? That's a new one." He chuckled merrily.
"You know, like that strong little baby on the Flintstones. You know." I made a motion with my hand like I was swinging a club, bashing an imaginary object. "You are just that subtle, I thought the name appropriate."
He clapped. "Aww. I am so proud. Miss thing made a funny. Tell me is it your first? Shall we go pop some Krystal and sip champagne?"
Arrghhh. What is it about this guy! He is such a pain in the ass! "You're…" I scrambled for a comeback…"you're… just a big knob head with no knob!" TAKE THAT!
"Well, at least I am wearing pants. Care to explain the mid-unveiled streaker look you got going on here? This ought to be a good explanation," He spouted with glee. He slouched, crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. I guess trying to get a good seat for the show. OOooooo! RAT!
To be continued in chapter 9…