Surviving Stephanie Chapter 20

Disclaimer: Alas, This is still Janet's world we are borrowing. We'll put it back together when we are through.

Note: Alyssa has a mind of her own. We give up. And a huge, huge thank you to everyone who commented! Your feedback is greatly welcomed!

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After I got off the phone with Jack, I called Lula and Connie and explained the emergency- Valerie was unbelievably depressed because she had lost her job and of course her marriage was gone- so would they be interested in a girls night to cheer her up?

I'm not sure if Janet or Stephanie ever realized but Connie and Lula are party girls of Paris Hilton caliber. By that I mean that they will drop anything and everything for a night on the town and they'll do it in style, even if it is a week-night.

I turned to open the door when it opened for me and a changed Valerie walked out. The hair was once more Meg Ryan fresh, the make-up was in it's proper places, and the outfit was Gap-ish. I prefer Banana Republic, myself, but the simple tank top and khakis looked good on her. Add some designer sunglasses and she would be poster girl for yuppie casual.

"Much better," I told her.

"Are we really having a party?"

"We're going shopping first- you're celebrating a new beginning. It calls for new clothes. Club clothes," I specified, remembering something about Valerie having lots of flowers and flowy things.

"Let's go," Valerie said smiling. I tossed her the keys- I still wasn't too clear on how to get to the mall. Connie and Lula were on their way to meet us there, probably already debating what kind of make-over to give Valerie. Poor Val, she wouldn't know what hit her.

"Stephanie, it's your car—"

"Yeah. But you need the empowerment," I grinned. "You're taking control as of now. We celebrate the return of your bachelorette status tonight, and tomorrow we start tracking your ex." We got in the car, Valerie driving, and I started fiddling with the radio stations.

"Steph, what do we do when… we find him?"

"We tell him to give you part of the money, or we'll let his partners know where he is. Probably he'd much rather us just take some money as opposed to his partners taking everything and possibly his kneecaps." Valerie thought about that for a while. I was just guessing about the kneecaps thing but her silence let me know that maybe I was right about it. Huh, I didn't realize Cali had mafia. But I guess it figures. "Or you could just hit him with the Buick," I added.

Valerie laughed. "Don't tempt me."

Bowling for Soup came on, singing 1985 and I left it on. I thought it was pretty appropriate to Valerie. We bopped along to it in silence.

The mall passed by in a blur of Valerie protesting and Lula, Connie, or me overruling her. I began to feel like I was trapped on an episode of What Not to Wear, and it was fun. Well, sort of fun. Okay so I bailed out midway through Macy's to go in search of my own outfit. I wasn't too thrilled with Stephanie's clothes, and anyway, some of them were starting to fit a little loosely. It's amazing what happens when you drop the doughnuts.

Actually, I hadn't been eating much period. With the work-outs and the decreased calorie intake it was showing pretty quickly. I was feeling pretty good about my… erm, well, the body I was in. Stephanie would definitely be thanking me when/if she got back.

Of course she'd celebrate by going out and snarfing a box of those Tasty Kake things, and then never setting foot in the dojo again… damn, just the thought of it annoyed me. Come to think about it, what would she do if she were back right now?

I sat down on a bench outside of Rainbow and considered what might happen. She would be happy she had a new guy to date. She'd probably take Jack to dinner at her parents' house. After all, she was always wanting dates to fall into her lap, I thought bitterly. I sighed as I realized of all the scenarios I could dream up happening when Stephanie reclaimed herself, I didn't like any of them. And anyway, she'd just end up bouncing between Joe and Ranger and doing exactly what the books laid out. Well, not if I could help it, I decided. My List would make that difficult, but I was going to make it impossible.

I stood up and headed into Rainbow. I had my mission. It was probably impossible, and it was just one more thing to tack onto my List of Evil, and I might really regret it, but it was one of those things.

I spared a moment to thank Janet for giving Stephanie a smaller figure, thus allowing me to shop in my favored spots for party clothes. I don't know what I would have done if I'd ended up in Connie's or Lula's bodies. Probably become anorexic or sat outside of Gadzooks, Rainbows, and Rave, crying my eyes out.

I'm a clothes horse, you see. I have a permanent addiction to the thrill of trying something on for the first time, to that surge of happiness that comes when you see it in the mirror and realize: Yes, it was made for me!. At least Stephanie and I have shopping in common, even if she stays in Macy's and Victoria's Secret.

Looking around me at the clothes crammed into Rainbow, I felt the familiar zing as my eyes settled on The Top. It was black, one-shouldered, with a single long draped sleeve, slashed and held together only at the elbow. The club we had chosen was The DP, so I would definitely be wearing pants. I never felt comfortable bumping and grinding in a skirt. So I looked around for pants or jeans to go with my latest find.

A half hour later and fifty bucks poorer I had my outfit from the top to the shoes, so I checked up on Valerie and Co. They were still in Macy's, but they had a little black dress picked out and were fighting over shoes.

"Wow, you look like you just had sex," Connie said as I walked up to her. I laughed.

"Yeah, last time I saw that smile you just spent the night with the cop," Lula added. Valerie looked vaguely traumatized.

"Better than sex, guys. Look at these shoes!" I pulled out my purchases and showed them off.

"Oh my god," Connie gasped. "Those are gorgeous." I looked down at them happily. The ankle strap criss-crossed before it buckled, and the heels were thick enough to dance on without being chunky. Of course, once you've learned how to can-can in almost 2-in heels without breaking your ankle, there isn't much you can't dance in.

"Just remind me not to get too drunk or I really won't be able to walk in them," I requested.

"Hey, now you're here, you decide," Lula said, holding up two pairs of black shoes. I glanced from the shoes to Valerie and back again, then looked at the dress. The shoes were both black strappy sandals, but one pair had thinner straps and more heel. I picked them.

"Val, we're going to a dance club, not a day at the bank," I told her seriously. "And it's your turn to look effing hot, not just nice. Save nice for PTA meetings."

"My feet are going to be killing me! I'll get blisters!" she protested.

"So sit down and con some guy into buying you a drink," I advised. "That's why slow songs were invented- to give you time to sit down."

"Slow dancing is romantic," Val said, looking a little dreamy. I wrinkled my nose.

"It's an excuse for guys to grope you," I said.

"You're so un-romantic, Steph," Val complained. I shrugged. "But I'll take the shoes."

Lula and Connie had picked up some clothes from their own places on the way here, but had at some point found things they preferred while dragging Valerie around. Funny how that happens.

So we changed in the ladies' room in Macy's before leading into our cars and heading out, Lula and Connie leading the way in Lula's Firebird. I felt a stab of envy watching it's sleek red body glide along in front of us. Oh, the things I could do with that car… if only I drove a clutch. I sighed and thought longingly of home, where Andy had promised to teach me how to drive a clutch this summer on his old RAV-4. and even more longingly of my own beloved silver Eclipse sitting in the parking lot of Hudson Hall. Probably an Eclipse wouldn't work for bounty huntering, though. I sighed and considered whether this alone was grounds for changing Stephanie's job description.

Too bad I didn't know what her college major was, or her exact employment history. Or her résumé. I finally discarded the idea. Besides, this job would give me interesting experiences and a different perspective. Mom always told me I should do something unique, outside the norm. She said the routine of an office job would kill your spirit faster than anything, including war. Maybe Stephanie was right- maybe it was the pantyhose.

Either way, it was a moot point. I didn't have the knowledge to land Stephanie a normal job; the best I could do was work on getting this one under control. I realized belatedly that we were pulling into the parking lot of the DP and all my deep thoughts flew out of my head. Dancing, drinking, and flirting were the order of the night.

There was a line a mile long and we walked resignedly past the door to get started waiting, but a yell from the bouncer stopped us in our tracks.

"Hey! Lula, Alyssa!" he called, his voice so deep I could have sworn my ear drums rattled. I jumped at hearing my own name, then cringed as I saw Val and Connie looking curious, but I followed Lula back to the door. The bouncer grinned down at us and lifted the ropes. "You're in," he said simply.

I smiled at him gratefully, not even caring to question what stroke of luck had led to it, and pulled Val and Connie in with me. Lula pushed open the door and the fog swirled out to engulf us in the empowering haze of light and music.

We were barely to the bar when Lula handed out shots to each of us. We all touched and downed them. Valerie loosened up after another shot.

I took a third drink, this time just a margarita, but things were already getting a little warm and happy around the edges. By the time the margarita was half gone, Valerie was dancing with a nice looking guy I'd have bet money was either in business or an up-and-coming Mafioso. Being that this was Jersey it could have gone either way.

Connie was rubbing her boobs against some decently hot, definitely Italian, and certainly married guy. Lula had found herself another tall, hot and thugly. Or maybe it was the same one… they turned a little. Yep, same one. She was dancing with Tank. A theory began to form in my slightly-foggy little brain.

I looked through the crowd, in search of a possible target. A-ha. Control, we have a visual… engaging target now…

His eyes met mine. Target locked. I smiled and tipped my glass his way before letting my attention wander some more. Easily done even sober. Drunk, it does that even when I want to focus.

Besides, something about things traveling in threes was in the back of my mind. Maybe it meant snakes? No, I think that was twos… bad things? Bad things in threes? But did these classify as bad things?

Then again, many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view. God I love you Obi-Wan. Especially when you look like Ewan McGregor… Damn. Why is it always Star Wars when I get drunk?

I pondered my drunken Star Wars mania by looking soulfully into my Margarita, then downing the rest of it. Jedis don't have sex. Except Anakin, and look where that leads. Stupid rule. I waved to the bartender and asked him for an orgasm.

He was the same one from the last time, but he didn't recognize me. Probably it was the hair, but he made the same crack as last time. I made the same response.

"Multiples, always. Screaming… if you can do that?" I purred, then smiled. He smiled back and slid me the drink. A double screaming orgasm. Take that Obi-Wan.

I didn't gulp it down, and chose instead to take a smaller drink. I didn't want to be throwing up again tonight. I hated throwing up drunk. It's like throwing up sober, of course, except that it's ten times worse.

"Excuse me?" interrupted a male voice. I turned to inspect its owner. Oh, hello, Target. I smiled. Target was hot, vaguely Hispanic, but maybe not really Hispanic. He definite had a mixed heritage, but it gave his looks that edge of exotic that made you want to have sex with him for the hell of it. Or maybe that was the tequila talking. "Hi," I said, and waved toward the empty seat next to me. "Care to sit down?"

"Actually," he grinned and I considered jumping up and wrapping my legs around his waist just to know what would happen, "I was just going to ask you to dance?" he held out his hand.

I laughed. Dance? All right, I'd dance with him. Another few shots of tequila and I'd do a lot more than that. But dancing would work for now. I downed my double screaming orgasm and placed my hand in his. "Let's dance… you got a name?"

"Lester," he said, just loud enough to be heard over the music. Santos, I finished for him, Employer: Ranger Manoso.

I licked my lips as he led me toward the dance floor. This was going to be fun. Poor Lester.

We just reached the dance floor when a club mix of Lose My Breath came on. My smile widened into the one that always made Chelsea mutter something about Christians and lions. I put my hands on his shoulders and moved closer to him.

"Make me lose my breath," I mouthed in sync with the song as we began to move. Lester's eyes widened, but I couldn't tell exact expressions in the haze of fog, smoke, and shifting lights.

Then I closed my eyes and let the music take hold. I opened them a heartbeat later, but I wasn't really seeing anything. I was dancing, and nothing else mattered beyond moving with the flow of words and music. I turned my back to him and slithered down him, then back up and a quick half step back, moving my arms and hips…. Stepping closer, matching his movements…

The orgasms started to hit and the world began to blur out more and more, the colors becoming warmer and brighter. I am a very happy drunk. And I can also dance when completely hammered, so I wasn't worried- I was accustomed to Stephanie's body now. It moved when I told it, the way I wanted it to.

If only I could figure out how to get a guy to do that…

Of course, Lester wasn't doing such a bad job. He was a hell of a dancer. I wondered if he did salsa, and if I could convince him to be my new partner if he did.

Hell, it was hard to find a guy who was a good dancer and I'd found two now. I'd have to marry one of them…. I laughed, and danced a little closer to Les, wondering for a moment what Ranger would do if Stephanie woke up some morning in Las Vegas married to one of his employees.

Some other time. I wasn't in the mood to fly to Vegas. I was in the mood for dancing like a stripper.

At some point in the evening, Tank broke in and became my dance partner. And I do mean broke. The friendly hand on Les's shoulder nearly sent him crashing into another couple a few steps away. I waved to him. Les was hot- tall, handsome, exotic, infinitely sexy. But Tank was taller, and really, really tank-like. I wanted to know if he could move that big bulky body…

He didn't let me find out. Instead he escorted me back to the bar and ordered us both a water. I considered enlightening him as to what rapid drinking of water can do when you're only just beginning to sober up, but decided I liked the idea of getting a little extra drunk-time.

"Hey Tank, long time no see!" I said. His lips tipped up in the suggestion of a smile.

"Think you need to be getting home, Stephanie."

I frowned and thought about that. Home. Hamster. T.V. Boring. Nope. "I don't want to. I'd rather dance. Do you wanna dance, Tank?"

He shook his head. "Not right now."

"Then where's Lester?" I said, looking around. "I liked him. He dances."

"Les went home, he was pretty far gone." Funny, he didn't seem that drunk…

"Rats. I wanted to get his phone number, or give him mine…. Exchange them…." I sighed and gave up. "Ensure the routes of communication were open if so desired."

Tank raised an eyebrow. "Looked like you might have been wanting more than that?" Huh, maybe wearing a thin top and no bra wasn't so brilliant? Eh, oh well. More fun that way anyway.

I smiled and shrugged. "Dancing is dancing. Actually, it's better than sex. No awkward morning afters and no one sees you naked. And no STD's." Tank shook his head.

"Yeah, but it doesn't feel as good."

I sighed. I guess not everyone felt the way I did about dancing. About totally giving up control and letting the music tell you where to go… or the choreographer, but either way, the moves and the music were all that counted, feeling what the musician had been trying to say… It was almost more intimate than any sex I'd ever had. Huh, I guess I'd been intimate with a lot of musicians then…

"You're not doing it right," I said. Tank stared at me in disbelief. "Dancing, silly. I'd guess if you're a guy you're kind of born knowing how to do sex right…. Well, right for you. Sex right for the girl takes some practice."

Tank laughed and shook his head. "Come on," he said, taking hold of my elbow. "You definitely need to get home."

"What about Valerie?" I asked. "My sister was dancing with this…" I frowned and looked around the club, and peered into the misty depths of the dance floor. "I don't see her…"

"She left with some guy an hour ago."

Shit. Well, it was allowed by the rules of College Dating. One free, forgive-all pass for a one-nighter post break-up. I just hoped Val would see it that way in the morning. Hopefully she wouldn't propose to him.

I gave Valerie up for gone and let Tank guide me out of the club. I hoped Lester wouldn't get in trouble… nah, surely not. Ranger didn't really care about Steph at this point in the game, probably.

I talked to Tank as he drove me back to my building, but I was just rambling- the water was making me a little more tipsy than I had been. Since I was drunk, and therefore happy to ramble on, I saw no reason for Tank's lack of speaking to cramp the conversation. I told him he seemed really nice, and I asked if he had a thing for Lula, but he just gave the trademark suggestion-of-a-shrug and I moved on.

"So, you guys all go to the DP a lot now, or are you just hoping to see me and the girls?"

Tank's eyes flicked to me and back to the road.

"Y'all have been there both times we were there. Well, you have been, and I think Lester might have been there last time… where's Jack- I didn't see him? And Lester does work for RangeMan, doesn't he? Or did I hallucinate that one?"

"Jack's working. And yeah, Lester works for RangeMan," Tank said. "You've been on a job with him."

"I thought he looked familiar." I thought he matched a description. And how many exotic-looking Lesters can there be?

We pulled to a stop in front of my/Stephanie's/our… the building of our destination. You'd think someone would think up a possessive for special body-possession cases….

I leaned across the seat and hugged Tank awkwardly. "Thanks, guy. You rock. See you at the dojo or something, right?" He nodded. "Okay, night!"

"Good night, Stephanie," he sounded bemused. Huh, didn't know people could honestly sound like that word…

I grinned and waved at him before making my weaving way into the building. I noticed the roar of his engine as the door closed. Aw, he really was sweet.

Big muscly, dangerous, growly, killer teddy bear, really…

I giggled and pushed the button for the elevator. I would have taken the stairs but I'd had enough of stairways while drunk. Goddess only knew what body I might land in this time…

I leaned back against the wall of the elevator and thanked my lucky stars Steph lived on the second floor .Elevators and drunk Alyssas don't mix. I start feeling claustrophobic and nauseous.

The doors opened and I lunged for freedom, catching my heel in the process, and sending me sprawling to the ground. I landed hard, and immediately curled into a fetal position to wait it out as the universe took a step to the left and jump to the right.

When it was finished I rolled up onto my knees and crawled the few feet to the apartment door. I've never had such a lucky crawl session in my life, because being on the floor allowed me to see the lights flickering around inside. I frowned and my heart rate sped up. I looked at the door number. Nope, right apartment…

I pressed my ear against the door. Voices. I heard voices…. And I hadn't left the tv on. Or the radio…

My chest felt too tight as my heartbeat started thumping loudly. I looked around for a hiding place. There was just the bare, undecorated hallway. No convenient cubby holes or furniture, so that left the elevator.

I got carefully to my feet and scurried back inside it. I didn't have a gun or a flak vest. I did have a psychopath after me. No bloody way I was going in that apartment.

The lobby wasn't any more promising than the hallway, except for the couple wingback chairs. I looked at them speculatively. Nope, no good. How long did I have before whoever was in the apartment came down? I walked outside and ran around to the back as an idea finally hit me. Bushes. There were bushes in back. I could hide behind bushes.

I found the shrubbery in question. They weren't exactly ideal, but it was dark and there were lots of shadows. And I was wearing a black top and darker jeans. I might blend in a little….

I climbed behind them and pulled out my cell phone. I dialed the first number that came to mind.

"Yo," said an irritated and deeper-than-usual voice. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Ranger?" I said quietly, conscious of how loud my voice sounded in the relatively quiet city night.

"Babe, do you know what time it is?" Crap, I forgot about that…

"I know, last time I called this late I was probably naked and chained to the shower rod," I said softly. "But I swear, I'll arrange that if you just please come over—"

"What's wrong?" Oh sure, now I had his full, alert Bat- Attention. Mention nakedness and handcuffs… typical male.

"Someone's in my apartment. I just got home and they-" A small noise on the fire escape silenced me.

"Babe?" Ranger's voice sounded so loud… "Babe?" I cringed and gently eased the phone shut.

He could kill me later. But if it was a choice between death by Abruzzi or death by Ranger, I was picking Ranger. Another sound…

Something rattled. There were definitely footsteps….

I bit my lip and didn't even dare to breathe. I am the bush… Just a shadow … The fire escape was rattling now… I turned my head slowly to try and get a look. It was all the movement I dared to make.

I couldn't see anything. The whole thing was in shadow. Wait.. .a flash of movement. There, now there… I closed my eyes and thought of safe, warm, happy places I'd have rather been.

The crash came with the finality of the end of the world, the echoes bouncing off the stone walls and the parking lot, rolling off into infinity. Then came the indignant yowl of an annoyed alley cat. I opened my eyes to see it stalk just in front of the bush, still sporting coffee grinds and a single orange peel wrapped around its tail.

The wave of panic dissipated only to be instantly replaced. Ranger. I had just hung up on Ranger. Cripes. Why hadn't I called Joe? Or Jack? Or… I thunked my head back against the brick wall and settled in to wait.