Surviving Stephanie Chapter 24
Note: Thank you to everyone for all you help, feedback, and support. Y'all rawk.
Disclaimer: Nope, still not my characters. Not entirely my plot lines either.
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We were the only ones at the gun range again. In fact, we'd been the only ones last time. Seeing as this was the East Coast, land of mobsters, road rage, and angry bitter people- you would think that it would be more popular than this. Unless of course this was a private kind of club. I pondered that. Ten bucks says the deed to this place had the name Manoso somewhere on it. Or MacLeod.
Oh yes, Mac was loaded. He didn't flaunt it, but I knew- it was in the way he talked, the manicure on his hands, and the cut of his clothes. The car went with it, but I would bet ten more bucks that there was a garage somwhere containing a much more expensive ride. Now the question I had about him, and Ranger, was where did the money come from? They got along too well in the ghetto to be born to it. And the military doesn't pay that well. It made them interesting, though, so I wasn't complaining. Interesting is good. It's fun. It keeps me from thinking about my possible imminent demise…
"Stephanie!" I blinked and came out of my reverie. I lowered the Glock to turn to Mac, wondering what the yell was about. "You aren't concentrating!" he sighed. I looked back at the target. Oops.
I pursed my lips as I saw where the bullet holes weren't. I had totally missed my last two shots. Well, I guessed that would teachme to think about the histories of my fellow castmates instead of paying attention to what I was blasting holes into.
"Umm, I have to go to the girls' room!" I said quickly, with what I hoped was a cute shrug. I handed the gun to Mac and took off. It was actually true. Hey, a girl's gotta do and all that.
After concluding my business with mother nature I walked back down the short hall way and was about to turn and walk into the range itself when I heard the voices. Voices? Great, I really was loopy.
"God is that you?" I whispered under my breath looking around cautiously. I always figured in this situation that is probably the best you can hope for, that you're speaking to some sort of benevolent higher power. Otherwise you and people around you just might be screwed…
"…the hell were you doing?" demanded a quiet deadly voice from inside the range. I stared at the door for a second, waiting for my own heartbeat to die down and lower my blood pressure a little. Okay, two guys… how had that happened? I'd only left one in there and they normally didn't multiply that fast. Hey! Just a sec, that voice was familiar! And it wasn't the voice of a god, either. Well, it was a Cuban Sex God's, but that's sort of a different animal. Now fully intrigued, I crept closer for better eavesdropping abilities.
"Just havin' a bit of fun, Ricco," Mac chuckled. His accent was a little more pronounced, I wondered what that meant- Ricco? Ack. I bit my lip to stifle a giggle. Add that to my list of things to call Ranger. Probably he'd kill me, but it wasn't any worse than the other names on that list in my head. And they were all worth it. Just to see the look on his face.
Ranger said something I couldn't make out.
"What's it to you? Or is this about the cargo?" A few beats of silence passed after that, or if something was said, I couldn't hear it.
A bark of laughter that was definitely Mac's. "Sorry buddy. I promise I won't be nicking your precious truck."
I blinked and shook my head to clear it. I took it back, these guys were the Neanderthals of my home- they were just a couple steps closer to making it over the hump. I had the unhappy thought that I had missed something somewhere.
Anyway, time to make my entrance I decided. I straightened my top, and reached up to adjust my ponytail as I walked in. "Sorry it took so long, Mac. I had to redo my-" I let my eyes widen and my hands drop to my sides but I my smile was genuine. "Hey, Ranger! What brings you here?"
Ranger inclined his head by way of greeting and glanced pointedly at Mac. "Just checking in." Uh-huh. Gotta save your darlin' truck's paint job…
"Cool," I smiled a bright, cheery Ms. America smile. "Mac's helping me get used to my gun."
"Not that she needs much help," Mac put in. I tensed a little. Guh, of all the GI Urban Joes I get the one talkative one… "She's learning quick."
Ranger's eyebrow was lifted. "What happened to keeping the gun in the cookie jar?"
"Haven't you heard? I have an evil Teletubby with delusions of grandeur after me. And his funky costumed minions. I think it's officially time to learn about hunting safety and all that."
Ranger was impassive. I shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Mac.
"We're almost finished anyway. Here," he said, tossing me my last round… no not round… canister? Huh, well, I was still working on the terminology. I figured the important bit was that I know where all the thingys went in what order and how to make sure they went into the bad guy. I'd be fine as long as there wasn't a vocabulary test.
I loaded the gun and took my stance. Mac loaded up the new target, gave me the ok, and I fired. Did I mention that satisfactory feeling of seeing holes appearing where you want them to? Oh yeah, totally great. Very therapeutic.
I emptied my clip (see, I might remember them eventually), lowered my weapon, and turned to defer to the Jedi Masters. Heh, my weapon. That's sooo awesome.
"Not bad," Ranger said with that suggestion of a nod he does. I grinned at him, all cheek. Yeah, I wasn't a sharp shooter, but I figure for my second time out, getting in the vicinity of the chest and a couple to the head was pretty good.
"Make sure to keep your footing, and your amrs-" Mac's instructions were cut short by the Midnight Sonata. He swore and disappeared with his cell phone. I watched him go and sighed. Neanderthals with cell phones.
Ranger's silence was feeling a little forced. I turned to him expectantly. I usually got this vibe off Grandpa whenever mom started talking about crystals and ley lines. Of course, I knew what Grandpa was itching to say, 'Bullshit' being the prime candidate, but with Ranger and guns? I had no idea. I didn't see how 'bullshit' would apply.
Mac walked back into the room looked frustrated. "Steph, I'm sorry, I have to get back. Ric, could you give her a ride?" I opened my mouth prepared to be indignant, but Mac's hand resting lightly on my shoulder shut me up. "Sorry, gorgeous, but no way are you going with."
Oh. Never mind then. Happy trails, Mac. I do not want to know.
"Sure. Need any back-up?" Ranger was back in normal Ranger-mode. Whew.
"Already en route, thanks man." And he was gone.
Those guys could make the shortest, most abrupt exits of anyone I had ever met. Then again, coming from the Midwest, land where leave-taking generally takes longer than the actual conversation, maybe they weren't as bad as they seemed.
"Ready to go, Babe?"
"Yeah," I said, as I finished securing the Glock back into the holster.
We walked out to the truck quietly and I was mildly shocked when Ranger actually opened the door for me. I still had the squicky feeling he wasn't saying something, but as he steered the truck out onto the road, I prepared myself for a long feeling of squickiness. I knew he wasn't going to talk while driving.
Nope, instead he stopped at a truck stop-type place. The type of place best avoided unless you weigh 300 lbs, carry a large gun, and are named Bubba. It had to be the Shorty's of legend.
Yep, sure enough, there was a half burned-out neon sign with that very name. My gun belt had come off a few minutes before, now I slid it out of sight under the seat. "Ranger?" I asked, curious, and just a little worried. "Why are we stopping?"
"Dinner babe. Figured you'd be hungry."
"It's that ESP kicking in again, right Batman?" I laughed. I wasn't actually hungry, but I knew Stephanie would have been. Ranger got out and I paused, suddenly more than just a little worried. More nervous. Okay, past nervous. Slightly panicked. We had places like this around home. Shorty's wasn't that alien. Maybe that's why it was so scary… I knew what could happen here.
Swallowing the lump in my throat I jumped out of the cab and walked in with Ranger, sticking close to him. I didn't particularly care what Stephanie would have done, that's what I was doing. If she had any sense she'd always done exactly the same.
We got a booth in the back, in the corner. Just the Ranger liked it. As always. Hm, okay, definitely good to be with Ranger in here then. Maybe he owned part of it or something. However he managed it, he also got a waitress in record time. But that probably had more to do with his status as Cuban Sex God.
He ordered something, I didn't pay attention to what. I was trying to make a split second decision. Go the Stephanie route with lots of toppings or…
"Small, single serve cheese pizza," I heard myself ordering, "and a Coke, please?" I gave myself a mental head slap. Being tired was no excuse for that. Ranger was frowning now.
"You feelin' okay, Babe?"
"Just… tired," I said, with an apologetic smile. "Really tired. I feel like I was out there forever." Ranger sat back in his seat and said nothing. Ugh, the squickiness was back. Please, oh please, just spit it out, Ranger. I'm begging you, just say it…
"You could have asked me," he said at last. I coughed and was momentarily distracted as the waitress showed up with our drinks. Beer and a Coke? Ranger drinking a beer? Eek.
I smiled gratefully at the waitress, and I guess I must have looked worse than I thought because I got a sympathetic look followed by a wary glance toward my companion before she disappeared again.
Ranger sighed. I bit my lip and shrugged. For extra time I took a sip of my Coke. What was I going to say? Sorry, I'm scared of ending up permanently in your debt and spending life as a sexual slave? Or maybe something about how seeing as how I am not really the girl he thinks I am… nope, I didn't think so.
"I'm sorry," my voice was quieter than I'd meant it to be. And there was more guilt in it… "But I know you're busy. You have a business and stuff, you probably don't have the time to teach me stuff I should know anyway. And I really don't want to impose on you anymore than I already have." Oh yes, let's hear it for Grandma's manners lessons getting drilled into my skull! "I feel I would be taking advantage of you." Ranger choked on his drink. Oops, maybe I should learn to stop myself a little sooner.
"Advantage?" he shook his head a little. Aw, hell, might as well plod through with this tactic.
"I have haven't I?" I sighed mournfully and looked down into my Coke. "I truly am sorry." There was a long silence. But at least the heavy feeling of words unsaid was gone. Instead I had the feeling I might have shocked Ranger. Luckily the pizza came and I dove into mine with a vengeance. All I'd had to eat was the smoothie, and I was a lot hungrier than I'd thought.
When the only thing left was the crust I settled back, content to sip my Coke and wait for further instructions. Ranger was still quiet, but since he was Ranger, I figured maybe it wasn't all that serious.
"Come on, let's get you home." Oh, Crap. Home. La Bruja.
"Umm, about that," I said as Ranger pulled me to my feet and we started out the door.
Ranger smiled. "What happened?"
"Well, I went out shopping this morning with Valerie and I got a call from Morelli, I guess he'd been having us followed- by the way, sometime remind me to ask you how to figure out you've got a tail- and anyway he showed up to talk to me."
"And that's why you don't want to go home?" Ranger urged as we climbed into the truck.
"No. No, well, yes," I sighed. "Ugh, well, since the whole stupid 'Burg probably knows, you might as well, cause you'd probably hear it eventually anyway… Joe was being a brat and he…" I stopped as the words from the morning replayed in my head. Deep breath, Alyssa. No, no tearing up. No crying in front of Ranger, you've done enough of that crap for a while…
"He was just really mean about… stuff. And it hurt. So I told him off and left."
Ranger turned to me, the uncertain light of the ancient neon and the shifting headlights casting his features into eerie, changing contrasts. "He's a good guy. He loves you."
He might as well have punched me straight in the chest. The air rushed out of me and the lump in my throat caught. I forced a half laugh, and ignored the warm tears trailing down my cheeks. It wasn't his fault, I reminded myself forcibly.
He had his lines. I sort of had mine. At least I had this one. Stephanie was supposed to say: 'And you?" And then he would smile mysteriously so I'd get out and walk into the house, confused. Except that we weren't in front of the house, so I couldn't get out. Except that I wasn't Stephanie. Except that, well, except for a million other exceptions. Too bad I couldn't think of anything better to say…
Yes I could. Ranger was a friend of Stephanie's, even before he became a possible love interest. So they didn't confide in each other- no one in this idiotic place seemed to. Hell, she had a best friend she didn't talk to. Apparently in Jersey this is an honorary position. However, I'd always wondered what would happen if she actually opened up and talked to him a little more. That's it. Think of it as an experiment. Deep breath. Break out the Bunsen burners and attack the bridge…
"Ranger," I shook my head, "you can't know that. So don't try to tell me. Especially when I know for a fact he doesn't."
"Stephanie, he does," Ranger said very quietly. My hands curled into fists. If I'd had a clear shot, Ranger would have had a fractured shin and a black eye. Well, okay, more likely, I'd have had a fractured wrist, but it was nice to fantasize. I clamped my jaw shut to stifle the urge to yell 'I'm not Stephanie!'
When I could trust my own voice again, I used it.
"Joseph Morelli loves what might have been," I said evenly and with surprisingly little heat. That was a good way to phrase it. "But that might have been is gone. I can't be the person he's in love with." And I'd probably kill myself within a week, anyway. "So could you take me to a hotel, please, Ranger? Because Mr-Mom," I choked the word out, "doesn't seem to understand either. She's royally pissed I told Morelli to go to hell."
Ranger's hand caught my wrist. "Babe," he said gently.
"Don't," I said, moving away, edging up against the passenger door of the truck. "I'm stressed, I'm tired, and-"
"You're crying." Huh? Oh yeah, I was. Damn. I hadn't meant to do that.
"It's been a long day," I said, wiping away a tear. Stupid tear ducts. What was with me? I hadn't cried this much since mom and dad divorced ten years ago. Then I'd spent a month crying at the drop of a hat and having nosebleeds. I sniffled a little and touched my nose at the memory. God those had sucked, and they'd scared Dad to no-
A car turned into the lot, the headlights illuminating the cab for a moment and I turned my head, dazzled for a moment. A flash of red caught my attention just as the familiar coppery taste hit my lips. My hand wasn't wet with just tears.
I barely heard Ranger's sharp intake of breath, I was transfixed by the trail of blood on my skin. "Christ!" he swore, and his hand was on my chin, turning me to face him. On reflex I put my other hand up to cover my face and tilted my head back just a little.
"What's going on?" he asked, sounding a little strained. Hell if I know.
"Nothing," I said quickly. "It's just the stress."
Ranger shook his head and let out a long breath. "Babe." I smiled tentatively. I got the feeling that one syllable contained a paragraph of information. Too bad it was written in Male. And me without my decoder ring. "Glove box. There's some first aid stuff."
"Thanks," I said and just about dove for the latch. Inside there was indeed a first aid kit and a packet of tissues. I pulled out a couple and tried to get the mess stopped.
"Look, I used to get nosebleeds all the time when I was younger, whenever I was stressed or under pressure." So what if that was in another body? "I guess it's all just getting to me a little worse than I thought."
A few beats of silence. "You shouldn't stay in a hotel. Too exposed."
"I have my gun," I sighed. I sounded funky with my nose stopped up. It actually sounded more like 'I hab by gud'
"You should stay with your parents. Talk it over with your mom. She's just worried."
Huh, yeah. Sounded real worried on the phone. Worried about the cost I was having on her social status. Ah well, I suppose he was right. Better just appease the natives.
"Stop being right all the time," I told him, removing the Kleenex from my nose to make sure he heard me. He grinned and put the truck in gear.
Yipes, that was a freaking gorgeous smile. I could handle Helen/Ellen for that.