Surviving Stephanie Chapter 32
The male is a domestic animal which, if treated with firmness and kindness, can be trained to do most things." Jilly Cooper
Note: I'm a slave to feedback. I need therapy. As if this story weren't proof of that one… This is just fluff. No real story in here. Just kind of an homage to some of the conventions of plumfic...
CSI Queeen: Thank you, you make me blush! I have written scenes of her keeping up the dancing but I alwaysend up editingthem out. She'll get back to dancing, but for now she has other things to worry about.
Nathan's Raven: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy the rest of the twists and turns just as much.
Disclaimer: I didn't do it! I swear. It was the monkeys.
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All right, so I caved. Pun intended. I'm a stubborn, scatter-brained drama queen, not stupid. What else could a girl do? Ranger was standing there, the promise of so much fun glittering in those smoking dark eyes. The naked kind of fun, as well as the fun of demystifying the Mysterious Manoso. The fun of teasing him to see what his reaction would be.
He had a great sense of humor, when I could get him to show it. Problem was I couldn't always tell if he was joking. And I had a sense that a lot of the time he was behind the Bat Mask laughing his ass off. I could appreciate that. I was doing something similar lately.
I felt a momentary twinge of guilt as I looked over at him. He was lost in his driving zone, being at one with his inner NASCAR racer. The guilt wasn't really Ranger-related though. It was the Morelli Guilt creeping back in. Great, it had even acquired capital letters now…
I had hurt Joe, a lot. More than I'd realized. It had been necessary though- it would have hurt him a lot more for me to pretend to want to continue on dating him but it still made me feel bad. He was gorgeous, decent, stable- he just wasn't my type. He was a norm.
Probably he would have had some serious issues about me scattering salt everywhere or chucking out a cootie-contaminated sofa. He would definitely have been unhappy about the bear exploding, in a very loud way. And anyway, I knew what would have happened with Joe if I dated him.
It would have been Chris all over again. Me being desperately bored, too afraid of being a bad person to just drop him, secretly hoping he would do something- anything- to let me off the hook. Chris had been an okay guy too. He'd been normal, reliable, nice. Come to think of it, he'd even been a criminal justice major.
Maybe I had a type of doomed fixation on law enforcement types.
Anyway, why the hell was I thinking about Joe? So what if I'd dumped him like forty-eight hours ago and was already staying with Ranger and possibly pregnant by him. These things happen.
On Jerry Springer.
At least Joe and Ranger weren't cousins or something. That would have been Springer-riffic. No, dumping the cop for the CEO of Mercenaries Incorporated was much more HBO. I could handle HBO. And it had its late night Cinemax moments. Of course if you added in that I was having some sort of body-switching, parallel universe, logic-defying identity crisis maybe it was sort of Sci-fi Channel or Showtime Beyond…
"Deep thoughts, Babe?"
"Trying to figure out which channel should be airing the messed up tv show that should be made out of my life."
"Maybe you should hire an agent."
"Nah, no one would watch it. It's too unbelievable." Ranger glanced over at me, smiling.
"You're probably right."
"Thanks. You're sooo encouraging, Higgs."
I relaxed back into the seat of the Porsche, listening to the classical music. That was another oddity. Ranger, aka Rambo, bad ass man in black, listened to classical music. I had known, theoretically, that he did because it mentioned it in that one book where they rescued Mooner and Dougie from the Grandmama Mafia but to actually be confronted with it was odd. Of course, he was supposed to be a fictional character, so just the fact I'd been hanging out with him (let alone sleeping with him) was weird, but I'd gotten over that sort of weird now.
Brahms on the other hand, was a new and intriguing weird. I sort of understood why Stephanie had that theory about there being twin Rangers. One who wore Armani, liked the classics, lived in a mansion, and had board meetings and investment brokers and cashmere sweaters and Italian shoes. The other one took out bad guys, got pissed off when he got shot, hung out in the ghettos and just generally scared the bejeezus out of any sane human. Good thing I wasn't exactly sane.
Unless that theory I had in the back of my mind was valid. It almost made the insanity plea sound like a good idea, though. That couldn't be a good sign although I was cynical enough to think maybe that gave it another ounce of credibility. Generally I'd come to the conclusion that nothing was real unless you sort of wished it wouldn't be.
Janet, if you ever let me out of here, I swear I will be sending you to that third world country. Right after I throw you in a duck pond.
We drove through a large wrought iron gate that closed behind us, and up a driveway to the huge stone mansion. There were lights scattered around it, presumably for security reasons, the beams shining up the rough gray walls, glinting off windows or casting odd shadows. This house warned you not to screw with it, not to look too closely at the cellars and maybe, just maybe, it might let you stay to enjoy the party.
Wayne Manor didn't have a thing on Ranger's digs.
We parked out front this time, and I got the proper effect as Ranger opened the door for me. I stepped inside to see the sweeping marble stair, the gleaming polished floors, the intricate woodwork... To hell with Wayne Manor, this place could have blown Tara out of the water.
"Glad you like it, Babe." Ranger's breath was warm as he whispered into my ear, sending a shiver through me as I leaned back into him, closer to that calm aura that surrounded him.
"I love it. Not exactly the roots and tree bark existence I had you pegged for though. I'd pictured you in something terrifyingly modern and minimalist. Military chic."
He smiled as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and pressed a single, soft kiss into the curve of my neck. I was pretty sure my knees wobbled.
The things he could do with his lips…
I turned to look at him, the better to get a look at that gorgeous face and a better chance at exploring those lips a little more… His face was chiseled, all angles and seriousness, with the square jaw and the almost arrogant cheekbones, adding in his dark latino eyes that could be either so cold or so scorching hot and he looked like he had seen the darker side. Hell, he looked like he belonged to the darker side and I was not thinking about his skin tone. That just enhanced the effect, added a little more exotic to his otherwise Anglo features.
I wondered if his mom was a Russian princess or something. Maybe Anastasia took a Cuban vacation.
"You are so perfect it sucks, are you aware of that?"
His eyes widened. "I suppose I'll take that as a compliment?"
"Yes, and no." I shook my head, despairing at ever having any control over my mouth and its desire for speaking. "You're just… a riddle wrapped inside an enigma. Whoever said that must have known you."
"Two way street, Babe," he said gently.
"But I'm a girl. I'm supposed to be like that. You're a guy."
His lips turned upward. "You're cute when you're confused."
"You must think I'm cute like twenty-four/seven, then." Especially for the last week or so.
"I think you're beautiful," he corrected, pulling me closer. "You confuse me too," he added, looking down at me. His eyes were admiring, but assessing. So this is how the Mona Lisa feels… if, you know, she was in the arms of a gorgeous, dangerous, Rambo-type instead of hanging on some boring old wall in the Louvre with a bored security guard.
On second thought, it must really suck to be the Mona Lisa.
Being close to Ranger was intoxicating, but as I slid my arms around his waist I noticed something. And then another something. I moved my hands up. Yep, there was another something altogether… I raised a quizzical brow.
"Damn, Higgs, expecting company tonight? Of the large, heavily armed variety?"
"Pays to be careful," he said, before he stopped any further questions with a very, very erotic kiss. I parted my lips and let his tongue sweep into my mouth, as his hands pulled my hips firmly against his.
"Ranger!" The deep voice shocked me into breaking the kiss and I would have turned to look except that someone had arms like freakin' steel and was apparently determined for me to remain where I was…
Instead I settled for turning my head to see Tank taking up most of the very wide entry hall, his arms crossed and his face split in a wide grin. I could feel the blush creeping up my neck.
"Hate to break up a party," he said, the grin widening, "But you got a call from the Boston office. They say it's urgent. Apparently your cell's been off."
I looked back up at Ranger. He looked less than amused. I felt sorry for who ever was on the phone. "Better go make sure the civilized world is secure, Batman."
He looked down at me, still obviously unhappy. "Sorry, Babe."
"Hey, you're Bruce Wayne," I said with a smile. "It's time consuming. It's okay. I'll challenge Tank to Scrabble." I turned my head to Tank who rolled his eyes.
It was impressive and yet vaguely disturbing.
"I'm not playing Scrabble."
"Try not to kill him, Babe," Ranger said, finally releasing me. He ruffled my hair and disappeared down the hall, with a last undecipherable look at Tank. I decided to call it pity.
"So what games to you play?"
"How about poker?"
"I hate card games," I said, with an apologetic shrug. "I suck really badly. And I have the psychological scars from a game of strip poker in middle school to prove it. What about something less number-y?"
"Trivial Pursuit?"
I blinked. Well, Ranger lived in an early 1800's-ish looking mansion and listened to Brahms. Why wouldn't Tank be a closet Trivial Pursuit player? It was too good an opportunity to pass up anyway. "Sounds good to me."
He led the way through a couple rooms and into the den I'd watched TV in earlier. I stood out of the way while I got the game out of one of the ornate wood cabinets.
"What color do you want?" he asked as he set about setting up the board on a small table flanked by old-fashioned leather wingback chairs that I'd missed earlier. I admit it, I was a little hypnotized. He just made everything else look like toys. Probably including me.
"You choose." He picked green, I took blue, and the game kicked off.
I was getting my butt kicked and enjoying the heck out if it no time. He was definitely a walking sports encyclopedia, and pretty good with the science parts too. Luckily I could hold my own in history and we were pretty much tied with the arts and entertainment category.
Unfortunately, bythe time Ranger finally appeared again, I was stuck on the science part of it and had just given up.
"Come on, hon, it's a woman. She studied radiation…"
"Marie. Marie…" I stuttered to a stop, realizing I had completely forgotten the last name. And it was so simple, too… "Marie Leveaux?" I sighed, resigning myself.
Tank choked. "No, not quite. Come on, try again… Starts with a C…"
I frowned. "I'm blaming this on the fact I'm drugged, I hope you know. It's not fair to play when you're on pain medication the size of horse pills…" Marie C… I brightened as an idea occurred to me.
"Marie Claire?"
"Closer, but not quite."
"Hey, why are you coaching me anyway. You're the opposition."
Tank laughed again. "Yeah. But I got an unfair advantage. Besides, if you said Neil Armstrong to one more question I was gonna start feeling guilty."
I stuck my tongue out, because I was mature enough not to call someone a stupid head. "You should feel guilty. It's not nice to be winning by that much."
"Hey, I'm not a nice guy, you know," he smirked.
"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. It might ruin your…" I paused trying to think of the word that was escaping me, "street cred." Behind me, Ranger coughed. It sounded an awful lot like he was trying not to laugh. Tank's eyes widened.
"Hon, don't do that."
"Do what?" I tilted my head, feeling even more confused.
"Talk street. It don't sound right."
I giggled. "Sorry. I'll never do it again, g."
Tank looked pained. "Ranger. Stop her."
Ranger was laughing softly. "Told you not to give her any ideas."
I smiled innocently and batted my eyes. Tank snorted and Ranger's hand appeared to ruffle my hair. Tank looked up at Ranger and it was like someone flipped a switch.
Instant change in the whole mood of the room. I even noticed a slight change in the big guy's posture.
"Do you even know what me and Ranger's reps are?" Tank asked seriously. His dark brown eyes were wary and dangerous. Cornered bobcats looked a little like that.
"Yeah," I shrugged and suddenly got the feeling there was something squicky going on. I felt like I was walking in late to Dr. Ferris's midterm. "Something about gun running, bounty hunting, scary badass types. Right?" I glanced up to find that Ranger's eyes had a slightly blanker version of Tank's look. I frowned as the squickiness clicked into place.
A test. They were testing me. Just like I'd had a feeling the whole unannounced intro to the Bat Cave had been a test…Well, fine. Test this, Justice League.
"Oh. My. God. Get over yourselves already!" I stood up and turned so I could glare at them both. "So you're all with the dark scary places that silly little girls like me can't go. You're still egotistical Neanderthals. Seriously, are you this… enslaved to your own machismo?" I used one of Chelsea's favorite phrases then paused for breath as another possibility reared its ugly head. "Ohmigod, you think I'm boring… is that it?"
I think my expression was probably pretty horrified at the thought because they both stared at me for a couple beats. Not with the intentional blank MIB faces, but with a sort of male puzzlement.
"That is it. Fine. I'm going to bed. Good night. And you are both in the doghouse."
I spun around and stomped out with proper dramatic flair. I even added a hair toss in case they didn't get the extent of dog house they were in.
"Slaves to what?" I heard Tank asking in a bewildered sort of voice.
Oh my god. Men. Typical. What the hell was I thinking? Real, imagined… seriously, they all came from the same monkey.
Bastards. Stupid monkey. I hoped he got eaten by a saber tooth tiger.
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and started dialing as I stormed down the upstairs hall and into Ranger's room. I needed a female shoulder to cry on.
"What's up?" Lula's voice answered after one ring. "Something wrong?"
"Men are idiots. Insensitive, stupid, thick-skulled idiots."
"Yeah, thought you had that one figured out by now," she said, her voice sympathetic. "What you doin' letting a man get you all worked up for? Batman do something?"
"Bats are flying rats."
Lula laughed. "Ouch. He really pissed you off. Where you at?"
"The bat cave. Surrounded by flying monkeys," I muttered, slamming the door and flipping the lock. Not like it would stop Count Monkey Bat, but it made me feel better. Give the monkey another clue as to the extremity of the dog-house.
In fact, skip the dog house. He was going back to the pound.
"Girl, you have some serious explaining to do. Why the hell didn't you tell me you'd been there?"
"I just got to see it last night."
"Oh my god! You finally-"
"No. Nothing happened last night." Unfortunately. "I didn't even want to come here. He told me the Bat Cave is forever. I'm not ready for this!"
"I can see where that might be a problem."
"And now him and Tank were all doing the stupid, 'we're not nice guys' crap again. Like they're going to be any scarier than murderous Teletubbies or Eddie Abruzzi or-"
"Ramirez?" I could hear Lula shudder just thinking about it. "You're right. Batman ain't got shit on Abruzzi."
Of course I hadn't seen Abruzzi yet, but the tone of Lula's voice told me I'd guessed right. "Exactly. Yeah, they're scary, but they don't get that whole degree of icky…"
There was a knock at the door.
"Babe? Open the door."
"You can open it yourself, Ranger. Work for it."
"Uh-oh, girlfriend. You in trouble. He's going to be pissed."
"Good. I'm pissed. It'll be fun."
"Can I have your CD collection?"
"Sure. Find a good home for Rex."
"I'll take care of him like he was my own rat. Good luck."
"Thanks, Lula."
"You owe me details on the make up sex."
I sighed. "Deal. See ya tomorrow." And I hung up as the door opened to reveal a familiar buff silhouette.
As Ranger stepped into the light I could tell from his movements he was tense. His face was carefully neutral. "Babe."
"Don't even 'babe' me right now," I warned, my eyes narrowing. I put the phone down carefully, lest I give in to the urge to hurl it at his head. I lost more phones that way.
"Look, you don't know—"
"Save it," I cut in. My hand itched to pick the phone back up. "I really could fucking care less. I love you, Ranger. And I honestly like Tank and the rest of your guys I've met so far. But so help me, if you keep doing this testing and prodding shit, I'm going to kick you somewhere a lot higher than your shin."
Hesighed, shaking his head. "I have to. My life—"
"Isn't perfect? Isn't safe? Join the bloody club. Try mine out." I laughed at that idea. "I think I'm going crazy. That's it. I'm crazy. The universe is crazy. Whatever. I'm going to bed." I stopped and looked at the bed.
"Where?" Ranger's voice was rough and there was a weird note in it that I didn't recognize. Emotion. He sounded emotional. Worried maybe? I glared at him and pointed at the far side of the gigantic bed.
"There. On that side of it." I said the next part very slowly and clearly, enunciating to make sure I got the point through that 2x4 of a skull. "And you can sleep on the other side of it and stay on the other side of it because I'm still pissed."
Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. "God, I thought…"
"What? I'd be asking to leave? Or I'd be sleeping somewhere else?" I rolled my eyes. "Look. I'm pissed off at you, but it's not entirely your fault. You're a guy. You haven't made it all the way over the hump yet. You still have too much monkey. But you better figure out when to leave well enough alone. Leave the theatrics to the bad guys. You want to kill me later, fine. Just do it without the drama."
Probably this sounded a littleless flippant to him than it did to me. I was still half considering throwing myself down a flight of stairs to see where I landed. Call it some kind of morbid curiosity. Maybe if I just kept throwing myself down flights of stairs I'd eventually land back in my life. I could have fond memories of life as various literary characters and countless falls down stairwells. I could be a connoisseur of stairs.
Anyway, I turned to move to my chosen side when I found myself being pulled tight against a rock hard chest and held a little too tightly for the comfort of my bruised torso. The meds were wearing off. I would have brought my hands up to push away and start lecturing again but I didn't have room to maneuver.
"Don't say that. I couldn't—" Ranger's heart was racing. I went still, unsure of what was going on. "Dio," he swore. He rested his head against mine, his hands slowly moving over my back, then my arms in soothing motions. "Never say that." One of us was shaking. I was pretty sure it wasn't me.
Oops. Looked like my mouth had sort of gone off again.
"Ranger, I didn't mean I think you would or anything. But you've been really… uncommunicative. And I do have an overactive imagination. Then the whole Mystery Man thing and you guys going all join the dark side…"
"I know," his voice was calmer, less emotional. "There are reasons, Babe. But the way you just said that, as if it were-," he stopped and didn't say anything for a moment. "Come on, there's hot chocolate down stairs with marshmallows." He waited, his expression careful but his eyes were warm and…and…
I sighed. "All right" Crafty little monkeys.