Seven Up
Part One – Here and Now
Two
"What are you doing here Morelli." I didn't want him to be there, especially after one of my really bad nights, when my emotions are almost at the surface. Just a little scratch now, and it would all come crashing down.
"What's wrong, Cupcake?" Apparently, he picked up on the fact that I didn't want him there.
"Nothing, Joe," I sighed. "Why did you come by?"
"Thought maybe you didn't realize that I'd really meant what I said the other day. About missing you, so I came to demonstrate."
"Demonst-" Was all I got out before he took me by the shoulders and pressed his mouth to mine.
My clothes were finally gone. All that I had left covering me were my bra and panties. And he took care of those soon after. I was so scared I was shaking. There was nothing covering me. Nothing to shield me from this psycho. Not even a thin layer to protect me.
No! I had to get loose. I wasn't going to let this happen. Not again. I couldn't. I was struggling to get out of his grasp, but he only tightened his grip on my shoulders. I couldn't push him away, he was just too strong, but it had been a long time since I was just another pretty face. It had been a long time since I'd been helpless. I started to fight – really fight to get free, to get away from him. When I did, I realized that it was Joe, and he was now on the floor, looking worse for wear.
"Shit, Stephanie, what was that for?" He didn't sound happy.
"Are you ok?" I asked.
"I'll live." I looked; his lip was already swelling and a bruise was starting to darken on his eye. He didn't look like he was prone to listen, so I started to slowly back out of the door, only to run into a brick wall. Since when is there a brick wall in my door way? Wait, no, that's Tank. I turned and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing my purse and walking down the hall.
"Let's get outta here, Tank." I told him.
Tank turned and followed me to the elevator, but only after Joe had looked away from their staring thing. Men. Go figure.
"Steph, Angel, Honey, are you ok?" I heard Tank asking me.
"Am I ok? Yeah, I'm peachy, thanks. And yourself?" What is wrong with me? I'm snapping at Tank. Although I really didn't think he'd throw me out of a window at this point in our relationship. "I'm sorry."
Tank gave me a look like I was a bomb ready to explode. Really, though, it was only fair. The way I was feeling I probably would explode.
Tank pulled me to him and squeezed me into a great big bear hug. He's really surprisingly good at giving you that safe feeling when he does that. Probably it's because he's as tall as Shaq and built like, well, like a tank.
The elevator doors dinged open, and we stepped out and walked towards the Bronco. It was a surprisingly companionable silence on the drive to the mall.
"Where are you meeting the girls?"
Well shit, I had almost forgotten.
"Food court. I'll have to explain all of this to them, too." I let out a huge sigh.
"Look on the bright side," he told me. "At least you'll get to explain it to all three of them at once."
That was true. At least I won't have to go through it three separate times.
"So," Tank asked me. "What're we gettin'?"
"Ranger didn't tell you?" I was starting to get a funny feeling.
"Nope."
"Uh…" I stalled. Then I'm pretty sure I turned a few interesting shades of red. "Well…"
"No way." Tank was turning a nice scarlet, too. "Uh huh. He wouldn't."
"Um, well, you can sit on one of the mall benches," I suggested.
By this time, Tank was cursing Ranger and muttering various methods to bring about his untimely demise. While I found that quite interesting and was filing some of it away for my own blue vocabulary, I had to meet the girls in an hour. I sat him down on a bench with a promise that he wouldn't actually have to go into Victoria's Secret. He'd been so worked up that I just reacted. I'm sure that if he'd realized I was talking to him in that voice all women use for animals and small children, he would have been seriously pissed. As it was, he was too busy thinking of the most painful way of killing Ranger to worry too much about what I was doing.
I had used that voice with Bob and Rex, too. Rex I still have, but my life style wasn't compatible to a high-maintenance pet like Bob. Dillon on the other hand just loved Bob. Now the two of them sit in the bowels of my apartment building watching T.V. and eating cheese doodles. I figured it was a pretty good plan, cause I still got to see him every now and again. Not to mention that Dillon became willing to do any and all handy work that needed to be done in my apartment, free of charge. I even got rid of that awful orange and brown in my bathroom. Now I have nice white and blue, a vast improvement.
When I came out of the store, I was pretty pleased with myself. I'd gotten everything I thought I could ever possibly need, and had gotten around Ranger's insistence that he would pay for it. Not to mention Tank didn't have to come into the store with me. I think both of us would have been mortally embarrassed.
We made our way to the food court and found the girls midway through their ice creams.
"Hey girl!" Lula yelled. "How you be doing? And is that Tank you have with you? Why he be here shopping? You need a bodyguard or something?"
Tank just looked at me and gave me a smile that said, "You're on your own for this one." Damn.
By this time, the three of them had made their way over to us and had formed a little half-circle around me. They were looking at me expectantly. Scary how many similarities I could find between them and vultures at that point. It must be something about the gossip potential I present. Damn scavengers, looking at me like a piece of dead…don't ask. Animal Planet was all about them last night. The birds, not my friends.
Giving a little sigh, I started.
"Tank, you wanna get some ice cream?" He took the hint.
We all sat down at the table they had saved, and I began the reason for our little meeting.
"Well, you all know Ranger's back, right?"
"OhmiGod. You're going on a date with Ranger!" Mary Lou squealed.
"Girl, how come you doin' that? That man done walked out of here for six months and now you goin' on a date with him?" Lula continued for her.
"Wow. He is sooo hot." Lula shot Connie a look. "But still, you can't just let him come back and start dating you."
"Guys." I said.
They ignored me and kept giving me more reasons on why I shouldn't be dating Ranger. As if I hadn't already gone over each and every one already, trying to convince myself to stop feeling anything for the man.
"Shut up!" I finally said. They all stopped and looked at me with eyes wide. "I'm not going on a date with Ranger or anyone else for that matter. Do you understand?"
They just nodded. I had to fight the urge to pat them all on their little heads and tell them what good little girls they were.
"Ranger stopped by the other day." I gave them a look that dared them to jump to conclusions. They didn't. "There's a job that he asked me to do. It's out of town, and it'll take a few weeks. So I just wanted to let you guys know. That's all."
I just sat there, waiting for someone else to say something.
"So tell me exactly why Tank is here?" Mary Lou asked me.
Speak of the devil, he'd just come back with two ice creams in his hands. They looked ridiculously small in his hands.
Tank heard the question, and narrowed his eyes at me while he handed me my ice cream.
"I was supposed to pay for the stuff Steph needed, since it's for the job. We'll have to talk about that, Stephanie." So he'd figured out my little trick. It would be an understatement to say he was not a happy camper.
"You need new panties for a job? What kind of job is this?" Connie wanted to know.
"Supposedly I'll find out tonight." I mollified her, telling her that I wouldn't do anything I thought was bad. Honestly, though, I had a feeling that there would be a huge gap between where Connie would draw the "bad" line, and where I would. For all the Family connections Connie has, she's very righteous about her morals.
"Well, guys. That's about it. Just – be extra careful when I'm gone. One of the crazies I brought in broke out of jail and I'm not sure what he'll do. So you'll be careful?" I asked them. They reluctantly agreed, not really seeing the reason behind it. Since I didn't want to explain, I made them promise to call my cell if they thought anything odd was going on.
Tank and I walked out of the mall, leaving the girls to finish their ice cream. Tank had already devoured his cone, and was giving mine a look over. I felt bad for dragging him around, so I handed it over.
"Decide to take the scenic route back to my apartment?" I asked Tank.
"Don't you need to tell your mother that you'll be gone for a while?"
I sighed. "Oh. Yeah." Shit, I was not looking forward to this at all. What could I say to her? She was still mad at me for breaking up with Morelli, even though he humiliated me by fake-proposing. Of course, she didn't believe that he would say something like that in front of his mother and grandmother and not mean it. Oh, no, she would rather believe that I chose to lie to her about it. Go figure.
"Not now, Tank. I'll do it later." I was procrastinating. He knew it. I knew it. But I was not going to talk to my mother right then. It just wasn't going to happen.
At the next street, Tank turned to take me back to my apartment. I sat back against the seat and started to think about my life again. Then, I remembered that I was supposed to go to dinner with Ranger tonight, and started to think that maybe I should look into getting a new life. Surely they had a life store somewhere, didn't they?
Tank and I got to my apartment and unloaded the bags. When we had gotten everything in, we settled down on the couch and watched a game. The game Tank landed on was soccer. Personally, the only reason I didn't complain was because Tank looked so enthralled.
"So, what's with this job?" I asked Tank during the commercial break. Or maybe it was a time-out. Who knows? I'd stopped paying attention when all of those cards started to get waved around. What was with that?
Tank gave me a surreptitious look. "I guess he'll brief you tonight at dinner."
Meaning Ranger hadn't given him the go ahead to tell me about the job. It really wasn't a big deal. I could deal with the curiosity until tonight. Fact of the matter was, I really wasn't that curious about the job, more that he would ask me to help him. Probably, he just needed a pair of tits, and I fit the bill.
When the game was over, the score was still 0-0, and I was beginning to understand why people got so excited about the whole soccer thing.
He shut the TV off and turned to look at me. I had the feeling I was in trouble.
"Stephanie," he started. "You know, the whole point of my going to the mall with you today was so that I could pay for…that stuff."
That was a bald-faced lie. If Ranger had only wanted the company to buy the stuff, he would have given me cash, or told me to give him the receipt, or something. Sending Tank, both Ranger and Tank got to make sure I was safe. Probably, it was overkill, since all they knew was that a skip I brought in had escaped from the clutches of the law, sputtering curses at me as he went.
"Of course it was, Tank." I was wearing my 'you're full of shit' smile. "But let me ask you a question. Does Ranger buy your boxers? Cause, you know, you'll need them on this job."
"That's not the same thing…" he started to protest. I think part of him was still wondering about how I knew he wore boxers.
"Yes, it is. Believe it or not, I'm more than capable of buying my own panties." He seemed to consider for a minute before nodding.
"Ok, I've gotta go. Have fun tonight."
"Yeah. Should be a barrel of laughs." He shot me a worried look. "Go home to Susie, Tank. Dinner is probably on the table."
Tank gave me another one of those looks before getting up to leave.
"And Tank?" I caught his attention. "Please, don't lie to me. I don't want to find out that I was mistaken in placing my respect and trust in you."
It wasn't a threat, it just was. Tank knew that, and responded to it as in a way that he wouldn't respond to any threat – he was visibly shaken. If it was possible for a black man to go white, I think he would have. I watched through my window as he drove slowly out of the parking lot.
I had time to kill before Ranger came. Not enough time for me to go pick up one of my skips, but enough time that I would get way too bored if I didn't do anything. I decided to do something useful and started to pack for the job. Less than two minutes later the phone rang. I let my answering machine pick up.
"Stephanie Plum! I don't understand this. Why don't you ever answer your phone?" She asked my machine.
Duh, maybe it's because I'm not home? No matter that I actually was home and just not answering the phone, but it's possible that I could actually have a life.
There was a pregnant pause before she continued, "Stephanie, I want you to call me as soon as you get this." Then there was another pause, before the tell-tale "click" of the phone being hung-up. She was more than just angry, she didn't even say goodbye. I made a mental note to go by the house tomorrow.
Not five minutes later, the phone was ringing again.
"Steph? I know you're there." It was Mary Lou.
I went over to pick up the phone.
"Hi."
"Hey, I just realized you don't have anyone to look after your hamster. So you want me to come by and pick him up?"
"Oh." Wow, I hadn't even thought about Rex. How could I have forgotten him? "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks Mary Lou. Ranger's picking me up at eight tonight, can you get here before then?"
"Sure, I'm actually at the office right now, so I'll be over in ten."
"The office? Vinnie's office? Why are you there?"
"Uh, well, we went out for coffee."
Probably they were discussing my mental health. Probably I should have picked up a new life while I was out shopping today. Or maybe just returned some old friends. I still loved the girls, but we just didn't understand each other anymore. All they were concerned about was the latest gossip, and it may be cynical and paranoid, but it seemed as though whenever we got together, they just tried to pump me for information for the grapevine. Really we weren't all that close that more. Surprisingly, that really didn't bother me all that much. Go figure.
"Steph?" Apparently, I'd been silent for too long.
"Oh, ok. See you in a few," I told her.
I hung up and looked at my packing. So far I had only managed to pack a duffel bag. I had put all my extra ammunition into it, leaving the guns in my gun locker until we actually left, and then cut off the tags to my new purchases and put those in as well. I paused for a minute and looked at the contents of the bag, considering the fact that I'd just put lingerie and guns in the same bag, before dismissing the irony of it. I was going to pack more, but I was stopped by the fact that I didn't have any clean clothes to pack. So I went down to the basement with all of my dirty clothes. The owners of the building had finally decided that a laundry room was a necessity, so they had taken the tiny apartment next to Dillon's and put in washing machines and dryers. Personally, I think that their decision to do this was for less altruistic reasons. Probably they could get more money from raising everybody's rent for the new amenities than they could from the pittance of a rent for that apartment. Nevertheless, I was glad it was there. I shoved all the clothes I could fit into the first washer, added detergent and quarters, and started it on the heavy duty cycle. I fit the rest of my clothes into a second washing machine and did the same thing.
Gathering my laundry baskets, I headed back upstairs, running into Mary Lou on the way.
"Hey Mare."
"Hey Steph."
We got to my apartment and went in, sitting at the counter and discussing Lenny's latest mistake. This was one topic that we could still relate on – men can be such idiots.
"Hey, what's this?" Mary Lou asked, picking up a white business card.
"Did I drop my one of my cards?" I asked her, but then I saw her face blanche slightly.
"Uh, I don't think so."
"Well, give it here." I told her, taking the card out of her hands.
My face paled, too, when I saw who's card it was.
"Terri Gilman."
"Yeah." Mary Lou answered. "So what do you think you're gonna do? How do you think she got into your apartment? Or was it someone who had her card that was in your apartment? Would Morelli have her card? Stupid question. I bet he does, or at least, did."
This was one of the reasons I tried to avoid the girls when I could. They couldn't just leave something be – they had to vocalize and analyze every little thing, and then let it loose to the grapevine. I had no doubt that within an hour, the whole Burg would know about the card on my counter. I don't appreciate violations of my privacy.
"Here's Rex. Thanks for keeping him for me. And here are his grapes and hamster nuggets. I gotta go see if my laundry's done. I have to be packed tonight, because I don't know when we're leaving."
Mary Lou gave me a long, hard look before giving me one last hug, an admonition to be careful, and leaving with Rex.
Terri Gilman, I thought to myself, I wonder. Because of my recent success in the bounty hunting business, I had treated myself to a new phone, complete with an electronic log of all of the incoming and outgoing calls. I scrolled down on the phone to see what the last number dialed was. It was the Trenton PD, and since I hadn't called them for a few days, I deduced that Joe must have called. What can I say, me and Sherlock Holmes.
I looked to the number dialed just before that, and lo and behold, it was the number on Terri's card. This was getting interesting. What should I do with this information? As I put the card back on the counter, a number of possibilities ran through my head, but I really did need to go switch my clothes to the dryer, so I decided to put these thoughts on hold while I finished my laundry.
I had gotten all of my clean clothes back in my apartment, and was debating if I had time to go for a run before Ranger was going to pick me up. Only 45 minutes. Probably not. I was heartbroken. Really. No, the only thing I hate more than running is getting shot. I had started running when Ranger disappeared and he was no longer around to help me with my skips. Not only did I start running, I joined a gym, too. All that exercise was tortuous, but not only did it help me get my skips, it allowed me to eat whatever I wanted without having to worry about fitting into my jeans.
Since I didn't have much time, I decided I'd just finish my packing. I grabbed another duffel bag and threw all of my exercise clothes in with sports bras and panties and socks and running shoes. Then in went different color-coordinated tops and bottoms. If the need arose, and I had access to a washing machine, I could live for weeks off of what I had packed. And I was done packing – for now. Just before I left, I would add my toiletries, but until then, I was finished. You wouldn't be lying if you said I was glad. In fact, I was so happy that I was done, I almost did the snoopy dance. Almost. Packing is another one of those things I rank right up there with running.
There was a knock on the door and I looked at the time. Eight o'clock. Time flies when you're having fun. Except I wasn't…oh well. Doesn't really matter. I opened the door to the sexiest man it Trenton.
"Yo."
"Yo, yourself." Then I saw the bag of groceries in his hands. Hmm. I did a facial contortion in an effort to raise an eyebrow at the bag, but stepped back to let him in.
"Thought I'd cook for you instead of taking you out."
"Oh, ok." Damn, Steph, you could have said a little more than that. He'll think you're rude, or something. Right, like that's what I was really worried about. He put his bag on the counter, and picked up a white business card – Terri's card. Oops.
"Hanging out with the mob, Babe?" he asked.
Yeah, right. About my closest Family connection was Connie. Or maybe Vinnie's father-in-law. No, it would be Ramos. Crazy old goat still sends me flowers.
"Yeah. I was thinking about picking up some contracts."
He instantly tensed, and his face turned wary. I couldn't keep the sardonic grin off my face, and I just shook my head at him.
"That's great, Ranger. Did you know they took gullible out of the dictionary? They added one though – sarcasm."
He just kept looking at me with that wary look on his face.
"Fine. Call someone. Have them look into my Family connections. They'll tell you about Ramos, Lucille's father and Connie." Ranger still didn't move. I turned to grab the phone to call Tank and have him check me out, but I must have moved too quickly while Ranger was still freaked out. He had his gun trained on me and was telling me not to move before my hand reached the phone.
"I was just going to get the phone, Ranger. That's all I was going to do. I was going to call Tank. Remember, Ranger, how I told you to call someone and check me out since you didn't believe me? I was just calling Tank, Ranger. I was just going to have him dig on me." I was trying to make my voice soothing and calming. But I really, really wanted to be talking to Tank right then. I was pretty sure he would know how to talk Ranger down. Unfortunately, I didn't think I could move far enough to get to the phone before I would get shot. And Ranger still hadn't said anything.
"Ranger, I'm going to turn back around, ok? I'm gonna do it nice and slow and my hands are going to be high above my head, Ranger. I'm not going for anything, Ranger, I'm just going to turn around and face you, ok?" And I did. And I didn't get shot. And I didn't pee my pants. Brownie points for me, but Ranger still wasn't moving.
"Jesus shit, Ranger. Think for a minute." Ok, so I'd given up on the calming effect. But hey, I was getting really pissed. "If I was going to become an assassin, do you really think I'd kill the mark in my fucking apartment? Give me a little more credit than that. And if I was going to become Family, I sure as hell wouldn't run to Terri Gilman to get me in. Hell, even I know that you need to go to someone higher up than her. And not only that, she's a fucking police informant – a weasel. Like I'd really go to a weasel when I wanted a slice of the organized crime pie. Besides, if I really wanted in on all that, I'd go to old man Ramos. He'd hire me in two seconds flat. Probably he'd make me marry him first, but he'd still hire me. Shit, Ranger, my arms are getting tired. Can I put them down now?"
"You're wearing hardware. I want it before I let you move."
Whatever. Lactic acid build up is a bitch. "Sure. You wanna take them or you want me to give them to you?"
"I'll get them. Move and I'll shoot you. Understand?"
"Sure." And I did understand – he was completely serious. It made me want to laugh, though maybe that was because I wasn't going to cry. He took the Browning in the holster at my side and the Seacamp at the small of my back and stepped away. And lowered his gun. It was still in his hand at his side, and I had no doubt that he could get a shot off, aimed right at me, within half a second. But shit, he didn't get all my stuff. I had to choose between telling him and having him get pissy because he missed them, or let him find them later and have him get pissy that he'd let his guard down, however slightly, when the threat was still armed. It was a lose-lose situation. I sighed.
"There's more." He raised an eyebrow. "There's a piece on my right ankle, a knife on my left and my back." I thought for a minute before adding, "And sureguard in my right pocket, extra clips in my left." He didn't say anything for a long minute.
"Anything else?" He asked. I took another minute to think.
"I don't think so. Maybe a nail file in a pocket somewhere, I'm not sure." He had me face the wall and gave me a thorough pat down. He found everything – including the nail file that was, in fact, in my back pocket. Somehow, when I'd long ago imagined Ranger's hands in my pockets, it was never once in this context.
"If I get killed," I told him, "because you have all my shit I'm coming back and haunting you."
"Someone out to get you babe?"
"There always seems to be." He nodded.
"Fair enough. How'd that card get on your counter." Well, that was a change of gears.
"I don't know," I told him. And it was true, too. I didn't know, I just had an educated guess.
"Stephanie," he started. I interrupted.
"Swear to God. Mary Lou came over to get Rex and she found it. You can call her to verify if you'd like."
"You can turn around and put your arms down now." Thank God. They felt like they were going to fall off.
"Can I get the phone? I promise I'll move nice and slow and keep my hands visible at all times." He nodded. I kept my word. Getting shot was not on my top ten list. I got the phone by moving really, really slowly, and handed it to him with exaggerated care. Then, I gave him Mary Lou's number.
"And I'm sure you know Tank's, or whoever you want to call to check on me." He didn't make any move to dial. "Call them," I told him. "Now." Still, Ranger stood there.
"Ranger, you held me at gunpoint for fifteen freaking minutes because you were freaked about a business card and didn't like the answer I gave you. The least you can do is call to verify my story."
"Why do you have so much hardware?" He finally asked.
Because I'm building a birdhouse.
"When you play with the big boys, you either get in the game or drop out of the race," I told him. Wasn't that on a t-shirt or something? It should be.
"What happened to your S&W?"
"It's in my gun locker." He gave me another one of those inscrutable looks.
"You have a gun locker?" No, I just said that for the hell of it.
"What, you wanted me to keep storing my guns in my cookie jar?" I asked him, incredulous.
"Only you, babe. Only you." He smiled and shook his head.
"Will you please make the calls Ranger?"
He finally got off his high horse and called Tank. At least, I think it was Tank – I could only hear half of the conversation.
"Yo."
"Need a run on someone. … Family ties. … Stephanie Plum. … Just do it. … Now." And he hung up.
"Now Mary Lou?" I asked.
"No way, babe."
"No way?" That was more than a little curious.
"Nope."
"Oh-kay." Definitely curious. "Well, then, why don't you tell me about this job."
"Not yet." Not yet? Ah, the whole mob thing.
"Whatever. I'll be in the family room." I turned and walked away. Albeit, I did it slowly, but I did it. And he didn't stop me. Or shoot me. That was the really important one. If I got shot, I was going to be seriously pissed off.
About fifteen minutes later, I heard Ranger's cell phone ring. Meanwhile, I had dug out my dictionary and bookmarked and highlighted two words.
Ranger's voice was too deep, and he was talking too softly for me to hear even his half of the conversation. But when he was done, he came out into the living room and laid my pieces on the coffee table.
"So I'm guessing nobody could find anything?" Ranger shook his head. I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue and sing the 'I told you so' song. Probably it wouldn't be conducive to positive professional relations. Go figure.
"There are some words in here I think you need to reacquaint yourself with. I have them marked for you." I handed the dictionary to him and started to redress myself. He watched me carefully until I strapped the last piece on and shoved the sureguard into my pocket. I was still holding the nail file – I had an edge I wanted to smooth out. And did he really think that I was going to stab him with it or something? Can you say paranoid?
"Am I gonna gave to worry about you shooting me all night? Or can I relax in my own home and move around without being careful not to make any sudden moves and making sure my hands are visible at all times?"
He didn't answer. Neither did he make a move to open the dictionary.
"Read the definitions, then get back to me." I went into the kitchen and started looking in the bags he'd brought. I just put everything in the fridge, bags and all. I didn't know if anything would spoil. And it's not like I had anything else in there, anyway. Ranger followed a minute later.
"Haha. Very funny," he said. I smiled. The words had been sarcasm and overreaction.
"So are you going to tell me about this job or what," I asked.
Again with the staring.
"Fine," I told him. "I'm sure you can find someone with better legs anyway. Don't forget your groceries and be sure to lock the door when you leave." I was walking out of the kitchen, but Ranger was standing in the doorway. As I was brushing past him, he grabbed me, pushing me against the wall. I didn't even think, I just reacted. We'd done something similar before, and he'd pinned me easily. The difference was that this time I knew what I was doing. The difference was that this time he was trying not to hurt me, and I wasn't returning the favor.
I hooked a foot behind his knee and we fell to the ground, tussling for a few minutes before I had him flat on his back – an elbow to his wind pipe and a knee to his balls.
"Don't you ever," I told him. "Ever manhandle me again. Especially in my own home, where you are a guest." He moved slightly, so I pushed my elbow deeper, cutting off his air for a few seconds before easing up. "I put up with your shit for the past half-hour, which was the direct result of your stupidity and insecurity. I put up with you holding a gun on me because you got freaked out. I let you be a real shit-head for a while. But I won't put up with you fucking grabbing me and shoving me against the wall because you got pissed I'm not a naïve, helpless little girl anymore. I won't let anybody, not even you, act like I am. And I won't let anybody, especially not you, maul me in my own apartment. Do you understand me?"
Nothing. No response whatsoever. This was not acceptable.
"Answer me," I told him and added pressure to my elbow and knee. He let out a gritted yes.
"Now, I'm going to get up, and you're going to get out of my apartment. If you decide you still want me to do this job, you will either meet me somewhere not my apartment and be a gentleman, or send someone else to do it for you." With that, I got up and moved across the room from him so I would be far out of reach when he got up. He stayed down, placing his hands on his stomach and shutting his eyes.
Now I've never claimed to have some master understanding of the male psyche, but in my experience, this was the part when the guy got up, made some snide remarks about your sexuality, and stomped out. Really, though, I didn't have time to stand there and figure it out.
"Whatever, Ranger. If we're not going to be productive, I've gotta go. I have work to do. Call me if you feel up to being civil. Or at least leave a note saying if you still want me for the job."
I stalked into my bedroom and put on my Kevlar vest and my utility belt, on which went my Seacamp and Browning, the sureguard, stun gun, some handcuffs and extra clips. The Beretta went on one ankle, and my knives were already in place. Overkill? Probably, but I wasn't going to be anybody's victim. Never again. And besides, I was leaving the Glock and assault rifles at home. When I got back to the living room, Ranger was still on his back. I stuck my license, some cash, and a credit card in one pocket and my cell in the other, grabbed my keys, and headed for the door.
"Mind if I go with you?" Ranger's deep voice stopped me.
"That depends, I guess."
"On?" He asked.
"Are you going to be pissy all night? Are you going to let me handle this without getting all weird? Are you going to do what I tell you? Are you going to argue with everything I say? Are you going to be able to let go of that much control?"
"I'll be cool." He'd better be or he was liable to get a foot shoved so far up his ass… OK, so I had some pent up anger and frustration.
"Whatever. Come on. If you don't have a vest in your car, you can use my extra."
"What are we doing?" he asked. I gave him a look and bit back the sarcasm that was fighting to get out. After all, last time, it hadn't gone over too well.
"Fugitive apprehension," I told him.
"He dangerous?"
"The skip?" I asked. We were going after the White brothers – Barry White and Larry White. They were fat, and stupid, and drunks. They were also car thieves who had a tendency to forget to wear gloves while stealing those cars, and were even more forgetful about their appointments with the court. Or maybe they were just too drunk to realize they were supposed to go. "No, they're more like the Pillsbury dough boys, but it never hurts to be careful." Ranger nodded. He was the one that taught me that. I grabbed the files from my desk, the two on the brothers, and four I'd gotten before the weekend, and we headed out. After the White brothers, I had another skip to pick up, but I was hoping that I could do it without Ranger.
"You really got another vest?" He asked me.
"No, I just said that to sound cool." Hey, I couldn't help it. It just came out. I actually have two extra vests in my car. One was my size, and the other was Lula-sized. Ranger seemed too big for the one, and not the right shape for the other. "I don't know if either'll fit you, but you're welcome to try," I told him.
"It's good. I got one in my car." I nodded. It made sense for him to have one. I waited at his car for him to get his vest on and armor up, checking each of his pieces much like I had less than ten minutes ago. I watched with impassive eyes, waiting for Ranger to finish. He shut the trunk and we headed over to the Buick.
I had just bought a new Range Rover, but it would take a few more weeks for Al to finish all the extras I was having him put in. It wasn't a big deal. I'd finally gotten used to Big Blue.
"Files are on the dash," I told him. "There's a flashlight in the glove compartment." He took both and read the files on the White brothers.
"How do you want to play this?" Ranger asked when he was finished reading.
"They'll be in a bar. They're usually in a bar from the time they get up to the time they pass out. Until they run out of money and need to pull another job. Right now, they're in a little hell hole called 'The Last Hoorah.'" I'd gotten a call earlier, and the bartender told me that they had planted themselves in a booth in the back and weren't planning on leaving until they were kicked out. "We'll just do the standard. When we go in, I need to talk to the bartender, but after that, we just go to the booth, identify ourselves, cuff them, and bring them back to the station." I wasn't sure why he wanted to know. After all, he'd been the one to teach me.
"Let me rephrase. What do you want me to do?" He asked me. What do I want him to do? Did it matter? He never listened to what I told him anyway.
"Follow me, I guess." That was what he wanted to do, and what Ranger wants, Ranger gets. He'd come in with me even if I asked him to do something else. Might as well make it seem like my idea. "Just don't do anything drastic," I told him. "I have an agreement with the bartender." He raised an eyebrow, but I ignored it.
When we got there, I pulled up to the curb and got out, locking the doors. Not that anybody would want to steal the big blue monstrosity, but it was habit.
"Just follow my lead," I reminded Ranger as we walked up to the bar. When Bruce caught sight of me, I put two fingers up, motioning to Ranger. He came over with our drinks and told me the boys were in a booth in the back. I drank my pretend rum and coke, then Ranger's, since he wasn't touching it. Besides, I was thirsty.
It was all part of the agreement Bruce and I had come to. I would call him when the White brothers were FTA, and when they came into the bar, he would call and let me know. When I got there to pick them up, I'd go to the bar and get a rum and coke – minus the rum, and lay money down for the help. It was a smooth operation. I got something to drink and when I paid him, nobody was the wiser about Bruce being one of my weasels.
I slipped the money on the table and headed toward the back, Ranger hot at my heals. It didn't take long to find the boys, they were well on their way to making a spectacle of themselves. I slid into the booth next to Barry, and Ranger followed suit, trapping Larry in. They smelled like they'd been bathed in alcohol, it was enough to make the eyes water. But Larry and Barry White were big boys that knew how to hold their liquor, so they were nowhere near drunk enough to go with me without understanding what was going on.
"Hey!" Larry exclaimed. "I thought we had a deal. You said you wouldn't bring anybody." Last time I'd brought them in, Lula had ridden shot gun. Let's just say that the three of them didn't get along all that well.
"No," I told him. "I said that I wouldn't bring Lula. This isn't Lula. Or do you need glasses that badly." Just because they could hold their alcohol didn't mean either one of them was very smart. It took them a while to work through what I said.
"No," Barry finally told me. "He doesn't look a whole lot like Lula."
I just sighed. "Come on boys, finish up your drinks, ok?"
They nodded and drank up like good little car thieves. We all of us stood and I herded the three men out of the bar, waving to Bruce on my way. Once outside, I turned them around and cuffed them. Not Ranger, of course, though the thought did hold some appeal. Bruce came out just as I was finishing.
"Yo, Angel," he heralded me and walked closer. "Dese boys been gettin' inta some shit a little stronga den what I sell. You hear me?" I did. He was telling me that they'd started experimenting with drugs.
"Hard?" I asked.
"Naw, naw, man. Mild. Real light. Just thought maybe you'd relieve them of it. You know, so them boys don't get inta no mo' trouble. You know what I sayin'?"
"I gotcha, don't worry about it. You should get your customers back soon."
"Straight, Angel. Damn straight. Later."
"Later, Bruce." He walked back in the bar without a glance backwards, trusting me to take care of the situation now that he'd informed me of it. I turned to the boys. Probably they only had the dregs of some marijuana. Maybe some papers if they hadn't gone through them all.
I turned to them and asked, "OK, which of you's got the stuff?" They made a lot of noises about how they had no idea what I was talking about. So I took matters into my own hands.
"Ranger you take the one on the left. I'll take the one on the right."
About half way through, Ranger spoke up. "Shit these guys smell. You owe me for this."
"Nuh-huh," I told him. "You volunteered for this ride. If you want, though, I'll drop you off on the way to the station. Then maybe you can start to sterilize yourself." I knew that was what I would be doing as soon as I packed it in for the night.
"Probably I will. But I'll stick with the program 'til the end, babe."
I had finished with my brother, and all I'd found were some papers. And that's all anybody would find short of a strip search. Nothing could get me to do that.
"Find anything?" I asked. He tossed me a bag.
"Looks like hash. Low grade. About like smoking tree bark."
"Yum. Can you handle getting them in the car?" I asked, handing him the keys. "I've gotta go take care of this." He nodded and took them to the car while I went to the bar's bathroom to flush the contents of the bag and throw the papers away.
The trip to the station passed in relative silence, the only noises the occasional hushed whisper of one of the wonder boys in the back.
"Stay here?" I asked Ranger when we got to the station. His answer was one of those almost imperceptible head nods that he has all but patented.
"Come on, boys," I told Larry and Barry, opening the back door for them. They slid off the seat and shuffled toward the station.
I got them processed in record time, grabbing the receipts and hitting the road. Probably it had something to do with not running into anyone I knew. Really though, I should have known it was too good to be true. When I got back to the car, Ranger was leaning against it. That in itself wasn't a problem. The fact that Joseph Morelli was standing a few feet away from him and that they were having what looked like an intense conversation was.
"So," I asked them. "What are you boys up too?" I pasted a nice smile on my face, betting that Ranger would just look at me and Morelli would give me a brief, quasi-lie of an explanation.
Ranger turned to look at me.
Joe told me, and I quote, "Police stuff."
Why is it that when you have a sure thing, nobody's around to take the bet?
Joe had started to walk towards me. He got way too close, invading my personal space. I wanted to take a step back, so badly that I forced myself not to. I just kept that smile plastered on my face and hoped it would be over soon.
"So, Stephanie," he spat at me. "Rambo gets back and you pull the damsel in distress routine? You go running to him for help the minute you know he's available? What do you think he's gonna do? Fall in love with you while cleaning up the trail of destruction you leave in your wake? Or maybe you just want a quick fuck. Is that it Stephanie? Tell me. Please, I'd like to hear."
I took a deep, cleansing breath. At least, I hoped it was. Really, I didn't know the difference between a regular deep breath and a cleansing one. But I deserved points for trying.
"I don't believe I have to explain myself to you, Morelli. Now if you'll excuse me…"
I was cut off by Joe grabbing my arm. I had to squelch my panic at being trapped and force myself to remain still and keep that smile in place so I wouldn't deck him.
"Detective Morelli, please release my arm." I'd been hoping that reminding Joe that he was a police officer would get him to let me go, but it backfired. If anything, he tightened his grip. My arm would be bruised by morning.
"Stephanie, Ranger's trouble. You need to stay away from him."
"Ranger hasn't given me trouble yet. I need to stay away from the people who hurt me." I glanced pointedly at my arm. Morelli let go of my arm in a fraction of a second and practically stumbled in his hurry to get away from me. He'd gone so white that a ghost had more color. Personally, I thought that he was overreacting, but maybe it was just me.
"Shit," he whispered. "Shit." And he started to walk away. I stared after him and watched as he stopped, shook his head, and turned around. When he came back, he looked like his dog had just died.
"Please, Stephanie, will you come over tomorrow for lunch? I'll order Pino's and get the beer." I was most definitely confused, but the look on his face – I still cared for Joe enough that if something as simple as having lunch would get that look off his face, I'd do it, and happily.
"Sure, Joe. Your place?"
"Yeah." He was speaking very softly. "Thanks, Stephanie. Thanks." And he walked back into the station, head down, hands shoved in his pockets.
I watched until he made it in the door, now more worried about him than angry at him. I turned back to the car where Ranger was still standing, an impassive look on his face. Shouldn't there be a limit to the number of things I have to deal with in a day?
"Don't you think that you paid a little much for information you could have gotten from standing up and looking around?" Swear to God, those were the first words out of his mouth. It took me a moment to switch gears, but only a moment. He was referring to my paying Bruce.
"Who said that's what I was paying for?" I asked him.
"Those must have been damn good drinks, then. And what were you thinking? Drinking on the job." Ranger sounded completely disgusted. Ranger had always been supportive, he'd never assumed but waited to hear what I had to say. That he would have so little faith now – I felt nauseous. The pain in my chest flared to life, like a knife had been twisted in my heart. I cut it off, shoving the hurt deep inside where I couldn't feel it anymore.
Ranger was obviously waiting for me to explain. I hoped he wasn't holding his breath; I hate it when people pass out in my car.
"Get in," I told him. He raised an eyebrow. "Or not. I'm leaving." I got in and waited for a minute to see what he would do. He got in. Imagine that – it was like maybe he didn't want to be stranded at the police station. Not that I could blame him. Thanks to Lula I knew first hand how much it sucked. She and I had worked on her police-phobia, and she was doing a lot better now. Most of the time.
"Should I drop you off at your car or somewhere else," I asked. I was hoping he would get the hint and leave me be for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Come to think of it, I'd probably put Shannon's file in with the White brothers, and he'd probably read it.
"What about the other skip?" Ranger didn't sound too happy.
"What about him?"
"You're not planning on going after him without backup, right? Especially not after you've had a couple drinks." Definitely not a happy voice.
I took a minute to debate the merits of beating my head against the steering wheel before answering him. Finally I told myself to just suck it up and deal with it.
"Thank you for all of your help tonight, Ranger, but I'm sure you have much more important things to do than babysit me." I'd almost choked on that last part – he wasn't babysitting me. Hell, he wasn't even being too helpful, but I'd managed to say it, and even forced my face into a facsimile of a smile – though I'm not sure that I wasn't clenching my teeth by the end.
"Trying to get rid of me babe?" Ranger cocked an eyebrow at me.
Yes, yes I am, I thought to myself.
"No, Ranger," I told him in a tired voice. "But I'm not inebriated, and I don't need help with this guy. Thank you, though." I added that last part for the sake of politeness.
"You had two drinks, Stephanie. And I know you. You're a lightweight when it comes to alcohol."
"There wasn't anything in them," I told him. I was just too tired to argue anymore. I wanted to tell him that it was none of his business, and that he could fuck off. I wanted to tell him that if he didn't trust my judgment about my level of drunkenness, then he could just leave. I wanted to tell him that if he didn't trust me to get the job done, then he shouldn't be here. But I was too tired. His lack of faith in me cut more than I wanted it too, and hurt more than it should have.
"There wasn't anything in them?" He was almost confused now.
"No, it was just Coke." That shut him up for a minute. I shut my eyes and huddled protectively over the steering wheel. Fuck it, I just wanted to go home and curl into a ball. No, what I wanted was someone there to hold me and make it all ok, but that wasn't going to happen, so I'd settle for my bed and a carton of ice cream.
"Even so," Ranger had gotten his wind back. "Do you know who this guy is? He's one of the biggest distributors in Trenton, and you say you don't need help with him?" I tried. I really, really tried to push past the tiredness and the hurt, and turn it into anger, indignation, anything. That just wasn't happening. I didn't have it in me to fight with him anymore tonight. Not after what had happened earlier in my apartment, not after Joe.
Truth be told, the skip – Shannon Lawrence, aka Cannon – was a close friend of mine. I'd met him when he'd skipped court and I got assigned his file. Then he'd helped me out of a jam – and by that I mean he saved my life. Now he was one of my best friends, and I was pretty sure the sentiment was mutual.
I started the car and drove out of the parking lot. Ranger eventually got a clue and stopped ragging me about where we were going and what I was thinking going after the skip on my own. I pulled to a stop next to Ranger's Mercedes.
"Get out," I told him. I didn't have it in me to do social pleasantries.
He was saying something to me, I could hear his voice, but I wasn't paying any attention. I was just staring out the windshield, unfocused.
"Get out," I told him again. I'm pretty sure I interrupted something he was saying, but I wasn't in the mood to listen to a lecture or play nice with others.
"God dammit, Stephanie!" He sounded pretty upset. I turned to look at him. Yep, he even looked mad. Did I care? Not even a little.
"Get out." It was the last time I was going to tell him nicely. Ok, so I hadn't been all that nice. Whatever.
"I don't like people giving me orders." I was sure he'd break a tooth, his jaw was clenched so tightly.
"Do you think you're the only one? Nobody likes someone telling them what to do. It doesn't stop you from ordering me around. Now get out."
Thank God, this time he listened.