Seven Up
Part One – Here and Now
Three
He was following me. I knew he was following me. Once Ranger had gotten out of my car, I'd taken off. It had taken me three blocks to spot him behind me. If I'd had the energy to be anything more than apathetic, upset wouldn't even begin to describe my reaction. As it was, I was just tired. So I kept driving, ignoring my tail. Of course, that didn't stop me from making a few U-turns and meandering around a bit, but I wound up just going back to my apartment. That hadn't been my original plan, but with Ranger following me, it was pretty much all I could do.
I parked and took the stairs up to my apartment. First thing I did was look out the window to see what Ranger was doing. The Mercedes was sitting next to the Buick. I wasn't really all that surprised when there was a knock on the door. That didn't mean I was going to open it to him.
I listened as Ranger picked the lock and opened the door. I was still looking out of the window, hugging myself, when he walked up to me, coming so close I could feel the heat coming off his body. He hesitated and I could feel him tense before he put his arms around my waist and took that last step, closing the gap between us. I found myself relaxing against him. It felt nice, and safe, and happy. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy it, because I knew something would come along and break the spell that had woven around us.
"I'm sorry, babe," Ranger said softly into my ear.
I closed my eyes and stifled a sigh.
"Ranger," I told him. "Don't worry about it. You made logical assumptions and what you said wasn't out of line. You have nothing to apologize for."
He held me a little tighter. "I'm sorry for assuming," he said quietly.
"Well," I paused. "Thank you." He would never know how much that meant to me. That he realized he'd made assumptions, and that they were wrong, and then apologized for it. That he not only wanted to apologize, but was insisting on it.
"So am I forgiven?" he asked, laying his chin on top of my head.
"Nothing to forgive Ranger."
"Please, Stephanie?" he whispered.
"Of course." I was being drawn into the feel of his arms around me, encircling me, holding me. Ranger gave me a feeling of safety – whether it was his bulk and strength or just him I didn't know, but the feeling was there.
"You still working for me?" he asked quietly. I was surprised he still wanted me to work for him.
"You still want me too?"
Ranger sighed, like he didn't know what to do. "Yeah, so long as you're willing."
"Are you going to freak out on me again?" I asked. "If we're going to work together, I need to know that you're going to trust me, and I need to be able to trust that you'll get my back."
"Always, babe. Always."
Ranger gave me a quick squeeze before letting go and turning me to face him.
"Now can I make you that dinner I promised and explain the job to you?"
I just nodded. It was easier that way.
Dinner turned out to be pretty good. Salad, of course, and some sort of chicken dish that was excellent but probably disgustingly healthy. I didn't ask and he didn't tell. He even made a really good chocolate cake, but I saw him cheat on that, using applesauce instead of oil. Now where's the fun in that? Not nearly as much fat to burn off.
When we were done cleaning up from dinner, I asked about the job.
"Couldn't bring a file here for you. You'll get it on the plane there," he told me.
That made me a little upset. Not that he didn't want to bring sensitive information to an unsecured location, but because he'd given me a false pretense for staying here. Before I could say anything, he took my hand and led me into the living room and over to the couch. Sitting down, he pulled me to sit in his lap with his arms around me. I froze, unable to protest, then I struggled to get away, but it only resulted in his holding me tighter.
"Relax, babe," he whispered in my ear. "It's alright."
I immediately stopped struggling, forcing myself to be still.
"What happened to you, babe? What made you change so much?"
"Nothing."
"Something happened, Stephanie. Tell me what."
"No, nothing happened." I could hear myself sounding more and more panicked.
"Let me help you." Ranger's voice was still soft and low.
My voice, on the other hand, was getting steadily louder, a direct relationship to how angry I was getting. I tried to get up again but Ranger was still holding me.
"Dammit, Ranger, it's none of your business."
"I know something happened. You wouldn't have changed so much if it hadn't. Now tell me." Ranger wasn't so calm anymore.
I continued my efforts to get out of his grip and off of his lap. I was still angry, but I was scared, too. Scared that he would find out my secret, and I was fighting off the panic of being held in place and unable to get out. Each had its own reactions, none of which I wanted to have much less show, which made me even more angry, which made me less in control of my reactions, and on and on it went in a nice, big, circle of hell.
"Why won't you let me hold you? You know I won't hurt you, babe." He was back to his soothing voice.
"You're not holding me, Ranger, you're trapping me and not letting me move." I felt him tense, then relax, and I stopped my efforts.
"Ask me, Stephanie. Ask me to let you go." Obviously he thought I wouldn't. He thought wrong.
"Let me go Ranger."
When I got up, I turned to look at him. His eyes were closed, and his hands were resting on his thighs. He looked like he was holding himself very rigidly. Opening his eyes, Ranger looked straight at me.
"Let me in, babe. Don't keep me out." His eyes were pleading with me.
"Six months ago, you were in so far I couldn't have gotten you out with a crowbar. You let yourself out and slammed the door behind you. Now unless you had actually planned on talking about the job, I think you should leave."
Ranger sighed audibly.
"Sit back down, babe."
Yeah, right, I thought.
"I won't touch you," he told me stiffly.
Gingerly, I moved to the other side of the couch and sat down on the edge.
"I had planned to talk about the job. I just wanted to talk about the other first," he said. "But I can see that that's not going to happen."
I silently agreed with his assessment of the situation.
"Job?" I asked. He nodded.
"Can't say much here, but I can give you the basics. Place in Vegas has a problem. Evidence points to somebody working there. We need to find out who it is, and get them out of there."
"What's the problem?" I'd noticed he hadn't specified.
"Drugs and disappearances."
"Disappearances?" I asked. He just nodded. I'd heard him the first time. I'd asked because I wanted to know more about them.
"And?" I prompted.
"And what, babe." Belligerence at its best.
"Are they ever found? Do they just disappear off the face of the earth? What?" If he was being so tight-lipped about it, I knew it had to be bad.
"They're found," he said.
I gave him the look, the one every burg girl learns from their mother.
"It's not pretty, babe."
"I'd kind of figured that one out," I told him. "Don't you think I have a right to know what's going on in the case?"
His voice went flat, and he told me. "A week after they go missing, they're found dead. They've been raped and sodomized and have cuts all over their bodies. They've been tortured, and slowly strangled."
I felt the blood drain from my face. It couldn't be, it just couldn't be. He'd been in jail, locked up, out of commission.
He moved towards me and I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye. I sprung up from my perch on the edge of the couch. Reaction. If I'd been able to make a conscious decision, I would have made myself stay put. This just gave him more reason to interrogate me, and I didn't want him to ask me anything else about what had happened. I was afraid that if he kept on with it, he would wear me down so that all of my walls would be thinned to the breaking point and I would let something out that I didn't want out. That I couldn't let out, because once something's out, it can never be put back.
I was backing away from him, trying to get some space between us, but he was up off the couch and matching me step for step. Eventually the inevitable happened and I hit a wall. That didn't stop Ranger. He got right up in my face, one hand against the wall to the right of my head and the other on my waist.
"You're crowding me."
"Is that a problem?" he asked. Is that a problem? Well, duh it's a problem. If it wasn't I wouldn't have said anything.
"Yes." I told him as I grit my teeth and looked at a point six inches to the left of his face.
Ranger slowly moved his hand from my waist to put it under my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze, and took a step closer.
"Why? Why is it such a problem that I'm close to you? Why don't you like me touching you anymore?" He asked me, voice soft and smooth.
I plastered a smile on my face.
"The job, Ranger. Focus on the job."
"I am." Ranger voice had done a complete turn about. It was harsh and severe, without a hint of softness in it. "We're going in together, our covers will succeed or fail based on our reactions to each other. If you go rigid or freeze up every time I touch you, they'll know something's not right. Our covers are blown and we wind up dead, so I'd say we're still very much talking about the job."
"And on the job, I'll be fine. We'll be fine. There won't be anything out of place in our interactions. But last I checked, we were still in my apartment, and that means that we're not working, which means that my actions won't affect our life expectancies." Again, I'd reacted without being able to think about it. I was trying to show my professionalism, and keep my voice steady and even. Instead, I'd subconsciously mimicked Ranger and his tone of voice.
Ranger sighed and pulled me to him so that our bodies were one continuous line. He moved his arms around my waist, and rested his head against mine. I didn't know what to do. I felt awkward, like I was back in third grade and Danny Manicioni was trying to give me my first kiss. I gently moved my hands to his shoulders, unsure of what was going on – he kept switching back and forth between polar opposites so quickly that I didn't know which way was up or what I was supposed to do or how I was supposed to react.
"Uh, Ranger?" I asked.
"Shh," he whispered. "Just let it be for now."
And I did. I let myself relax and be held and comforted, and it was enough.
A while later, when we were both ready to break the peaceful reverie we'd fallen into, I brought up the job again.
"What's my part in all of this?"
"Half of a honeymooning couple," he said. I had a funny feeling that the other half was holding me.
"How big is this?" I asked.
He raised an eyebrow at that. Like I couldn't ask intelligent questions?
"In terms of?" he asked me.
"People involved on our end, people involved with the problem, that sort of thing."
"Big," he said. Like "big" was any sort of quantifier. Men.
"Ooo-kay. So I'm guessing you won't answer if I ask how legal it is." I said.
He just looked at me. I guessed right.
"Does that mean you want out?" he asked.
I was surprised, but when I thought about it, I shouldn't have been. He still remembered me from back in the day I was worried about his redecorating jobs.
"No. No, I'm still in. I'm definitely still in." If it was him, if the man responsible for the disappearances was who I though it was, then there was no way I could walk away from this job. If he was out there, doing this to other women, I didn't really have a choice. No way was he getting away from me this time.
It was just over half an hour later when I watched Ranger's Mercedes roll out of the parking lot. We'd spent most of the time standing there, holding each other, while we discussed the rest of the minor details. It was wrong, and I knew it. I shouldn't have let him touch me at all, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't pull away.
When he was gone, I went out to Big Blue and made my way down to Stark Street to go see Shannon. That had been my plan all along, before I realized that I was going to have a visitor. Now that Ranger wasn't following me anymore, I could go. It wasn't that I didn't want Ranger to see what I was doing. No, I really didn't care about that at all. It was more for Shannon's protection. He trusted me, and I didn't want to bring any potentially dangerous situations to him if I could help it.
Finding a space near Shannon's corner wasn't hard. Especially when he saw me and told some guy to move it or lose it. Literally. I was about to get out when I looked across the street. It was the building I noticed first – high security from the looks of it. Two armed guards at the doors, posing as doormen, cameras mounted in various places to monitor the streets, all sorts of stuff. Then all of a sudden, Blackwell walked out of the building. He looked around, taking in the street. I was paralyzed with fear, a million questions flitting around my brain – how did he find me so quickly – how did he get to Trenton so fast – why couldn't he just leave me the fuck alone. I was still staring in that direction, debating the merits of cold blooded murder when a black Mercedes pulled up next to me, blocking my line of sight. When I jumped out and looked past it, he was gone. The son of a bitch had vanished. My only saving grace was that I was pretty sure he hadn't seen me.
I shifted my attention to the Mercedes and its driver, Ranger. The bastard.
"Why the hell have you been following me," I asked him.
"What are you doing down here." Apparently, Ranger had deemed my question not worthy of an answer.
"Go away, Ranger." I was too tired to deal with this shit.
I turned away from him, moving towards Shannon. My progress was halted when Ranger grabbed me and spun me back around. My gun was out and against his temple before I even had a chance to think. Stark had gone silent. They say that nobody on Stark ever sees anything, but that isn't true. They see things on this street. Things they never, ever talk about if they want to live to see old age.
"Let me go, Ranger." I was in no mood to play around. He made no move to release my arm. "I warned you once about manhandling me." If anything, his grip tightened. "Let me go now, Ranger, or we're going to have serious issues."
"Issues?" he asked.
"Last chance," I told him, voice firm. I cocked the gun, not really necessary, but it made for a good effect. He still wasn't making any effort to move.
"Don't make me do this, Ranger. Please don't make me." It was a whispered plea, one so soft that Ranger must be able to read lips to have understood me. I sent a silent thank-you to God when Ranger started to back away.
"You don't wanna pull that shit again Stephanie." Ranger's eyes had gone cold. That was fine. It meant that at least he was being rational. I could deal with a rational Ranger.
"Pull 'that shit'? I didn't pull anything. I didn't start anything. I only offered to finish it." OK, so I've gotten pretty good at talking big. Luckily, I don't often have to back it up. I stepped back up to him so that we were nose to nose.
"As you noticed earlier, things have changed. If you were smart, you'd go home and call in your weasels to find out how much."
Ranger raised an incredulous eyebrow at me. "You really expect me to believe this?"
"Then don't, Ranger. Now I'm gonna go. You should, too." Couldn't the man take a hint? Jeeze, and I thought I was dense sometimes.
"Come on, babe, let's get outta here. We'll go talk. I'll help you bring him in tomorrow." From angry to soothing in 1.2 seconds flat.
"Ranger, go away. I'm not leaving. We're not talking. I don't need help bringing 'him' in." He didn't stop me when I turned and walked away. He didn't stop me when I walked to Shannon. He didn't stop me when I walked into Shannon's waiting arms. I didn't turn around when I heard a door slam and a car peel away. I just buried my head in Shannon's chest and held on for dear life.
When I finally let go, I was pretty sure Shannon had a broken rib or two, but I don't think he minded. He took my hand and we walked away from the street, melting into the shadows of the allies. Soon, we were at his apartment. It was pretty amazing. It looked just like any other abandoned warehouse in the area – half of the windows were boarded, the first eight feet of walls were all tagged by random kids, and the front door was chained and padlocked. That was the outside.
Inside was a completely different story. Getting there was…interesting. Shannon is a little paranoid about his security, but not without cause. You know what they say, even paranoid people have enemies. That was more than a little true in Shannon's case. Hence the security. Yeah, it was a pain in the ass, but I'd rather go through it than wind up with a dead friend. To get inside, you had to go to a building a block away. Go inside the building, down to the parking garage. There's a little elevator, that you need a key card to get into and activate. That goes down another level, to a passage that leads you to the basement of Shannon's house. To get in from the passage, you need to go up another elevator, which needs another keycard. Then to get into the actual house, you need yet another keycard. Or maybe he uses the same card for all three. He puts it away each time. But there is no other way to get in. Underneath the ragtag warehouse façade is reinforced steel – no windows, no doors, no nothing. I'm sure he has an escape plan, or something, but I haven't asked. I respect his need to take precautions.
I'd been here so many times, I didn't even bat an eye when we went through the whole ordeal. Or maybe it was the fact that I was in something akin to shock. Probably an elephant could have tap danced down the street and I wouldn't have blinked. Then again, I'm sure my eyes would have gotten dry at some point.
When we were inside, Shannon sat me down on his couch. I love his couch. It's a nice butter-soft leather couch. The whole inside of his house is opulently furnished. The only thing I would have changed is the whole no-window thing. But then again, maybe I wouldn't have. The house gives you the feel of a warm, protected cocoon. Whenever I'm inside, I feel so safe. He started the fire and went off to get something. I was staring into the flames when he came back with a big, down comforter. Scooping me up, he wrapped the comforter around me and settled down into the couch, holding me tight. For about a minute I thought about the insanity of it all. Here it was, the middle of August, and we were sitting in front of a fire wrapped in a down comforter. Climate control at its best. At some point during the night I fell asleep, safe in his arms.
When I woke up sometime later I realized that Shannon had moved us to his bedroom, and had changed me into one of his shirts. I didn't really mind; once you've worn Kevlar for hours at a time, you'll understand. Shannon must have sensed that I woke up, because he immediately started rubbing my back. I shut my eyes and consciously tried to relax. It wasn't too hard. It was only a matter of minutes before I fell back asleep.
The next morning was wonderful. The day after I've slept is always one that I look forward to. Shannon is always telling me that I'm welcome to stay with him as often as I'd like, but I try not to take advantage. Besides, he's entitled to have a social life, too, and how weird would it be if he wanted to bring a woman home with him, and I came over whining for a hug? Most of the time, I just suffice with vegging out in front of the t.v.. It's not that bad, really. And maybe, if I keep telling myself that, I'll start believing it.
When I woke up, it was nearly ten a.m.. Shannon was still in bed with me; he was so wonderful. Here I was, a psychologically disturbed woman who'd practically leeched onto him, and not only does he let me into his home and let me sleep in his bed, he stays with me until I wake up on my own so that I can sleep. He's such an amazing friend, I really don't know what I'd do without him. If he hadn't been there for me, I wouldn't be alive today.
"You up?" He asked me. He must have felt me wake up.
"Yeah, I guess." If I sounded a little reluctant about it, it's because I was. I did not want to get out of the nice, safe, warm bed, and face the real world. But I knew I had to.
I sat up and Shannon got out of bed. After a minute I heard the shower going, so I got up and went downstairs to start the coffee. Just as it finished brewing, Shannon stepped into the kitchen. He was wearing sweat pants, and the towel from his shower was hanging around his shoulders. It was times like this, when the white towel brilliantly showed off his sculpted chest, that reminded me what a gorgeous black man he is. He grinned at me, having followed my gaze to his six-pack and my train of thought to…well, his six-pack.
He tossed the towel in my face before swatting at me to get in the shower. When I was done, Shannon had breakfast on the table. There are two people who don't let me get away with picking at my food. One's my mother. The other is Shannon. So I sat down and stuffed myself with eggs and bacon and pancakes and toast. By the time we were finished, I was so full I felt like I was going to be sick.
"So I'm guessing you heard," Shannon said.
"That Blackwell broke out? Yeah."
Shannon looked at me, and I knew he was going to tell me something I wasn't going to like.
"That's all you know?" he asked skeptically. "How'd you find out?"
After giving me a look that told me without words that I should have known better than to trust Morelli to tell me everything, he told me about the note.
"He left a note, Steph."
"A note."
"It said, 'I'm coming, Stephanie.'"
"Oh. Oh, shit," I said while I sternly told myself that I was not going to hyperventilate.
"Yeah." Shannon was sitting back in his chair giving me an appraising look. He was seeing how I would handle it. If I could handle it, if I'd be ok. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath.
"Ok," I said. "Ok." I could handle it. I had to.
"Thanks for telling me," I said. He gave me a big smile, lots of teeth, like a proud papa bear.
"Anytime, you know that."
"Yeah," I said. "I do. Now let's get this rescheduling over with." I whipped out the cell phone to call Vinnie.
"Whaddya want." My, my, my. Wasn't Vinnie in a good mood. One of his animal play mates must have croaked, though I hadn't heard about any frogs lately…
"And a good morning to you, too, Vincent," I told him in my most chipper voice.
"Whaddya want."
"Just to let you know that one of your bondees needs to be bailed out again." I told him. He grunted at me, and that was that. He was all business again. Anything that had to do with him making money, and he'd cut out all the jabbering and bitching. It was something that I made a point to remember. He made plans to meet us down at the station, and Shannon and I packed up and left for my car.
It was only when we'd almost reached the car that I noticed Ranger standing there, leaning against my car. From the look of it, he'd been there all night, waiting for me to come back. Served him right; I'd told him to go away. But a part of me still hurt at the look of him – tired, ten hours past a five 'o' clock shadow, and with a look on his face that might have been pain or maybe jealousy if it had been there at all. I walked right up to him, laying a hand on the side of his face, feeling the scruffiness of his beard against my palm. He turned into it for a moment, pressing his lips into my hand before I took a step closer and moved my hand back to his cheek.
"Where've you been all night, babe?" His voice was a notch deeper, out of exhaustion rather than passion, and a part of me ached at the thought of him standing outside, against my car, waiting for me all night long. Another part of me was upset that he'd been staying here when I'd explicitly told him to go away. Guess he doesn't listen any better than I do.
"Why have you been waiting for me all night?" It was a fairly neutral question, and I'd let his answer determine what I was going to do, how I was going to react. That I was well rested bode well for him – I was always calm and charitable when I'd managed to sleep without nightmares. That didn't mean that I wouldn't bitch at him, it just meant that it would take more provocation than normal.
"Didn't know it would be all night," he said. I smiled at him.
"You should have gone home, gotten some rest," I told him, stroking my thumb back and forth over his cheek. "You look tired."
He grunted. I took my hand from Ranger's cheek and brushed his hair back behind his ear.
"I'm taking Shannon in, then I need to drop him off back here before I meet Morelli for lunch. You should go home and get some sleep, Ranger. Call me later?" I asked. Dealing with Shannon and Morelli wasn't all I had to do today. I also had to bring in the other three skips I'd been assigned, have dinner with my mother, and make sure that the organization would run smoothly while I was gone. But after lunch, my schedule was flexible with regards to Ranger. I reached up and brushed the hair out of his eyes. He shut his eyes and put his hand over mine, before bringing my fingers to his lips and kissing them like you see in the old movies. It was a courtly gesture, one that if I would have thought to look odd coming from Ranger. Instead it looked perfectly natural. Ranger released my hand and walked toward his car.
I watched him walk away, then turned to Shannon.
"Shall we?" I asked. We got into Big Blue and drove to the station. As soon as we were in the car, Shannon started in on me.
"Nothing, huh?" he asked. "Just work. Just a job. I see more, Steph. A lot more, that I don't think you wanna think about. But that's not going to make it go away."
"Whatever, Shannon. Now let's drop it."
"Unh-unh. No way. Steph and Ranger sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes…"
I turned to him with a look on my face that must have been priceless, because he burst into laughter at the first glance. Lucky for me, we got to the station before he got his breath back.
It all went according to plan. The guys at the station were used to my bringing in Shannon now. The first time I'd brought him in, they'd been a little freaked out. Might have been the whole no handcuffs thing, but I didn't like handcuffing my friends, so I didn't cuff Shannon. Well, ok, that first time, it was because I was a little stressed out, and though Shannon scared the shit out of me, he seemed willing to come to the station. I hadn't wanted to give him a reason to get upset with me, hence we went sans the cuffs. Later, it was because he was my friend.
When we got to the station, Vinnie was waiting there to bail Shannon out. He didn't even need to see the inside of a jail cell. Honestly, I didn't know how I felt about Shannon dealing drugs. I knew that I liked Shannon. I knew that he was one of my best friends. I knew that I didn't want to mess that up. So I kind of ignored his source of income. And besides, it's not like he forced anybody to buy the drugs. He never pressured people into becoming addicts, and he will not go near kids. Or let anybody who works for him sell to kids. Once they're over the age of consent, though, they're fair game. And I found I kind of agreed with his assessment of the situation. After all, when you hit eighteen, you're legally an adult and allowed to make your own decisions. So why shouldn't I be friends with someone who's just making use of the free enterprise system? Weird, I know, but when has my life been normal?
Vinnie made his way back to the cars with us, muttering about how Shannon had better get to his court date on time. Shannon gave him a look that had Vinnie running off to his car with his tail between his legs.
"Wanna grab some coffee?" I asked Shannon when we were back in the car. "Danielle's gonna meet me."
"Sure," he said.
"I need to go over some things with you before I leave. I'm not sure that SO1 will be alright with me gone."
"You shouldn't worry, Angel. I know it's your baby, and the first time away is hard, but it'll be ok. There's Danielle me to take care of everything, and you're only a phone call away if something big happens."
By that time, we'd gotten to the coffee shop and had to order. The sixteen-year-old working the cash register looked down her long nose at us for ordering large coffees. When the person behind us ordered a double skinny iced mocha grande, I found out why. Sorry, but I'll stick to coffee. Grabbing a table, Danielle met us and we sat down to discuss the particulars.
SO is an organization that I'd started close to four months ago. It stands for Starting Over. After my…trouble, I'd been lucky. I'd had Shannon there to help me through it, and people who were willing to give me a safe place. Many, many women didn't have anywhere, and I'd wanted to give them one, give them a chance to start over, like I'd had. It had taken two months, every cent I could get my hands on, and more loans from more banks than I cared to think about, but I'd managed to buy a building on Sloane for just that purpose. It had, at one time, been a hotel, but with the changing times and the changing city, Sloane had turned into a very dangerous street. So the hotel had gone belly up, but it was perfect for my purpose.
Next had come renovating the place. I had been lucky that nobody had managed to get in and squat any of the rooms, but the place was still a disaster. Or it had been. When people heard about what I was doing, they'd laughed. That was alright with me, this place wasn't for those people. It was for the ones who were secretly hoping it would open soon. I'd had to hire a contractor to fix the few structural problems the place had had. He hadn't laughed. His daughter had been raped four years ago. He did the work at cost, and I got my first patron. Every month he and his wife sent a donation.
I was working there alone one night when I heard something behind me. Before I could turn around to see what was going on I'd been grabbed and forced to the floor. He'd produced a knife and threatened to kill me if I struggled. My hand was still by my side, where my gun was tucked into its holster. Before he could move, I'd shot him twice and shoved him off me, calling the police. The man was dead; he'd been a convicted rapist who'd just gotten out of jail that week. I was glad that it was only me he'd come after and not some innocent girl. It was an open and shut case, ruled self-defense.
Then the boys had found out what I was doing. One day I was in the middle of painting a bedroom when my cell phone rang. It was Tank, demanding that I go down to let them in. When I went down to see them, they had rollers, paint brushes, and ladders. And a state-of-the-art security system. They were SO's next patrons. With their help, I got three rooms finished in a week. It was a good thing, too, because I also got my first tenant.
Her husband had put her in the hospital with a broken arm, two broken ribs, and more bruising than I'd thought possible. Her name was Daniella. She'd almost bled to death internally, and decided that enough was enough, that it was time for her to put an end to it. To start over. So she came to me. I put her in a room and told her that she would be safe. That I wouldn't let anyone hurt her, and she believed me. The next morning I showed her the contract that I'd had a lawyer draw up, outlining the rules that were involved with living here, and the consequences of breaking the rules. She signed immediately.
Soon after, two more women showed up. Lucy and Margaret. They signed, too. Really, the rules were simple. So long as you live here, there will be no drugs. Smoking only in a corner of the courtyard. No drunkenness. If you have an addiction, we'll send you to a clinic for help. No contact whatsoever with your abusive spouse or boyfriend or pimp. And you have to help around the place, whether it be cooking or cleaning or painting or holding another woman's hand, you had to help to the extent that you could. If you work, for the duration of your stay you have to contribute a percentage of your income on a scale not unlike the tax system
Lula heard about it and started spending her Saturdays helping out. From there, it just kept growing. We now had a staff of three, two psychologists for the women, and an admin to run everything. Despite donations and the possibility of soon getting state and federal dollars, the majority of SO's operating budget came from my pocket. And I couldn't bring in skips and deal with all the little things that went into making the place run at the same time, so I'd hired Daniella. She was perfect for it. Before she'd gotten married, she'd been a hospital administrator, which made her precisely what we needed. I couldn't have gotten a better qualified or more dedicated person to run it. Soon, we were going to have a doctor on the staff part-time, too, as well as a night security guard, and maybe a lawyer. Hospitals in the surrounding areas were starting to refer women to us. The old hotel was almost back to its former glory, and we were starting to gain some attention from national organizations.
But now I had to leave, and wouldn't be able to make sure that everything would be alright while I wasn't here. Which was why I was sitting down with Shannon, making sure he'd be able to help out. Shannon was an anonymous patron, but he helped just as much by keeping everyone away from the hotel. Nobody was allowed to come near us and try to push to any of the tenants, and nobody was to go near any of the women staying there if their intentions were anything but pure. Somebody on his payroll had tried it once. He'd been in the hospital for just less than two weeks. Nobody tried again.
For the most part, SO was left alone. But occasionally somebody would be stupid enough to try something. That was really what I was worried about. I was the one to take care of it when the alarm went off, but with me gone, I wouldn't be able to. I'd already alerted the security company that I would be out of town and that the contact person would be Shannon. Daniella was telling me that they could handle things. Shannon was assuring me that he could take care of it. I trusted them, so I would leave it I their capable hands and trust them enough not to worry. Too much, at least.
Finished with our coffee we left the little shop and went our separate ways, Shannon having called one of his minions to come and get him. I gave them both a quick hug and a peck on the cheek and told them goodbye and thank you, before getting in my car and starting on the long list of things I had to do before I could leave.
1. "SO," Stephanie's fictional organization, is said as a word, not as the letters. When you say it, it's like NOW not like the FMF.