So...this is the story of how Ranger and Jamie met and became friends. It's just a short little ditty that sprang into my head...don't worry, I'm still working on The Return Of the Lone Jamie...well trying to anyway. Enjoy.
"JAMIE you little BITCH give me my money!" Came the holler from the other side of the door. I winced. Maybe I shouldn't have stolen that briefcase. But hey, I needed the money. My name is Jamie Plum, and I'm a teenage runaway. Well, technically I didn't run away from anything. Mostly I just needed to get out of my boring life or I would have gone crazy.
That's how I got to Miami, lost all my money, and stole a briefcase full of the lovely green paper from one Jack Summer. So now he wants the money back. And I already spent it to get this hotel suite in downtown Miami.
"Go away, Summer, I'm entertaining a gentleman," I said, suppressing a giggle. I wasn't that scared, really. I don't really know why, but I just wasn't scared.
I heard a key being inserted into the lock. Shit. He must've seduced a lobby-lady or something. I looked around frantically, ran into the living room and grabbed a nice gold plated lamp off of a genuine cherry hand carved table. Summer walked through the door with a gun in his hand. I was about to lung at him when I saw the gun and froze.
"Do you have it?" He asked me.
"Eh…no," I said, still brandishing the lamp.
He started towards me and I swung the lamp as hard as I could. He squeezed a round off but I managed to smack the gun out of his hand. He swore, I dropped the lamp and ran. I didn't even look back. I just shot down the hall, almost knocking over a cleaning lady. The stairwell door exploded open and I jumped down three or four steps at a time. Thankfully the hotel was a little independent name and was only five stories. I had no idea where Jack was, but by the sound of gunshots behind me I could guess. I ran down the street, frantically looking for a car with the keys still in the ignition or the door unlocked. I had met a guy in Tallahassee who showed me how to hotwire a car.
I turned the corner and ran some more. I didn't think Jack had any more bullets in his gun, but better safe than sorry. I ran past a normal looking building that didn't look very special…except for the brand-new black, shiny Porsche with its driver's side door open at the end of the block, right in front. A sun beam exploded from the heavens and angels burst into song. TA DAAAAAAAAA!
I jumped into the driver's seat, yelling in triumph as I saw the keys still in the ignition. Whoever left this car is mentally challenged…or just plain an idiot. I shut the door, cranked the engine over, and was about to put my foot to the floor when I saw two heavily muscled men burst through the door of the building. The shorter one was dark skinned, dark haired, and dark eyed. His hair was pulled into a ponytail and his black t- shirt looked painted on. The taller one was even darker skinned with a shiny bald head. They both had muscles on muscles. And they were both shooting me glares of death.
Oh boy. More people out to kill me. Oh well. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I met Ponytail's eyes and gave him a half-shrug, sent them both a salute, and pressed the pedal to the metal.
Five minutes later I was on the highway, heading north. If I went south I'd hit the Keys and be screwed, so north seemed like the way to go. I kept checking my mirror, looking for Jack's car. I didn't see it, but I did however, notice a shiny new-looking black SUV. I was thinking it was the two guys I stole the Porsche from. Probably I was being paranoid…but I didn't want to risk it. I weaved in and out of cars, driving like the guy I met in Tallahassee taught me. The SUV stuck to me, following every move I made. Damn. Now it was right behind me. Damn. The car-phone rang. Shit. Do I answer? It's not my car…oh what the hell.
I picked up the phone. "Yello?"
"How old are you?" oh….Shit. I glanced into my rearview mirror at the SUV. The voice coming through the phone was low and dangerous, but he couldn't do anything to me if we were driving. So I kept driving.
"Sixteen, how old are you?" Probably I shouldn't be a smartass right now…but I couldn't help it.
"This is what you're going to do," he said, voice growing more dangerous by the second, "you're going to pull over at the next rest stop in a mile. And you're going to get out of the car. You're going to get down on the ground with your hands over your head and you're going to come with me."
"Jeez, you pedifile, didn't you hear me? I said I was sixteen."
"I don't have to repeat myself. Turn into the next rest-stop and maybe I won't arrest you."
"OH come on! Don't be so anal! I really need the car. How about if I leave it at a rest-stop in about a hundred miles? Please? Pretty please? I promise I won't dent it."
Disconnect.
Well fuck, now what was I going to do? I sure as hell wasn't going to give back the Porsche. Jack would be on me in a second. The rest stop was coming closer, and I made my decision. I turned my right signal on and switched over to the exit-lane. The SUV followed right behind me. Heh..heh…heh…just as I entered the on ramp I swerved and switched lanes to my left. Horns blasted and cars swerved. The SUV was going too fast and it was too late to switch over; they had already entered the rest stop.
I laughed triumphantly but was interrupted in my victory-dance by the phone ringing again. I sighed and picked it up.
"Look this is a life or death situation you know," I said.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked me. Boy, did he sound piiiiissed.
"Well I believe I'm driving," I said. I noticed a jacket on the passenger seat. Cradling the phone between head and shoulder, I reached over with one hand and rifled through the jacket until I found a wallet. I opened the wallet and found an ID card. Perfect.
"I'm going to kill you," said the guy on the phone. Uh-oh. Probably he was bluffing, trying to scare me.
"I don't think so, Mr. Ricardo Carlos Manoso. I think you're bluffing. And did you know that you're blinking in this picture? You need to get a new ID, my friend." Now I was pushing it. Now I knew I was going to get the shit kicked out of me…or worse.
I hung up the phone and didn't answer when it rang again. They couldn't do much to me while I was driving, so I wasn't too worried at the moment. The only thing I was afraid of was what was going to happen if I had to pee. I could just go in the car, I suppose, but that would be rude. I may be a little thief, but I had some decency.
I don't know how I did, but I managed to lose the SUV. In the back of my head I knew it was still out there, just hidden. But in the front part, the stupid part, I felt like I left their sorry asses in the dust. My bladder was threatening to burst so I pulled into a rest-stop, scurried into the ladies room, and did my business. I sat there on the toilet, enjoying the peace and quiet, when I heard the restroom door open. I waited for the click of heels or soft patter of sneakers but was only rewarded with the clunk of a boot. I buttoned the button on my jeans, fell to my hands and knees, and peeked under the stall door. Muddy CAT boots, black jeans. Jack. SHIT.
"I know you're in here, Jamie," he said, "you better just come out."
"Uh….nope, nobody here by the name of Jamie." I was standing on the toilet by now, hunched over so I was shorter than the stall wall.
A gunshot echoed about fifty times louder than normal and I fell off the toilet. The stall door was kicked open and Jack stood over me, grinning evilly.
"Found you," he said. I gulped and braced myself.
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After one last kick in the ribs, Jack said goodbye, leaving me a bloody pulp on the cold tile floor.
"Well this sucks," I half groaned. I laid on the floor for a while, staring at the ceiling, trying to muster up the strength to get up. A few minutes went by and I attempted to sit up. Ouch. Not good. I managed to drag myself over to a sink, grab hold of a pipe, and haul myself up. I leaned heavily on the sink and chanced a look into the mirror. Yikes. The whole left side of my face was purple. I had two black eyes. My left eye was swollen shut. My bottom lip was cut and bleeding. Wonderful. Just wonderful. This is just was I needed…right when two possibly ex-army guys are after my ass. I sighed and turned on the water. I waited for it to turn hot before sticking my hand under. I managed to wash off most of the dried blood, but it was hard 'cause I couldn't move too easily and my face throbbed every time I touched it.
The sound of the restroom door opening made me jump about a foot in the air and look up. And guess who it was. Ricardo Carlos Manoso—Mr. Ponytail—appeared first. I was leaned against the sink, both arms shaking with the effort of holding me up. The trembling in my arms increased. This was not my day. I shoved myself away from the sink, staggered into the nearest stall, dropped to my knees, and emptied the contents of my stomach into the toilet. After that event I laid back down on the cold stone floor and waited.
I slid in and out of consciousness as I heard two soft voices talking. The stall door opened and a blurry blob of something kneeled over me.
"Jus' shoot me," I mumbled. Not even kidding. I wasn't aiming on getting another beating.
"As much as I'd like to, I don't think that's the best idea at the moment," said the blurry blob, "What's your name?"
"Jamie."
"Where do you live?"
"Trenton…" oops. "I mean…uh…erm…Walla Walla, Oregon."
"You live in Trenton?"
"NO." I squeaked. I really didn't want to go home.
The blob shined a pen-light into my eyes. I squinched them shut and turned away but he grabbed my head and pried my right eye open.
"Fruck you," I said weakly. I was this close to passing out.
The Blob ignored me and dropped my eyelid. "She has a concussion. We can take her back to Rangeman."
"Who what when where why?" I mumbled again. Everything was fading in and out. The Blob turned into the Bit of Moving Color. I felt myself being lifted off the ground and everything went black.
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When I woke up everything was white. White ceiling, white walls, white bed. Must be in heaven. My head was throbbing, so I knew I couldn't be dead. And in the paraphrased, heavily simplified words of Edgar Allen Poe, if you think you're dead—you're not. So I deduced that I wasn't in fact dead. I heard beeping and whirring and other noises that you would hear in a hospital. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but the throbbing was too much. I was throbbing everywhere. I groaned a little but didn't move.
"Are you awake?" a deep male voice interrupted my thoughts of self pity and made me flinch, thus causing the pain to triple, which made me groan louder.
I opened one eye and looked at whoever caused this unbelievable pain. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but once again, the stupider part of my brain prevailed.
"Christ on a moped, do you people only employ ridiculously hot guys?"
The guy chuckled. He was big. And black. And BIG. Did I mention he was big? But he wasn't the same guy from the SUV.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"You're in Miami."
"Well, duh. I meant what building am I in? Where's those two other guys who want to kill me for stealing their Porsche?"
"You're at Rangeman. It's a security company…among other things," said Big, "As for the two men you stole the Porsche from, they don't want to kill you."
"Really? That's a first."
He chuckled again. "Do you want some pain meds?"
"That and sleep," I said, yawning.
"Sorry, you're not allowed to sleep. You've got a bad concussion. You need to stay awake for twenty-four hours." Big handed me two pills and a Dixie cup of water. I downed both and sank back into the pillows.
"Fuck," I said weakly, "Well, how are you supposed to stop me from sleeping? Inject caffeine into my bloodstream?"
"No. I'm suppose to ask you why the hell you stole the car, who did this to you, what your name is, and where exactly in Trenton do you live," said Big, pulling up a stool.
"Because I stole a bunch of money from this guy Jack and he was shooting at me, Jack, Jamie, and I told the other guy that I live in Walla Walla, not Trenton," I mumbled, closing my eyes. I didn't care about a stupid concussion. I really wanted to sleep.
"Open your eyes. And I need your last name."
"Mm…no and Smith," I mumbled, not paying much attention to anything except my need for sleep. Something grabbed my head and my eyelids were pried open. It hurt to struggle, so I gave in, allowing my eyes to open.
"Jerk," I said, glaring at the guy, "I told you my name, now you tell me yours."
He stuck out his hand. "Bobby Brown." I shook it. "So your last name is Smith?"
"Sure."
Bobby narrowed his eyes at me. "Sure? What's your real last name?"
I groaned. "Can't you just leave me alone?"
"No."
"Plum," I said, giving in. I just didn't care anymore. I wanted to sleep.
"Plum?"
"Yep."
"What's plum?"
"My last name. Can I sleep now?"
"Jamie Plum?"
"Present."
"Would you open your eyes?"
"No," I mumbled, not even thinking about the consequences. Bobby sighed and I heard him stand up. I listened to him moving around the room, and I heard water running. The next thing I know I'm drenched with ice-cold water.
"FUCK!" I yelled, sitting up. Not a good idea. I almost passed out from the pain. I fell back against the pillows, my breath shallow. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I croaked.
"No," said Bobby, "I'm trying to keep you awake."
I just groaned.
The phone rang and Bobby answered it. "Yo. Yeah, she's awake. Jamie Plum. She keeps saying Walla Walla, but I think you're right. She lives in Trenton. Ok." And he hung up.
"Who was that?" I asked.
He just gave me a look.
Five minutes later Mr. Ricardo Carlos Manoso appeared at the door.
"Howdy," I said, trying to stay on his good side. I had, after all, stolen his car.
He sat down on the stool next to my bed and watched me. After five minutes under his intense stare I started to get a little nervous.
"Who did this to you?" he asked finally.
"Jack."
"Who's Jack?"
"The wicked witch of the west," I mumbled. My eyelids were drooping lower. God I wanted to sleep.
Another douse of freezing water made me flinch. Flinching was bad. I whimpered a little bit. "You people have sick minds," I said, glaring at Ricardo Carlos Manoso.
"If you keep closing your eyes I'm going to pour more water on you," he said. "Who's Jack?"
"He's this guy I stole a suitcase of money from."
"And?"
"And I spent it."
"And?"
"And now he wants it back. What is this, twenty questions?"
Ricardo Carlos Manoso didn't answer me. Another guy walked in. It was the other guy from the SUV. He handed Ricardo Carlos Manoso a file and disappeared. Manoso opened the file and looked down.
"Jamie Rose Plum, sixteen years of age. Sophomore in high school, good grades. Has been arrested on account of driving without a license. Ran away from home two weeks ago."
"Oh so now you think you know me, eh?"
"Everything I need to know is in this file."
"Oh yeah? When was my last ob/gyn?"
"March fourth of last year, 10 o'clock in the morning."
I winced. "Fine. So you know me. Can I sleep now?"
"No. Stop asking. You can't sleep for twenty-four hours."
"Well how am I suppose to stay awake? I'm tired."
"You can figure that out. Tomorrow we're leaving. I'm putting you on a plane back to Trenton." With that, he left.
I sighed and shifted to get more comfortable. I couldn't believe this was happening. All I had wanted was a little adventure.
