Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to Janet Evanovich. I am only borrowing them. Thank you for allowing us to use your amazing characters for fun!

-chapter-7

SPOV

Five days later, I received my invite in the mail and I promptly returned the RSVP. I don't want to think about seeing Ranger at the wedding and instead think about the day ahead. Looks like I still know the way to denial land.

It's been a week with no tracking. I have not had any "accidental run ins" with any Merry Men or required assistance, so I am getting more confident that I am A. not getting tracked and B. am finally getting better at my job. The self-defense lessons have actually helped a lot and I decided to go to the local YMCA to continue training. I do not want to drain any more resources from Ranger. I decide to resign from Rangeman and write up my letter of resignation. I always thought it was a pity job so doing this strengthens my resolve. I am a big girl and I have to take care of myself, something long overdue.

My thoughts move toward this weekend. My Grandmother is turning 80 and a couple of her friends have decided to take her clubbing. I volunteer to be the designated driver (more like I was bribed by my mother to chaperone) and to "keep them in line," aka out of jail. I would have done it anyways but who am I to turn down pineapple upside down cake?

On her birthday, I finish getting ready and drive over to pick up Grandma Mazur. No one was outside to greet me. Huh, I guess the excitement of the evening blocked the 'mom radar'. I knock on the door and walk into the house calling out, "Hello".

"I'm up here baby girl!" my grandmother calls from her room. I head up the stairs to peek into her room. She's just finishing up putting the last touches on her makeup. She's wearing a skintight red mini dress, definitely something that Lula would wear. However, Grandma cannot "fill out" anything but she still rocks it just the same. My mother is ironing and sipping her tea and I assure her that I will search and confiscate the guns and will keep a close watch on everyone. She smiles and relaxes a bit.

We head out on the way to pick up Maybel. When we arrive, we see her and Doris leaning against a new, very red convertible Mustang. Grandma smiles and Doris says, "Stephanie, we will be taking this little baby tonight." I stifle a gasp and hop in the driver's seat. The excitement of driving this fine car is definitely going to make the night memorable for all of us. I just didn't know how memorable it would end up being.

We arrive at the first club expecting some dancing and hot men. We were definitely disappointed. The place was dead. No one on the dance floor and very few men. After a couple of drinks, the ladies are restless. They're looking for some action. I'm completely sober and after locking a surprising five guns in the trunk, I'm a little nervous that something bad will happen tonight. I didn't frisk the ladies so who know what else I would have found. You couldn't pay me enough for that! Our next stop is another bar, and the ladies do two shots. I have limited the bar hopping to no more than two drinks per stop, but the shots are going to undermine that plan if I don't figure a way to entertain these ladies without them getting wasted this early.

Grandma found a flier for a male review and all of the others Ladies are on board... of course they are. I shake my head and let out the breath I was holding. It's in Newark but the only show we can get into is at midnight. We have some time to kill, and they can't maintain this pace of drinking, so I suggest a non-alcoholic activity. We stop at a chain Italian restaurant nearby to eat dinner and play "I never" while we wait for our food. I must say, I really wish I was drunk at this point so that I would have no memory of what I learned about these women. I'm going to need to bleach my brain after this night. Our surrounding tables are probably thinking the same thing.

In the spirit of the teenage games, we stop at the Quick and Save to buy a few rolls of toilet paper and drive over to Jackie Porter's house. Apparently, she slept with Maybel's boyfriend, so she's earned a little payback. Ten minutes later, I was watching Grandma and her friends running around, throwing TP in skintight dresses, and believe me, it's something to behold. I wasn't even trying to suppress my smile.

It's now 10 pm; time to head to Newark. I enjoy the drive, who wouldn't like to drive a brand-new Mustang? We reach the bar about 11:00 and have some time to kill before the show. We head to the bar side of the establishment to get some pre-show drinks and wait twenty minutes just to belly up to the bar. I catch a sound that is pretty much like nails on a chalkboard sitting at a table near the bar. Joyce Barnhart. I'd know that shrill voice anywhere. I shake my head and Grandma notices. She turns to Joyce and then back to me and whispers not so quietly, "Is that Joyce Barnhart?"

I shush her and nod my head, thinking that she'll get the picture and ignore the skank. Grandma turns and says something to the other ladies that I don't catch since it was my turn to place our drink order. Water for me and 3 mojitos. We find a high-top table and gather around chatting and drinking. Doris and Maybel excuse themselves to go to the restroom and Grandma and I finish our drinks. The other two are gone a long time and I'm starting to get worried. I'm about to go look for them when they appear just in time to down their drinks and line up for the show.

The stage was big and snaked around the room with lots of tables and seating along the edge. We got front and center; personally, I'd rather have good parking karma, but the ladies were thrilled. More drinks are ordered, and dollar bills are produced. I say a silent prayer just as the lights dim. The music is loud, and the men are hot. Not Rangeman hot, but hot enough to keep me entertained. The ladies have plenty of opportunity to stuff their dollars into the gyrating hips and I stay safely behind them and enjoy the show.

Unfortunately, this is an interactive show, and I'm pulled onstage. Seated in a chair on the stage, I have the fortunate/unfortunate experience of getting a personal lap dance by the headliner. He's very handsome and his light blue eyes are striking. He has a six pack that accentuates his very large "package" as Grandma is quick to point out. The ladies shove a handful of dollars in my hand and expect me to stuff them into a very shiny, very filled out G-string. I play along so that I won't dampen the mood and am rewarded with a signed G-string as a souvenir.

Lots of laughs and a couple of drinks later, the show is over, and all of the dollars have been stuffed. Most of the other customers are gone and we're one of the last groups to make our way to the door. We're talking loudly and heading out of the club to the mostly deserted parking lot, taking a few stragglers with us. I catch sight of Joyce holding a beer as she, too, is walking out of the club with one of the bouncers. We locked eyes for a moment before she glances away and notices that her car had four flat tires. She looks back at me as she reaches into her purse. I'm standing at the Mustang, parked along the front of the building thanks to the handicapped parking placard from Doris's hip replacement. I have the door open, waiting for the ladies to pile into the car. I catch a quick flash of fire just before the Molotov cocktail is hurled in our direction.

I pull Grandma and the ladies away from the car just as the fiery bottle breaks against the side of the building, igniting the wooden planks on the side of the building. I scream and get the few remaining people away from the fire as I hear the alarm going off inside the building. Sirens come from all directions, and everyone scatters. Everyone but Joyce and us. The bouncer has Joyce detained, and the Mustang is too close to the fire, therefore we are unable to flee the scene. To add insult to injury, the wooden overhang on the building falls in one big, fiery piece on the Mustang and now the car is on fire. FML At least we aren't in Trenton for everyone to hear about the latest escapades of the Bombshell Bounty Hunter. The glass is half full right? Fuck!

In the confusion, I step away and call my Dad for a ride, knowing full well that I'm never going to get pineapple upside down cake again - ever. I stand amidst the chaos as I wait for the police to come interview us. As I'm explaining to the police what happened, my neck started to tingle. Without a thought I reach up and rub the back of my neck. I look around and don't see any Merry Men or Rangeman vehicles, not that I expect to. We are definitely out of their jurisdiction and how would they have gotten here so fast? The firemen quickly extinguish the fire and are assessing the damage. I evaluate the charred Mustang and shake my head, wondering if this counted as a car loss for me. I really have bad car karma. A mixture of emotions are racing through my brain as I watch Joyce getting cuffed and placed in a waiting squad car; I smile as her hair piece is flipped up as the police officer pushes her into the back seat. Still smiling, I turn back toward the Mustang and run right into a very muscular chest. His arms came up around me to steady me as he says, "Hello there."

I look into the light blue eyes of the dancer that gave me his signed g-sting. "Hhhi," I stammer.

"Can I give you a lift?"

His southern drawl is quite a surprise. His arms relax and then drop to his side, but we are still standing pretty close. "Thanks, but I have someone on the way".

He steps back another step and reaches into his pocket. Just then, a shadow appears over his shoulder, and I see a very pissed off Ranger not ten feet away. He's glaring at me, eyes narrowed, and arms crossed over his chest. I look back at the stranger as he says, "Here's my number, call me and we can get together for coffee or something."

Normally I would decline but I look back at Ranger and take the offered card as I turn to smile at my handsome stripper. "Thanks, I just might". He nods and walks away.

"Pumpkin, are you ok?"

I turn to see my dad as he walks up, giving me a hug. I nod and lead him over to my grandma and her friends, who are talking to a very uncomfortable police officer that is arranging the Mustang's transportation to the holding lot. I don't see Ranger leave but he must have. I usher all the ladies into Dad's cab, and we head back to Trenton, exhausted by the day's events. Dad is such a trouper on the way home. The ladies are still talking loudly and very much interested in continuing the birthday celebration. However, Dad is only interested in calling it a night and drops each of the ladies off at their respective homes. I didn't blame him; I was done too. Babysitting in any form is exhausting. At least I didn't get my hair cut by mini Garazzas or pelted with Nerf darts. As I fall into bed that night, something's bothering me though. How did Ranger know I was there? Was it a coincidence? Do I still have a tracker? I make a mental note to borrow one of those bug scanner wands. Then I drift off into a fitful sleep