"Are you crazy?" Vinnie howled. "I'm not working for you. You'll kick my ass."
Rangers face was devoid of emotion.
"You haven't heard my terms."
"Alright, wise guy. Hit me," Vinnie said, leaning against his office door frame.
Ranger rose from the edge of Connie's desk and crossed to the window facing the street. He did not turn to face Vinnie.
"I wish to purchase the business, including its facilities, its debts, and its assets. It would retain the Plum name, but drop Vincent. I will have access to client lists, documentation, and records. Ms. Rizzoli will have the option to keep her job, and she may continue to write bonds on behalf of Plum Bail Bonds. Your father-in-law will no longer be associated with the business in any way, and you will no longer hold a leadership role in the business. By selling the business and its associated debt, you agree to walk away."
Vinnie was dumbfounded. Just like me, he was speechless.
"So I'd still have my job?" Connie asked Ranger.
"Yes. You would become an employee of Rangeman, and you would receive benefits as such."
"Count me in!" Connie said, filing her nails. "What about Lula?"
Lula is the bonds office file clerk. Well, at least that is what her job title reads. No one is really sure what she does now that most of the files have gone electronic. Lula is a big, beautiful black woman who is a lot too short for her weight. Her size fourteen, double 'd' body runneth over in a size eight spandex dress. I sort of befriended her in my first few months on the bounty hunter job, and Vinnie hired her shortly after as a file clerk. Problem was, Lula had no marketable skills. Sure, Lula was great at talking smack, cracking jokes, surviving on the streets, reading people, and she claims she used to be good at her job as a Stark street hooker, but as far as the bonds business was concerned, she was a dud. I imagine Vinnie hired her as eye candy, since I had no doubt that his perverted weasel ass enjoyed studying her miles and miles of cleavage during his irregular stops into the office.
Lula has been my 'ride-or-die' for years, and she typically refers to herself as my 'bounty hunter assistant." If I was being honest, I'd probably have to call her my muscle, since on more than one occasion during a capture, she has shot at or sat on skips. Lula is like the yin to my yang. The peanut butter to my jelly. The glitter to my…. White construction paper. If Lula was a chocolate iced donut with sprinkles, I'd be a piece of dry, white toast.
"I am willing to have a conversation about Lula's future with this firm," Ranger said, "but it is unclear to me what skills and assets she brings to the table."
"So you're telling me I'd be out of the bonds business?" Vinnie asked Ranger, his tone annoyed.
"If you chose to open a new bonds office under a new name, that would be within the terms of the deal," Ranger said, sitting in one of the office's cheap orange plastic chairs. He steepled his fingers in front of his face. "However, I would retain the Plum name in addition to this space and your staff."
"Come in," Vinnie said, gesturing Ranger into his office. "Let's chat."
Ranger went in, and Vinnie slammed the door shut.
Connie and I spent several moments sitting in silence, straining to hear the conversation happening on the other side of the door.
"Did you know that was coming?" she asked me.
I shook my head "no" because I still couldn't find words. Eventually, Connie began typing on her computer and I sat on the worn out brown leather sofa, sorting through FTA files in my messenger bag.
I didn't have all my open files in my bag, but I had at least fifteen of them. I began sorting out a few I'd be willing to hand off to someone else to find—primarily guys wanted for armed robbery or violent crimes. Guys like this used to be my big payday, but now that I had a regular salary coming in from Rangeman, this type of risk seemed unnecessary.
"Did anything new come in today?"
"Yeah, you'll love this," Connie said, grabbing a file. "Richard Orr, attorney at law."
"What?!" I shrieked, ripping the file from her hands.
Richard Orr, better known as Dickie, was my ex-husband.
"I thought we weren't bonding him out," I said, paging through the file.
"I didn't. He did," Connie explained, gesturing toward Vinnie's office.
"How long did he sit in jail?"
"Two days."
I couldn't help it. I broke out in a fit of giggles, dancing my feet around on the floor in front of me. Dragging Dickie's worthless carcass back to jail sounded enjoyable.
"I can't believe he didn't show up for court. I figured he'd be a good, law-abiding citizen with his law firm and all. He's got a lot to lose."
"Nobody's seen him or heard from him," Connie said. "Sounds like he got tied up with the wrong people on some case he's been working on. Rumor is the solicitation charge with the undercover cop was a setup."
I flipped back to the bond agreement to see how much Dickie's bond had cost. $5,000.
"I'm surprised Dickie even bothered with securing a bond. The kind of money he makes, he ought to have five grand sitting around."
Connie shrugged. "Sometimes people's assets aren't very liquid. He secured the bond with his Mercedes. Vinnie has been driving it around."
It was abundantly clear that something fishy was going on with Dickie. I shoved the file into my messenger bag. I'd have to do more research into it later.
The front door to the bonds office smashed open, and Lula crashed in. She was wearing a chartreuse tube top with jean shorts that were at least two sizes too small. Five inches of belly fat were hanging over her waistband, and cellulite oozed out of the rolled cuffs. Lula's ponytail matched her shirt with streaks of hot pink. She accessorized the outfit with a large black alligator skin handbag, black alligator skin pumps, giant hoop earrings, and an assortment of bangles on her wrist.
"You're late," Connie grumbled.
"I had a busy morning," Lula said, hustling to the couch and flopping down next to me. "I had a lot of research to do. A lot of meal prep to do. Today is the first day of my new, healthier lifestyle."
Connie's eyebrows raised. "Wow, good for you. What brought this on?"
Lula poked at the spare tire of fat on her belly. "Well, you see, these are my favorite summer jean shorts, and they don't fit like they used to. I look less aesthetically pleasin' than I did last summer. So I'm throwing out the junk food and replacing it with healthy shit."
"I'm proud of you," I said. "That shows real maturity. I wish I cared enough to commit to a healthy lifestyle. I'm too addicted to donuts and pineapple upside-down cake."
"Well, I haven't totally given up donuts," Lula said. "My new diet is all about 'treating' instead of 'cheating'. I can eat some of that stuff sometimes, just not all the time."
"So what did you have for breakfast?" I inquired, genuinely interested to hear about the changes she was making.
"Well, they gave me these handy food lists," Lula said, pulling a small printed booklet from her bag. "There are food lists for four food groups here, and I can eat any of them I want."
"Four food groups?" Connie asked. "When I was in Weight Watchers, there were six food groups—grains, protein, fruit, vegetables, dairy, and fats. What are your food groups?"
Lula read from the booklet. "Well, there's proteins and vegetables like yours. Then I have fiber-filled carbs and treats."
I was liking the sound of this diet. A whole food group for treats?
"For breakfast this morning, I chose a bunch of shit off these lists. I had steak, cheese, and eggs off the proteins list. I threw some spinach and peppers from the vegetables list in my eggs. From the fiber-filled carbs list, I had toast, a bagel, an English muffin, a banana, and some hashbrown potatoes. The list said most of the bread shit should be whole wheat, but I'm a firm believer that all good diets should include some flexibility, so I went with the white shit I had on hand. I have to say, the treats list is my personal favorite," Lula said, walking over to Connie's donut box and extracting one with pink frosting and sprinkles. "So here, I'm eating a donut. I also had a glass of white wine and two scoops of chocolate fudge ripple ice cream for breakfast."
"Wow." I could feel my eyebrows raise. "That is a lot of food. Are you sure you're doing it right?"
"Yep!" Lula exclaimed. "The program has a shit ton of videos I can watch on my phone, and the girls they interview all say they're eating more food now than they were before. And they're thin and totally hot."
"Can I read that?"
"Sure," Lula said, tossing me the booklet. "This is good shit. You start this diet, and in no time, you'll be looking like a super model." Lula licked the frosting off her finger and settled herself back on the couch.
I began flipping through the testimonials at the front, and I was liking what I was seeing. Women with impressive before and after photos were prominently featured. I glanced to my waistline, noting the slight bulge above my button. Maybe I needed a diet too.
Lula wandered over to the coffee maker and poured herself a mug. She topped it off with half a gallon of cream and at least a cup of sugar.
"I'll show you the magical secret to this here diet," Lula said, rooting around in her pocket.
She extracted a small foil packet and displayed it in her palm for Connie and I to see. It read, 'Thinology.'
"This is the real money-maker," Lula said, tearing the packet open and dumping it into her coffee. "This superfood shake is the shit. It gets all those fat cells excited and jumping around in your belly, and they keel over and die from all the excitement—just like that!"
"You mix it in your coffee?" Connie said skeptically.
"Sure do. The girls in my Facebook accountability group mix all kinds of shit into their shakes. Personally, I don't want to add the spinach or frozen cauliflower to my shakes, but I can get behind stuff like coffee, milk, peanut butter, and fruit. I've tried this stuff mixed with water like the packet suggests, but it doesn't taste that great. This is an excellent way to enjoy my daily dose of superfoods," Lula said, sipping her coffee.
The more I read about Lula's diet, the clearer it became that she hadn't read the entire booklet.
"This says your breakfast is supposed to be half fiber-filled carbs and half protein. It suggests a cup of Greek yogurt topped with a cup of topped fruit or two eggs with a piece of toast. Didn't you eat treats and vegetables with breakfast?"
"I sure did," Lula announced, placing a hand on her hip. "Vegetables are extra credit at breakfast, and I am an excellent student. I ate two different kinds."
I continued to page through to the page that said 'treats.' A massive list of foods was printed, including everything from ice cream to donuts, wine to beer, and white bread to cookies.
"Lula, this says that treats are supposed to be avoided or enjoyed in moderation. They aren't supposed to be a regular part of your diet."
Our attention was temporarily averted to a black Rangeman SUV pulling up outside the plate-glass window.
"The hell they aren't," she said. "Quit hatin' on my new diet and gimme that."
She snatched the booklet out of my hand and shoved it in her massive purse.
The door to Vinnie's office opened, and Ranger emerged.
"You have one hour to clear out your personal effects. Tank will remain to ensure there are no problems. I will begin the funds transfer immediately," Ranger said, drawing his cell phone from his pants pocket.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Tall, Dark, and HOT!" Lula exclaimed, fanning herself with her hand. She gave Ranger a full body scan, giving him the same look she gives a chocolate cake after dinner.
"The deal is done?" Connie asked, her tone hopeful.
Ranger nodded, ignoring Lula's wistful gaze.
Connie let out a gleeful squeal. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cheered.
"Tank has your paperwork," Ranger responded to Connie.
The front door opened, and Tank's hulking form entered the bonds office. Tank had served in Army Special Forces with Ranger years ago, and now he worked as Ranger's second-in-command. He watched Rangers back and kept things running behind-the-scenes at Rangeman. Tank was a quiet guy with an affinity for big, black guns and cute, furry cats.
"Well helloooooooo," Lula uttered, sidling up to Tank. "You're lookin' mighty fine today, Tankie Poo."
Tank grunted in response. Tank was a man of few words.
Lula and Tank had once been a couple, but Lula's cat allergy abruptly ended their short-lived romance.
Ranger closed the distance between us and pulled up to my feet, holding me to his chest.
"Are you ready to go?" he asked, the intoxicating smell of his Bulgari green shower gel filling my senses.
"Yeah, I think so," I said, my heart racing in my chest. "Let me pack up my stuff."
I began shoving files and papers into my messenger bag, and Ranger quietly gave Tank orders.
"Whateva you do, don't let Vinnie take the Mercedes," Connie interrupted. "It's collateral for a bond we've got."
"What the hell?" Vinnie exclaimed from his inner sanctum, appearing in the doorway. "Why ya gotta squeal on me, Connie?"
"I'm employed by Rangeman now," Connie said with an air of sass. "I can't bite the hand that feeds me."
Ranger held out his hand, and Vinnie fished the keys out of his pocket, dropping them in his palm.
"What the hell is going on here?" Lula asked, finally doing the math to realize something was going on.
"Ranger bought the bonds office," Connie said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Oh man! I get to work for Ranger now?! This is the best day of my life!" Lula wailed, tears welling up in her eyes. "This is gonna be the shit. I'm gonna be a man in black. Well, woman…. Same thing. I won't let you down, Mr. Boss Man. I…."
"No," Ranger said, his tone firm.
"What?" Lula gasped, her face horrified.
"I do not have a role for you at Rangeman," Ranger clarified.
"No!" Lula wailed, tears welling up in her eyes. "You can't do this to me! I'll lose everything!"
I had to be honest. I felt bad for Lula. Deep down I wanted to fight for her, but I was with Ranger—I didn't have a clue what she would do for Rangeman besides ride shotgun with me and wreak havoc on all our jobs. I swallowed hard, wishing I had anything to offer, but I was drawing a blank.
"Too bad, so sad," Vinnie whined, boxing up various items around the office. "Looks like we'll both be filing for unemployment."
"Why you little rat-faced pencil dick…" Lula began, grabbing her purse and taking after Vinnie. She began rooting around in the bag. "I know I've got my gun in here somewhere…."
"That won't be necessary," Ranger said, grabbing Lula by the back of her tube top.
Lula jerked to a stop. Unfortunately, the spandex tube top was no match for Lula's enormous breasts. They popped out of the top of the chartreuse shirt, the shirt sinking down to her waist to expose miles and miles of boobs and massive nipples.
Everyone froze in stupefied horror, and I felt my upper lip curl. I quickly looked away, noticing that Tank looked mesmerized by the acres of exposed black boob.
Ranger let go of Lula's shirt and turned away. To my surprise, a scarlet scald began to rise from his shirt collar.
"What'd ya have to go and do that for?" Lula asked Ranger in a defiant tone. "I am a lady. I am a professional. Can't a girl be modest around here?"
"My apologies," Ranger said as Lula began stuffing her breasts back into her shirt.
"Modest?" Connie asked. "Did you look at yourself in the mirror this morning?"
"I didn't mind it so much," Tank said. "I thought she looked nice."
Lula gave Tank a smile and fluttered her glue-on lashes at him.
Ranger looked like he was thinking about smiling.
I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder and tossed my paper coffee cup in the trash.
"Before I forget, here are a few files I'm willing to hand off," I said to Ranger, passing him four files. "I have more at home, but this is a start."
Ranger nodded.
"Yo," he said, gesturing to Vinnie, "you want to work? I could use an extra temp BEA."
"Hell no," Vinnie said as he loaded a potted plant into a box. "I'm not that desperate. Hey Lula, you want a job?"
"Hell yeah," said Lula. "What? Do you want me to be your new badass bounty hunter?"
"No, I want you to write bonds and keep the office open."
"That is offensive," Lula said. "You are gonna underutilize my talents. I've worked as a bounty hunter assistant for a long time, and I've got a knack for catching FTAs. Besides, we don't have an office anymore. Remember, genius?"
"Your talents?" Vinnie scoffed. "What talents?"
"Well, first off, I look real fine in leather. Everybody knows that the good bounty hunters wear leather. Second, I have a variety of guns that I can use to accessorize any outfit. Third, I'm not afraid to shoot at bad dudes…."
"See, that's a problem," Vinnie explained. "Shooting isn't good. Shooting means lots of extra paperwork. It means cops crawling around asking questions. I don't like shooting. It gives me a cramp in my ass."
"Hmmph," Lula scoffed.
"Do you want the job or not?" asked Vinnie, surveying his box to make sure he got all his important stuff.
"Hell yeah."
"Alright. Well, your first job is to drive me home. You've got your car, right?"
The only thing flashier than Lula was her red Firebird. Lula drove in style, with leather seats, a tricked out sound system, tons of chrome, and all the added features she could afford on her car.
"Of course I've got my baby. I'll drive you home, you little weasel, but you better not leave a grease spot on my baby's headrest. You'd best watch yo'self. You payin' mileage?"
"In your dreams," Vinnie said, headed for the door. "Good luck in your new venture, Ranger." He broke into wild laughter. "You're gonna need it with these two."
"I'll call you later?" I asked Lula.
"Hummph. Yeah. Right."
"What?" I asked, unsure why I was getting the cold shoulder.
"Some help you are. What ever happened to loyalty?" Lula said as she crashed through the door and on to the street.
My stomach ached as I watched Lula and Vinnie climb into the Firebird parked on the street in front of the office. Lula wasn't wrong. We'd been friends for a long time. Sure, she lacked some critical skills, but she was still one of my best friends. What DID happen to loyalty? I had a lot of soul-searching to do. My whole world had spun on its axis in twenty-four hours, and frankly, I'd been left speechless. This was too much to process.
"Let's roll," Ranger said, placing his hand at the small of my back and leading my speechless form out the door.