Story disclaimers are all in Chapter 1.


Chapter 9: The Twelve Days of Christmas

"Nah, girlfriend," Lula batted falling snowflakes from her face with her mitten. "Ain't no point to digging out that car of yours. Like your dad told you, it ain't going nowhere anyhow, on account of your battery being dead by now." She turned and nudged Stephanie with her elbow. "Unless, it's 'cause you want to dig it out so your grandma can visit it sooner at the car parts funeral home."

As Stephanie burst into laughter, Lula continued speaking. "Now that would actually make some sense. Your grandma would give your car a good send-off, maybe even get it in the newspaper or something. Probably you could get Officer Hottie to dig it out for you. Or maybe a couple of those hot Rangemen. And you know, I could wait around for that."

Stephanie pursed her lips; her breath plumed into the snowy mix in the air. "Joe and I broke up," she said, staring at the untouched seven-foot mound of snow-buried car. Well, it was untouched except for where she'd waded through the snow drift to kick it, earlier, before calling Lula for a ride. And, well, probably this was her car, since this was where she'd left it.

"Uh huh," Lula replied. "I knew that. At least I heard from Connie that he's been out hound-dogging while you were away. But that don't make no difference, 'cause you two have been broke up before. I reckon a nice shoveling workout followed by a few warm-up activities back in your place is all you need to get that fire stoked between you, again."

"No, seriously Lula. I don't want to stoke that particular fire again. Joe and I are over. Finito," she emphasized, though the thought of cozying up to a different delicious warmth didn't sound bad, at all. Which reminded her of her final phonecall with Ranger last night. That is, the call after Ramon from Rangeman finished repairing her bedroom power outlet ("Hey Bombshell, just checking: you weren't trying to set your apartment on fire, right?"), plugged in the space heater he'd brought, and headed back to wherever Ramon went when he wasn't saving the day. Or night, in this case.

And what a delicious night it had been. As her memory unrolled a particularly warmth-inducing moment in her phonecall, her focus drifted. Despite the cold air and falling snow, she found herself fanning her face.

Then she briefly flicked her eyes toward Lula. Yup, her skip-tracing wingman knew there was more that Stephanie wasn't saying. She briefly wondered: should she think of Lula as a wingwoman? Wingperson? Or maybe wing-Lula, since her partner in cornering skips for bounties was certainly unique. As her current puffy, safety yellow parka and hat attested.

"Girlfriend, what particular fire do you want to stoke? 'Cause right now, there's something you ain't telling me," Lula confirmed Stephanie's suspicions. She pivoted toward Stephanie, hands on hips. Or, at least, where her hips probably were located underneath her voluminous coat. "Oh wait, homegirl. Is Ranger back in town? I bet he is, 'cause that man is a hot hunk of burning fire on two drool worthy legs. Mmm hmm," she nodded.

"No Lula, Ranger isn't back in Trenton," she attempted to dodge around the Ranger topic; it was still too fresh and real in her mind to share.

"Okay, girl, that's fine 'cause I bet you found some fine honeys down on those Florida beaches. Hangin' out, all ripped and oiled for the sun in their Speedos. Mmm hmm. Or maybe duded up and drinking Piña Coladas on the veranda. Enough to make you forget all about the tired old drama up here and start planning something new."

"Yeah, something like that," Stephanie allowed with a vague shrug. Feeling the cold starting to numb her toes, Stephanie stomped her boots. "So, anyhow, can you give me a ride to Vinnie's so I can check in?"

"Why you want to go into work, first thing, instead of getting coffee and dishing about those honeys on the beach? Ain't nothing going on at Vinnie's, I can tell you that right now. Or if anything is going on, it's happening in Vinnie's back office. And believe me, you'd need brain bleach to forget about that if, for example, you happened to see something you never wanted to, after taking a wrong turn on account of being distracted while playing Candy Crush on your phone. Just for example."

Okay, that was oddly specific, and not something Stephanie wanted to pursue in any way. She shook her head. "Come on, maybe Vinnie has a job for us. We could pick that up and then go get brunch." She turned toward Lula's latest car, which was parked by the building entrance. And wow, who knew that it was still possible to buy a sky blue Geo Metro? Well, sky blue except for the panels covered with primer paint. Oh hey, and a four-by-four piece of lumber as a front bumper.

It was unique, just like Lula. Well, given what she recalled of her own current car, buried under several feet of snow, her car was equally unique. Possibly a quarter of the car body was touched-up Bondo cement instead of metal. Overall, it had a sort-of Beagle inspired color pattern.

Lula sniffed, unaware of Stephanie's deep ruminations, and then turned to follow her. "Well, I gotta admit that getting out of this here cold, and getting brunch, are two top-notch ideas. I could pass on Vinnie's, on account of them not having any skips to pick up for the past several weeks, but that's up to you."

Plodding through the crusts of previous storms' snowdrifts back to Lula's car, Stephanie puffed her breath through pursed lips. The steam of her exhale billowed on the lazy air, where plushy, new snowflakes continued to gently fall. They covered and purified the sandy snow boulders left by plows, filled in her prior bootsteps to remove traces of her passage, and gave the cloudy sunshine an opalescent glow.

It was actually almost pretty. Stephanie reached her mittens up to catch some falling flakes. "Lula, we're living in a snow globe," she marveled. As she watched, the snowflakes on her palms nestled into her mittens' weave and melted into glistening droplets of water.

"We're living in the goddamn arctic," Lula countered, reaching her car. "We just need to find us some handsome hunks to rub noses with, like them eskimos do." She snorted, unlocking her car and opening the door with a rusty creak. "Now I know that eskimo song is from some children's movie, 'cause all they're rubbing is noses, but you can fill in the blanks with your own imagination."

Stephanie laughed while Lula fiddled with her key to open the door, got in, and reached over to pop the inside lock on the passenger door. Opening the door, Stephanie stomped her boots again to release the snow clinging to the top and wedged in the treads. Then she got into the car. She wrestled with the seatbelt while Lula coaxed the engine to start.

"Now you sure you want to go to the bonds shop?" Lula asked as she turned on the heat, which mostly managed to direct a column of chilled air right into her and Stephanie's faces. "You could just call Connie while we're in the car, and then we can head over to the food court at the mall." She turned on her windshield wipers to clear the snow that had accumulated outside, and leaned over the steering wheel to wipe moisture from the inside with her mitten.

After finding that the vent blowing on her was stuck open, Stephanie covered it with her own mittened hand. "Lula, I called Connie a couple days ago, before I came back from Florida. I just figure I should stop in, just in case, you know." But, why are you avoiding Vinnie's?" Stephanie squinted, turning toward her.

"No reason. Mostly I'm just tired of going there to watch Connie do her nails and read Cosmo and People while there ain't any work. No skips for me, you know. Which means there ain't any money for me." She nodded in conclusion. "Which means there ain't no reason to go there."

The vents began exhaling lukewarm air while Lula began inching the car forward. It crunched and squeaked through plow-smoothed snow as they made their way to the parking lot's exit. Then, at the first break in oncoming vehicles, she gunned her car into traffic, which caused it to skid for a few seconds on the road's mixture of snow and ice before steadying. Stephanie released the dashboard and sat back. "Lula, it's okay if you just want to drop me off at Vinnie's and go do something else."

"Naw, girl. I got your back. Ain't gonna just dump and run." She slowed at the intersection, then turned right, mushing through the pressed snow left by other cars. She turned her windshield wipers to high as splashes of salted slush flipped up like divots from the tires of the car in front of them.

Through the splashes, Stephanie gazed out the window. A part of her was pleased to see other snow-buried cars along the route, like lines of gigantic, Black and White Krimpets whose copious vanilla frosting had melted down the sides. The most striking thing, though, was that all the familiar places almost seemed to have shrunk in the past five weeks, and aged under fringes of hoarfrost and icicles.

They passed Pete's Pawn, where she'd bought her most recent answering machine, next to the no-name convenience store where she'd almost shot someone. After that was the security-gated liquor store, followed by Nguyen Lo's Pizza, with the decades-old mustachioed Italian pizza chef painted on the glass next to a neon dragon.

And, as they stopped at another red light, they were across from Madame Zelda's psychic reading shop, with its flashing strings of star and moon lights. In a nod to the season, a foot-tall Santa rocked back and forth in the front window under the sign promising to "reveal past lives and divine the fortunate future." Stephanie nibbled her lip, wondering about Santa's past life. Would that explain how he was able to afford all those toys for the good little girls and boys? Possibly it was like the mystery of Ranger's cars.

"Hey Homegirl," Lula turned to her. "Do you remember why we never went to Madame Zelda's last spring? I remember, you and Joe were thinking about marriage again, and I was trying to figure out if it was worthwhile staying with Sam Shortstaff. And you know his name should've told me right up front that the answer was 'no' since I wasn't going to get any satisfaction. Yeah, that name was some truth in advertising. Though he could've also been called Sam Shortcash, and that would've been true, too."

Stephanie laughed. "I think it was because Zelda told your friend Coco that she was Cleopatra in a past life."

"Yeah, that's right," Lula nodded as she stepped on the gas. The car slipped sideways for an instant before getting traction and moving forward through the intersection. "That's how we knew Zelda had to be a fake, 'cause I already know that I was Cleopatra. No point in going to someone who don't know what she's doing."

"That's right," Stephanie agreed, recalling that she'd told Joe about that conversation with Lula. She was considering whether to go to Zelda's, even if Lula didn't. After all, she had a lot of questions about that fortunate future that Zelda promised to reveal.

And, though she had her doubts, she also was curious about the past life thing. So, she'd mentioned that maybe she'd been someone like Annie Oakley in a past life. Or maybe Amelia Earhart. Of course, Joe had revealed more about himself than about her by instead suggesting she'd probably been Bonnie, of Bonnie and Clyde fame. She wasn't entirely sure who he'd cast as Clyde, but she didn't think it was Joe in a previous life. Yup, that conversation had ended badly.

No wonder she'd forgotten it until now.

While she pondered, Lula had turned on the car's radio and was bopping in place to the rhythmic tune currently being played. Stephanie didn't understand any of the songs' words through the tinny built-in speakers. But she had a different, pleasant understanding of the song's percussive beat, which a bass speaker somewhere in the car rumbled directly into her seat, providing a very special massage. Whoa boy, she squirmed; mmm, she should definitely get one of these for her car. Maybe for her couch and kitchen chair, too.

And of course she'd said that out loud. Because Lula brought her back from her happy place by exclaiming, "Yeah, you got that right, Homegirl. When my Firebird finally died, I made Doobie Donnie take the speaker out and install it in this one. Of course the trunk floor is kinda weak on account of the rust holes, so he just bolted it on the backseat floor, right up against my seat. But, as a passenger comfort feature, it travels right through that hump in the floor, back there, over to yours."

As an advertisement started playing, Lula reached forward to change the channel. "Cars may come and go, but that speaker is staying with me. Doobie Donnie is a man who understands the importance of a gal having the right accessories."

Stephanie snorted as the current song's urgent vibrations stirred her into a warmth she really hadn't expected to feel while away from her showerhead. "I may need Doobie Donnie's phone number."

"Yeah, I can hook you up. He said he could get a new speaker anytime from the shop his brother runs on the side," Lula nodded as she turned onto Hamilton, within sight of Vincent Plum's Bail Bonds.

As she scanned for a parking space, Lula darted a glance toward Stephanie. "Girlfriend, so you know what to expect…. You remember Melvin Pickle? Well, while you've been away, Vinnie's had him go pick up a couple FTAs. I rode along with him a couple times early in the month. You know, for a little Christmas money. And to help him learn the job. Just casual, you know, so don't think I'm cheating on you or nothing. And I ain't been back for a few weeks, since there weren't no new skips to pick up."

"Okay," Stephanie replied, not particularly worried about Lula's loyalty. She figured Lula was as much of a gig worker as she was. Mostly she was glad her sometimes partner had been able to earn a little cash over the past several weeks. "Earning money for Christmas is good and… whoa!"

Stephanie unconsciously braced against the dashboard as Lula accelerated into a fishtailing U-turn that sprayed slops of snow on the cars parked on the opposite side of the street. Which was now the side of the street they were on. Stephanie blinked, leaning back in her seat.

"Got us a parking place," Lula boasted as she stopped the car, and then began angling into an open spot.

Meanwhile Stephanie began to understand why Ranger never really liked to be a passenger when he could drive. Filing away the "driving with Lula" story to tell Ranger later, she smiled. Because she knew he'd be there to take her call.

And, at that very moment, she felt her phone buzz with a text. She dug it out of her purse. Of course, it was a message from Ranger. How on earth did the man know when she was thinking of him? Then she shrugged; he was Ranger, of course he knew.

"Babe how was breakfast?" he'd typed.

Lurching slightly as Lula continued her back-and-forth process to parallel park, Stephanie typed back: "Yummy. Donuts. Crumb cake. Thanks." She pressed Send, then quickly added: "Going to Vinnie's now."

The little dots hovered while Ranger typed his reply: "Let me know if I need to shoot anyone."

She snorted, then typed, "Will do, b4n." Then she grinned, smug that she'd used the "bye for now" abbreviation her friend Lauren had taught her, back in Key Biscayne. One of so many little lifestyle improvements she'd gotten to sample while living in beachside luxury.

"Okay, Girl. You ready?" Lula had finished parking and turned off the car while Stephanie was busy with her phone.

"Yup, let's do this," she said, unhooking her seatbelt and opening her door.

After a short mush across the street, Stephanie opened Vinnie's door and stepped inside, followed by Lula. She'd forgotten about the buzzer that sounded briefly whenever the door opened. And also about the pervasive scent of dry cleaning from the shop next door that mingled with the perfume of stale coffee and Connie's nail polish remover.

She hadn't forgotten, though, that Connie played greatest hits on her tinny, desktop radio all day. Although today it seemed to be tuned to a more holiday-oriented station, with a group singing about Christmastide, the week that went up to Epiphany in early January. Stephanie mentally shrugged; her Great-Grandma Plum used to listen to carols through that whole week, though she didn't know anyone still did. Anyway, it was better than listening to whatever Vinnie had playing in his office. No matter the day; no matter the radio station that Connie chose.

"Hello Lula," Connie glanced up. "Oh, hello and welcome back Stephanie. And before you ask, we still don't have any open FTAs on the books."

"That's okay, I figured I'd stop by anyway, just to let you know I'm back in town," Stephanie thumped her boots against each other to release snow onto the moist entryway rug. She then unzipped her coat while following the frequently trod carpet over to the counter in front of Connie's desk. "How have you been?"

"You know," she replied in her nasal, Betty Boop voice. "Same old, same old. Vinnie's still a jerk; the landlord still won't fix the heating," Connie shrugged and set down her magazine. Stephanie couldn't make out the title through the banner text that trumpeted the secrets of how to effortlessly melt away fat and purported to teach the steps for addicting men through revealed mysteries of the bedroom. Yup, same old, same old.

"Well," Lula sniffed. Ain't no secret that both of them are penny pinchers. But this here painting of gambling dogs is new. So that's something."

Connie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, the big jamoke took it in trade for one of the few bonds we issued, last month. I think he also got a racehorse out of the deal, because now he's getting racing forms in the mail." Her eyes darted toward Vinnie's closed office door, in the back hallway. "Hopefully his gambling sense is better than his ability to figure out which people's bails to bond."

Stephanie snorted. "I never heard you say that. So, anyway, Lula and I are headed out for brunch. Since it's slow, do you want to join us?"

Connie tapped her desk with mounded, acrylic fingernails that were tinted the same shade of orchid red as her lipstick. "No can do," she shrugged. "It may be slow, but you never know when business might show up. Besides, Vinnie might actually notice." Her gaze slanted toward the far wall with its tired brown sofa and ticking wall clock. "Well, it's great to see you, but you gals should head out before the shopping rush hits the restaurants. We can get caught up later."

"Will you call me if anything comes in? Or should I check in with you?" Stephanie pulled together her coat, fumbling to seat the two halves of the zipper together.

"Yeah, I'll call. But…," Connie paused with a frown that Stephanie almost didn't catch as she looked up from her stubborn zipper. Connie rushed to add in a quiet voice, "Don't expect much. You might want to hit up Les Sebring's bond division. Or Best Bet Bonds over in Franklin Park. Give them my name, instead of Vinnie's, as a reference."

"Okay," Stephanie drew out the word, squinting as she tried to figure out Connie's facial expression. She glanced at Lula, who also seemed to be watching Connie with unusual calculation.

At that moment, the front door swung open with unusual vigor, knob hitting the wall, with its buzzer sounding almost like it was scoring an Olympic door opening event. A sparkplug of a man wearing a trendy, dark leather barn coat strode through the doorway. An inch or so shorter than Stephanie, he was built wide like a boxer; an impression that was supported by his flattened, lopsided nose. Not to mention his pugnacious stance as he stopped next to Stephanie.

"Hey Rosolli, what'cha got for me?" he said, removing and then slapping his suede gloves down on the counter. "Hello miss," he turned briefly to Stephanie, then looked back at Connie.

"Um," Connie said, eyes darting from the man, over to Stephanie, then back to her desk.

Stephanie gave up on closing her coat and instead reached out to shake the stranger's hand in introduction. "Hello, I'm Stephanie Plum."

"Ah, like Vinnie Plum. You must be the cousin who disappeared on vacation." He took her hand in a grip that was no-doubt meant to assert his strength, based on the straining of his oversized knuckles. His eyes flashed in surprise as he apparently hadn't expected Stephanie's own hand strength, endowed by whichever raw-boned, ancestral farmers or ox wranglers who had contributed to her build.

After a brusque shake, he released her hand and stepped back. His gaze traveled up and down her form and lingering in the area of her bosom. An area of her body that Stephanie knew to be quite acceptable, yet nothing requiring an extended double-take. "Vinnie mentioned you were working on being a bounty hunter." He finally tilted his eyes back up to hers. With a wink, he added, "If you want to ride along with me, I can show you how it's done in the 'big city'."

Stephanie blinked and felt her jaw drop. Connie jolted back in her chair, her eyes widened. Lula bustled forward, hands once again on her down padded, safety yellow hips.

"And who the heck are you?" Lula squinted with the hint of a rampaging rhino smoldering in her eyes.

"Lady, I could ask the same question of you. But if you're looking to get a bond, this is the place. Connie, here, can hook you up."

Connie shifted in her chair and seemed to develop a sudden and quite unaccustomed interest in her filing cabinet. Wow, Stephanie thought, who knew there were actually file folders in there, and not just backup handcuffs, old stun guns, and Vinnie's extra bottles of BuyRite Liquor's bargain whiskey?

"Bruno, this is Lula," Connie muttered while pulling out a folder. "She's Stephanie's partner." Connie turned back to her desk, lips pressed in a line. "Stephanie, Lula... this is Bruno Boucher. Vinnie hired him a couple weeks ago."

"Connie," Stephanie straightened, her own voice and eyes revealing the raging rhino within. "How did you not mention this any of the times I called?" She inhaled, squinting as she mentally reviewed their conversations. Then she sputtered, "I talked to you two days ago. How did you forget to mention Bruno, here? He seems memorable enough."

Connie's lips pursed as though she'd suddenly realized her lipstick was blended from bitter persimmons rather than fragrant orchids. "I don't know, Steph. Partly, I guess, it's because we've been through a lot together, all of us, and I didn't want to be the bearer of bad news. That's Vinnie's job." Then, probably seeing the glint in Stephanie's eyes, not to mention the fact that Stephanie was leaning forward as if to charge, Connie added, "But also, the way you were talking, I guess I kinda figured you were going to move to Florida, so it wouldn't matter. I did tell you that there weren't any skips for you. That was true."

"Uh huh," Lula punctuated the conversation with her own skepticism. "You figured I was moving to Florida, too?"

"No, Lula," Connie sighed. "You just haven't been here since Vinnie hired Bruno. But I also heard through the grapevine you'd picked up a job driving for the ambulance company. Even if it's just on weekends, I know they pay better than you'll get here. So, I figured you'd moved on."

Bruno's sharp gaze flicked between the women as they spoke. His lips quirked with amusement while his eyes were calculating. Stephanie had met people like him before; she was sure he was tucking this all away to use for his benefit, later.

"Uh huh," Lula replied, distrust telegraphed through the tone of her voice and her impressively raised eyebrow. "Okay, so where's Melvin?" Lula asked as though that had now become the main point of the discussion.

"Melvin Shmelvin," Vinnie emerged from his office, apparently having fixed the tell-tale squeaking of his door hinges that used to warn everyone that he was about to skitter into the office like an oversized rat. "Melvin the Pickle belongs behind the desk at the DMV, or maybe at a counter at the bowling alley. He shakes like a rabbit if he just sees a gun." He shook his head. "Melvin makes Stephanie look pro grade."

"Hey," Stephanie hitched her purse more firmly onto her shoulder and glared at her cousin. Hands on her hips, lined up with Lula in a formation of female wrath, she spit, "I had the highest rate of skips brought in across all of Trenton for over six months running. Each year I've been in the top ten across all of New Jersey. I've found and brought in gangsters and hardened criminals." She paused, darting a look beside her. "Me and Lula. We did that."

"You tell him, Homegirl," Lula nodded.

Vinnie rolled his eyes, picking up a pile of mail from Connie's desk. "Stephanie, you had the highest rate because— in between the occasional gangster and hardened criminal— I scoop in the highest number of low-bail gabbagools… the idiots who are softballs to bring in. It's the Vincent Plum business model," his pigeon chest puffed out slightly with pride. "High volume, lower risk. The books show steady profits and my agents get decent pay without as many chances to get dead."

"That is such bullshit, Vinnie," Stephanie said, not worrying about her delicate foray into what her mother would call unladylike language. This was Vinnie, and he was a weasel. "If your skips are lower risk, then explain Anton Ward, Kenny Mancuso, Kenny Martin, Lonnie Johnson… any number of rapists, arsonists, domestic violence charges, armed assault. Explain the bond for Joe Morelli. Explain the bond for Ranger. They're not low risk softballs."

Vinnie looked up from his perusal of the mail. The apparent pity in his expression was belied by the smarmy tilt of his lips. "Stephanie," he shook his head. "Stephanie, this is the bail bonds business. People need bonds because they've been arrested. They're not nice people arrested for overdue library books or cheating at Go Fish. They're criminals. Most of the people you named were relatively easy bonds, which is why I didn't give them to Rangeman." His gaze turned feral. "Oh, and when they actually became difficult, you batted your eyes and got Mañoso or one of his guys to help out. So blow me. You disappear for weeks? Well, I hired Bruno, with his five years experience in fugitive recovery up in Providence."

"Now that there is some repugnant, revisionist shit." Lula apparently looked fierce enough that Bruno— with his five years of experience and fashionable tough-guy coat— actually took a step backward.

"Whatever," Vinnie shook his head, putting down all the mail except for a glossy mailer from Meadowlands Racetrack and an envelope that looked suspiciously like a Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes invitation. Then he looked up, contemplating both Stephanie and Lula. "Jeez, you take everything as a criticism. Get over it. I frankly never cared how you managed to bring skips in, as long as I didn't get sued or anything. I'm open minded that way."

Stephanie and Lula both hissed out their breath at the same time, and even Vinnie took a step back. Though he covered it by reaching down to pour a cup of brackish coffee from the machine on the far filing cabinet. The one with the bargain booze in the bottom drawer.

"Look Steph, that's all water under the bridge. You left and I had to make up the slack. I was lucky to find Bruno, here." Everyone's gaze slanted over to the man, who was now studiously reading the copy of People Magazine that had been on Connie's counter. Apparently he was deeply into Taylor Swift, if his focused perusal of the glossy, two page spread was any indication.

"You know what? Fine." Stephanie ground out. "Connie, I think I'm still owed the check for a couple of low valued skips in November. Maybe for Eula and for Lorne Floffman. Just… just send it to my parents' address." She turned toward the door, shaking her head.

Then Bruno looked up. "My offer for you to ride along with me is still open. Just call me," he murmured unctuously while scribbling something on a scrap of paper. Of course, despite the faux intimacy of his voice, everyone in the room heard him. All eyes swiveled again to Bruno, whose hand was still in the air, clutching the scrap of paper that probably had his phone number on it. Probably reading the room correctly, he pulled it back, scrunching the paper and dropping it in his coat pocket.

In the resulting moment of silence, Connie's radio started playing a particularly bouncy version of The Twelve Days of Christmas.

Vinnie grimaced, "Connie, what the hell. You know Christmas is over, right? Let's leave Santa behind and move on."

"Yes Mr. Grinch," Connie snapped back. "Because God forbid we should have holiday music during the actual twelve days of Christmas." She shook her head, furiously spinning the channel knob until she reached a station playing Metallica. "There. Happy now?"

"Cripes!" Vinnie started to throw up his hands in exasperation, splashing coffee on his wrist and dropping his racing flyer. "Son of an ass-badger!" he shouted as he put down his cup and reached for the flyer. "What the heck. I'm going back to my office, where it's goddamn safe. Bruno, stop by before you head out. The rest of you? It's been effing real." He snarled and turned, stalking back to his lair.

Stephanie smirked when the effect of his fury was dampened by his whine as he accidentally hit his coffee-scalded arm on the door frame. The slam of his door vibrated the framed, poker-playing dogs against the wall.

"Come on Lula, let's get donuts," she said, turning to her friend, who was currently matching baleful glares with Bruno like a pair of furious, empty bookends. If she were still friends with Connie, she'd consider betting whether the two of them would eventually get together. But those days were over.

She put her hand on Lula's arm, gently pulling her away from her staring contest. "Come on," she nudged.

And then the front door opened and Joyce Barnhardt strode in. "Oh Stephanie's back. And Lula, too. How fun," her voice dripped with jaded boredom. Then her expression changed, a saccharine smile overtaking her face as she walked over to Connie's desk. "Bruno, you got here before me, you sly dog. Any good skips we can go find?" She smugly turned to Stephanie. "Bruno and I work really, really well together." She had the audacity to wink, while Bruno had the common sense to look like he was scoping escape routes.

While Stephanie ground her teeth, Lula shook her head.

"Hmm," Lula exhaled. "Connie, maybe you also forgot to mention this biyotch, while you were all busy forgetting to mention Bruno, here. Whole lotta forgetting going on," She huffed, and this time she pulled at Stephanie's arm. "Kinda like how my homegirl and I have already forgotten about you. That kind of thing happens up in here."

"Connie who?" Stephanie smirked her approval of Lula's words, evoking her friend's laugh. They then walked out the door into the still-swirling snow.

"Now that's some shit," Lula said, putting on her mittens.

"No kidding," Stephanie agreed while fumbling again to close her coat. "But you have to tell me about the ambulance job. That sounded kinda good," she said, firmly focusing on the positives coming from the day, thus far.

"Yeah, sorry I didn't mention that before. I was figuring we'd have time to dish about that later, while you told me about all your smokin' adventures in Miami. But yeah, it's a good gig. I get to drive with a siren, which was the only thing missing when you and I went after skips. And I get to go right through red lights while helping save peoples' lives. So that's all good." She exhaled, releasing a moist plume into the air. "And, it actually pays okay. Now I'm thinking I could study for the EMT test. If I do that, I can get more shifts and more pay, too."

As they started across the street to her car, she nudged Stephanie. "You know what? You could take the EMT test, too. That way we could still drive together. The Dynamic Duo, saving lives and making it count."

Stephanie smiled, truly happy for Lula's persistent ability to rebound from problems and to find ways her friends could benefit along with her. Of course, Stephenie already knew that she'd seen enough disaster, injury, and death over the past couple of years to last a lifetime. And despite what Lula and Ranger might think she wasn't particularly good with gunshots and blood, either.

But, grateful to Lula, she simply said, "That could be fun. But I have to think about it."

"Sure thing," Lula agreed as they reached her car and pulled out her keys.

As Stephanie walked to the passenger side, her phone vibrated with a text. She patted her pockets until she found it, and took a peek. It was from Ranger: "Anyone I need to shoot, yet?"

Stephanie snorted in laughter, then squinted. Was there a particular reason why Ranger was asking? Was there a reason he'd texted before and after she went to Vinnie's? Glad that she hadn't yet put on her mittens, she stopped in place, her fingers shaking slightly as she typed: "Did you know about Bruno?"

Seconds later, Ranger replied: "Bruno who? New skip?" He paused, then another message appeared: "Your mother setting you up again? On a stakeout, but can call her later. Set her straight."

Stephanie's breath evened out; of course Ranger hadn't known about Vinnie's sneaky maneuver. If he'd known, he wouldn't have hid it from her. She then felt a twinge of guilt for even imagining such a thing from the man who always told her the truth as best he could. Then, her imagination caught up with an image of Ranger calling to scold her mother. A silly grin fought to break through her stern expression. She typed back: "No. He's Vinnie's new hire. Replaced me."

Ranger replied: "Oh. Call Bobby for backup if there's anyone you need to shoot."

She typed back, "Don't tempt me. Am with Lula. She's probably packing. Over and out." She then put her phone back in her pocket.

"Let's get donuts," she said while getting into Lula's car. "And pineapple upside down cake. And maybe some ice cream."

"On it, Girlfriend. We're going straight to Italian Peoples Bakery for emergency desserts," Lula affirmed, reading Stephanie's thoughts. "And see, if I were in one of those ambulances, I could turn on the siren to get there even faster.

"I can sure see the appeal," Stephanie bucked her seatbelt and settled back for the drive. "Maybe next time," she snorted, looking toward Lula. Things had changed, Stephanie knew, and she could see that they were going their separate ways. But that was okay. Lula was someone who didn't give up on her friends, and neither was Stephanie. They might not be as close as she was with her besties-for-life, Mary Lou, with their lifetime of long phonecalls and shared pains and joys. Despite that, Lula was her friend.

Yup, she'd be calling Lula sometimes, too, even after they weren't working together anymore. After all, they'd shared some pretty amazing times together. Really, who else would believe some of what they'd been through?

To be continued...