Thanks to Jago Ji. There is no better beta :-)
O Shot
"An O shot?" I asked.
"Yeah," Lula said. "It helps your lady parts work better."
"I didn't know there was anything wrong with your lady parts," I said, regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth.
"Ain't nothing wrong, exactly, but I think I could use some fine tunin'. Ever since that deal with Benito," she stopped to do a full-body shiver, and I did one, too.
"Well, ever since that time things just ain't been quite the same. This shot is a miracle worker. It's turns little o's into capital O's, if you know what I mean."
"I think I can figure it out," I replied.
"It's just one quick shot, right down there where it counts, and suddenly you're quivering like a rocket about to blast off, and when you do blast off…"
"Stop! TMI!" I said.
"TMI? Hunh. Ain't no such thing as TMI between good friends. And since we're such good friends I need you to drive me to the clinic. They're gonna give me a relaxing kind of shot before the O shot and I might need someone to drive me home."
I was relieved. I knew she was going to try and involve me in this O shot business and driving her to and from an appointment seemed liked the best-case scenario.
"Sure," I said. "I'd be happy to drive you. When's your appointment?"
"Today, in a half hour. And we need to take my Firebird. I'm not riding in that hunk a junk you drive. I need the comfort of soft leather seats…for afterward, you know."
I rolled my eyes but didn't comment. My afternoon was free due to a temporary lull in bad guys missing their court dates. I'd handed Connie a body receipt for the last file I had earlier in the day. I was good for a week or two, then I'd have to hope something else came in. Rent was coming due.
We left the bonds office with Lula driving. Apparently, I didn't get the honor of driving her baby until she was incapacitated by a tranquilizer. The doctor's office was in the Burg, in an area I was familiar with. The small office was a converted row house in the middle of the block, directly across the street from St. Michael's Church.
"I don't remember there ever being a doctor's office here," I said. "Is this place new?"
"Yeah, it hasn't been here long. Looks like they're doing great business. We're gonna have to park on the side street. All the front spaces are full."
We parked around the corner and walked back to the building. There was a large sign above the door that proclaimed, "New Origins Health Care." The letters were blue, all but the O which was painted bright pink. Not the most subtle of statements I thought.
"Is this a women's clinic?" I asked.
"Women's and men's," Lula said. "Men can come here and get that little blue pill. They can get an O shot, too, but when a man gets it, they call it the P shot cuz the needle goes right into their…"
"I get it," I said.
The waiting room looked like any other doctor's office. Beige chairs sat around the perimeter on a slightly darker beige carpet. The walls were paneled but had been painted white. It was spotlessly clean and empty and looked to be a normal office.
"I thought you were really busy," Lula told the receptionist. "We had to park around the side. There weren't any spots out front."
The receptionist frowned. "Sorry about that. Those spots in front are reserved for our patients, and those church ladies know it. They're getting ready for another one of their meetings. I'm going to call the cops and have their cars towed!"
"Don't bother on our account," Lula said. "We found a good spot right around the corner."
The door to the exam area opened and a young man wearing scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck smiled at us. "Lula, we're ready for you."
"Hunh," Lula said. "Are you the nurse?"
"I am."
"This is gonna be interesting. How long is this gonna take?" She turned and pointed to me. "My friend Stephanie here is waiting."
"No longer than thirty minutes," he said. "Can I get you anything while you're waiting, ma'am? A cup of coffee or a bottle of water?" he asked me.
I declined and settled in to wait as the door closed behind them.
Shortly after Lula went back the outer door opened and two women came in. Neither of them had a long wait and once again, I was alone in the waiting room. Thirty minutes later the inner door reopened, and I looked up expecting to see Lula. It was one of the women who'd arrived after her. Five minutes later the door opened again, and the second woman came out. No Lula. My eye started to twitch.
I waited another ten minutes before I went to the reception desk and rang the bell, as the receptionist was nowhere in sight. The young nurse who'd taken Lula back came to the desk. "May I help you?" he asked.
"Yeah, I was wondering about Lula. It's been a while. Is she doing okay?"
"Lula?" He looked confused for a moment, and then said, "Oh, you were waiting for her! Just a moment, and I'll be right out." He turned and left the reception area and in a few seconds came through the door into the waiting room. He was carrying something poison green in his hand. When I recognized it as Lula's mini skirt, my eye twitch worsened.
"This is Lula's skirt," he said, handing me the small neatly folded piece of spandex. "Be careful," he continued. "Her thong is folded inside. You wouldn't want to drop it."
"Where's Lula?" I asked. My temper had started a slow simmer. This wouldn't be the first time I'd been stranded when Lula had conveniently forgotten my presence and left the scene without me.
"Lula changed her mind about the procedure when she saw the needle on the syringe. It's not big, but it can be intimidating when you realize where the doctor plans to put it. She left still wrapped up in the exam drape sheet. She can keep the sheet, but she might want her clothes back."
My hand tightened around the green skirt. She must have gone out a back door because she hadn't come through the waiting room. I turned and headed for the exit.
"She left through the side door and I recommend you do, too!" I heard the words, but they didn't penetrate my temper fog until I had one foot over the threshold.
I looked up to see a mob of women marching in a circle, some carrying signs. Great. The receptionist's remark about the church ladies was beginning to make sense. I closed the door behind me and started down the steps. Something struck me in the head and immediately a warm ooze started sliding down my neck. I fell back against the railing. I'd been shot! I raised my hand to my head and felt the goo. Blood! Then I realized there was no pain. I looked at my hand. It was tomato. I'd been tomatoed!
"Immoral whore!"
"Sex Purveyor!"
"Nymphomaniac prostitute!"
Instinctively I turned to see to whom they were directing their comments. Since I was the only one on the porch, I figured it out pretty quickly. Pow! Pow! Two more tomatoes, both of them direct hits.
"How dare you go to a sex doctor in the shadow of a holy building!" one of the sign holders yelled. I was going to kill Lula.
"I didn't," I said but I could see it would be pointless to explain. I gauged the distance to the corner. I didn't hold out much hope I'd find Lula in the Firebird, but I had to get out of there. A moving target was harder to hit so I took off running. My foot hit smashed tomato at the base of the steps and I wind-milled wildly in an effort to keep my balance. I pitched forward as a woman with a sign advanced on me, and then everything went black.
"What were you thinking?" Joe demanded.
"I was thinking I needed a ride home and that you'd give me one," I said. I held my hand to the goose-egg on my forehead. My head was pounding, and I hoped we could make it back to the apartment before I threw up. I had a concussion, caused by the supposedly accidental collision my head had with the sign one of the church ladies was wielding.
"I am giving you a ride," Joe said. "I mean what were you thinking going to that quack shack?"
"It's not a quack shack," I said. "It's a legitimate clinic where they deal with sexual dysfunction."
"I didn't know you had sexual dysfunction," Joe said, and continued before I could answer. "I thought you were just, uh, conservative. You could have told me there was a problem. Now everyone knows. Channel Three was there and I think you're going to be on the evening news."
"Conservative?" I asked, "What do you mean conservative?" And then the rest of what he'd said sunk in. Channel Three! "I didn't see a news crew there," I said weakly. Suddenly the hammering headache was worse.
"You didn't see the news crew because you were unconscious, lying in a pile of rotting fruits and vegetables, but they saw you. The idiot reporter kept trying to interview you, until a paramedic shoved him out of the way."
"I was on TV?" I asked, bile rising in my throat. "Oh no, pull over. I'm gonna be sick." He did and I was. I closed the door on the mess I'd made of the gutter and Joe shot me a sideways glance.
"Are you okay?" he said.
"No," I said. My head was throbbing, and I wasn't entirely sure I was going make it home without having him pull over again. "I can't remember what happened. I was leaving the clinic and the next thing I know I was on the ground with an EMT looking down at me and some woman in the background screaming that she didn't mean to hit me, even though I was a prostitute."
"I think it was an accident," Joe said. "And you can't really blame her for thinking you were a prostitute. I mean you were at a sex clinic."
"It's a doctor's office, Joe," I said, my voice raspy from my recent gutter event. And then I remembered his earlier comment, "What do you mean I'm conservative?"
"You know what I mean, Cupcake. There are things you just won't do, and things that don't seem to do it for you…Cupcake, have you been faking it?"
"Faking what?" I asked knowing exactly what he was talking about.
"It," he said. "Why didn't you tell me you have a problem?"
"Maybe you're the one with the problem," I said.
There was the very real possibility that I was going to be sick again. I hadn't thought I could feel worse, but the sudden rising of my temper wasn't helping. I could have told him that I was at the clinic only as Lula's driver and not a patient, but perversely, I didn't. He wasn't in the mood to listen, and I didn't think I needed to explain myself to him. After all, I was a victim.
I was the victim of crazy women, both Lula and the woman who'd clobbered me with her sign. And I was being driven home by my boyfriend who thought I was sexually dysfunctional and yet pissed off because I'd tried to do something about it.
We were quiet the rest of the way to my apartment, and I made it without getting sick again. Joe frowned as he pulled into my parking lot. "Where's your car?" he asked. "Don't tell me it's at that clinic!"
I put my hand to my head, grimacing as my fingers traveled over the large lump on my forehead. Where was my car? Oh yeah, now I remembered.
"It's at the office," I said. "You can take me there."
"You probably shouldn't be driving anyway," he said. "I'll take you to your mother's. I'm running late."
"Wait!" I said. "Running late for what? The doctor said I shouldn't be alone, and I thought…I mean you already planned to come over tonight. Didn't you?"
"I did, but something came up," he said.
"What came up?"
Joe sighed. "I'm sorry. Really, I am, but I can't stay here with you tonight. I'm already taking heat because my girlfriend had to get a sex shot. I think it would be better if we weren't together tonight."
"Because the guys would tease you?" I asked.
"I can't spend the night with you after you've had a shot to make you…uh, respond better. I don't want to have to put up with all the crap I'd get about…"
"I have a concussion!" I exclaimed. "Even if you weren't being a jerk, you wouldn't be getting lucky tonight. And stop driving! I can't go to my mother's if this was on TV. I couldn't handle that when I was healthy and I'm feeling far from healthy."
"Well, you can't stay alone!" Joe said.
"Thanks for pointing that out," I said, wondering if he'd pick up on the sarcasm. "I'll figure it out. I'll call Lula, she owes me a big favor."
I stumbled out of the SUV and stood in my parking lot with my hospital dismissal papers crumpled in my fisted hand and watched as Joe Morelli drove away.
I disconnected my phone and tossed it onto the bed next to me. I was so tired, but I had to get hold of Lula before I let myself drift off. The doctor had told me I needed to have someone wake me at regular intervals to make sure I was still tracking right. I knew the routine. I'd had a concussion before. This time seemed worse though. The pain was unrelenting, and several times waves of nausea had me lumbering from the bed to the bathroom.
My phone rang and I groaned as I looked at the caller ID. My mother. For the sixth time. I let it go to voicemail, but the phone rang again almost immediately. I wanted to pull the pillow over my head and go to sleep, but the ringing was reverberating in my head. I couldn't put it off any longer, so I answered it. "It wasn't my fault, Mom. I was there with someone else."
"This ain't your momma. This is Lula and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry!"
"Lula!" I semi-exclaimed. "I need you to come over here. I have a concussion."
"I'd like to help you with that, but I can't," she said. "My car is still at the clinic. They gave me that relaxing shot, but it didn't work. I got scared and I ran away. I went out the back door but then it started to work, and I got woozy. Junior Brown was driving by and he thought I was sick, so he gave me a ride home."
"Junior Brown?" I asked.
"He was one of my clients, back when I worked on Stark Street. In all the confusion, I didn't even remember about you until I was home, and then that shot made me fall asleep. I just woke up and saw the news, so I know what happened."
I groaned. "How bad was it?" I asked.
"Not too bad," Lula said. "You looked real slim laying there on those steps. But your face was kind of bloody."
"It was tomatoes," I said. "I need you to come over here because I have a concussion and I can't stay home alone tonight."
"I already told you, I can't. I don't have no ride," she said. "And that drug is still making me sleepy. Where's Morelli?"
"Don't know, don't care."
"Uh oh."
"Yeah."
"Call your momma—wait, I guess that won't work," Lula said.
"Nope."
"Then call Ranger."
"I'm not calling Ranger," I said. "I call him all the time to help me with skips, but this is different."
"I don't know what's different about it," she said. "That man helps you all the time and now you need some help. You should call him."
"Maybe you're right," I said. "I guess I'll call him." We disconnected and I sat up, cringing as the hammering in my head worsened. I didn't want to call him. It was embarrassing to constantly need his help. Assistance with bringing in a skip was one thing. Help with the daily trials of life was another thing altogether. It was the type of thing you depended upon a boyfriend for, but Ranger was not my boyfriend. Neither was Morelli any longer, but he probably hadn't figured that out yet.
The phone rang again. I sighed. I was going to have to get it over with sometime. This time I checked the caller ID and my suspicions were confirmed.
"Hi, Mom."
"Stephanie! You haven't been answering your phone. Are you all right? It was on the 6 o'clock news!"
"We saw all the blood," Grandma said. Apparently, I was on speaker mode.
"I'm fine. I just have a little concussion." I went through the whole "it was a tomato, not blood" explanation again.
"Is Joseph there with you?" my mother asked.
"No, he had some business to take care of," I said.
"I'll have your father come get you. You're not supposed to be alone after a concussion."
"No!" I hastily exclaimed. "I'm not going to be alone. Uh…Lula is coming over," I lied. "This whole thing is her fault. I was only at that clinic to give her a ride."
"It wasn't you? You weren't the patient?" my mother asked. I heard a sigh of relief.
"That's great news," my grandma piped in. "Now you can quit ironing, Helen. You've done all the sheets and pillowcases. I don't think there's much left."
"I have to go," I lied again. "There's someone at my door. I think it's Lula."
We disconnected, and I cautiously sat back up on the edge of the bed. I needed to pee, but I had double vision and my legs felt wobbly. As I stood, I lurched forward and fell against my dresser. I was dizzy on top of everything else. Slowly I made my way to the bathroom. By the time I got back to my bed the pain in my head was so bad I could see it. Bright white flashes accompanied each stabbing throb of pain. I didn't want to be alone.
Resignedly I pick up my phone and texted Ranger. I need you. I groaned as my hand hit the send message of its own accord. Quickly, I re-texted I need your help and sent the completed message. Then I slumped sideways onto my pillow and slipped into oblivion.
"Babe, wake up." I felt his hand gently brush hair from my forehead and opened my eyes. It was dark in the room, with a little light filtering in from the hallway.
"Ranger?" I asked. I attempted to sit, confused for a moment by Ranger's presence and the concern in his eyes. Pain shot through my head from front to back and I dropped back against the pillow as I remembered.
"I have a concussion," I said.
"I know. Tank saw you on TV," he said. "Are you in pain?"
"Yes. Way more than the last time this happened."
"When did you last take pain medicine?"
"I haven't taken any. I didn't think I was supposed to."
"Your dismissal instructions say you can take ibuprofen. Didn't they tell you at the hospital."
"Maybe," I said uncertainly. "I thought Joe was listening, so I didn't listen too well."
"Where's Morelli now?" Ranger asked.
"Don't know, don't care." It was my new mantra. He didn't respond but turned and quietly left the room. He came back a couple of minutes later with a glass of water and two ibuprofen tablets.
"It's been a while since you texted. I was in the middle of something. I tried to call you and when you didn't answer I got worried. I came as soon as I could, but it took me a while to get here."
"I didn't hear you call," I said.
"Which is why you shouldn't be alone. I'm taking you back to RangeMan for the night. Can you walk?"
"Yes, of course," I said. I stood quickly from the bed but lost my balance as the floor started undulating. I fell against Ranger.
"Babe," he said. I thought for a minute he was going to scoop me up into his arms, but he just tightened his hold on me and helped me walk from my apartment.
He settled me into the Porsche, and I gave a silent thanks that my stomach was empty. I didn't want a repeat of my earlier gutter experience, and I didn't want to defile his beautiful car. My head was still pounding, but strangely the thrum of the engine soothed it. I closed my eyes and prayed for the trip to be a quick one.
Halfway there I thought of Rex. "Oh no," I said. "I forgot to feed Rex."
"I threw the rat a couple of grapes and a walnut when I got the water for the ibuprofen. You need to make a trip to the grocery store, Babe."
"You fed Rex?" I asked. I opened my eyes and glanced his way. "Thank you!" And it was then that I noticed what he was wearing.
"You're wearing a suit." It wasn't so unusual that I hadn't noticed. It was black, as was the dress shirt, vest and tie. I remembered he said he'd been in the middle of something. "I'm sorry I ruined your evening," I mumbled. I wanted to ask him something else, but I hesitated. He seemed to read my mind.
"It was business, Babe. A meeting with Jeanne Ellen. Nothing that can't wait until another day. You didn't ruin anything."
"What kind of business? Personal business, like a date?" I asked.
He took his eyes from the road long enough to give me a pointed stare. "I don't date."
"Oh." I closed my eyes and possibly drifted off to sleep, because the next thing I remember is Ranger helping me out of the car and holding me upright as we moved to the elevator.
The sight of his big ultra-comfortable bed had me breaking loose from the arm he still had around me. My head was throbbing only slightly less than it had been and I had a supreme need to be horizontal. Ranger grabbed hold of me and gently turned me toward his bathroom.
"Not quite yet, Babe. I think you need clean clothes and a shower. If you can't make it on your own, I'll help."
I looked down at my shirt and saw the remnants of dried tomato and then I remembered I'd thrown up several times. Ranger was being kind by not saying I was a stinking mess. I blushed at the thought of what I must smell like.
"I can make it," I said. I wasn't sure whether I could or not, but I thought Ranger in the shower with me would be embarrassing to say the least.
I went into his bathroom and stripped my clothes off, just letting them hit the floor in a pile. I was still dizzy enough that I didn't want to risk bending over. My legs were rubbery, and I briefly considered calling Ranger in to help. Instead, I sat on the floor with the hand-held shower in my hand. I used his Bulgari as both shampoo and body wash.
When I hauled myself up from the floor and stepped out of the shower, I saw my clothes were gone. I pulled a fluffy white towel from the rack and wondered if Ranger had used it. Even with my pounding head, the thought gave me a little thrill. As I wrapped the towel around myself, I walked to the mirror to examine my lump. It was large and seemed to spread beyond my hairline, and it was red. I knew the purple, green and yellow would be coming. I was going to be technicolored.
Ranger's image appeared in the mirror behind mine. His suit was gone, replaced by black sweats and a black t-shirt. He had an identical t-shirt in his hand. "I gave your clothes to Ella," he said. "They'll be clean by the morning. You can sleep in this." He held the t-shirt to me. I saw his eyes drop to the towel before they met mine in the mirror. He smiled.
"You're safe from me tonight, Babe. I won't take advantage of you while you're wounded."
I smiled back. I wasn't sure if the little flip-flop my stomach did was from the headache pain or disappointment at his words.
Ranger's hand was gentle on my shoulder as he shook me awake. "It's been a couple of hours," he said. "How are you feeling?" I stared at him blankly for a moment in the dimly lit room and then it came back to me. Ranger had tucked me into his bed and told me to go to sleep and apparently, I'd listened.
"I'm not feeling so good," I said. "I don't mean to be a wimp, but the pain is still pretty bad."
"You can have more ibuprofen now. I'll get it for you."
"I don't think the ibuprofen is working," I said.
"Give it another try," he said, his lips twitching. "The ibuprofen I found in your apartment was two years beyond the expiration date. Mine is a little newer."
When he came back, he sat on the edge of the bed, next to me. There was dim light in the room, but enough for me to see him frown as he examined my forehead.
"I told you earlier that Tank saw you on TV," he said. "To be more accurate, Tank saw you on the monitor. RangeMan provides security for the clinic."
"The clinic is monitored?" I asked. "Doesn't that break some type of patient privacy rule?"
"Our cameras surveil only the exterior of the building. The patient areas inside are all equipped with panic buttons that when activated provide immediate audio communication. RangeMan is aware of the sensitive nature of some of the procedures done there."
"If Tank saw me then he knows I was there with Lula."
"He did. He saw the two of you enter the building and he saw Lula leave without you. I've seen the footage as well."
"Then you know I wasn't the patient. It was Lula."
"I didn't think you were the patient, even before I saw the video."
Surprisingly, his words provoked me. Something Joe had said about me being conservative. Did Ranger think I was conservative, too? I was emancipated enough to get an O shot. If I wanted. Maybe.
I thrust my chin forward and raised my gaze to his. "Why wouldn't it be me?" I asked.
"We've been together only a handful of times," he said. "Not enough for us to have explored every facet of each other's sexuality, but enough for me to know you're not a candidate for the clinic's most frequent procedure."
"I could be a candidate if I wanted to!" I insisted.
"True," he said, "but why would you want to? You're the most orgasmic woman I've known. If you responded with any more intensity, you'd pass out. In fact, there was that one time…"
"Stop!" I exclaimed. I saw the lip twitch that substituted for a grin. Nice to know I was amusing him. I had to risk my dignity further. I had to ask. "So, you don't think I'm dysfunctional?"
"Sexually, Babe, you're completely functional." He gave me a soft kiss on the cheek and gently pushed me back against the pillows. "Go back to sleep. I have a little work to finish up before I come to bed."
"Wait," I said. "Aren't you supposed to hold up fingers for me to count or ask me what year it is?"
"I think a discussion of orgasmic capability will suffice as a test of your mental acuity." He pulled the covers up under my chin and left the room, and I slept.
When I awoke the next time, I was immediately aware of two things. Ranger had me snuggled tightly against him, and the throbbing pain had dulled to a persistent ache. Definitely a step in the right direction.
I stayed still and enjoyed the contact with Ranger. His breathing was slow and even, his body hard and warm. I felt safe from the outside world with all its problems. My mind wandered from one thought to another, disjointed in the way early morning thoughts sometimes are. I considered Jeanne Ellen and Ranger as a couple and quickly dismissed it. Not because it wasn't possible, but because I didn't want to think about it. I thought about Joe and me as a couple, but quickly dismissed that thought, because we no longer were a couple.
The soft ding of the alarm on Ranger's phone brought my mind back to my present circumstance. I felt him shift to dismiss it.
"I'm awake," I told him.
"Hmmm," he said, and he pulled me in closer to him. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
I laughed. "None."
"Was that a giggle? Are you feeling better?"
"I am. You don't have to hold up fingers for me, but there is something I'd like to ask you."
"Ask away," he said. His breath ruffled my hair.
"It's kind of serious," I said. "Here goes—am I conservative?"
I felt him pull back slightly. "Politically?" he asked.
"No! I mean sexually. In bed, am I conservative?"
"You're asking this, why?"
"It's complicated, but Joe and I had words last evening. He was upset that I'd gone to the clinic and he just assumed I was the patient because he said I'm dysfunctional and conservative...and there are things I won't do," I finished in a rush.
"Ahh, that explains your reaction to my comment that I knew you weren't the patient."
Ranger was quiet for a moment. "I don't want to talk about Joe and you and sex. I don't make comparisons and I won't have you make them. Everyone has limits, Babe. If yours don't match with his, that's his problem."
"Everyone has limits?" I questioned. I was pretty sure he didn't. "I don't think you have limits."
"I do," he said. "I have unbreachable limits." He rolled me gently onto my back. The early morning light gave faint illumination, but it was enough for me to see his expression was serious.
"I won't have three in the bed," he said.
I gulped. I'd never considered…
"I'm speaking figuratively," he continued. "You're getting close to those limits now, by trying to make a comparison between Morelli and me. When you're with me, you're with me and Morelli has no part in it."
"That's not what I'm doing!" I protested. "Last night Morelli left me when I really needed someone. And he left me because I had embarrassed him by going to a sex clinic. For the last time, he put his feelings in front of my needs. I stood in my parking lot, nauseous, in pain and watched him drive away and I knew. I knew that it was finally over, that I was finally over him."
"I don't mean to be insensitive, but I've heard that before."
"I know you have. And the reason I was asking you those questions is because I trust you to be honest with me. He couldn't let it go without demeaning me. It's like he had to tear me down to build himself up so he could walk away without guilt and avoid taking care of me last night. Like what happened to me yesterday was my fault."
"He's a fool," Ranger said."
"So…so you don't think I'm conservative?"
"What I think is, in this bed there is no room for labels." He bent his head and softly touched his lips to mine. Quickly, the gentle kiss became serious. I forgot all about the lingering headache. But then his alarm went off again. He pulled back.
"I've got to get up," he said. "I've got an early morning meeting with Jeanne Ellen to finish up what we couldn't finish last night."
"Don't talk to me about three in the bed," I grumbled.
"It was a business meeting, Stephanie. I'm selling RangeMan Boston to her."
"She's going to be your business partner?" I asked.
"No. She's buying it outright and will move to Boston to run her own business. I'm drawing back a little, to give myself more time."
"More time to devote to this office?" I asked.
"Yes, but mainly, just more time. And speaking of time, I have to get up. Stay in bed and sleep a little longer. I'll be back mid-morning to take you home, unless you need to be home earlier and then one of my men can take you."
"No, I don't need to be up early," I said. "I don't have any skips right now, but I do need to get to the office to get my car. And then I'll have to take Lula down to the clinic to get her car."
"Lula's car is in front of her apartment, and yours is in your parking lot," he said. "How's your head this morning? Do you need more pain meds?"
"It's better," I said. "More of an ache than a pain. I think I'm okay without the ibuprofen."
He tossed back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed and I drew in my breath. In times past when Ranger and I had shared a bed platonically he'd worn silk boxers to sleep in. Not this time. I was treated to the sight of his bare bottom as he stood from the bed and walked toward his bathroom.
Turn around, turn around, turn around. The phrase repeated itself over and over in my mind as he walked away from me. At the door of the bathroom he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. I got the full 200 watts of his smile.
"Go back to sleep, Babe. I told you I wouldn't take advantage of you while you were under the weather."
I was left with the sneaking suspicion that, maybe, I'd thought out loud. I pulled the covers back up under my chin and thought about the fool I'd probably made of myself, and amazingly, I went back to sleep.
The next time I awoke it was to the muffled sound of my phone ringing. I rolled from bed and winced as both my head and body ached. The head was better, so maybe that was why I was noticing the body aches. I must have landed hard on the concrete steps of the clinic. I walked from the bedroom and found my purse laying on the sofa where I'd dropped it the night before.
I plopped on the sofa and pulled the phone from my purse in time to see the screen flash "missed call." The caller ID showed it was Joe. No time like the present, I thought as I returned his call.
"Good morning," he said cheerfully.
"Good morning," I returned less enthusiastically. "Sorry I missed the call. I couldn't get to my phone in time."
"No problem. I was going to offer to pick you up at your mom's and take you down to get your car, but it sounds like I got you out of bed, and your car is already here."
"Here?"
"I'm in your parking lot, Cupcake."
"I'm not at my mom's, and you're right. Until you called, I was in bed."
There was silence while he digested my words. "Whose bed, then?" he said quietly. I knew him well enough to recognize that the words came through tightened narrowed lips, as if he wasn't going to like the answer. I decided not to disappoint him.
"Ranger's bed."
Again, there was silence, this time for an extended period before he said, "Are you telling me that you were in bed with Ranger when I called?" I heard the anger resonating behind his clipped words.
"Of course not," I said. I heard his breath expel, then he sharply inhaled as I continued. "Ranger got up hours ago. He's a very early riser."
"What the fuck, Stephanie! You spent the night with Ranger after you'd had a sex treatment?"
"Joe! Stop. Don't get so livid you can't hear what I'm about to say. There's an explanation."
"I want to hear it!" he demanded.
"I never got a shot. I never went to get a shot. I was there to drive a friend home after she…"
"Another hair-brained scheme Lula got you into," he interrupted.
"That's not important," I said. "What is important is that I needed you and you weren't there for me last night. Ranger was there. Ranger is always supportive of me, and you are rarely supportive."
"What?" he sneered. "You think he cares about you? He's using you, Stephanie. Don't be a fool. I'm going to forgive this because you were injured last night you probably weren't thinking straight."
"Maybe not," I said. I sighed. "The thing is I'm thinking pretty straight today, and, Joe—it's over. We're done."
"You mean you and Ranger are done, right?" I rolled my eyes at his arrogance.
"No. You and me. We're finished. Have a nice life, Joe." I disconnected and slumped back on the sofa. I knew he was reeling with the news I'd imparted before I hung up, and I thought I should feel bad for him, but I didn't.
I thought about Joe's words, "he's using you." Ranger hadn't used me. He'd helped me. He'd nursed me through a rotten night and hadn't forgotten to take care of Rex. Far from considering Lula hair-brained he'd returned her car to her…well, okay, he might think she was hair-brained, but still he'd helped her because she was my friend. He'd left an important meeting to come to my aid. No, it wasn't Ranger that was using me. There didn't need to be another nail hammered into the Joe/Stephanie relationship coffin, but Joe just hammered one in, all the same.
I felt suddenly very tired. After a minute I stood on wobbly legs and went back to the bedroom where I fell into bed, pulled the covers over my head and fell into oblivion.
Oblivion was interrupted when I felt the covers being peeled back from my face and I opened my eyes to see a concerned Ranger staring down at me.
"Babe, you okay?"
"Yeah," I mumbled. "But maybe I've been better."
"Ella called. She was worried. She came in to drop your clothes off and you didn't rouse at all."
"I didn't hear her," I said. I glanced at the armchair to see my clothes neatly folded there.
"How's your head?" he asked, staring at my forehead and I wondered if the lump had started changing colors.
"Much better," I said. "Now my body is remembering the fall I took. I'm sore." My stomach growled loudly. "And I'm hungry."
"That's a good sign. Come out to the kitchen and I'll fix you some food."
"You'll fix it?" I asked dubiously.
"Yes. No Cap't Crunch or doughnuts, but maybe a bagel and some fruit."
"What about coffee?" I asked.
"I can handle that." He held out his hand to me and I took it as I got out of bed. I saw his eyes linger on the hem of his t-shirt and I became aware of my underwear, minutely folded on top of the pile of my clothes.
"Uh, you go on," I said. "I need to use the facilities. I'll be right there." A few minutes later I entered the kitchen still wearing the t-shirt, and also my panties. Not much protection against a full-on Ranger onslaught, but still they gave me a little courage.
As I sat at his table munching my toasted bagel, I looked up to see Ranger staring intently at me. Self-consciously, I raised a hand to my hair. "I know it's a mess," I said. "I'm a mess."
"You're not," he said. "What are your plans for the day? Are you in a hurry to leave?"
"I have a couple of things that would be better done sooner rather than later, but they won't take long. I'm not really on a schedule. There are no FTAs right now."
"That will soon change," Ranger said. Again, I looked up to see him staring unrelentingly at me.
"What?" I asked. He ignored the question. I realized that although my day wasn't full, his probably was and maybe I was inconveniencing him.
"I'll be ready to leave shortly," I said. "Thank you for everything you've done for me." He shook his head slightly, and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "It was nothing."
"I hate to ask, but there is one more thing I could use help with. I need to borrow one of your men for a short while today."
"For?"
"I'm going to return all of Morelli's things to his house and get my things. I meant it when I said it was over."
"And you want one of my men to accompany you?" he asked.
"No," I said quickly. "I'll take Lula. I don't plan on running into Joe. I talked to him this morning and told him we were done. I think I'll be able to get in and out while he's at work, but if I did happen to bump into him, I think it would be better to have Lula with me than a man…that whole testosterone thing and all. I need someone to help me change my locks, and I thought maybe someone that works for you could help."
"You're changing your locks to keep Joe out?"
"I am, but it's probably not necessary. He knows where I slept last night, and he was unhappy with the news. It's over between us, and I just want to make a quick, clean break."
"I'll see to your locks," he said. "Perhaps you'd like to spend a few more nights here. That would be another way of getting a message to Morelli."
I stood from the chair. "No, thank you," I said stiffly.
"Babe?" he asked.
"I won't use your apartment to hide away from Joe. If I stayed here it would be because you wanted me to stay for…uh, you."
"You think I don't want you?" he asked. This was a dangerous question. I took my time before I answered.
"I think you do," I said. "And I think I want you, too, but I'm not staying here because I'm afraid of Joe pestering me to get back together. Look, Ranger, the thing is I know you don't want a traditional relationship with me. We already have a relationship as friends. Only a friend would have dropped everything to come to my side last night. You got my car back, and Lula's! You woke me up to check on me and see if I was okay throughout the night. So, we have a relationship…we're friends."
"We are," he agreed.
"I need some time to figure out how to add a non-committed sexual relationship to our friend relationship without screwing everything up. I can live without Joe, and I can probably have sex with you without commitment…but I can't, I don't want to, lose your friendship. It's complicated."
"It is," he agreed. He walked toward me, and my heart skittered as I realized his intent. His arms went around me, and his mouth came down on mine. I felt one hand slide under my shirt and pull my body taut against him. The other slid down over my butt as Ranger scooped me up and carried me back into his bedroom, readjusting his mouth, but never breaking the kiss.
Later, he leaned on one elbow and stared at my forehead as his fingers softly traced the swollen sore lump. "Let's talk about taking a shot," he said softly.
"The O shot?" I asked. "I thought you said I didn't need one."
"You just proved that you didn't need one," he agreed. "Three times. Or was it four?"
I blushed in the curtain-filtered light of his bedroom.
"Not the O shot," he said. "I want to talk about us taking a shot, together, at a relationship…a friendly, committed, sexual relationship that might someday lead to a more…traditional relationship."
I was speechless. I looked up at him and saw infinite tenderness in his eyes, and maybe…was it my imagination…maybe, a little vulnerability. "A traditional relationship?" I asked breathily. He nodded.
"O," I said. "O yes, I'll take that shot!"
The End