Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Janet Evanovich. I am just borrowing.
Spoilers: Possibly all the books but probably none, unless you know something about the Merry Men that I don't!.
Content: Strictly a Language Issue (but not harsh)
Thanks to Jaime (she's got high hopes) and Kate (My Mini Obsession) for their support and editorial powers.!
Stephanie's Gamble
I sat in my chair, booted up the programs I would need for the afternoon and reviewed my inbox. Before I knew it, my passport had been stamped and I was back in Denial Land looking to see where I had put my suntan lotion.
I went back to doing searches. I had already read the day's funnies on-line and didn't have the nerve to look into employment searches on Ranger's dime. Since I owe, I owe, it was back to work I went. I was deep in my current search when I felt someone standing behind me. Tank.
Chapter 4 Tank AKA Mr. January
"Tank, I hope you haven't been waiting there too long. What can I do you, big guy?" I asked.
"I just wanted to give you our new schedule," he said with a quiet smile.
"Excuse me, what new schedule? I am predominantly doing computer work here. What gives?"
Tank smiled down at me and said, "You actually know what gives, the schedule because of the poker game. You remember the schedule that was just drawn up? You remember you are mine for January. You know, the rest of the month? You will do the odd search for Ranger, and only spend three mornings a week working for the department. It gives you time to do critical stuff for the guys and I can catch up on paperwork. The rest of the time, you are with me."
"Oh, yeah, that," I said. Feel articulate much Plum? "What do you mean by the whole month and isn't Lula going to be getting jealous of some of this?"
I didn't want to deal with Lula in a constant state of rhino mode. I didn't want to see Tank suffer her foul mood either.
"Lula isn't part of any of this; what we will be doing together will have nothing to do with my relationship with Lula. I am not even going to discuss this with Lula. What we do together isn't up for rumor or speculation with any of the guys. Ranger doesn't even have any say in what we will be doing together. This is up to my discretion and yours."
Nuts.
This wasn't sounding any too good to me right about now. How much and what kind of discretion was he talking about? Was I going to need to talk to Father Frank at Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt and get some kind of dispensation for this?
"Tank, would you care to elaborate on that for me? How can Lula not be involved in a whole month of your life? What do you mean Ranger won't have a say in anything we do together," I said quietly afraid of the answer.
"It's not like that at all Steph. It is more like I have a month to bring you into my world in a way no one else has been involved before. I hope that as a result of our time together we will know each other better and you will have a different perspective on work for Rangeman and working with me. Think of it as a new experience for both of us."
Obstacle courses and endless hours at the gym, here I come. I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers. After a deep breath, I said, "Ok, big guy, I trust you. Where do we begin?"
"We begin in another hour. Just two hours at the end of today. I'll stop by and pick you up. I think you will enjoy yourself."
"Will I need to change clothes to do this?"
"Nope, today is strictly come as you are."
Tank smiled as he left, like he knew something I didn't. No big surprise there. I felt like everyone knew all of the particulars of my life for the next several months, except for me; like that was something new.
Some day I will be in the driver's seat for my own life. Yeah, I'll be in the driver's seat of my life just as soon as my tiara comes in from the jewelers for my coronation as Queen and Grand Poobah of Denial Land.
I searched through the pile on my desk and looked for the most critical search and started in on it. While I waited for it to print out, I went to the storeroom to get trays for each of the guys and labeled them. I sorted the paper monster into piles for each of the guys and put their most critical searches on top.
When the search was finally done printing, I stacked the paper neatly, put it in a file and delivered it to Ranger's office. He was seated behind the desk in a large leather chair as I walked up to him.
"Babe, efficient as usual," Ranger said with a slight smile.
"Yup, that's me; the model of efficiency. Hey, I just wanted you to know that Tank and I are going to be starting this afternoon … to … you know," I said.
"Let me finish that sentence for you. You are going to be expanding your horizons with Tank," he completed.
"Yeah. It just seems like this was an awful high stake for a poker game," I said quietly, not looking him in the eyes.
"Babe, you knew the rules before you dealt into that portion of the game. You may not have been as aware of your surroundings as you should have been, but you were given every opportunity to back out," he said with a smile in his voice.
"It shouldn't be held against me that I'm a lightweight when it comes to drinking. You should have protected me from myself," I whined quietly.
"No way. You are the one who has been telling me you want more to stand on your own feet and to succeed on your own. I thought about reminding you about your beer tolerance, but didn't think you wanted me to doubt your abilities. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Besides, this is one way to make sure you are paying attention to things said in meetings," he told me as the grin was getting bigger and bigger.
"You are right, again, as usual." I rolled my eyes, "Don't you ever get tired of being right?" I whispered.
He reached for my hand as he stood up. He brought me into a loose but comfortable hug. Then he kissed me on the temple and said, "It will all be just fine. You'll really like spending the time with Tank. I trust him and I trust you, it will be good for both of you. You have my word. If it gets to be too much for you at any time, I'll talk to him and we'll work something out. Does that make you feel better?"
"Yeah, it does. Thanks," I breathed.
"Ok then, go and get back to work. I've heard that boss of yours is a real hard ass and I don't want you to get in trouble with him."
With that I was out the door, down the hall and not dragging my feet too badly as I headed for my cube.
I must have been with Ranger longer than I thought because when I got back, Tank was already at my desk. "Here goes nothing," I thought to myself.
"Where are we off to, big man?" I teasingly asked.
"To four, to my apartment."
Oh boy.
I shut down my computer, but left my purse at my desk. If we were leaving the building today, I could easily come back and get it. I had planned take my keys, just in case I needed to make a quick get away. But this is Tank. He is good at snatch and grab; probably by the time I made an escape from him he would have already caught me. I sighed and stood to join him.
Tank put his hand on the small of my back and we headed to the elevator; we stopped past the comm. control desk on our way out letting them know we would be out of pocket and completely unavailable for the rest of the day.
The ride to the fourth floor was painless and quick. I was more than a little curious as to what Tank's place would be like on the inside. I didn't know any of the Merry Men well enough to go to their apartments other than to drop off documents at their doors. And I had only ever been inside one studio for more than a few minutes and that was due to a guilt thing with Morelli, so I had never fully investigated what the apartments were like.
We walked down the long hall and about midway down, Tank stopped at number seven. He took out his keycard, swiped it against a panel near the door and opened it.
The apartment was light and bright with a lot of overstuffed, leather furniture, but there was more to it than that. The living room walls were painted a deep forest green and covered floor to ceiling with hand rendered drawings, some black ink on paper, others pencil, some in pastels. As my eyes traveled around the room, I noticed that all of the pictures were all uniformly sized and framed but the subject matter was incredibly diverse.
"Tank, I remember you said you were into art and all that, but what's with all the pictures on the walls? Do you collect a specific artist or something?" I was floored, so not the Tank I thought I knew.
"Steph, that's part of what you and I are going to be doing together."
"Art lessons?" This was getting stranger and stranger. Tank just looked at me with bemusement on his face. Typical. Panic was starting to rise in my voice as I said, "Tank, I can't draw a straight line, much less a picture of anything that is supposed to look like something. You are going to teach me how to do the 'Mona Lisa' in a month? You do know that's not possible, right? I mean I flunked finger painting in kindergarten."
The big man just ignored me as he went into the kitchen and put a kettle on to boil. Then he quietly pulled two bone china tea cups down from the cupboard, organized a few small items and carried them over to the dining table. Included on the tray, there was a small platter of finger sandwiches, wow. This sure didn't seem like the Tank I know; the Tank I know throws people out of a windows.
"I spent time in England as an exchange student back in college, and I have never really gotten over the afternoon tea thing. I hope you don't mind, Steph. There are all kinds of teas, if you would rather there is instant coffee or cocoa."
The softer side of Tank, who knew?
"Why don't you choose my tea for me, Tank, I am sure whatever you like will be good," I told him. I had no clue about tea, but didn't want him to know that.
"Earl Grey for two, coming right up. I'll let you handle your own lemon, cream and sugar, I take my tea straight," he said with a smile.
Tank put the tray on the cocktail table between us and seated himself at the far end of the sofa. I added a hint of sugar to mine and sat on the opposite end of the sofa.
"Before we get started on specifically what you and I are going to do together, I wanted you to know more about my background. I just told you that I spent time in England while I was in college. It was the best experience of my life; I was able to hit all the touristy things while I was there, but also got to travel to as many places as the trains would allow during weekends and school holidays. I was able to see all the major museums in western Europe and found myself hooked on art. That semester and summer changed my major from history to art. I minored in history. The most important lesson I came away with is this: truly great art talks to each of us and we can each get something different from what we see.
"There were little spots where local artists would hang out in the major cities and they would just do their thing. That looked like fun to me, so I decided to get my own sketch pad and try myself; turns out I had a knack for landscapes but not people. I practiced after school doing street scenes.
"I would see what all I could and try to get it to the paper. At first I had a very narrow focus and didn't see the whole scene in front of me. The more I did it, the more things I noticed and was able to transcribe to paper. I played memory games with myself. That's where we are going to start with you, memory games."
"Excuse me, what does art have to do with memory games?"
"In some regards nothing, in others everything. We are going to start with a kids' game where you try to match pairs of things together. All the pieces are face down and you try to uncover the matching pairs."
"Tank, I stink at games and I never remember what is directly in front of me. A six year old could beat me," I whined.
"Ok, so we will have a place to start. I promise by the end of the month you'll be able to beat all the six year olds and most of the seven year olds in the area," he said with a laugh.
"Not funny, Tank, not funny. But since you insist and I know you won't change your mind anytime soon, we'll give it a go."
"We'll talk more about the whole art thing a little later, OK?"
"You're the boss, Tank, we'll do whatever makes you happiest," I said with a smile in my voice I didn't really feel.
We finished the pot of tea and some of the best finger sandwiches I have ever eaten. Correction, I had two pieces of finger one sandwich and Tank ate the rest of the tray. Growing boys have got to eat, you know? After I helped him with the dishes, he got out the board game. Surprise, surprise, he handily beat me in less than five minutes, three times. I have to work on my concentration. Game time over, Tank escorted me back to my cubicle.
"Tank, I had a nice time."
"Me too, Steph," he replied and quickly Tank took himself to parts unknown.
I was startled when I heard Ranger's voice, I hadn't noticed Ranger had somehow managed to get beside the two of us.
"Do you think the time was well spent, Babe?" he asked a little too casually.
"It wasn't what I expected, but it was a good time."
"Not too good, I hope," said Ranger showing the amusement in his eyes.
"Nope, but I could get used to afternoon tea and sandwiches. Ranger, I am going to cut out for the night. I have no idea what Tank has on the agenda for tomorrow, but I want to be rested and ready for it."
"Have a good evening, Babe. I'll see you in the morning. Call if you need anything," he said. With a quick kiss on the top of my head, Ranger returned to his office.
The next couple of days Tank and I spent in his apartment playing the memory game and drinking tea. In terms of broadening my horizons, I think this qualified at least in terms of finger sandwiches and teas. I never guessed I would indulge in "dainties" with Tank every afternoon while playing games. I never would have guessed Tank had a weakness for cucumber sandwiches. Too bad he didn't have a sweet tooth, petit fours would have been great to go with all this tea!
The first time Tank and I had a whole day together, we did the shopping thing. It was unlike any shopping expedition I had ever been on. Tank opened all of the doors and helped me in and out of the truck. We went to several stores that carried art supplies, books and the like. Not a pair of cute panties to be seen anywhere, not that I needed any, but they just sort of make a shopping trip complete. Tank got me the basic basics, a couple of sketch pads, some extra soft lead pencils, a fancy water color set and a couple of brushes.
Once shopping was complete, we bypassed the comm. center and went to his apartment. In the far corner, there was a small table with a cloth over it; it was a new addition to the room to the best of my recollection.
"Hey Tank, what's with the doo-hickey on the table in the corner?" Hey, I can speak technically when I have to, I just don't like to have to.
"Actually, after lunch, that's going to be the focus of the afternoon. I am impressed you noticed it. I didn't know you liked 'doo-hickeys', Bomber," he said with a smile.
Ella had left a cold lunch for Tank and me in his fridge earlier in the morning. It looked like enough to feed five or six, but it was just enough to feed Tank and me with no leftovers. Ella thought of the boys as her sons and assumed they were all still growing. Good for all of them they worked out, or her food would have had them growing out. Still no cake or cookies, it was going to be time to talk to Ella about menu additions and soon.
After lunch, Tank decided to demystify the 'doo-hickey' in the corner. It was going to be the subject of a still life. I was good with that until he told me I was going to be sketching it. I felt lucky if I could make a circle and get the smiley face centered in it, how was I going to work on a still life? Jeez.
"Do you really think we bought art supplies to gather dust? Come on, you know better than that. This experience is going to be pain free, guilt free, judgment free and calorie free," he said with a straight face.
Right then, I knew he wasn't planning on attempting to put me in a compromising or uncomfortable position, probably he wouldn't even be doing nude modeling for me. The Catholic guilt I'd been raised on could be triggered by anything all that felt good ranging from men to cheese cake had been quelled for the moment.
"So what exactly are we going to do, Teach?" I said with a broad smile.
"Not we, you," yikes, "You are going to begin to broaden the way you look at things. After I lift the cloth, I want you to take a serious look at the stuff on the table for a couple of minutes. Then we talk about each item on the tray."
"That's it?"
"Yep, that's how this is going to start for today."
The cloth covered a silver platter which contained fresh fruit, a hunk of cheese, a bottle of wine and a glass, they looked like they had been arranged for a photo shoot. We talked about what the things meant and how they were composed on the tray. We talked about the contrast of textures from the smooth wine bottle to the dimpled texture of the orange. We even discussed the way that light showed on the pear and how the pear wasn't just green but had yellow, green, rosy red and a bit of brown. I knew Ranger was a detail man. I had just never thought of Tank as a detail man, and if he was, these were definitely not these kinds I would have thought about relating to Tank.
Then we talked about the importance of light. Duh, like you could really do this stuff in the dark? Tank told me that some of the great impressionists would do a study of a scene or still life at various points in the day so they could match up the light. It was the same stuff, but light and shadows made a huge impact on how they were perceived.
I was told to open a sketch book to a blank sheet and grab a pencil. Then I was supposed to just start to draw what I saw for five minutes. I felt like a complete fool! I had seen stuff on the news done by monkeys that looked more realistic. Tank, on the other hand, saw that a sincere effort was being made and that's all he wanted. At the end of five minutes, he called time and had me close the sketch book. End of the first art lesson.
As the lessons changed, Tank never reviewed my attempts with anything other than respect. He'll probably make a great dad some day, not criticizing the three-year old's precious attempts at drawing a three headed giraffe. He was able to point out the things I had done well and praise them with sincerity. When asked, he offered advice on how to better make the shapes and which perspectives would be best in which light. He even found a book with the works of several modern "artists" that to my eyes didn't look so different from what I had tried to put on paper.
We got into a pattern by the end of the first week. Paperwork, if it was a half day, lunch, then still life or memory games. The full days were art history lessons in the morning, who the masters were and the style of what they did. Our time together became very comfortable and peaceful; I was even developing a taste for tea.
The second week of whole days I spent with Tank were changed to include surveillance. I mean it is part of the job, but I missed the stories of the famous artists. Turns out that surveillance with Tank was going to include a sketch book. We both sketched the scene in front of us without looking down. Then we went back to the apartment to sketch it again and see who had more details in their picture. No surprise, Tank had all the details, but I was getting better. My stuff no longer looked like the monkey's from TV, it looked a little better. Each day I made a little more progress and I knew one day, if I worked hard and applied myself, I would show the same artistic skills of a gifted second grader!
Tank told me that there were times during a long and boring surveillance because he was engrossed in his sketching he didn't notice when his own ass went numb. But it also kept him aware of what was going on and what may have changed. If he knew he was going to cover the same place more than two days, he made certain to have enough blank paper. Sometimes it was the smallest change that let him know when a takedown was going to be possible or if something was off and the bust wouldn't happen.
Tank was a creature of habit and once he established a habit he liked he kept it; so the work pattern he established the second week was the one that carried over for the next two weeks.
After one day with an especially bad skip, Tank took out a hunk of modeling clay from one of his closets. He draped the room in plastic sheeting and told me to go for it. Go for what?
"Steph, sometimes when you have a bad day, you just need to get the frustration and the emotion out. I usually go to the gym – so do most of the guys who work here. But because we are doing art right now, I think this might be a good time for you to try a different medium. Therefore, we get to beat the snot out of this hunk of clay, I hadn't thought about it and this is all the clay I have. Do what you want to it, beat it, rip it up, throw it on the covered sections of the floor. Ella would kill me if you any of this stuff made it onto her carpeting."
"Got it, big guy. No temper tantrums with clay that will result in more work from Ella."
"Actually Steph, she gets mad and then hands you the solvents, brushes and gloves and you get to clean it while she watches you work."
"Oh. Ok, then."
Tank and I actually had a lot of fun with the modeling clay. I made a bunch of snake ropes and then squished them back into one big glob. Tank made some free form figures. By the time we were done, I felt like I had had an afternoon in kindergarten. It was one of the most fun afternoons I had spent in a long time.
We cleaned up our mutual mess and got the clay back into its container so it wouldn't wear out. I think I will ask Tank to do this with me again when I have a bad day. I never have gotten a good feel for the punching bag and the body bag seems to hit me back when I am not looking.
The second to last Thursday as we were winding down from the current memory game, I was beginning to feel like I was almost on par with Tank, when he told me that Friday was going to be a complete break from what we had been doing. I was to dress up some, but still be comfy and to wear walking shoes. Not that I minded the current routine, but to have a change in venue, now that was something to look forward to.
We were going to do a fancy lunch and then a tour of the galleries in Princeton.
I knew this was my friend Tank, but it was feeling like a date. Decisions had to be made, what to wear? How conservative should I be? How was Ranger going to react? Wait, wait, wait. Morelli had taken a transfer out of town and Ranger and I had fallen into a true friendship. At this point Ranger wasn't trying to sneak kisses or pressure me, his business was growing and he was out of town a lot. I mean I we periodically had a meal together and a little kissing, but we both knew that right now friendship was best for us both.
I had decided on a little beige sweater with three quarter sleeves, a pair of comfy ballerina style flats and conservative black skirt. I looked "nice" as my mother would say, classy but definitely not advertising anything. Well, not directly advertising, a girl has to show off her assets when she can, and that skirt showed off my rear and my legs without screaming it. Hey, I can do classy and understated – I usually just get the chance to do distraction and most of the time distraction has nothing to do with classy or understated.
Friday after finishing Ranger's paperwork thing, I peaked into Ranger's office to say "good bye" for the day and weekend.
"Babe, going incognito today?" the Man in Black asked as he rose from behind his desk.
"Nope, just playing it down. This isn't a distraction, Ranger, this is expanding my horizons. I am not trying to draw any attention to myself. If you don't approve, I have a too short, too tight, and too low number that I can easily slip into. I know it is one of Tank's favorites; would that make you happier?" I was fuming.
"No Babe, you look just fine. I just never seem to see you dressed this way. Not that I don't approve, I do, it just took me by surprise. Are you coming back after you and Tank are done?" he appraised me from top to bottom and back again.
"Nope, it should be a relatively early night, it's been a long week – expanding horizons can do that to a girl."
"Enjoy yourselves," he said with a small smile. He kissed me on the forehead before he returned to his desk and the mountain of work on it.
For this adventure, Tank took his own car. It was a classic Ford Thunderbird, 1964 gold, it was huge, it was a boat, it was so unlike Tank and yet so like Tank. It was unlike him because I only ever thought of him in an SUV, it was just like Tank because I no longer held preconceived notions of what he would really be like or what really interested him.
The look on my face must have spoken volumes.
Tank winked at me and started his explanation, "Style is more than just what is currently in fashion, Steph. Sometimes you look at the classic lines, the way something moves, the way it feels, the way you yourself respond to it, there are a lot of things that make something timeless. It is why an old couple doesn't see the aging partner, they see the beauty that was so long ago and still resides under the graying hair and the wrinkles. At any rate, this car has style and so do you."
Gee, that's one of the nicest things anyone has said to me in a long time.
We went to a little bistro place and ordered something too small and too expensive. I mean it was pretty on the plate, but the portions were only large enough to feed a church mouse and that's about it. After lunch, Tank took me to a drive through to get some real food; bless Tank!
We spent the afternoon wandering from gallery to gallery. Some specialized in portraits, others landscapes. Some were all about oil paintings or water colors and others had a hodge podge of everything. We talked about everything from the way the light played on the picture to the kind of frame that was used. This afternoon was nothing like what I would have imagined I would do with Tank, ever. It was a real eye opening or Tank was expanding my horizons. It was absolutely amazing.
The last gallery we went into had a blank wall that had been freshly pained and lights were being put in for a new installation. There was a sign that read Coming Soon the Pierre Fournier Collection. We walked into the gallery and Tank was greeted by everyone in the place, they were all falling all over him.
"Pierre, what do you think about the wall color?" asked an elderly man wearing paint sprinkled overalls.
"Mr. Fournier, do you think the lighting is enough?" inquired a woman who had been shouting orders at the people on the scaffold.
"Dearest, when will we have the final pieces for the collection?" asked the polished, sleek looking woman who glowed as she looked at him.
I looked up at Tank. He was beaming. "Tank, what's going on?" I asked.
"Steph, you have always wanted to know what we do with our time when we aren't at Rangeman or training. Art has always been my passion and my true love. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing like the fun of chucking someone out of the third story window, but it doesn't speak to my soul like art does. Someday I may be too old to do the work I do at Rangeman, and so I am preparing for my someday now with this," he said as he swept his arm across the room.
"Wow, I never would have guessed. I mean, I liked what I saw in your apartment, but I never would have thought you would display it in public. I mean your work is wonderful, but I am so self conscious I just assumed you would be, too."
"Steph, it is easier to be less self conscious when you aren't so close to home; it is also easier when you are part owner of the gallery. Let me introduce you around.
"Edward, I'd like to introduce you to my friend Stephanie Plum. Steph, Edward has been in charge of keeping the paint fresh and complimentary to all the art that is displayed at the gallery. Ed, love what you are doing, please keep it up."
"Just as you ask Pierre," said Edward beaming.
We headed back to the woman who had been working on the lighting when Tank spoke again, "Steph this is Amanda, she is the guru of lighting and her man of all work George. Amanda and George, I'd like to introduce you to Stephanie Plum a good friend of mine."
When pleasantries had been exchanged, the polished, sleek woman came over to where we were standing. "Pierre, dear, who is the charming woman you have brought to visit with us today?" she asked formally but warmly.
"Roxie, this is Stephanie, we work together in Trenton. Steph, Roxie is my partner in this venture and one of my former art students. Roxie excels in the operations and finding new artists, I fill in blank walls when everything sells out, then I am replaced with her newest find," Tank said with a huge smile on his face.
"Stephanie, the pleasure is all mine. Are you taking art lessons from Pierre? He has an amazing eye for detail."
"I have only been at it for a month with Ta I mean Pierre. Yes, he does have a great eye for detail. Looking around here, it looks like the two of you have a great partnership. Let me guess, Pierre is a sort of a 'silent partner'?" I asked grinning at Tank.
"No, he isn't silent at all. Poor man just doesn't have enough time to see us regularly. So we always look forward to when he graces us with his presence. If he would just give up his work in Trenton he could be the artist in residence here and we could display his work all of the time."
"Steph, let's take a quick look around then we will need to head back. If I don't get back, the task master here won't get her quota of new pieces for the new display."
In the corner there were any number of canvases that Tank had apparently painted. They were considerably larger than the pictures he had framed in his apartment. He told me that the pictures in the apartment were usually studies he did before worked on a bigger canvas, it gave him a chance to flesh out an idea before he committed to the "big picture" as he called it.
His work was very varied. He had a lot of still life paintings, duh, and of course the street scenes. He had done several abstracts of Lula, at least I think it was Lula. Some of them showed her inner beauty, the way I was sure Tank saw her when he looked at her. Other paintings looked like she had just been slimed by a skip.
"Hey Tank?" I asked.
"Yeah, Steph." he replied.
"Has Lula ever seen the paintings you have done of her?"
"Only once. I painted it before we started to date. It was a very stylized picture of her that she found none too flattering. She wants any picture to look like an airbrushed photograph and that's just not the way I work."
"So you paint these from memory?"
"Yeah. I'd rather have her model for me, but she isn't comfortable with the end product and I don't ever want to put her in an awkward position. Yet another reason I do the memory game thing, I get to see her in my mind the way I want to and she doesn't get fidgety about posing."
"So do you ever sell the pictures of Lula?"
"Only the highly stylized ones that she would never recognize herself in. Why?"
"Just wondering. When your show opens, can I come to the grand opening? I've never been to an opening of any kind before. I think it could be a lot of fun."
"Of course, in fact, the opening is going to be your graduation before you move on to Lester."
Oh boy, Lester, I'd kind of forgotten about him.
After we had a quick bite to eat, it was tea time after all, we headed back to Trenton. I was feeling a little downhearted. Tank, of course, picked up on it.
"Steph, what's the matter?"
"I'm gonna miss you, big guy."
"I'm not going anywhere. I will still live in the same apartment and work at the same place. Besides, we still have one week before you have to miss me."
"Yeah, but you won't have to hang out with me any more and the art lessons will be over."
"Steph, you've had a lot on your plate learning a new job and getting better skills. I promise to continue to give you lessons, if you want them. Don't do it to please me, do it for yourself, if that's what you want. If you don't want to continue with the art stuff, I understand. I just wanted you to have a better idea of who I am and what makes me tick."
"I'd like to continue to do some art projects, but I don't know what Lester is going to be like. I have a feeling that my dance card is going to be full for the month of February."
As Tank drove us back to Rangeman, I reflected on this whole experience. It seemed surreal. Tank and I had gotten into a companionable rhythm, it was a unique partnership. It was wonderful and totally unexpected and it was ending soon. I was going to miss having tea out of fine china and getting a new picture for my computer desktop every couple of days. Mostly, I was going to miss the one on one time with the big guy; the man of few words turned out to be a great teacher and I felt that he had well and thoroughly expanded my horizons.
The next week was the show's opening at the gallery. I helped Tank select the pieces at his apartment that he wanted to display. He let me choose frames for some of them. Dang, a lot of work to show off some pictures.
I returned with him to the gallery to deliver the new pieces so they could be hung. It was amazing to see the wall go from blank to highly stylized and all with my friend's work. I felt incredible pride as I looked at the wall.
When we went to the opening, it was wonderful. All of Rangeman showed up in support of Tank; it was awesome to see them all together and not in a hospital waiting room. All of the guys were dressed to the nines and on their best behavior, even Lester. Boy did the guys ever clean up nice, yum. I, myself, did the understated clothing, hair and make up thing, no one should outshine the guest of honor, it is a Burg rule.
Thanks to my time with Tank, I was feeling confident, relatively educated with the art around me and aware of my surroundings; until I wasn't. I mean I thought I had been aware of my surroundings, but I had help "loosening" my awareness.
Things were going really well, and I seemed to have the glass of champagne that never went empty. Turns out that Lester was constantly topping off my glass. It has never been a secret that I am a light weight when it comes to drinking. I guess part of being a big girl meant that I should have been watching my own back, whoops, by the time the evening was over, I was lit like a Christmas tree. Thanks for the help there, Lester.
The next morning, hung over and bleary eyed I made it to the comm. room and was ready to get into the groove of Tank only to realize I was no longer with Tank, it was Lester's turn. Tank would have done the gentlemanly thing and gone to McDonalds and bought me the Cure. Lester knew all about the Cure, large Coke and large fries, but I had a feeling he wasn't going to get it for me.
New month. New Merry Man. Big Hangover. Welcome to February, Plum. It looks like it is going to be a doozie.
A/N: Thanks for all the kind reviews. Please let me know what you think.