a/n: I think I forgot to say...

My Plum timeline tends to be very flexible, but this story more or less takes place a few years before The Price is Right

The Math Teacher - Chapter Four

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Stephanie, back in Trenton...

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Jewel2000 wants to friend YOU!

I stared at my inbox in horror, cursor hovering over the delete key. Omigod, I got porn spam—at Rangeman. I took a deep breath and reconsidered—stalker? Crazy? The email was actually addressed to my Rangeman screen name: Steph (at) RM (dot) com and was on the secure internet hookup. Knowing I should call Hector or Tank, or someone—for advice, I instead clicked open the message. I was half afraid to look, expecting a photomontage/ screen show of horrible porn or a snuff clip.

What I saw instead was even more frightening.

It seems that Jewel 2000 was—I could hardly believe my eyes—Ranger's daughter Julie.

Julie has a Facebook page.

There she was, all pretty mocha latte skin and wide beautiful smile. The banner read Hi! You've reached the pages of Jewel, AKA Julie M. You all know who you are, so here is who I am!

Julie was now twelve years old. She and I became friends during the Scrog mess a couple years ago and we became even closer when Ranger and I got together and I became her sort-of stepmom. After Zoë was born, Julie came to stay and get to know her new baby sister and supposedly get better acquainted with her biological father.

So Julie and I have a bond, formed of terror and lives saved and love for the man we all call Ranger. And now I was being invited to her Facebook site—I was a "friend". A friend who would now have to betray her.

I closed down the site and went to Ranger's office, paused in his open doorway and said, "Knock, knock."

"Babe." His smile, just like Julie's smile, never failed to warm me to my toes. And his smile heated lots of good places in between too.

"Got a minute?" I asked.

"More than a minute, for you." The innuendo was light but there, and his eyes darkened to black. Oh well, duty calls instead. I went in and sat down in front of his desk. The silence dragged out and his expression, when I looked up from my clasped hands, had gone serious.

"What's wrong."

"Um. Maybe nothing. But—do you know what Facebook is?"

Tiny nod.

"Maybe I better just show you…." I got up and went to stand behind him, leaned in, reaching for his keyboard. "Is it okay if I use this?"

Another tiny nod, I felt it against my arm, more than saw it. I typed in my Rangeman screen name and password, then I accessed Jewel2000's Facebook page.

Julie's page came up. I stepped back a little and Ranger took over. He slowly read her welcome message, read quickly through her bio, took at fast look at the pictures of her friends, then clicked on the banner marked Parental Units & Sibs. Small header: My Family! I Luv 'em but it's Complicated. Then pictures. Rachel and Ron, labeled Mom & Dad. Rachel's other kids: Miami sibs. Then me and Ranger, labeled Steph & Daddy. A baby picture of Zoë, Latest Addition to the gang.

Ranger said nothing. He opened the public blog and read for awhile, then went back to the pictures.

His silence was killing me and I finally said, "Well?" I leaned a hand on his desk, craned around to see his face. Blank of course. His eyes finally flicked to mine and he actually leaned back and rubbed his face with both hands.

I said, "Is it awful? A disaster?"

Ranger shrugged. "It reminds me of that thing with John Sawers."

"Who?"

"A guy I know in the UK, he was supposed to take over British Intelligence, MI6. But his wife put every single detail of their lives on public Facebook."

"Oh, I remember that, a couple months ago?"

"He resigned, he'll never work in intelligence again."

"Maybe it's not so bad, Ranger. It is not a public space, it's private; you can only see her info if she friends you…or me, whoever."

Ranger actually rolled his eyes at my stupidity and said nothing for a few minutes, clicking back around the site.

"The picture of us isn't very clear," he said. He brought it up and full-page viewed it. He and I were standing on the beach in Miami, arms around each other. Ranger was wearing board shorts and a smile. I wore a bikini top and a gauzy sarong skirt. It was sunset and we were in profile, his hands on my shoulders, my arms around his waist. We looked like we had just kissed—and probably we had. Maybe our faces didn't show too clearly but Ranger's amazing body, bare-chested and bronzed, was, to me, unmistakable. We both wore very dark sunglasses though and his profile was somewhat obscured by shadow and the fading sun. Besides all the other ramifications, Ranger looked way too hot, too—um—beefcake?—to be anyone's father. Julie must have snapped the picture with her phone, maybe when we visited after Ranger recuperated from Scrog's attack.

The picture of Zoë, however, was one I had sent to Julie. Zoë was full-face, cooing and looking like a tiny exquisite version of both Ranger and Julie, except Zoë has my curly hair.

Ranger said, "It may be private but look at this list of friends." Dozens of names. Julie was smart, pretty, and popular. She was a tween heroine for her much-publicized courage in saving her own life and mine and her father's, not that long ago.

I said, "Will you make her take it down?"

"I'm not sure. What I am reading on the blog seems fairly discreet, no last names or addresses or details. I'll have to have someone read every single thing on the pages to make sure. But anyone who knows Julie will know all that." He rubbed the bridge of his nose as if a headache was forming fast.

"I think I'll have to go down and see her, speak to Rachel too. I very much doubt that Rachel gave her permission for this. But I don't want to discuss it on the phone."

I nodded. "Good idea. Um, could it hurt you, business-wise?"

"No. But that's not the issue."

"I know." His family's safety was the issue, it came first with him, it always had, always would. Ranger the hero, the protector. The dad.

… … …

Ranger

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I got to Miami the next morning. I saw Rachel first, I called ahead and asked her to meet me for lunch. Surprisingly she knew about the Facebook thing.

She looked at me and shook her head, sort of a poor you, pity look on her face. She said, "All the kids have Facebook pages, Ranger. You want her to be normal, don't you? Be like regular kids?"

"She is normal, Rachel."

'Yes, if being the child of a famous—ha ha, forgive the oxymoron!—covert assassin and so beautiful that she turns heads, stops traffic, is normal, then, yeah, sure. Julie is normal. If having bodyguards 24/7 and an implanted tracker are normal…."

"She was okay with the tracker."

"It's like what they put on dogs!"

"And your point is?"

"The point is, Ranger, that I figured the Facebook page was fun and a good thing. She started middle school this fall, remember. And the school insisted she take advanced math! She needs some fun, some teenage girly stuff, she's not a geek like your brother."

I looked at this woman with whom I shared a wonderful child and restrained myself from throttling her for her stupidity, her smugness. As if all middle school girls MUST be on Facebook. Shit.

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Now I waited outside Julie's school. I had permission to pick her up and had informed the Rangeman-Miami office that I'd be there at 3 o'clock. I leaned against the fender of the black Porsche Carrera I keep in Miami and waited, shades in place, arms folded on my chest.

The other parents stared. I projected badass vibes and looked at my watch. When I glanced up I found in front of me a nicely dressed—khakis, golf shirt, windbreaker—heavily armed young Latino man. A Rangeman operative in plainclothes, guess Julie's detail either didn't get the message or was not into playing it safe. I recognized the young man from his files but we had never met in person.

I said, "I'm Carlos Manoso, Julie Martine's father. I have her mother's permission to pick her up today."

The guy glanced at me then at the Ferrari. Even in Miami there aren't that many black Porsches and he seemed to recognize the car. But he asked, "Do you have any ID?

I said, "No."

"In that case, sir…"

"Daddydaddydaddy!" Why my daughters have this thing for screeching daddydaddydaddy, I'll never know. But Julie ran down the school step and flung herself into my arms. She looked up at the Rangeman guy and said, "Juan! This is my daddy! This is your boss!"

"Yeah. But I still need some ID."

Good man.

…. … …. …..

Julie

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I sat in some Cuban bodega/ pizza parlor in Little Havana and watched my daddy try to blend. Watching Ranger blend is pretty freaking funny...it's like watching some movie star try to blend, like Brad Pitt or something. Only more so because my daddy is way hotter not to mention younger than Brad Pitt. People did leave us alone though, more because they did recognize him and were being respectful than because he was successfully hidden behind his black sunglasses.

What? You thought I was just a name on a child support check to him? Get real. Does that sound like the Ranger we all know and love? I mean, he's a great daddy but let's face it, he's a little bit of a control freak, right? So we have our relationship and we keep it a secret—or we try.

Anyway, judging from the glances we were getting, Ranger Manoso is pretty well-known in Miami, I guess.

I said, "I'm, like, so glad you're here!"

Twitched eyebrow over the rim of the shades. I added, "I am! Really!"

He said, "Is that what the Facebook thing is about, Julie? If you wanted my attention all you had to do is call me."

Behind his blank face I thought he looked sad and I reached out and grabbed his hand. "No! At least not exactly."

"Go on."

I took a deep breath. "I'm in the Student Congress club at school and we are having a class trip this year! We had a bake sale and a car wash to help raise money! It's next month and we are going to Washington DC!"

Jesus Christ, thought my daddy, I could read it on his face.

He said, "What's on the agenda in DC?"

Huh?

I said, "What?"

"Where are you going in Washington?"

"We are staying at the Holiday Inn…" I swear daddy cringed—"And we are going to the Washington Monument and a bunch of museums and the Pentagon…." Another cringe, hmmm…. "And best of all we are going to the White House!" I finished up the itinerary with the most exciting part.

Ranger said, "Are you, ah—meeting the President?"

I shrugged. "They said probably not but it's like so too bad because I'd really like the meet the First Daughters. That's how the Facebook thing started! The President's daughter—she's just my age..."

"Yeah. I know."

"And she has a public Facebook page! And she asked everyone who is her age to write to her and comment on her blog and all! And she writes back and if I like make friends with her I might get to meet her and she maybe will even invite some of her new Facebook friends to her birthday party! It's on the 4th of July, is that not awesome?"

Ranger said, "

The President's daughter has a Facebook page?"

"Yes! And hers is public, but I made mine private 'cos I knew you'd want me to be, what do you call it?—security conscious."

... ... ...

Ranger

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I looked at my daughter's proud and happy face. Ok, she's just a child, but still—this is her idea of security conscious?

"Okay, daddy?"

"Well here's the thing, chica," I said carefully. "Everyone knows where the First Daughter lives and who her dad is and that she wears only J Crew and so on. Her information is not really secret." Exactly. Though I made a mental note to speak to the presidential Secret Service detail command to find out just how this was being handled.

"But I'm a secret?" Her face fell and her lips wobbled a little bit. I wanted to yell, "Did the Scrog fiasco teach you nothing? You had to kill a man to save us! My baby!"

My baby had to shoot a man….

I kept those thoughts to myself and said, "Tell me about this teacher you introduced to Anthony." Yeah, I changed the subject fast.

"Oh! Did he call her? She's so pretty and she has no boyfriend and..."

"So that induced you to meddle in her private life? And poor Anthony's love life? Why?"

"Duh, daddy! because I can! And because he has a thing for Steph, he needs to move on, find his own girlfriend."

"That is definitely none of your concern, Julie. Butt out."

My voice must have been too stern because her eyes widened and filled with tears. She whispered, "I just want him to be happy. And she's really nice."

Sounded like a disaster in the making to me but I let it go. Time for yet another subject change. "Tell me more about the trip to DC."

Always resilient, Julie perked right up."Well, they want parents to come and chaperone so I was thinking maybe you could meet us in Washington and be a chaperone and that way I'd get to see you and we could like hang out for a few days."

"Does your mother know about this?

"Yes. She said, Sure, call Ranger. She said it was okay…? It is okay, isn't it, daddy?"

I know when I am being handled, but I nodded. She bubbled on, "And if you go along I won't need my Rangeman guys, right? 'Cos I think they make the other parents and teachers a little nervous."

Get real. "Maybe I will make the parents and the other teachers nervous, Julie."

"Oh daddy, no you won't. You're my dad!"

"Speaking of which, why can't Rachel and Ron go?"

"Because I want you!"

"Well…."

"Daddy! Have you ever fired two guns while jumping through the air?"

"No."

"Have you ever fired one gun while jumping through the air?"

"No." not that I recall….

"Were you ever in a high speed pursuit?"

"What? Well, yeah. Julie, are those movie lines? Some idiot reporter asked Tank the same thing..."

"Daddy! You're so silly, you need to get out more too. Anyway, last question: Have you ever fired a gun while in a high speed pursuit?"

"No-"

She smiled at me, it was like looking in a weird mirror. She said, "So, see-what could be scary? You're just a regular dad, am I right?"

I know when I am defeated. I said unenthusiastically, "Oh okay but I am not staying at the Holiday Inn, chica."

"Oh but…." Tiny sad voice, she was playing me still.

I said, "We'll stay at the Four Seasons. Everyone will stay at the Four Seasons. Okay? I'll fix it. My treat."

"Yay! Oh, and Daddy? Bring Stephanie! Pleeeeze?"

…. … … … ..

Ranger, back in Trenton

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"We're going where?" asked Stephanie.

"DC. With Julie's 7th grade Student Congress group."

"Does Rachel know?"

"Yeah I think she suggested it."

We both grimaced.

"And we are all staying at the Four Seasons?"

"Yeah."

"Do they allow kids?"

"They better," I said menacingly. I had to exert my power over someone if only a poor reservations clerk at the five-star hotel. I added, "They allow little lap dogs like Killer, right? So they gotta allow kids."*

"Killer is a lot better behaved than a horde of seventh graders, Ranger."

We grimaced again.

Steph asked, "Did you make her take down her Facebook page?"

"No, but I had her remove the photos of us and Zoë."

"Good call, Ranger."

tbc

*Killer is Steph and Zoë's little pug dog, a gift from Anthony...