Part Four

Lula didn't get a chance to count to three before her phone rang. She dreaded hearing the sound of Tank's voice, but now Stephanie was dirty dancing with some ghost. If Ranger saw those roaming hands, he would have strung that ghost up like a piñata and beat him with a stick until candy came flying out of his ass.

"What took you so long?" Lula huffed into the phone.

"What the hell is going on, Lula?" Tank demanded. "And where the hell are you?"

Lula smacked her lips. "Don't you give me no attitude, Pierre. I'm only callin' you 'cause White Girl needs help. She was stuffin' her face with hash brownies, and she cuffed Anthony Perkin's momma to the back yard fence. It's almost time for me to win the costume contest, and we gotta take this psycho jerk-off to the station by midnight!"

She heard Tank's exaggerated sigh. "Let's take this from the top," he said with a less condescending tone. "Where are you?"

"It's a good thing that I'm a reasonably patient woman. Otherwise, I might have to kill you. We at the Bates' family motel pickin' up a skip. White Girl is as high as a motherfuckin' kite. We gonna lose a shitload of money if we fuck this up."

Silence.

"Please, Tank. I need you," Lula whispered before her throat closed. She hated to show any weakness.

"We'll be there in ten," Tank told her.

"We're at…" Lula began but he cut her off.

"I know where you're at. I tracked your call."

"Why you sneaky ass motherfucker…" Lula muttered to herself after Tank disconnected.

Nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds later, the Rangeman cavalry arrived. The guests parted like the Red Sea as Tank, Hal, Lester, Bobby, and Binky made their way inside.

Lula's hands flew to her hips as her head started to bob and weave. "What took you so long?" she demanded. "That ghost over there has been gettin' spooky with White Girl."

Tank's head snapped towards the grinding couple. In two long strides, he descended upon them. He gently pulled Stephanie back and handed her off to Lester. He grabbed the ghost by the scruff of the neck.

"You had your hands all over my best friend's woman," Tank told him, his voice bellowed over the music.

Then he smashed the ghost's head into the wall. A body fell from the sheet and crumpled to the floor. A dazed-looking lesbian glanced up at her attacker in shock.

"My hero," Lula chided him. "You just beat up on Rosie O'Donnell."

"Dude," the lesbian whined as she rubbed the side of her head.

"Oh my God!" Stephanie gasped. "I didn't know I was gay! Did you guys know I was gay?"

Stephanie looked Lester up and down before she exploded into another fit of giggles. "Where are your costumes? You guys could have come as like soldiers…or the munchkins." More laughter, except this time, Lester joined her.

"Boy was I wrong," Lester smirked. "You don't like getting shot at or getting arrested, but you like getting stoned. You do know how to have fun after all."

"Where's the skip?" Tank asked Lula as he ran a hand over his bald head.

"Oh, he's just hanging around," Stephanie slurred.

"He's cuffed to the fence in the back yard. But watch yourself. He was usin' them bushes as a toilet," Lula explained.

That set Stephanie off again. "Toilet!" she snorted.

"Binky…you drive Miss Plum's car. Lester…you and Hal bring this guy in and get their body receipt. Bobby…you're with Janis Joplin there," Tank ordered.

Stephanie lowered her glasses. "Tank…it's me. Stephanie Plum." She turned to Bobby and Lester. "Tank didn't even recognize me. Is he on something?"

"Let's move like we've got a purpose people!" Tank barked.

"Yes, sir!" they responded in unison.

"Can I get some more brownies before we go?" Stephanie asked Bobby.

"No!" Lula and Tank cried out.

The house got quiet as the last song ended. The DJ announced it was time to announce the winner of the costume contest. "The winner of the $500 grand prize is…Lula as black disco Barbie!"

The crowd erupted in cheers.

"Is that who you are dressed as?" Tank asked with a smile.

"These dumb-ass motherfuckers don't know shit," Lula growled. "I ain't no black Barbie. I'm dressed as Afro-dyte…the Goddess of Love. But for $500, they can think I'm Michelle Obama for all I care."

Lula made her way to the DJ table to collect her prize. With her shiny new Visa gift card in hand, she sashayed her way back to the group. She made a production of kissing the card before sliding it inside her bra.

"This motherfucker is gonna service me well!" she declared.

Binky returned and informed the group that Lester and Hal collected Norman Bates. They already left for the police station.

"Thank God," Tank muttered. "Let's get the hell outta before something castration-worthy happens."

Tank placed his hand at the small of Lula's back and guided her towards the front door. Bobby grabbed Stephanie by the hand and followed. She followed willingly until they reached the black SUV.

"What's the matter, White Girl?"

Stephanie shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like I'm forgetting something."

"Don't worry," Lula assured her. "Tank had the guys take the masturbator to the cop shop for us. We got it covered."

"Oh," she replied. "Okay."

Lula hopped in the back seat, and Stephanie followed. Tank got behind the wheel with Bobby shotgun. The engine roared to life, and Tank headed back to the city.

"So where are we going?" Stephanie sighed.

"I'm taking you to Rangeman," Tank explained. "I think you should stay on 7 tonight."

"Okay…I just looove Batman's sheets." Stephanie snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth. "Hey…have you ever noticed that folks will say 'Look, he has his mamma's eyes' or 'his daddy's nose,' but they never say 'We're so proud! Look! He's hung just like grampa'?"

Bobby howled with laughter while Tank almost jumped the curb as he made a left turn.

"Damn girl…how many of them brownies did you eat?" Lula demanded.

Stephanie shrugged. "I don't know. How many were on the plate?"

"Shit…you gonna be flyin' for a while," Lula sighed.

"Huh?" Stephanie frowned. "We're getting on a plane?"

"No…you high, Girl. You stoned from eatin' all them hash brownies."

"Oh." Stephanie slumped in her seat. "That would explain the sudden craving for KFC…and Pop Tarts."

They continued in silence for a few more minutes before Stephanie began to giggle again. The giggle turned into full blown laughter. It took a few minutes before she got herself back under control.

"What's so funny?" Lula asked.

Stephanie shrugged. "I don't know. I forgot."

"This is gonna be a long night," Tank muttered his breath. He turned to Bobby. "How long is this gonna last?"

"Normally, she'd start coming down now," Bobby replied with a grin. "From the sound of it, she's eaten enough to get all of Rangeman high."

"Shit," Tank groaned.

"Don't worry. I think she'll crash in a little while anyway. She'll be all right," Bobby insisted.

Suddenly, Stephanie gasped and leaned over Tank's shoulder. "Oh my God…stop!"

Startled, Tank jammed on the brakes and pitched Stephanie head first. She landed on the floorboard by Bobby's feet.

"Stephanie?" Bobby cried out. "Are you all right?"

"If you wanted me in the front seat…all you had to do was ask," came her muffled reply.

Tank and Bobby tried to untwist her body to help her up, but nothing seemed to work. Tank pulled into the McDonalds' parking lot to get a better handle on the situation. He hopped out and ran around to Bobby's side. Even with the front empty, Stephanie still was ass over head.

"Try to roll this way," Bobby suggested.

"I can't," Stephanie whined. "I'm stuck. The seat ate my hand."

Tank yanked a mini Mag-Lite from his utility belt and shined it under the passenger seat. Sure enough, Stephanie's hand had been wedged between the support bars.

"I don't know why I'm surprised," Tank groan. "Now I know why Ranger worries about you all the time."

The upside-down Stephanie shrugged again. "I don't know either, but I've really got the munchies. Can you get me some french fries and a strawberry milk shake?"

TBC…

Word Count 1396