Author's Note: I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed this story. I thought I had replied individually to all of you, but just today saw that you have to respond through a link in the e-mail. So now I am unsure if I thanked any of you. Many "thank you"s to the reviewers, past and present.
Three weeks later.
It has just been one of those days. I hate those days; the ones that may you take notice of what is happening in your life, making you wonder "What am I doing with my life?" I missed catching a skip. And although I hate to admit it, I am also missing the two loves of my life. One of the reasons I hate to admit it is because I am the one who asked Morelli to give me some time. It was just fortuitous that Ranger had to leave Trenton at the same time. This is allowing me some time to assess and make decisions about my love life. Yeah, right, like that is working.
I haven't told Ranger that I'm going through this soul searching. Of course, that doesn't mean he doesn't know. After all he is Batman. I wonder if his ESP can work long distance, all the way from Miami? He calls me a 2-3 times a week to check in with me, to see how I am doing. I must admit, it makes me smile every time he asks if I'm ready to join him in Miami. He's incorrigible, that one. My sense is that it is his way of letting me know that our night together wasn't going to be like the last time, that he wasn't going to send me back to Morelli.
Joe's been good too. After our most recent break up, I told him I needed some time and space. He agreed but asked if he could call every few days just to say hi and let me know that he's thinking of me. I told him it would be ok on a couple of conditions. The first was that he wouldn't badger me to see him, to get over whatever I am going through or to get together for the horizontal mambo. The second condition was that he wouldn't get angry when I didn't answer those calls. Talking to him, rather than listening to a message, may not help my thinking time at all. Joe agreed. He has been surprisingly compliant. He hasn't even mentioned Bob or the boys missing me. He always says "I miss you, Cupcake."
No, Joe hasn't been badgering me at all. He doesn't need to. My mother takes care of that for him. Every Friday night I get questioned about what I am doing. I get told how great "Joseph" is, what a catch he is and how much he loves me. Of course, at some point Grandma Mazur pipes in that it probably has something to do with "that bounty hunter with the great package. When I was staying with Stephanie he used to come visit her in the middle of the night. One time I saw him lying on top of Stephanie. She said he was teaching her a self defense move, but I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, you know." That's when my mother gets up, goes into the kitchen and we hear the pantry door open. My father just grunts and focuses even more intently on his dinner.
And then there was my skip from today. He's low bond, but I need the money. The peanut butter jar is getting low. His name is Stanley Pachucki. He's been writing bad checks all over town and somebody finally decided to prosecute him. I went to school with his grand daughter, Annie. I remember Mr. Pachucki from those high school years. I remember him as being 'burg approved. He had a nice house, kept his yard very nice, never got into any trouble and loved his family. It was hard to picture him as a "criminal." My fact sheet from Connie said that his wife had died nine months ago. Actually, I remember when she passed. I took Grandma Mazur to the wake. Fortunately, it was an open casket so we had no mishaps with her trying to get a peek. My file said that he was driving a 1997 Lincoln Continental. I couldn't help rolling my eyes at thought of Mr. Pachucki trying to see over the dash board.
I thought today would be my lucky day and I'd catch Mr. Pachucki. You see, today is Thursday and Thursday is the most popular early bird special "night" at the area's newest restaurant, The Neon Parsnip. I've heard that the restaurant has quite an eclectic menu and that at nighttime plenty of hipsters can be found there. Ah, but from 4-6 it is the place to be for the seniors. According to Grandma Mazur their early bird specials couldn't be beat. She told me some of her friends go early so they can visit the bar and have their weekly Manhattan. Yuck.
I found a great parking place across the street and was able to see the coming and goings of the blue hair crowd. I saw a few of Grandma's friends pull into the parking lot. Finally, at 4:35 I saw the Lincoln pulling in. It would have been hard to miss. It's not everyday you see a red car that big that looks like no one is driving it.
I quickly started my car up and drove into the parking lot. I didn't want Mr. P to have to walk too far. I wasn't sure what kind of shape he was in. Well, that and I wasn't sure if I was in good enough shape to force him to walk across the street if he resisted. What am I talking about? He's not going to resist me. He's known me since I was a kid.
Unfortunately, by the time I parked Mr. Pachucki had already entered the restaurant. So much for talking to him in the parking lot and potentially saving us both some embarrassment. Being my first time in the Parsnip I wanted to check it out, just in case the take down went bad and I was never allowed in the place again. I have to admit that even under the bright glare of the fluorescent lights the seniors needed to read their menus it looked like it could be a lot of fun there.
Many of the tables were filled. There were lots of couples there, some that looked as if they were long married and others as if they were on a date. Isn't that cute? Who thinks of old people as dating? I wonder if they…cripes…I can't believe I had that thought. Now I have the thought of wrinkly geezer sex permanently etched on my brain.
There were quite a few tables of 6-10 people. It was at one of these tables I found Mr. Pachucki. I thought I recognized some of the people sitting at his table, either from my childhood or as friends of Grandma's. I nicely approached the table and said, like I was surprised to see him, "Mr. Pachucki! How are you? Remember me? I'm Stephanie Plum. I went to high school with Annie." He looked up at me, seemingly happy to see me. "Oh yes, Stephanie. How are you, dear?" Before I could answer, someone interrupted us and said "You be careful of her, Stan. That's Edna's grand daughter you know. The one she's always bragging about." Aw, Grandma Mazur brags about me. I'll have to thank her next time I see her. "She's that bounty hunter that's always blowing things up." Yeesh! I turned to the woman and told her that it wasn't usually my fault and that people would somehow make things blow up when I was around them. Then I turned back to Mr. Pachucki, who was no longer sitting there. I looked around and saw his slight figure headed for the exit. Oh well, at least this is one guy I knew I can out run.
As I made a start to follow him, the old folks turned on me. First one women grabbed onto my flannel sleeve, holding me in place and said "Stephanie, you should be ashamed of yourself." which was followed by a chorus of "Yeah."s and "You tell her, Stella."s. It went downhill from there. I heard:
"Can't you leave an old man in peace?"
"What would your grandmother say if she could see you now?"
"What can you expect from someone with her morals. Sometimes she lives with that nice cop Joe Morelli, then she moves out and does God only knows what. I know her mother taught her better than that."
"Leave our Pachuck alone."
"Pick on someone your own age."
And then things got ugly. I told everyone I really just needed to talk to Mr. Pachucki about something and started walking toward his retreating figure. I stumbled and before I could apologize for my clumsiness I realized someone had stuck out their cane to trip me! I couldn't believe it. Of course this only made me more determined as I stubbornly headed for the door followed by shouts of "Run Stanley Run." and "We'll take care of her." And before I knew it my path was littered with discarded canes, walkers were pushed into me and I was getting interference from all sides. One unmanned walker hit me hard from behind. That's when I lost my balance and fell on the table of a couple having dinner. She was eating lobster sauté and he was eating pasta in a calamari sauce and now I was wearing it. As I made a mess of their dinner and myself I heard a cheer go up "We did it! We saved Stanley!" And sure enough, as I was finally able to get to my feet I could see the red monstrosity of a car pulling out of the parking lot. Apologizing to the couple I backed away from their table and headed out the door.
Which brings me to now and why I am contemplating my life. Here I am covered in lobster, melted butter, calamari rings and red gravy. I am driving myself home, all the windows wide open so my car doesn't smell like a seafood smorgasbord tomorrow. Sometimes I think Joe has a point about my job. When I get to my apartment I'm going to take a long, hot shower, get into a pair of sweats and do some damage to that pint of Chubby Hubby I've got sitting in my freezer. Then I'll retire to my bedroom to assume the thinking position.
The first thing I notice when I was into the apartment is that the red light on my answering machine is furiously blinking. I guess the grapevine's already notified my mother of my mishaps this afternoon. I'm just thankful all the calls came here and not to my cell. I might have answered by mistake. Hey, wait a minute. My cell hasn't rung all day. That's unusual. I dig through my bag and find it. Yup, I did it again. No battery. I roll my eyes and look back to the flashing red light of judgment. I'll deal with it later. Denial World, I'm coming back!
My first priority is to get in the shower. I'm so glad I always have hot water. Not only is it calming and soothing, but it will be necessary to get the butter from the lobster sauté washed off. The shower is also one of the places where I can really let myself go. And no, I don't mean in a shower massager sort of way. Although I have had a tough day and…no, no, no. That's not what I need right now. Want, yes. Need, no. I just want to let the water wash over me and let my mind go blank. That's one of the things I love about showers. I can lose all the chatter going on in my mind and let the problems of the day wash down the drain, even if only temporarily. I finally get out of the shower nice and relaxed. Eeeeek!!! As I am drying off with my favorite fluffy towel I spot something creepy on the bottom of my tub. Afraid to get too close to the gross things I apparently showered with, I crane my neck to look at them. Then I laugh at myself. Without its crunchy golden coating, calamari looks like slimy white rings of alien creatures. I stop laughing when I realize they must have been stuck in my hair.
I make my way to my bedroom, purposely avoiding my answering machine. I pull on my sweats and a soft tee shirt and sit down on my bed, shaking my head at my reflection in the mirror. I then throw myself back on the bed in a variation of my thinking position. The next thing I know there is a constant sound annoying me, waking me up. I guess I fell asleep. I roll over and look at the clock. That's when I recognize the sound. It is someone knocking on my door. What the hell? It's not even five in the morning yet. Why can't whoever is knocking away just break in like everyone else? I finally get up, stumble to the door and look out my peep hole.
All I see is the top of Joe Morelli's head.