This is the sequel to 'Living on a Prayer' I was warning you about…and by its nature, it's AU, because Joe is still dead. Other than that, I don't think you need to have read LOAP for it to make sense.

I'm sorry it took me so long to update, RL can be a bitch. I hope that's all behind me now.

Thank you so very much for your reviews, I really appreciate them. I am not ashamed to admit I love receiving and reading each one of them.

An extra big THANK YOU to Stayce for helping me, editing and being my friend

Disclaimer: All characters are borrowed from JE, the title is borrowed from Bon Jovi

Keep the Faith

Chapter 8

Maybe it was the pain from the slap, or maybe my fear lifted for a second on its own so I could think straight, but all of a sudden, I recognized the voice. I didn't know what had taken me so long either, I'd heard it earlier that day: it was Guzzarella. What the hell?

I straightened. Ever since the meeting with Harry, Guzzarella seemed a lot less scary, although he still made my heart beat faster. I hadn't expected to see him ever again, and definitely not this soon.

I've been ambushed in my apartment more times than I care to remember, but I know I'll never get used to it. There's always fear. And anger.

"What do you want?" I wanted to know. I was careful not to let my anger show, my cheek was still burning from the slap. Bob was whining behind me, probably one of Guzzarella's goons was holding him by his collar.

The lights were turned on and I blinked at the sudden brightness. Guzzarella was standing a few feet away from me now, holding a gun and smirking. The look in his eyes made me shiver involuntarily, they were cold as ice and the only emotion he showed was hate.

"Boss changed the plan on me," Guzzarella started in a conversational tone. "I don't like it when plans change. I made them specially for you." He shrugged, "You owe me some playtime, whether the boss agrees or not." Oh boy.

'Visions of grandeur,' Harry had called it. I'd call it madness. Guzzarella was a few fries short of a Happy Meal, thinking he was the Godfather or something.

'Think Stephanie!' I told myself while I tried to put on my blank face so I wouldn't show him my emotions. I figured he'd get off on watching me squirm and hearing me beg. I'd met my share of slime bags, I should know how to handle them by now.

"Let's sit and have a little chat," Guzzarella said and took a step to the side, motioning with his gun. When I didn't move, I was shoved from behind. I turned around and recognized the muscle that had accompanied Guzzarella and Eric to Shorty's the other day. That left Eric unaccounted for, assuming they always traveled in threes. Had he been dispatched to take care of Tank? Was he waiting in the car?

Shit, I had too many questions and no answers. I took a few deep breaths and made myself walk past Guzzarella into my living room, holding my head high as if he didn't intimidate me. And the Oscar goes to…

I'd lost count, but I was sure a few minutes had passed. Where was Tank? Okay, I told myself, the important thing was to keep calm. If I panicked now, I'd never find a way out.

Guzzarella waved his gun at the couch and I sat down. My fear was slowly being replaced by anger.

This wasn't even my fault. This wasn't part of the mess I'd gotten myself into with 'The Deal', this was Ranger's fault.

Even as I was thinking it, I knew I was being illogical and that Ranger had nothing to do with this latest predicament, but blaming him fueled my anger and I was hoping it would help me.

"What do you want?" I asked again, trying to sound in control and not scared at all, but I don't know if I pulled it off. I tried to remember I was angry, not scared. No, not just angry, mad as hell.

Guzzarella's gun was still pointing at me so probably he felt superior by default.

"Let's just pretend I want information from you and you don't want to give it to me," he said and my blood ran cold. All images of torture I'd ever seen on TV flashed through my mind and I could feel bile rise in my throat at the sound of his voice.

I tried to tell myself to stay calm, that I could do this, that everything would be fine, but I didn't really believe it myself.

Guzzarella's lips spread into a grin and I swallowed hard. He took a step forward and it took all my strength to keep the panic down. 'Anger,' I reminded myself, 'Mad as hell.'

I didn't know what I was going to do, but I swore I wouldn't let him touch me.

I'd been 'playing along' the whole time. As soon as he'd spoken to me, I froze and I'd been doing whatever he told me to do since. Probably he didn't expect a sudden move from me. Probably he never expected resistance; one look into his eyes would be enough to disarm me on a normal day. But this was not a normal day. In fact, I'd had a rotten week. Guzzarella was the proverbial straw for me.

"This is gonna be fun," he said softly as he pulled some kind of thin rope out of his pants pocket. It sounds weird, but seeing the rope made me realize I wasn't bound in any way, no cuffs, no shackles, nothing. As if I'd been under a spell or something, I'd been holding still as if I'd been tied up. But I had both hands and feet to fight with. And my fingernails were pretty long for me and I was wearing my Timberland boots. Guzzarella still had his gun.

Some time ago, Ranger had given me self defense lessons. The assumption had always been that I'd be unarmed and my opponent had a gun or a knife. What the fuck was it again that he'd always said? Something like 'They think they're in charge because they're armed'.

I tried to remember what Ranger had taught me in the split-second it took Guzzarella to lean down to me, but in the end, my actions were more instinct than skill.

I jerked my head back and then forward, so that my forehead connected with his with the kind of satisfying thud that told me I would have a headache the next day. Guzzarella wasn't knocked out, but he was stunned and stumbled backwards. I was breathing hard as if I'd run the 100m sprint.

Without thinking about what I was doing, I followed up with a kick to the groin that sent his gonads up to his throat.

Guzzarella howled and crumbled to the floor, still holding his gun in his right hand. I didn't wait around to find out how long he needed to recover. I expected his goon to come barreling in at the first sound of trouble, to maybe run into him on my way out, but he wasn't there. As soon as I entered the hallway I found out why: Tank was leaning over his unconscious body on the ground, one knee on his back.

Tank clicked on a pair of handcuffs around the goon's wrists and looked up at me, frowning. "Are you okay? I had no idea, I swear I…" I raised my hands in the universal 'Stop' gesture, cutting him off.

"In the living room," I pressed out and gestured wildly, then I ran straight into my bathroom without waiting for Tank's response, expecting to throw up everything I'd ever eaten.

I dry-heaved a couple times, but thankfully didn't have to barf. I heard heavy footsteps outside and I assumed Tank had called in backup. My hands were shaking so hard, I splashed water all over the counter when I tried to wash my face.

I figured the Merry Men could handle the situation, so I pushed the bedroom door closed with my foot and let myself fall onto my bed, still hyperventilating. I lay like that, spread eagle on my back, until my heart rate returned to normal and I felt like I could inhale enough oxygen to support my body.

I got up slowly as my mind replayed what had happened, and I shook my head. If I'd stopped to think, I wouldn't have gone up against Guzzarella with his gun. You only had to look at him to know he wouldn't hesitate to shoot to kill. So why hadn't he? Maybe I'd guessed right, maybe I'd been the first one, the first woman anyway, to resist? I remembered the look of utter surprise on his face when he stumbled away from me, shaking his head to clear it.

So I go up against a maniac with a gun and then I hide in my bedroom? I was giving myself headaches trying to analyze my behavior.

A knock on the door brought me back to the here and now, and I opened the door myself. Tank took a step back when the door opened, and he still looked concerned. I couldn't see anything past him, he was blocking out the rest of the world as far as I was concerned, and I didn't mind.

"How're you doing?" He asked and reached out to touch my arm.

A thought flashed through my mind, 'It should be Ranger asking me this,' but before self pity could take over I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face. "I'm fine, thanks to you. You saved the day."

Tank shook his head slowly. "Wish I could say that, it would look better on the report. You did half the work and I'm gonna catch shit from Ranger for it." The ghost of a smile flashed over his face to show me he was joking as he lightly punched me.

"Are they…" I cleared my throat, "Are they gone?" I stood up on my tippy-toes to see beyond Tank, but he took half a step to the left to block my view.

"Just about," he said and pulled me close. I wrapped my arms around his waist, enjoying the comfort, resting my head on his broad chest. "You did great," he said softly and I was wondering why I was in his arms until I heard whistles and cat calls and Tank lifted his head to yell "Get back to work," over his shoulder.

He turned back to me and smiled. "That should give them something to talk about," he whispered and kissed my cheek.

I was incredulous. He was still in the role? I'd just been attacked by the Godfather's henchman and…well, had kicked the shit out of him without getting hurt, so actually I could see how Tank would be back to business as usual. Or, in this case, not as usual. The guys wouldn't have been able to see beyond Tank, I figured, they only saw my arms around his waist and Tank's lowered head, but I had no doubt they'd add their idea of what had happened when they told everyone at RangeMan.

I smiled at Tank. "Thanks for being there," I said. His smile disappeared. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I shouldn't have taken that call, I shouldn't have let you go up by yourself."

I hugged him quickly. "It's not your fault. Actually, it was sort of my mess, but I still wasn't expecting it." I sighed. "I don't think my adrenaline would have gotten me past the muscle, I spent all I had on Guzzarella."

Tank took a step back to look me in the eye. "You know them?" He asked, his surprise obvious.

"Well, uhm…" his eyes bored into mine in a way that was so familiar to me. Ranger had the same kind of look and I felt like my heart dropped a few inches when I thought of the last time Ranger looked at me like that. Had that really only been a day ago? It felt like weeks.

I took Tank's hand and stepped back into my bedroom. "Let me explain," I said and just to prove I knew how to play the game as well, I closed the bedroom door before I nudged Tank towards the bed.

"A few months ago, I needed a favor," I started as I took a seat next to Tank. Then I told him all about Harry's suite in Atlantic City and Guzzarella's phone calls. I kept my voice low so the guys wouldn't be able to hear we were just talking.

I'd already told Lula and Gazarra, so it was a little easier for me to tell Tank the background. "Does Ranger know?" He asked. I didn't want him to think I'd withheld the information from Ranger, so I told him the truth, of how I was going to tell Ranger as soon as he got back from the latest mission and how I'd never gotten a chance. Tank shook his head at that.

"He needs to know," he said. "He probably knows some of it already, but you need to tell him."

I was too tired to argue. If Ranger wanted to know how I was doing, he could call, I figured. As far as I was concerned, neither Harry nor Guzzarella were a threat anymore, so what was there to tell? 'I used to be in danger'? 'This guy used to follow me around'? I was sure Ranger had more important issues to deal with.

And Tank assured me Guzzarella was on his way to the police station and I would only have to sign the report at some point in the morning, I could manage that on my own, too.

"Let me sleep on it," I finally said. "I can't really think straight anymore. I think I'll wait until he gets back from Boston so I can tell him in person."

Tank looked at me for a long minute and finally almost-nodded. "I'll call you in the morning," he said as he got up. "You need to get some rest."

Now that the adrenaline surplus was wearing off, I was dead tired. And it had been a really long day. It was almost midnight now and I couldn't wait for this day to finally be over.

After Tank and the Merry Men had left, I made sure that Bob was alright and took a long shower to wash the horrible day away, then I wrapped myself in my fluffy robe and fell into bed.

I woke up in the same position I had passed out in, as if I hadn't moved during the night at all. And I couldn't remember any dreams as I squinted into the sunlight and pushed Bob away from my face. Who needs an alarm clock when they can have a slobbering dog every morning?

I decided that it was a brand new day and I'd start it by doing something useful. Like catching a skip or two.

I threw on sweats and a t-shirt, tamed my bed hair into a ponytail and took Bob for a quick walk, then I filled his food bowl and got coffee started.

While I was waiting for the coffee, I toasted a pop tart and straightened up my apartment, picking up stuff that had fallen off the shelves when I'd wrestled Guzzarella. I didn't want any reminders of the day before.

"A new day," I told Bob and the sleeping Rex. "Time to brush off my lasso of truth and set out to save the world!" Bob just gave me a look and Rex didn't bother to come out of his soup can. They knew I was just trying to convince myself.

After I'd taken a shower I took the FTA files from Connie and sat down with them and a cup of coffee to sort them by difficulty. I wanted to start out with something nice and easy.

Showered, dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt and armed with the FTA files and all the weapons my utility belt would hold, Bob and I bolted down the stairs shortly after nine. I was determined to make this day work.

I got as far as the parking lot. For a moment I wondered what my neighbors were looking at, then they parted for me. One look at my car and the day'd gone to hell.

All four tires had been removed, my SUV was sitting on cinder blocks. The entire car was spray painted in neon orange, but there weren't any words I recognized, just random letters and symbols. Whoever had done it had made sure he'd covered all the windows with paint and then he'd taken a sledge hammer to the headlights. The car was totaled.

"Must be some case you're working on," Mrs Bestler said and clomped past me back to the door with her walker. Other people nodded at that and slowly moved on. My car being destroyed was not big news for my neighbors.

I couldn't blame them, they'd seen it all before. They couldn't know I hadn't dealt with a mean or dangerous FTA in months. Since I started at RangeMan, I'd only picked up small-bond FTAs to stay in the game, and those tended not to destroy my cars. I'd driven the SUV for over six months.

I sighed. It wasn't even my car, it was a RangeMan SUV, but it brought back so many memories. The first time one of my cars was spray-painted, it was a beat up Nova that I'd bought to find Morelli. I'd parked it on Stark Street and when Morelli had taken me back to the car, it had a lot of day-glo slogans on it. And in the years to come, Morelli had often been the first cop on the scene when one of my cars caught fire or exploded outright.

I pulled on Bob's leash and left the parking lot for the street. I knew I was supposed to call the cops and my insurance company, but I couldn't deal with that right away. If I called the cops, it wouldn't be Morelli who'd respond.

And I couldn't call Ranger because Ranger was out of town. He'd been with me through a lot of car deaths. I could see him smile and shake his head at the sight of my car. Then he'd pull me towards him and tell me it was replaceable and make me feel better.

The one thing I didn't get was why I hadn't noticed the car before. You'd think that a spray-painted car on cinder blocks would get my attention even if I was sleep-deprived and lacking caffeine. So maybe this had only happened in the past hour. That would explain why my neighbors hadn't banged my door down yet, they'd only just discovered it themselves.

"Whatever," I said to Bob. "It's gone, it's dead." Bob looked at me with pity. I couldn't blame him, this was pathetic. The most pathetic part was that I wasn't mourning the car, I was wallowing because I didn't have a shoulder to cry on. Mental head slap.

I headed straight for the bakery at the corner, got a dozen donuts and sat down on the bench at the bus stop in front of the bakery, dividing up the goods.

I don't know what it is about sugar and lard, but with way too much of them in me, I always feel better. Bob and I were on our last donut and I had calmed down enough to focus again.

Self pity, as usual, wouldn't get me anywhere, neither was lamenting the loss of a car. What I should focus on was finding out who did it.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed RangeMan's control room. "Don't tell me you won't be in today," Lester said by way of greeting. I don't know if he does it on purpose, but he always finds a way to make me smile.

"I'll be in later," I told him. "Is Tank in?"

"What, I'm not good enough for you any more?" Lester replied and I could imagine his face as he pretended to be hurt. "Fine, hang on," he said before I got a chance to ensure him he'd always be good enough. Good thing I'd gone with Lula's advice, I thought. Lester might have had a little too much fun pretending we were an item.

"Everything okay?" Tank greeted me. Apparently 'Hello' was not part of the RangeMan etiquette. And the only reason I cared was so that I could distract myself.

"What happened to them?" I blurted out, caught myself and cleared my throat. "I mean the men you took to the police last night, are they still in jail?"

Tank chuckled and it was a deep rich sound that made me feel comfortable for some reason. "I knew what you meant," he said. "We got them booked, but unfortunately I couldn't arrange for the key to be thrown away. Any reason you need to know this now?"

I sighed. I really didn't want to tell Tank about another one of my cars going to car heaven, but I'd never lied to him and wouldn't start over something like this. "My car was vandalized," I simply said. "I'm trying to narrow down the list of subjects."

"You okay?" Tank wanted to know as I could hear him type on his keyboard, probably checking my SUV's GPS. "Your signal is still coming through strong."

I sighed again and Bob sent me a look but then leaned against my leg for comfort. "I'm fine. They spray-painted and banged it up, it didn't blow up."

"Are you okay?" Tank asked again. I bit my lip. No, I was not okay, but it had nothing to do with the car. It had everything to do with my life being too full of surprises lately.

"Did you have an okay night?" Tank prodded when I didn't respond. I was surprised at how well he knew me and how well he read my silence.

"I was okay until I saw the car," I admitted.

"It's just a car, Steph," Tank said and I grimaced. That was Ranger's line. But before I could drift back into patheticness, I straightened my shoulders and took a deep breath.

"I know," I said, nodding as if he could see me. "I guess it was just the last straw. I'm fine, really. Nothing a couple donuts won't fix." I eyed the empty bakery bag. After all, I'd only had half a dozen.

"Did you call the cops? You need a ride to the office?" Tank asked. I hadn't even thought as far as going to work.

"No and yes," I said. "I only just discovered the mess and didn't have a chance to call the cops yet. But I'd appreciate a lift." Okay, so that was a little fib, but one could argue I didn't have the time to make another phone call yet.

"I'll call it in and pick you up in fifteen," Tank said and disconnected and I was very happy to have him in my life at the moment to take care of everything. I now understood what Lula saw in him.

The blue and white was already in the parking lot when I cut through the lobby and exited through the back door. I didn't know the two officers, but I'd seen them around and offered them a donut from the new bag.

"You know, it's a shame we stopped betting on your next disaster," the officer closest to me said, taking a donut. "This would have made somebody real happy."

The second officer laughed at that and declined a doughnut. Two reasons not to like him, I decided. "Can I see the registration?" He asked, all efficient.

They started asking the neighbors if anybody had seen anything when Tank arrived. Bob went into his usual happy dance at the sight of Tank, so I let him off the leash before he could drag me with him as he rushed over.

Tank looked at the SUV wreck and whistled. "Thorough job." Now that I'd had my sugar fix, I was able to look at the car without choking up. I guess it helped that it was a company car, not something I was emotionally attached to, none of the cars with a history.

Tank cut his eyes to me, "You sure you okay?" He asked me again and I nodded again. "I'm fine. Just took me by surprise I guess."

Tank didn't look convinced but probably decided to let it drop for the time being and I thanked him silently for that.

"Any ideas?" I knew he meant about who'd done it. I shook my head. Even if Guzzarella hadn't been in prison awaiting his arraignment, I couldn't see him with a spray can. He'd kill me without blinking, but I couldn't see him keying a car. "Unless it's an 'old friend', I have no idea."

Tank looked from the wreckage to me. "Which old friend?" He raised an eyebrow at me. The more time I spent with him, the more I noticed how much he and Ranger were alike in their mannerisms, it was as if they used each other for a mirror.

I shrugged. "Pick one, I guess. I was thinking someone who still holds a grudge from back in the day," I waved my hand over my back to indicate the past, although back in the day could be less than a year ago. It had turned out taking felons to prison when they don't want to go can make you a lot of enemies. Go figure.

Tank looked at me for another beat, probably trying to determine if I was holding back again. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Harry's men earlier," I said. "But really, that's the only thing you didn't know about, I have no idea who did this." I gestured at the car.

Tank took another look at the SUV. "Nothing left to do here," he said, but his face had lost all expression, it was the blank face. There was something he was not telling me.

"I need to wait for the officers to…" Tank waved me off. "You just have to sign the report at the station later for the insurance. They have everything they need from you." Since they had already asked me what, if anything, I'd seen, Tank was probably right. We got into his SUV and buckled in.

"Do you have any idea who could have done this?" I challenged him. Tank started the car and maneuvered it out of the parking lot. "No," he said without looking at me. "But I know I don't like it."

"You think he'll attack me next? You think I should stay at your place for my own good so you can protect me?" I could barely keep my straight face, but I was determined to find out if Tank knew anything.

"What? No! I meant…" he cut his eyes to me and grinned. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't have a death wish."

I frowned at him. "It's not like someone's trying to kill me on a regular basis, and it was just a car…"

Tank pulled over and turned in his seat to face me. "That's not what I meant and you know it. A dinner, or a hug, while in public is all well. I don't want to face Ranger if he found out I'd spent 'quality time' with you in private."

I smiled. "That's sweet of you. But you don't need to worry about that anymore, remember? Ranger and I are over, he left me."

"A lot you know," Tank grumbled and got the car back into traffic. "What that's supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Can we talk about this at the office?" Tank asked and I realized I'd broken his driving zone and seriously violated the 'no talking' rule. "Fine," I said and sank back into my seat. I really wanted to believe Tank but I also wanted to get on with my life. Hoping that Ranger still cared for me wouldn't help with that. If Tank was hoping I'd forget by the time we got to the office, he didn't know me after all. I usually went with denial, but since he'd brought it up, I needed to know.

I managed to stay quiet for the entire ride to the office and I could see Bob shift uncomfortably in the backseat, probably feeling my nervous energy.

"Okay, we're in the office," I said when we got off the elevator on the 5th floor. Tank rolled his eyes and motioned me towards Ranger's office.

I could feel all eyes on us as I hurried to keep up with Tank, but I didn't want to waste time greeting everyone. Tank might remember he had an important meeting to attend or a phone call to make, and by the time that was over, I would have lost my courage to prod.

"So why do you think Ranger would care if he heard we were together and is that why you agreed to the game right away?" I confronted him as soon as he'd closed the office door behind us. Tank went past me and sat down in the executive chair, clearly trying to come up with a good answer.

"Well?" I pushed, putting my hands on the desk palms down and leaning forward. It may have even looked intimidating for a regular-sized man, but Tank still had to look down to see me even though he was sitting.

"Christ, Steph," he began and ran a hand over his bald head. I raised my eyebrows at him in what I hoped looked like silent encouragement.

"You think he just woke up one day and stopped caring about you?" Tank asked when it was obvious I wouldn't give up.

"He broke up with me," I said as patiently as I could manage. "I'd say whether he cares or not doesn't matter." I shoved my hands into my pockets so I couldn't flail my arms. Even though they were my own words, they stung. Every time I thought of Ranger, the thought ended with '…and we're no longer together.' But I didn't want to cry in front of Ranger.

"He broke up with you to protect you," Tank explained, but his blank face had slid into place, a dead giveaway. Whenever Ranger showed his blank face, it was to hide his emotions. So there were emotions to hide.

"You said you didn't believe that," I pointed out, not quite convinced anymore. Tank sighed and rubbed his head again. Then I had a thought.

"Did you talk to Ranger since yesterday?" I asked Tank and he lowered his eyes. Bingo. Ranger must have said something to change Tank's mind.

"I did," he admitted. "But not about you, it was a standard situation report. I told him the events of the last 24 hours and he told me that he'd be back on Friday." He picked up a pencil and started twirling it between his fingers.

"So really it was about me. If you shared what happened at my apartment." So Ranger knew. And hadn't come. I felt the tears well up inside and bit my lip to fight them back.

Tank let out a long breath. "Yeah, he knows."

"And that's why you changed your mind?" I swallowed and sat down in the visitor's chair to take a calming breath. I was afraid I'd grab his shirt and shake him until he told me what I wanted to know if I kept standing close to him. Not that I could shake him, but I didn't want to be tempted to try.

Tank shook his head. "I didn't. I'm still with you. I told you from the start, I'm helping you because I think Ranger needs a push."

Right. But then his reaction earlier didn't make any sense. "Wouldn't part of the plan include us spending time together?" Tank sighed exasperated.

"Was there more to the conversation? Something you're not telling me?" I knew there was no way Tank would tell me anything he didn't want to but I was hoping a little prodding might convince him. I realized sitting down had been a bad move as I was squirming in my seat.

Tank was still looking at the pencil in his hand. "He told me to take care of you while he's away," he finally said and looked up. "And so far, I fucked up twice. And he knows or is going to know every last detail of my fuckups. So his patience with me is wearing pretty thin right about now. I just don't want to push him too far. So for this…" he pointed first at me and then at himself, "...plan to work, I need you to stay focused."

I thought of asking where Tank was and what this man sitting in front of me had done with him, but I bit my lip. I didn't think mocking him would help me find out what they'd talked about.

"And you sounded like you'd given up earlier," he finished. A Dr. Phil from Tank. I had no comeback.

I looked at him for a long minute, then I took another deep breath. "Okay," I said, trying to keep my breathing even. It didn't help, I jumped up and started pacing. I was trying to at least look calm but I really felt like crying or screaming or both. Another deep breath.

"That was easily the longest speech I've ever heard you give." I stopped in front of the desk and leaned in again, making sure I had Tank's attention. His eyes narrowed marginally, as if he was trying to foresee my next move.

"But I still don't get it. If I don't do anything, I lose him. If I beg him to stay, I lose him. And now you're telling me that if I flirt with you and he finds out, I lose him?" The first of the tears I'd been fighting spilled over and ran down my cheek and I swiped at it impatiently.

"I don't need to know how to lose him, I need to know how to get him back!"

TBC

A/N: What do you think Steph should do about her dilemma? And where the hell is Ranger? Should a dead car even register with her?