THREE
I parked in front of Celia's small, faded yellow, two-story single-family home. A metal car port sat empty next to the house. Two cracked, concrete steps led up to a tiny, screened in front porch. I pulled open the screen door and stepped onto the porch. It contained a small wicker love seat and a large empty bird cage. I rapped on the door to the main house and waited. A minute later, Celia Mileski opened the door, dressed in a pink bathrobe.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm Stephanie Plum," I recited, handing her my card. "I represent Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. Unfortunately, you recently missed your court date and I need you to come with me to get rescheduled."
"Of course I missed my court date," Celia shot back. "They impounded my car. How the hell do they expect me to get to court when they won't give my car back?"
"That's just like the government," Lula pipped in.
"Ain't it?" Celia replied. "You tell them I'll show up to court when they give me back my car."
"It doesn't really work like that," I tried to explain, but Lula cut me off.
"You tell em, sister. Ain't nothin' gonna change until people stand up for their rights. You know what you need? One of them Occupy movements."
Celia's face lit up. "That's a great idea. We could Occupy the impound lot until they give me my car back."
"Yeah, and all them other cars they got locked up there," added Lula. "I know a bunch of people who got their stuff locked up in there. They'd Occupy with you."
My eye began twitching again. "Celia, we really need to get your court date rescheduled first."
"And how do you expect me to get back home afterwards?"
"You could call an Uber," suggested Lula.
"A what?"
My eye twitched so hard, I thought I might be on the verge of a seizure. "I can drive you down to get rescheduled, re-bonded, and then drive you back," I offered. This debacle might become more of a headache than my cut of the bond was worth.
Celia shot me a calculating look. "I suppose that would work. Let me put on some decent clothes and shoes. Come in."
Lula and I stepped into the house. It was clean, if a little outdated. Celia went upstairs to change. The little foyer we stood in opened to a small living room. Another large bird cage stood empty, but open, against the far wall.
Both Lula and I jumped when we heard a small voice from the kitchen call out, "Help!" A few seconds passed, then we heard the voice again. "Help!"
I tip toed around the corner to peek into the kitchen. Perched atop the back of one of the kitchen chairs sat a large blue parrot. It watched a small TV set on the counter. A re-run of NCIS played on the screen, the bird mimicking the victim.
"Thank god, it's just a bird," sighed Lula.
The parrot squawked, apparently surprised at two strangers in its kitchen, and launched off its perch, flying straight at us.
Lula and I hit the floor as feathers grazed our heads.
"Oh, hell no," Lula shouted. "I'm outta here!" She rushed for the door.
I followed, throwing my hands over my head as blue feathers filled my line of vision. I heard the screen door slam before I'd even made it back to the front porch. A wing buffeted my head and I screamed. The creature followed me onto the screen porch, flying in circles above my head, squawking. As I pushed through the screen door, I tripped down the concrete steps, sending me sprawling face first onto the sidewalk. I felt the breeze on the back of my neck as the parrot flew out behind me.
Lula helped me up and I dusted off my knees, palms slightly brush burned.
"What did you do?" Celia demanded, running out of the house. "You let my Polly out!"
We all looked at the sky. The blue parrot winged her way east.
"We need to catch her," Celia insisted.
"I'm sure she'll come back when she gets hungry," I replied.
Celia shot me a dirty look. "She's a blue Macau, not a common house cat. If you want to take me in to get rescheduled, you'll help me catch Polly."
I sighed. We all piled into the Jeep and I started driving east, with Lula and Celia hanging their heads out the windows to track Polly.
"Hard left," Lula directed and I veered in front of an oncoming truck, earning an angry horn blow and a stiff middle finger.
Twenty minutes later, Celia finally shouted, "She's landed," pointing to a clump of leafless trees in the middle of a public park and playground. The park stood empty, save for a few teenagers loitering around the swings.
I pulled into the parking lot. We all got out and huddled around the base of a massive oak tree. Polly sat half way up, preening her feathers on the end of a branch.
"Here Polly! Here Polly!" Celia called, but the parrot pointedly ignored her.
"One of us is going to have to climb up and get her," said Lula.
Two sets of eyes looked at me.
"What? I can't climb trees." I used to climb out the bathroom window and onto the porch roof to sneak out in high school, but that didn't count.
"Have you ever tried?" inquired Lula.
"Yes, I was eight and I broke my arm. Why don't you climb the tree?"
Lula looked down at her outfit. "Does this look like appropriate tree climbing attire?" She wore impossibly tight skinny jeans, spike heeled ankle boots, and the see-through cheetah print sweater.
I looked at Celia. "I'm on disability cause of my bad back," she explained.
"I can't even reach the first branch," I protested. "How am I supposed to climb the tree?"
"That's easy. You see this all the time on those survival shows," Lula replied. "Celia and I just give you a lift up." She motioned an alley-op.
Lula squatted down and laced her fingers together six inches above the ground. Celia copied her. This seemed insane. I took a deep breath and put one sneakered foot into Lula's hands, then the other into Celia's. They heaved and I suddenly sailed upward. I latched my arms around the branch as Lula and Celia pushed my feet up. My sneakers scrabbled against the bark, but I finally got my feet hooked around the branch where it met the tree trunk. I hung there for a few seconds, trying to catch my breath.
"She kinda looks like a sloth," Celia remarked to Lula.
My right eye twitched painfully.
Somehow, I managed to pull myself onto the branch and stand up, hugging the tree trunk for dear life. The next branch grew within an arm's length. I put both hands on it and hauled myself up, until I hung from my armpits, swinging my legs up and over. I straddled the branch and reevaluated my life choices.
Over the next half hour, I slowly ascended the tree. Polly watched me through cold, black eyes, but mercifully stayed perched. I reached the branch below the parrot, but discovered a big problem.
"I can't reach the branch Polly is on," I shouted down to Lula and Celia.
"See if she will fly down to you," Celia shouted.
"Here, Polly," I coaxed, proffering one of my arms as a perch. The bird didn't move.
"We need some crackers or something to lure her down," Lula shouted.
"Oh, wait," Celia cried, "I forgot. I have some of her bird snacks in my pocket." She pulled out a small bag of parrot treats and shook it. Polly's head immediately swiveled toward her owner and she glided down to land on Celia's shoulder. Celia immediately gave her a treat from the bag.
"You can come down now, Steph," shouted Lula.
I looked back the way I'd come. I'd climbed a lot higher than I realized. My vision swam and I hugged myself harder against the tree trunk. Nope. No way in hell I could get down from here on my own.
Ten minutes later, lights flashing and siren blaring, a fire truck rolled into the park. A few seconds later a couple cop cars arrived too, then an ambulance. The noise drew the attention of the neighbors and soon a pretty good crowd milled around underneath me. To top it all off, an unmarked cop car rolled into the lot and Morelli got out. He wore jeans, a cream sweater that fit snuggly across his chest and biceps, and a gun on his hip. His black hair, in need of a trim, ruffled in the cold breeze. He looked sexy as hell and I had to remind myself I was still mad at him.
Morelli walked over to my tree and looked up. "When I heard there was a woman stuck in a tree in the park off Elm Street, I hoped it wouldn't be you. I should really know better by now."
"Just shut up and get me down," I shouted.
Morelli walked over to the group of firefighters assessing my situation. A few minutes later, one returned to the fire truck and drove it over the grass and as close to the tree as possible. The ladder slowly lifted and extended, but the closest they could get it to me was still several feet away. One of the firefighters scurried up the ladder, holding a rope and harness.
"I'm going to throw this to you," he said from the end of the ladder. "You'll need to put it on and then you're going to have to jump over to me."
"You're joking."
"Would you rather jump without the rope and harness?"
"Well, when you put it that way, no." I reached a shaky hand out and the firefighter tossed the harness toward me. I didn't close my hand fast enough and missed. The fireman hauled it back up by the rope and tried again. This time I grabbed it.
It appeared the kind of harness used for rock climbing, with two holes for each leg and a band that went around the waist. There was no way I could have stepped into it without falling over on solid ground, never mind while balancing on a tree limb. I put the strap around my waist and tightened it as much as I could with one hand.
The fireman took in the slack from the rope. "Okay, now just try to walk out on the branch as far as you can, then jump to me."
He might as well have asked me to score a perfect ten on the balance beam at the Olympics.
With my heart threatening to beat out of my chest, I let go of the tree trunk and swiveled to face the fireman. Holding my arms out like a tight rope walker, I took a few shaky steps toward the ladder.
"Good, just like that, now just keep coming toward me. No, don't look down!"
Too late. My vision swam again, my legs quaked and my sneaker slid off the side of the branch. I screamed as I fell, but then jerked to a stop a few feet below the branch, dangling from the rope. Slowly, the fireman hauled me up to him. He signaled to the driver and the ladder began to descend. The crowd cheered and clapped. I hid my face in shame.
The EMT's waited for me when I arrived safely back on solid ground.
"I'm fine," I assured them, wanting nothing more than to just get away from all the spectators. And Morelli.
I turned around and bumped into his chest.
"Cupcake, do I even want to know why you were in the tree?"
"You must, since you just asked me," I replied coldly.
Morelli sighed in an exasperated sort of way. "Come on, Steph. This whole break is dumb. I didn't even do anything."
"Maybe that's part of the problem," I replied softly, moving past him.
He grabbed my arm gently. "Why don't you come over to my place New Year's Eve? I'll get a pizza and some beers. Bob misses you."
Pulling the Bob card was a low blow. My heart melted a little bit. "I can't. I've made other plans."
Morelli's mouth drew into a tight line. "Please tell me you have a girls' night planned?"
For some reason, I couldn't look Morelli in the eye. "I'll be working," I said to the ground, "with Ranger."
Morelli let my arm go and I walked away, feeling miserable. Lula and Celia trotted up to me, Polly still hanging out on Celia's shoulder.
"I'll take you home," I told Celia. "I can pick you up tomorrow to get your court date rescheduled. I'm taking the rest of the day off."
We reached the Jeep, only to find Ranger leaning against the passenger side of his Porsche 911, parked in the stall next to mine. He shook with silent laughter.
"Babe," he said with a full smile, the amusement reaching his eyes. "I cancelled a very important meeting when I heard you were stuck in a tree."
"I hope it costs you a fortune," I replied, my mood foul.
His smile didn't fade, "Oh it will. But it was worth every penny to witness that."
I punched him in the side. He didn't even flinch. I rubbed my sore knuckles. Ranger's eyes darted across the grass to where Morelli stood, watching us. Ranger suddenly grabbed me, pulling me against him and kissing me roughly. After a few seconds, I regained enough of my senses to push him away.
"That was not nice," I chided.
"I know," he replied unapologetically, still smiling. He kissed me again, a surprisingly sweet gentle peck, before walking away and getting back into his car. Revving the engine, he sped off.
I took Celia home, then dropped Lula back at the office. I headed home, stopping at the 7-11 to buy a few pints of Ben and Jerry's. I spent the rest of the day curled up on my couch, eating ice cream and binge watching Grey's Anatomy.
A little after five-thirty my cell phone rang. The display showed my parents' number.
I answered, mild dread filling my stomach. Chances were good my mother's phone had been ringing off the hook all afternoon. "Hello."
"Stephanie! You're trending on Facebook," exclaimed my Grandma Mazur.
"I'm what?"
"Trending on Facebook. That video of you in the tree today, it's gone viral."
I felt suddenly ill. "There's a video?"
"Yep, and now you're internet famous. Maybe you'll get called to go on Ellen. She always has on those internet famous folks."
"Grandma, whatever you do, don't let Mom see the video."
"Oh, it's too late for that. Everyone's been calling all afternoon, telling her about how they saw you online."
Oh good god. "Is she ironing?"
"Yep. She's run out of clothes, so she's doing the curtains now."
I hung up with Grandma Mazur and pulled out my laptop, waiting impatiently for it to boot up and connect to the wifi. I opened Facebook to find over fifty new notifications and my news feed clogged up with the same video, in which I'd been tagged over and over. Someone had filmed the entire ordeal on their cell phone, from my climb to my rescue, and then uploaded it. I snapped the laptop closed and wished for more ice cream to magically appear.