Simple Hearts
Chapter 13
Stepping off the elevator on 5, a leather briefcase in hand and perfectly fitting black Armani suit was on his body, Ranger walked into his office. He stopped dead. "What the Fuck are you?"
Tank was standing there is a red Zoot suit with black pinstripes. He had a dark fedora with a red band on his head and it went all the way down to the two-tone winged tipped shoes. "Lula thinks I look good in a hat." He went through the motions tipping the hat and rolling it back up on his bald head with ease. "I'm the extra muscle. I always wanted to wear this suit."
"Right," his friend breathed out. "What ever happened to black being less memorable?"
"Red is the new black." His finger pointed to the black silk handkerchief in the pocket, his tie, and down at his shoes. "I got black on. This color compliments my skin tone. Lula said so. You look like you're going to court not throwing weight around." He made a push-up motion towards the ceiling. "Besides you are still sporting the new do, I wanted something new, too."
Ranger shook his head, he was really, really glad she didn't dress him in Spandex. "Let's go, Al Capone. Will Lester and Bobby be able to handle the morning update and the office while we make our visits?"
"We got it covered," Lester said with Bobby in the doorway. "How come Tank gets to dress up?" They both were laughing.
"I'm the extra muscle," he announced proudly.
Ranger raised an eyebrow wondering why he agreed to this. "If anything major comes up while we're at our meetings, call. We can have an employee update after we return if we need one."
"Got it, Boss," Bobby agree. "I have to get me one of those suits for Halloween."
"It will go with the Groucho disguise," Ranger told him with the intimidating stare. He hadn't forgotten about that stunt.
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Driving out of Trenton towards Pennsylvania and into Delaware, Ranger was never so glad for the invention of tinted windows in his Mercedes and sunglasses. He couldn't achieve his 'zone' driving. "You look like Tomato Man!"
"You're jealous I look so good," Tank grinned with bright white teeth.
"Yeah, right!"
"So, Ranger," Tank asked, "who are we visiting first?"
He couldn't look at his best friend; his eyes remained on the interstate. He was taking the muscle man persona to heart; he had two Carnations in his hand to give each one of the obnoxious men as a warning. Ranger was pretty certain a mobster left those when a hit was coming. "I think her boss. We'll see if he is at the salon early?"
There was a silver Beamer in the parking lot when Ranger pulled next to 'The Hair Shack'. Lights were on in the front, but it wasn't fully lit.
"You look like a lawyer," Tank said walking determinedly next to Ranger with his sunglasses and briefcase.
The dark shaded eyes turned to his right. "Better than a bottle of ketchup."
"Jealous."
An eyebrow was up at the comment. The front door was locked so Tank rapped on it.
"We're not open!" A shout came from inside.
The man in red knocked again.
Tony in his wild flowered polyester shirt out of the 70's came walking out, he stopped. "I gave all I had to you money grabbers! I don't have anymore for the IRS!" He was yelling through the door as he unlocked it.
Tank held open the door and Ranger walked inside. "You shouldn't talk about your government like that," the large man in the hat told the salon owner.
"We are not with the IRS," Ranger said never taking off his sunglasses.
Tank added, "But we know them."
"I have a matter to discuss with you, Mr. Roman. Do you know Stephanie Plum?"
"Her! What a bitch of an employee! I give her a job out of the goodness of my heart and a favor to the whining former owner. What does she do? We had customers and she took off. I fired her!"
Tank pushed him into a chair and was leaning into his face. "That wasn't a good answer."
Ranger had removed his Armani jacket, his tie went off, and his white shirt revealed a black painted-on T-shirt with every ripple and developed muscle visible when he unbuttoned it. "Her father was in the Emergency Room. I was there with her."
"If you're here, then it wasn't serious. She's still out of a job!" Tony Roman flung back. His voice rose with his uneasiness, it gave him away even as he challenged Ranger.
A hand came out grabbing the front of his multi-colored shirt lifting his out of the chair Tank put him in. Ranger brought him within inches of his deadly blank face. "That was her father she loves. She loves her son very much and you tried to pressure her to make a choice. There was no choice, her son comes first. I will tell you this once. She is due a final paycheck, make sure she gets it."
"She walked out of here! FUCK her and you!" Tony was trying to hold his own but failing miserably. The swing he took at the Cuban Man never connected because Ranger dropped him with force. He was a heap on the tile.
Another hand picked up his aching body, this time by the back of his shirt carrying him. "I like those." Tank pointed to the shampoo sinks in the back.
All the salon owner saw were the red pants and wing tipped shoes moving from his upside down position. "Let me go, You Fucker!"
"Watch your language!" Tank roared at Tony in his grip shaking him.
Water began running. It was spraying in his face; next, he was going head first into the deep shampoo sink. His flaying hands felt air swishing.
"What was that answer?"
"GL-L-B!" Tony was choking with water spitting out of his mouth. His permed hair was dripping water. "Fucker!"
"Wow! That language! And that is the wrong answer again!"
The strong man in red dunked him in the deep sink. This time his legs were sticking up in the air kicking. The other half was in the sink.
"Don't you splash my suit! It's new!" Tank warned pulling Mr. Roman up again. "Now, want to try that answer again?"
He was coughing up water struggling to get himself out of the strong grip. Waving his hands for no more of a bath, Tony finally said, "The Bitch can have her paycheck!"
A Cuban fist connected with his wet jaw knocking the salon owner out of the chair he was kneeling and into the one next to it. He was slumped on the floor like a wet rag doll. "Watch how you talk of my Woman," Ranger snarled in the dazed face bending down to meet it.
The second in command was surprised by his best friend's statement, but never said a word. Tank picked him up by the collar dragging him to a dryer chair. "You're wet." He dropped him in it. "Don't forget that paycheck 'cause you don't want us to come back. You won't be pretty." He pulled the hood down, turned on the dryer, and dropped a carnation in his lap. Ranger was retying his tie. Tony Roman was pale still snorting water and some blood from his cut lip.
His Armani jacket was back on his body and Ranger picked up his briefcase walking out the door behind Tank.
"Your woman, huh?" the man in red asked. "You and Stephanie should double date with me and Lula."
"Don't you dare wear that suit, Tomato Man."
"I look good and you're envious."
Ranger rolled his eyes behind his mirrored shades. "You see right through me."
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The next stop was an office in a dirty yellow building on the Western edge of Wilmington. 'Wilmington Properties'. He and Tank walked up the flight of stairs to the office on the second floor. The lighting was a dingy as the building color. Opening the door of the building management, Ranger and Tank witnessed a 'Barbie' looking woman painting her nails. Probably, she was in her twenties.
"Good Morning," Ranger greeted taking off his sunglasses showing a flash of white.
"Ooo, Hi, there!" she squeaked. "Can I help you?"
Both Ranger and Tank flashed ID's with a United States seal. "I hope so," Ranger said with his smile and a smooth Spanish accent. "I'm Agent Maweeney and this," he stopped to get a grip seeing that red Zoot suit, "is Agent Dover. Is Mr. Orwell available? May I ask your name? You are very beautiful!"
The best friend was doing his best to keep a straight face. She was putty and it was hilarious watching Ranger turn on the Cuban charm.
"He's in there," the receptionist pointed a bright pink fingernail to the closed door. "I'm Josie."
"You are very good at your position I can tell, Josie" he told her.
Josie giggled. "Hee, hee."
Her high pitched voice was the same as raking nails on the chalkboard to Tank, but he just grinned next to Mr. Suave-Spanish-Accent. "I'm just doing this to pay for my tuition at stripper school."
Ranger leaned closer to her. "That's amazing, Josie. I like a girl who furthers herself."
"I have my stage name all picked out. It's Ginger Shimmer-Sweet with a hyphen." Her squeaky voice took on a breathless pitch now.
His nose wrinkled Tank watched. "I like that with a hyphen," The words came out silver-tongued tinged with Spanish. "My friend and I are with the government and need to speak with your boss."
"Oh, which one?" Josie asked.
Tank was thinking there wasn't too much oxygen around that stripper pole.
"The United States," Ranger clarified for the stripper wanna-be, "but before we go in, could you get me a tenant file that we need to discuss with him. The renter's name is 'Stephanie Plum'."
The 'Barbie' doll thought for a moment looking into Ranger's handsome face. "OK. That's under 'P' I think." She bounced up and tiptoed to the file cabinets in her high heels and short dress wiggling her body. She recited the Alphabet until she came to 'P' noted on the file cabinet drawers. Ranger caught Tank staring up at the ceiling; he was having great difficulty not laughing.
"Here, Handsome," Josie told the Cuban agent prancing back on her toes. From the bouncing breasts they knew why she was in stripper school and shortage of brain cells. "Clarence doesn't have too much going on. Go on in."
Taking the file, Ranger brought her hand to lips. "Thank you, Josie. You're special."
She giggled falling back in her chair.
Tank shoved Ranger before he opened the manager's door. "Show off."
Sitting at a desk flipping the pages of a 'Penthouse' was a man probably in his early forties with a leer on his face. "Who are you?"
"Agents Maweeney and Dover," Ranger said. He and Tank flipped the government ID's out. "We have some business to discuss."
"Make an appointment," Mr. Orwell conveyed. His eyes were back on the pages he was holding up blocking his face.
Never making a sound, Clarence didn't have a chance to blink, the big dark hand of Tank's pinned the magazine to the desk.
"We have an appointment," Ranger hissed. "We just made it!" The jacket and tie were already off. The building manager's eyes widened seeing the sculpted chest in the open white shirt and realizing he might be in trouble. With one swift tug by the Muscle Man, the telephone on the desk was disconnected.
"Here, you may want to review this lease," Ranger said placing Stephanie's contract on the desk.
"OK," Mr. Orwell sniveled, "What about it?" He slipped on his reading glasses. "She's a problem renter."
"Really? Is Miss Plum due a deposit when she turns in her keys?"
He looked over the contract. "No, went to the new furnace and over expenses."
A large Cuban hand came up and Clarence's face smashed into the desk. "Read it again," Ranger jeered. "The landlord takes care of the maintenance."
His face came up slightly, the reading glasses now crooked, blood oozed down from his nose, and his eyes dazed. "I missed that," he stammered.
"Good," Ranger said, "and it is to be paid in cash, understand? You do not want me coming back." He buttoned his white shirt and re-tied his tie before slipping on his Armani jacket. Tank tickled the confused building manager's cheek with the flower produced from under his red jacket and dropped it on the contract.
Ranger picked up his briefcase walking to the door. Opening it, he called back, "Your glasses look a little out of line. You may want to get them fixed."
"And your phone," the muscle added.
He winked at the receptionist. "Your boss is a little busy reviewing paperwork. You were a big help, Ginger Shimmer-Sweet. Thank you." Ranger squeezed her hand speaking in a hushed Spanish voice.
"I'll be graduating stripper school soon and have a job down at 'The Playpen' lined up. Maybe you can come see me," she invited twirling her hair.
"Maybe I will. Bye, Josie."
"Bye."
Tank and Ranger had to stop on the stairs laughing. "This was fun. We have to do this again, Ranger."
He glanced at Tank slipping on his mirrored aviator glasses. "Not in that suit."
xxxxxxxxxx a link to Tank's suit in on my profile XXXXXXXXXXXX