Shelter from the Storm ~ Chapter Sixteen

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a/n: Since I had to look this up to be sure I was okay with my definitions I am adding this brief info: manga refers to Japanese or Japanese-influenced comic books and/or their art. anime refers to Japanese cartoon animation; or Japanese-inspired animated cartoons. And yes I realize the Italian-American phrase is mangia, spelled and pronounced differently. Just was being silly...enjoy!

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Zoe is six, Julie is fourteen, Ranger and Stephanie are still 30.

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Manga Does Not Always Mean Eat, eat!

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Part One

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Ranger

I was tired, I needed a beer. It was an unseasonably warm late afternoon in early November, the weather as nice as it ever gets in Jersey, I guess. When I got home, no one noticed my entrance so I silently slipped into the kitchen and found myself a cold Dos Equis. Leaned against the counter, took that first long gulp. Aaah.

Ella was nowhere to be seen, but something was simmering, smelled nice. Zoë was not here; she had informed me this morning that she had a date with her new boyfriend...

"Date? Boyfriend?''

''Yes! His name is Ethan!''

''You're only six, baby.''

''And?''

Intervention from Stephanie: "She means a playdate, Ranger."

(Oh. whew)...so the apartment was calm and quiet. And now I could hear Stephanie and Julie, who were apparently in the living room. Julie, now 14, is spending a semester with us while she takes an advanced mathematics course at Princeton. I was enjoying having my girl with me full time, but despite renovations and extensions to my Haywood Street apartment, with the addition of Julie and Zoë and Britta, Zoë's nanny, our living quarters felt a little cramped these days.

Loud screaming mind-bending sex was definitely Out. Of. The. Question. Too bad.

Julie was saying, "The convention is this weekend! At the Javitz Center in Manhattan, Steph! I absolutely must go. Pleeeeze?"

Stephanie said, "Oh! Um. It's not up to me, Julie. You have to ask your dad. And I can't imagine..."

"He'll say no, you know he will!"

I moved slightly to my right so I could see the girls through the arch of the dining room. They were sitting on the big black leather sofas facing each other. Now Steph spread her hands, like: Exactly, so why ask me? But Julie was on a roll. "Look. Just look!" She picked up a magazine from the coffee table and brandished it at Steph, then went to sit by her side. The dark heads, close together—so pretty. One sleek and smooth, the other as crazily curly as ever. Having a family was—nice.

I guess.

... ... ...

Steph

A manga comic book convention? I thought.

I was pleased to have Julie confide in me, but really! Typical teenager playing one parent against the other. I was keeping the ball firmly in Ranger's court, though. This was definitely his job. So far Ranger has survived Julie's RPG [role-playing games] events and rock concerts, so who knows?

Julie said, "Looook," and opened the manga mag. "This is my very favorite! It's called Blood Lust: The Revenge Of Princess Li Poo. And she will be there!"

"Uh... She's a cartoon character, Julie."

"Well you know, someone will play her. And the artist will be there to sign my books!"

"Okay..."

"And look! This is Ninja-Shogun Tommy! He is the hero, he helps Li Poo on her vengeance quest. Is he not awesome?"

I examined the very slender adolescent boy in the drawing. He had defined muscles, a smooth chest, dark eyes and very long black hair. I wondered if Julie remembered Ranger from when she was little, because...well. And if she does—or does not!—what that means.

Not that Ranger was ever sixteen! Was he?

Manga is not my cup of tea...but still. Hot boy, if I was twelve or so. Or even 25...and not married to Ranger, obviously.

"If you ask daddy. he'll listen, Steph!"

"No. You have to ask him yourself, Jules."

"Ask me what?"

I jumped a little as Ranger silently appeared behind us. Julie looked over at him and smiled, maybe she knew he was here all along?

"Do you know what manga comics are, daddy? Anime?"

"Yeah."

"You do!" chorused both Julie and I.

Ranger sat across from us, set his beer on the coffee table and stretched his long legs out. He looked—something. Besides hot. Maybe tired? But he gave Julie his full attention and said, "Go on."

Julie explained about the anime and manga convention and why it was absolutely imperative that she attend.

"Okay," said Ranger.

We gaped at him. "But you have to take Uncle Lester and Vince with you."

"Nooooo! Not Lester! He'll sweet-talk all the girls, he'll make a scene. Please, Daddy. And, Vince is so, um, serious."

"You pick whoever you want, then, chica...or take Anthony, he likes that manga shit. Just let me know."

"No! Not Anthony! He probably owns the Convention Center! Or, or, Japan, who knows!"

"He still has time for fun, Julie," I said loyally. "All that money hasn't changed him, really."

"No, but, he's... Anyways. So okay...maybe Vince would be good, at least he's young...and maybe, uh—Binky?"

"Binky?"

"Well, yeah. He's young and kinda cute..."

"Binky?"

"Yeah. And Vince. If he promises not to be boring."

"I'm sure he'll try if so ordered, baby. And Stephanie and I will go along." He held up a hand to stop her protest. "We'll drop you off, hang out in the city, pick you up at a designated time and place."

"But daddy."

"My way or the highway, Julie."

Big huge teenage sigh. "You're not gonna embarrass me, are you?"

"I hope not."

"Or shoot anyone?"

"Julie! Of course he won't shoot anyone, " I interjected to fill the silence. No way would he promise not to shoot anyone. Because, well, you never know...

Julie considered everything for a second (she is sooo her daddy's clone!) then she jumped up and hugged him, then me, squealing and giddy. "Yay! Oh, yeah, yay! You're the best, daddy. I love you!" She snatched up her manga mags and ran out of the room. Her door slammed then in a moment her head popped back out, "Can I invite Mary Alice?" Valerie's younger child, the little girl formerly known as a horse was now Julie's age and they had become close friends.

Ranger nodded. "If her mom says it's okay."

"I'll call Val later, and confirm it, Julie," I added.

The guestroom door slammed again.

Ranger shut his eyes, tipped his head back against the sofa cushions. I went to him and hugged him. We kissed.

I said, "You handled that pretty well."

"Running an army is easier than this, babe."

"Yeah. So why are we really going to the manga convention?"

"Sometimes I think you know me too well."

I kissed him again and said, "No way! You'll always be my man of mystery."

Manga Does Not Always...Part 2

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On the day of the Manga & Anime Convention Ranger produced an elegant black Mercedes Maybach limo from somewhere and we all piled in and headed to the City. An unfamiliar Rangeman guy drove, with Vince riding shotgun. I sat with Ranger, Julie and Binky in the back and listened to Julie's excited chatter. Lucky for us, Binky was getting into the whole manga thing and he managed to keep Julie occupied. He and Vince were in casual clothes, which for a Rangeman employee meant expensively deteriorated jeans, a black t-shirt [non-logo] and a jacket or shirt to hide the guns.

Ranger was dressed similarly and when Julie saw the three of them she rolled her eyes discreetly behind Ranger's back. But she said nothing. Julie herself was dressed Goth-lite, black clothes, "no" makeup which seemed fine with Ranger who was a pretty indulgent dad, his only issue with Julie being that she didn't make herself look too adult. Ranger had chosen my clothes from my closet. I wasn't annoyed with that because we were working a job.

That's right, a job. You know Ranger. I mean, I love the man, but he is ALL about the job, right?

We emerged from the Lincoln Tunnel, made a right on 11th Avenue. The big Maybach pulled up at the black glass entrance of the convention center and Vince hopped out, got the door for Julie. Julie leaned over and gave me a hug, Ranger a little cheek kiss. Ranger said, "Have fun, baby," and Julie bounced out of the car with a wave.

Binky followed without a word. The men had been extensively briefed before we left Trenton. Not to mention that the guys would rather die than let anything happen to Ranger's daughter. No one was forgetting the Scrog thing, though we rarely mentioned it anymore.

The driver pulled back into traffic, went around a few corners and headed uptown. Twenty potholed, nerve-racking minutes later we again pulled to the curb, this time at the Four Seasons Hotel on East 57th Street.

Ranger grabbed a black leather duffel, said to our driver, "Wait here."

The doorman opened the limo door while the Rangeman driver said, "Yessir." Ranger bypassed reception and steered me into the elevator, pressing a floor number as if he owned the place.

"Don't we have to check in?''

He showed me a Four Seasons key card which was actually a real golden key, attached to the plastic fob with a red silk cord. With a tassel. I said, "How did you do that?"

Tiny shrug.

"Hmmm? How?"

"I had one of the men check us in yesterday and bring me the keys, babe. I hate to wait in line while some tourist asks the concierge how to get to Radio City or somethi..." He stopped speaking when the doors reopened and a pair of dark-skinned, bearded men in Arab robes got on the elevator with us.

Ranger and I politely stared forward but I could feel the eyes of the other men examining me in my slim black trousers, FMPs and scoop neck sweater. One made some comment to his companion and they snickered. The other man responded in what I was guessing was Arabic. I narrowed my eyes, I could tell a rude tone even if I couldn't speak their language. Unfortunately for the two men, Ranger could speak their language and he said something back to them in a sharp tone. The two sheiks went goggle-eyed.

Uh oh. "What did you say?" I hissed, grabbing his arm.

"I said that my camel sucks his mother's dick, babe."

"What? But..."

"You speak our language poorly, American," said the one man.

"No, I speak your language as well as you do. What?—you didn't know about your mother and her di..."

The man leaped at Ranger but the elevator door had opened and we sidestepped the furious Arabs and a laughing Ranger pulled me out onto the landing. The door shut on two outraged faces.

"Our room is right down the hall here, babe."

"What was that? You never make a scene."

"Dunno, babe. The Four Seasons is maybe going downhill? All these, ah, foreigners. How do you feel about the Mandarin Oriental?"

"Huh?

He keyed our room open and threw the duffle on the bed.

I sat down next to it and tried to frown at him. But he was still smiling and I couldn't resist. I smiled back , then ran my tongue over suddenly dry lips.

"Sorry, babe. No time. Jeffery is double-parked. And we have to get you into costume."

"Oh, okay." See! All about the damn job! And I thought my current bimbo outfit was the costume!

"Here's the file, you can review it while I unpack."

Twenty minutes later I was sporting elaborate makeup, a fake brow ring, dozens of silver rings—in my ears and on my fingers. Hair slicked back, tight silver tank top and cropped black cargoes. Mile high boots and a long black leather coat. Ranger settled the leather coat on my shoulders and checked me out.

"You look hot, Steph." He stood behind me as I examined myself in the three-way full length mirror. His lips brushed the soft skin below my ear and I shivered. "I look like Trinity, in The Matrix," I mumbled. "Or a gay Neo..."

"The skip has a thing for Matrix."

"But he's a manga publisher..."

Ranger did one of his annoying pauses then he said, "The Matrix was a cyberpunk film gone Hollywood. The imagery in the films was strongly influenced by classic Japanese anime, which is the sort of animated version of manga. The Matrix trilogy is anime made "real"—live action—and mainstream."

I stared at him. He grinned, "According to Antonio, anyway...I cut out the likes and you knows."

We were on the trail of one of Ranger's high bond skips. I was, as usual, the decoy. The man published manga magazines here in the US, but it seemed he had been using his legitimate business to launder cash from less savory sources, the usual mob stuff: drugs, extortion, illegal gambling. He'd been arraigned in a federal court because of the crossing state lines thing, but a lenient judge let him out on a quarter million dollar bond. The man paid the bond in full then skipped off home to NYC, never to appear again in New Jersey Federal court.

The skip was Morty Saltzman, a well-known name in the world of manga publications, apparently. He was even receiving an award today for excellence in media artistry, go figure.

Now Ranger said, "Saltzman likes all types of fantasy. And you fill the requirements nicely, babe." His hands explored a little and he kissed me again, on the collarbone this time. I shivered despite the leather coat.

"Won't I look like an idiot? I look like I'm in costume."

"No, you'll fit right in. You'll see—it'll be like that Hobbit gathering. Or Dougie and Mooner's Star Wars thing, remember that?"

I giggled. "Star Trek. Oh yeah. I had cheese balls in my hair for a week."

We made eeew faces, then laughed. I said, "How could you stand me? Wasn't I just so stupid, so—revolting?"

"Babe, you were adorable."

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"Now remember, the important part is, don't embarrass Julie," I said when we entered the convention center an hour later. "And don't shoot anyone." The three more Rangeman operatives we'd acquired on the drive downtown stared at me in disbelief.

Ranger ignored me and with his hand on the small of my back, aimed me at a dais where someone was making a speech, giving out awards. I tuned out and looked around. Omigod, we'd been lucky that Julie had not gotten dressed in full Li Poo regalia. I counted at least half a dozen girls in her very revealing, skintight black catsuit and kabuki-inspired, neo-Goth make-up.

I saw some young men dressed as Shogun Tommy wannabees too, though they all lacked the musculature of the manga hero. Many other characters too were there and if I was a fan, I'd have known who they all were.

No other Trinities though. I had lost Ranger; he probably faded away on purpose while I inched my way up to the skip who was waiting to go onstage.

I noticed a stir off to my right. Two Li Poos facing off. I could hear, "Who do you think you are anyway?"

shove.

"I am Her Tragic Royal Highness, Princess Li Poo, who the fuck are you?"

shove back.

Ooops. Both girls sounded like they'd been hitting the concession stands, which included a cash bar selling mixed alcoholic drinks and beer.

Someone else said, "I heard the real Li Poo was gonna be here today."

"I am the real Li Poo, dickwad." A new voice.

"Bullshit, baby. You're from Astoria. I know a Queens accent when I hear one."

"Huh! Brooklyn!"

more shoves.

"You wouldn't know the real Li Poo if you were fucking her," yelled a young man's voice.

"I'm the real..." cried Poo number three.

"You're not!"

The crowd was gathering round.

I heard, "The Queen of Somewhere attacked the real Li Poo!"

Screams, shoves.

The two original pairs of Li Poos were oblivious, screaming at each other. Someone reached in and tried to pull one of the Li Poos' hair. Her black wig came away in the attacker's hand. The boy screamed and threw the wig.

I heard, "Omigod! They cut off her head! Did you see that?"

A shout went up. "Li Poo is dead! She lost her head!"

Mass hysteria. "Nooooo!"

"Avenge Li Poo! Avenge Li Poo!"

Idiots.

I fought against the tide of onlookers, heading to my skip. He stood calmly watching the brawl unfold, a slight smile of derision on his pudgy but relatively adult face.

I sidled up next to him, said, "This is crazy. Not at all what I was hoping for..."

He shrugged but then he caught a glimpse of me in my Matrix outfit. He turned and looked me up and down. "Trinity, I presume?" he said, all fake-James Bond suave.

I smiled at him. "Li Poo is just so...cartoonish, ya know?"

"Oh I agree, though of course the money is there, she is a real heroine to many teenage girls."

I waved a languid hand at the ongoing screaming rolling brawl.

"Like that?"

"Well...," he looked down my tank's v-neck at my Wonderbra cleavage. He dragged his eyes back up to my face, lingered on the brow ring, and I smiled at him. He blinked, said, "May I buy you a drink? It might be quieter in the lobby. The bar is rah-ther pedestrian but they get the job done."

I could hear sirens so I was definitely thinking I should wrap this up. "Absolutely. Watching wrestling matches always gives me a...thirst." I licked my lips, stuck out a hand, said, "I'm Trinity. Hi."

He shook my hand. "Morty. Morty Saltzman." Yep, this is the guy.

"A pleasure, um, Morty. So—that drink?"

He grabbed my elbow and we headed away from the mob.

Almost out the door I heard, "Steph? Hey! Steph!" and looked over the sea of battling Poo heads to get a glimpse of Julie. I waved but didn't respond, saw Vince appear by her side to distract her. I hoped he and Binky would get Julie to safety before things got too crazy—or the Li Poo contingent might not be the only ones heading for a hospital visit today.

Morty and I cleared the convention room doorway. The lobby was a momentary oasis of quiet.

Then Rangeman tromped in, "Freeze freeze, you're under arrest for bond evasion. We have a warrant! Freeze!" And Ranger, Tank, and the boys flung poor Morty Saltzman to the marble floor. Oh that had to hurt.

Saltzman squawked but did not resist. And by the time the NYPD rolled in, he was long gone, shackled neatly into a Rangeman Expedition parked out at the curb.

"Good job, babe."

"Yeah, but where's Julie?"

"Here she is now," said Tank who had somehow become part of the takedown. I thought we left him in Jersey. But, no.

Julie stomped over to us, ignoring all the NYC cops and escaping rioters. She stood hands on hips in front of her father, tapped a black booted toe.

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"You promised not to embarrass me, daddy!

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"Look at this! It's a brawl, a riot!"

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"It's not—fun!" Her voice quivered.

"And."

"And I just know you had something to do with it!"

"No, chica. Really—it wasn't my fault."

"Humphf!" said Julie and she stalked off to the limo, trailed by her faithful Rangeman boys.

Ranger watched her go, his face showing just a tinge of parental angst.

I said, "Now you know how it feels."

the end of the story/ series tbc.