Shelter from the Storm

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a/n:In honor of their birthdays, Ranger and Zoe's, on August 12th: Zoë's fifth birthday party! My how time flies...

Chapter 46 - Cowabunga, A$$h****es!

Another tedious meeting in DC. I was thrilled when my iPhone vibrated and displayed Steph's number. I pushed back from the long conference table and the drone who was rambling on about tangos and targets stopped talking and looked at me. I got up, said, "Excuse me, it may be an emergency," and went out in the hall to take Steph's call.

Today was the day of my daughter Zoë's fifth birthday party. Not the family party, we were having that on her real birthday in a couple days. Julie was coming up from Miami and my mom was trying to make it home from, she says, Africa-for Zoë's big day. But today was the party for Zoë and all her little friends. I had read online in a parenting blog that a child should have as many guests as the age she'd be. (Yes I read parenting blogs, I need all the help I can get.) Zoë however had insisted on fifty (yes, 50!) of her dearest friends, enemies, and neighborhood buds. Stephanie had assured me that neither my presence nor a contingent of Rangeman bodyguards were needed for the event which was being held at Frank and Helen Plum's home in the Burg.

So I went to DC as planned, worried but hopeful, I guess you might say. But now a phone call.

Steph answered happily, "Yo.''

"Yo yourself, babe."

"Hi, Ranger!"

"How's it going, babe?"

"Well it's going…. Some major sugar overloads, a couple of tantrums. Right now the kids are in their bathing suits running through the sprinkler in mom's backyard."

"What aren't you telling me, Steph?"

"Oh, well, ah. Um," Steph waffled. "Well, Ranger, it seems that Joey Morelli was allowed to choose Zoë's gift himself…."

If it was pornography I was gonna strangle the kid. Even though usually I liked the little guy who was Zoë self-styled boyfriend and dauntless playground protector.

"And?" I ground out.

"So—he got Zoë one of those chemical rocket things, you know, you add the baking powder and so on and it flies up in the air?"

"Uh huh."

Steph said, "I have to admit I think I saw a certain gleam in Elisa's eyes, like maybe this was payback or something." Elisa was Morelli's very Burg wife, mother of Joey and assorted other rug rats. "And I do not think it is age-appropriate at all! So anyway, Zoë wanted to run right out and shoot it off but I tried to persuade her to save it for this weekend at the beach."

"Good idea." I could supervise.

"Yes but it seems that while mom and Val and I were making the hot dogs and feeding everyone, Zoë and Joey had a brainstorm. They somehow took the blasting caps and inserted them into the decorative clowns that were the candle holders on the birthday cake."

"Were?"

"Uh, yeah. The cake and stuff kinda blew up…."

"Is anyone hurt?"

"No."

"Is the building on fire?" I asked very calmly.

"No but it's gonna need a paint job and a shitload of screen doors."

"Tell your parents I will have an insurance adjuster there this afternoon and a contractor by 8 AM tomorrow."

"Thank you, Ranger! I am so relieved that you're taking this so well."

"Babe, even if I hadn't been standing right there when you gave birth I'd know Zoë is your daughter. Things are gonna blow up, it's her destiny. Just as long as no one was hurt and no one got arrested, that's all that matters."

A few beats of silence then Stephanie said, "Yeah well we're gonna have more FBI guys, I guess."

"FBI?"

"Yes, it seems that the neighbors called it in as a bomb blast! And these local FBI guys are here, asking a LOT of questions and scaring Zoë. They made her cry!"

"Uh huh." Zoë could do fake tears at the drop of a hat, let alone a cake explosion. Like her mom, Zoë loves cake.

"So Lula and I kicked them out and they said they'd be getting reinforcements from the main office. And they'd be BACK! Is that where you are, Ranger?"

I was at the Pentagon, but I couldn't tell my wife that, especially on an unencrypted cell phone. "I'll make some calls, babe."

"Okay. And you know this new phone you got me? How it takes really nice videos?"

"Yeah?"

"So I was filming Zoë for you, everyone was singing Happy Birthday and all. The cake had pink frosting and there were all these candles….It's on the film…I am sending it now! She looks so cute! Bye!"

….

Steph hung up fast and I opened the video sequence. Great color, live action, clear sound—my adorable baby girl, five years old [almost], huge brown eyes wide and shining, cheeks scarlet pink with excitement, pink sundress, bows in the wild curly hair.

''Happy Birthday to You! Happy birthday to Zoë, Happy birthdaaay! To YOU!''

She takes a huge breath to blow out the candles. Someone, I think Mary Lou, yells Make a wish!—and the cake explodes.

Voice-over while chaos reigns, kids scream, moms yell, pink frosting flies everywhere. And a little boy's voice loudly yells, "Cowabunga! Yippee Ki Ai Ay, motherfuckers!"

And the scene goes black but I still hear the kid whining, "But, mo-m! It was in a movie Dad and I watched! Yow! Mom! It was! Yow, my ear!"

And Zoë's gleeful voice says, "Was that not so awesome! Wow! Thank you, Joey!"

I smile, close the phone and think, Happy birthday, baby. I love you.

You just know when she turns sixteen she's gonna blow up her new pink Porsche, right? Like I said, it's written in the stars.

...

Epilog/ Cowabunga A$$$h***s

I called an old friend who is the Assistant Director in Charge of Operations at the FBI in Washington. We did the hey how's it going shit quickly then Fred said, "So—what's up, my man?"

"There was a little—ah—contretemps at my in-laws house today…," I answered carefully.

"Yes?"

"It seems my daughter's birthday cake blew up."

I heard Fred suck in his breath and he said, "Omigod, Ranger! Do you think it was a terrorist attack! Did you call Homeland Security! I'll call the President—"

"No! No," I interrupted. "It was a prank, my daughter and her friend did it. They are five years old, Fred."

"Oh geez, I almost had a heart attack. I remember what you did to Marshall and whatsername…. Helloooooo, Sudan! Brrrr! Scary stuff."

I said, "Yeah, well, don't get too comfy. Some of your agents got called in and they questioned the guests and the kids."

"Well….?"

"Fred. They made my daughter CRY! On her birthday."

"Oh shit. I am so sorry."

"Not good enough."

"No, no. I understand."

Good old Fred was getting nervous now, heart attack time returns and so on.

He said, "I'll take care of it."

"Be sure you do," I said with a hint of menace.

…. …. ….

Fred hung up and wiped his brow. He said to his second in command, Harold Gordon, "Who are our field agents in Trenton New Jersey?"

Gordon, his sidekick, looked them up. "Lufkin and Paternchek, probably."

"Okay- Get them in here, in my office here in DC." Gordon nodded. Fred added, "ASAP. STAT. On the double!" Fred finally yelled.

"What did they do? What—?"

"Gordon. They. Made. Ranger. Manoso's. little Daughter. Cry. At her birthday party."

"Shit, we're dead men, right?" Gordon went pale. He hated hot African weather and iffy plumbing. Not to mention….

Fred nodded. "You got it, son, buck stops here but I'm taking Lufkin and Paternchek with me when we go."

…. …. …..

I smiled, picturing the scene. Sometimes it was good to be a notorious badass. I forced my blank face into place and went back to my meeting.

the end, series tbc