A Little Bit Selfish, Part I

Les's POV—12/27

Bobby's attention is still on that phone. I'm not sure what Paris Stanton did to Bobby, but he left a man and came back a teenage girl.

I'm trying not to laugh.

He's beyond 'smitten', 'hooked', 'obsessed', and any other adjective I can think of. Since their date a week ago, he's been staring at his phone slavishly. Paris chose to make him her New Year's Eve date, but told him that trying to capture her attention prior to that was impossible. She has businesses to run and would appreciate it greatly if he took her at her word.

Bobby's stunned. A woman who made it absolutely crystal clear where he fit in her life? Not trying to run after him? Not waiting on him to call? Not obsessed with capturing his time and attention?

If Bobby were a dog (an analogy I hate to use), he would be sitting on his haunches, panting, tail wagging, muzzle drooling, staring at the ball waiting for her to throw it so he could run. I never thought I'd meet the woman who could … control him like that! It's fucking hilarious! What did she do to him?

"What do you think of this one?"

He glances at the sofa. "Doesn't IKEA make that piece?"

I check the laugh as the salesman looks scandalized. I like it. It's a definitely modern but Hector did ask for pieces with 'form'. We've been in this furniture store for an hour and I'm not finding anything I'm really interested in enough to buy. I need to put some furniture in my home!

"Maybe I should let a designer outfit my place," I mutter. I hate doing that. I like choosing each piece in my home. I like knowing I had a hand in outfitting my space.

If a man's home says something about him, I think our homes are screaming who we are. Tank's home represents a man who loves a woman madly because it looks like a circus ran headfirst into an oil spill. Ric's homes are all designer showpieces designed to give nothing away, but if you know where to look and what to press you might find a few things. Until recently, Hector was basically transient, but with Mijo getting bigger, us gifting him a home, and a possible boyfriend in his future, Hector's starting to think about his place with his family and friends. Bobby treats his homes like an oasis, which is why I love staying in his homes. I stay with Bobby when I need downtime.

My homes are all ultra-modern, forward thinking, and bright. Lots of shiny and hard surfaces. The furniture? Encourages you to move, get up, do. Don't veg on the couch. Too much to accomplish! Not much is hidden in my homes. Who I am is reflected up front.

And if you fall for the illusions my homes present, you get what you deserve.

We continue to browse the store, but I'm increasingly dissatisfied with each piece I see. I finally give up and we head to the airport, touching down in Miami right after noon. I head directly to Miriam's office and submit to my annual mental exam.

It's a ritual we have. I spend an hour (perhaps two) on her couch, spilling my guts and telling her all my deepest darkest secrets. I like to head into the new year knowing what I might need to work on. She graciously agrees to have lunch with me, in a place of my choosing, for the debrief. I usually choose the same place because talks with Miriam require me to put my back against a wall. I want to concentrate on her, not scan my surroundings obsessively

This year's spill took two and a half hours. I had a lot to talk about. Miriam's blank face is a thing of beauty, though. Not a single twitch during the session, so I'm hoping the debrief is … helpful.

"I'm not really sure what's wrong with me. I'm just … not happy."

Miriam stirs her coffee and smiles. "This is the second year we're having this conversation, Lester."

I know. I didn't like last year's solution. I'm waiting for you to tell me something different, something workable.

We're at a table in the back of a small Cuban restaurant on Calle Ocho. Loud salsa music plays in the background as the waiters bring our food to the table. This place has some of the best empanadas and mojitos in all of Little Havana and my feet are tapping along to the beat. I'll probably come back later tonight, just to dance. Too bad Hec isn't here. We'd close this place down.

The waiter drops off four empanadas and Miriam and I dig in.

"Now, what did I tell you last year?" she asks.

I sigh and slouch in the seat. "That I needed to take a vacation."

"And did you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I shrug. "We had a lot of things going on. We moved to Texas, opened a new branch, Ric had a mission so I had to cover more in the business—"

She waves a hand to cut me off. "Excuses." She signals the waiter and motions for more empanadas. "Lester, you are a man who needs more. Always more. You need more activity, more excitement, more intrigue. You thrive off uncertainty. That's why you were a gifted tactician. Nothing excites you more than uncertainty. Being stateside is like a punishment for you."

I finish my coffee and shake my head at the waiter. I'm full, so I stare out of the windows. She has a point. Maybe I should have taken Ric's Syria assignment, except that he has to go. He needs to establish his cover.

The fact that we're starting a black ops division excites me. I'm the youngest. I'm the one that will have the most opportunities to go back overseas. I hope Ric and Bobby (and the wise old man) don't pull me back stateside again.

"Why did I prescribe a vacation for you?"

"You said I was burnt out."

"I did and you were. Now?" She leans close. "You've been bled dry. Why do you feel so empty right now? Because emotionally, you are." Miriam savors the empanada, staring at me speculatively. "You want to know what I really think?"

"It's why I invite you out every year."

She laughs. "Let me start with your strong points."

I get comfy. Miriam knows I dabble in her field. Sometimes, it amuses her. Other times, not so much.

"You enjoy running psyops because the last great frontier of uncertainty is the human mind. You love trying to puzzle it out, figure out how it works, what makes people want what they want, what makes them tick. Friends, family, enemies, terrorists, the secrets of peoples' minds fascinate you. You love people, as a group and as individuals. It's why you are the man you are: loyal, trustworthy, creative, I could go on and on, but you're the last man who needs to hear it."

No, please, pump me up. I heard so little praise or thanks this year.

"It also means that you are someone who gets up close and personal with people. Looking inside their minds, trying to understand how they think, you see love and hate, decency and depravity more clearly than most. It takes a toll. I should know."

"How do you cope?"

She smiles. "This isn't about me, remember?" I roll my eyes. "But, to answer your question, this is why I'm in private practice. I can determine how many clients I see and I take lots of mental breaks. I take vacation. My husband knows to pull me back when he sees it's beginning to take a toll on me."

Her eyes bore into me, a silent I told you so! Do they teach doctors and PAs that look? Bobby's mastered it.

"So, I see you resolving your current conflict in one of three ways."

Finally! A resolution. "How?"

"One, go get a Ph.D or Psy.D in psychology. Study the human mind. Become an academic. Create theories and run tests."

"Lose my tan?"

"In the name of scientific achievement." Miriam smirks.

"Next option."

"I hesitate to suggest this one."

"Why?"

"Because it's … not my preferred solution, but I'm going to present it." She sighs, staring at the table, then lifts her eyes to me. "Lester?"

"Yes?"

"You may need to start thinking about a permanent, romantic relationship."

"Getting married?" Why do I suddenly feel clammy?

She laughs softly. "No. Attempting something more long-term than a one night stand." She sits back and pushes her plate forward. "Aside from the emotionless aspect of a one night stand, you like the fact that it presents you with unrelenting uncertainty. Everything about the proposal appeals to you. Does she like you? Does she like you enough to sleep with you? What are her limits, her boundaries, her secrets? Is she quiet, loud, rough, gentle, submissive, dominant … are you following me?"

I shift in my seat and smile. "It's what I've always loved about women. No two are alike. Not even twins—"

"Won't ask the obvious follow up question."

I grin. "You shouldn't have to, but yes. Women are a beautiful and varied sex and no two respond the same. I'm constantly amazed and surprised by you. The more I learn, the more I want to learn." I sit back. "It's not about the sex. It's the mystery of how your minds work. The sex is a nice bonus."

"Understood." She smiles. "You like one night stands because they provide you with unrelenting variety without the long-term emotional investment. It's like a one-time shrink session for you that ends in sex."

I nod. Something about her description isn't good.

"If you're thinking that something about my description isn't good, then you're right." She taps her glass and the waiter refills her glass and mine. Another waiter brings us the tamales we ordered earlier. "Essentially, one-night stands are sexual psyops for you and they're also taking their toll."

I raise my hand and she digs into her tamale as I consider her words. That's a new slant on a one-night stand. Miriam smiles sympathetically at me.

"I wasn't always the age I am. I remember thinking the same about men until I met my husband. I've been married for almost twenty years and my husband still manages to surprise me on a regular basis. I have the Ph.D and the way that man's mind works throws me. But," she leans closer, "I do not attempt to use my meager knowledge of him to … manipulate"—I cringe. I truly hate that word now—"his responses. That's why this is not the best option for you."

"You think I can't control myself?" I admit, it would be tough, but I'd try.

"I think you'd have to try very very hard not to do what comes naturally."

I hate when she calls me so correctly. I'm being led down a path here … "So a long term romantic relationship is out of the question for me?" That's a depressing thought.

"No." That's a relief. "I think you'll fall deeply, irrationally, irrevocably in love. You're the kind of man for whom the word 'soul mate' was invented." We smile at each other. "You'll never be tempted to cheat because the woman you choose will be endlessly fascinating to you, but you won't be tempted to use your knowledge of her in a way that will harm her.

Instead, you'll use your knowledge of her to make and keep her happy, to anticipate her needs and fulfill her desires. The woman you choose will be someone who can provide you with constant uncertainty, but someone who cares about your well-being. A true partner. She will be someone who understands and accepts your impulses and knows how to balance you. You're a romantic at heart. You love love. You love being in love, seeing love around you, making people happy. You love your family and friends. There's no in-between for you, which is why you're willing to put yourself on the line to protect others."

This sounds much better than Hector's It's a game to you! accusation in NYC. It's not a game. It's never been a game to me. Games don't involve lives. You miscalculate in a game and you lose a token or money. You don't lose people. I do what I do to keep the people around me safe and to hear him tell me that what I do is a game?

Fuck you, Hec. I do what I do because I love you and outwitting your enemies makes me happy. I keep you alive and have a new mind to fuck with all at the same time. Where's the negative there?

"Normally, we choose a partner who fills in the spaces in our lives that are broken or unfulfilled in the hopes that they can fill those needs or help us fill those needs. What in your life is unfulfilled?"

Attention, which makes me sound needy, like a little child. I frown.

"Say it, Lester."

I sigh. "I have an inferiority complex." That sounds less needy.

She laughs. "No, you don't." I blink. Miriam smiles at me. "You do not, in any way, think your skills and abilities are less than Ric's or Robert's. On the contrary, your skills equal or surpass theirs and you know it. They know it and they rely on you for them. Try again, the truth this time, Lester."

I pursue my lips and frown. "I want attention," I mutter.

She nods. "You want someone to see you for who you are and it's not happening. You've been the one supporting everyone else, carrying out their wishes, doing what they needed for so long that you've become a tool in their arsenal. A weapon to be used when needed, but"—she leans forward—"who is taking care of you? Thanking you? Acknowledging you? Who is filling the empty spaces in your life? Who is refilling your emotional reserves?"

Bobby. My RB is about the only one who gives a damn and I'm not in any way inclined to fuck him. "Is this why you didn't like option two?"

"Yes. I don't like putting the onus of fixing someone on another person. The moment you start relying on someone else to fix you, you will never be a fully realized human being, but having someone else there to help you can act as a crutch."

"As long as that person realizes they're a crutch."

"Right. And the person being helped has to understand that they cannot rely on their crutch forever. Romantic relationships should be a partnership of equals, not one person propping up another."

I nod. "Hence my vacation." I finish my coffee. "And I've been using my brothers as a crutch to fix me instead of doing it myself."

Miriam sits back with a smile. "Yes. Now, I'm going to guess here and say that Ric, Robert, and Tank have all found a significant other." I nod. "And you had a hand in helping each of them, smoothing the way in some way?" I nod again. "So the people you love most in this world, your brothers, are all in love. You're surrounded by love. This makes you happy but it also means that your usefulness in this side of their lives is over, for the moment anyway. It's natural for you to feel a little adrift."

Well, that makes sense. I've been using my brothers as an emotional crutch instead of taking the time to fix me. Now, how do I fix me?

The waiter places a flan in front of us and we dig in. I order a second cup of coffee and Miriam gasps.

"You'll be up all night!"

"I would have been up anyway." Cuban coffee is rocket fuel. One. No more than two.

We take a moment to enjoy the flan. I'm licking my spoon when Miriam releases a happy sigh and pushes the plate away. "So, you made it easier for each of them to have a happy life with someone who will love them. Anyone thank you?"

Yes, no, no, and only when prodded. I snort instead of answering. The flan wasn't bad. Not in my top ten. Maybe top fifty.

"Right. So the few people in your life who did, on occasion, acknowledge your efforts are all set up and you're alone. Now, deep down, you're OK with that. You haven't met that one woman yet." She chuckles. "That's why I have a third option for you."

I lean forward. "Good! What is it?"

"Surround yourself with some new people. Tank, Ric, and Robert? You're reasonably confident as to how they will respond to any given stimuli, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then the thrill is gone. Your brothers' minds are both boring and well-explored for you. No new puzzle there, which is why they are unable to give you the attention and support you need and deserve. You already know how they will respond, what they will do, and what they will say."

"Hmm…" Good point. I'm staying away from Steph. Far far away. Like Florida-Alaska far. Lula's simple. Not simple-minded, because she's not. Lula's fascinating but I pretty much know how she's going to respond now. But Hector … he does surprise me on occasion.

She has a point. The time I spent with the NYC crew has been some of the best moments I've had lately. I don't know how their minds work and watching them, as individuals and as a team, was fascinating. My strategists are also revealing new things about themselves. Pat's knowledge of common poisons (the things you learn as a parent), Manny's knowledge of guns and gun specs (Ric's the only person I know who knows more), Chase's ability to pick up regional accents, Jorge's minute knowledge of financial markets, Mack's … Mack's just fucking fascinating, but his encyclopedic knowledge of drug laws is amazing.

Having a new class of strategists to start training is exciting. New things to learn from the men around me!

The ultimate target is Chase. It's like a slow dance with a shadow in a mirror trying to breach his mental defenses. Every time I think I've got it, he throws up something new. I'm almost loathe to try harder. Chase could be a lifelong puzzle for me.

"Anyone new in your life lately?"

I think. "No, not really."

She raises a brow and smirks. I honestly believe they must teach medical professionals that 'look'. "Well, you're moving to Miami. Robert living with you?"

"No …" Mark will. Now there's an interesting target, but I can't mess with him. His parents did enough damage. They even tried to type me. Well, they typed what I allowed them to see.

Maybe I can finally figure out what Ric sees in him. I typed Mark after meeting his parents: desperate to show Daddy (and Mommy) that he's a man and that he's a man worthy of some respect. That explained his devotion to Ric for me, but I don't understand what Ric's getting besides unwavering loyalty, which he's gotten from me, Bobby, and Tank. Maybe unquestioning, unwavering worshipful loyalty? Tank, Bobby and I are his equals; Mark worships him.

Ah well. I accept the check the waiter drops off and she smiles in appreciation. "My prescription for you this year?" I nod, waiting. "I want you to learn to be selfish. Stop—"

"Selfish?" I'm bewildered by this.

"Yes! I mean it, Lester. My official prescription for you is to leave RangeMan behind for a few months." Miriam leans forward, her face intent. "Stop doing things for everyone else! Stop thinking of everyone's needs before your own. Hell, disappear for a few days! Take some trips. Pick up some jobs you want to take. Meet some new people. Try to fill in the empty spaces in your life on your own. Go on vacation."

"Leave?"

"Leave." She sits back, her face softening as she looks at me. "Honey, you are so close to the edge right now you're dancing on it. You've gone at least three years without taking care of yourself. Do I need to call Bobby and tell him that's my official prescription?"

I think for a moment before nodding. Bobby will force me where no one else can. "OK, I'll do that," she says softly. I drop a C-note in the billfold and place it on the edge of the table. Miriam smiles. "The reason no one appreciates you?"

I stop drumming my fingers and look up. Miriam's eyes look suspiciously moist.

"How can they say 'Welcome home' if you never leave?"

I drop Miriam off at her office and head over to my condo. The place is half decorated, but Bobby's kicked back, fielding phone calls. I plop down next to him and read his notes.

Reaction across the company to Steph stepping down is mixed. Atlanta and NYC were upset. Charlotte, RMSA, Boston, and Miami kinda shrugged it off. Trenton? Trenton's pissed. The news that Mark is replacing her made them livid. Bobby finally hangs up and sighs.

"Thoughts?"

"We gotta get out in front of this." He picks up his phone again and dials. My phone rings, as does three others.

"Yo!"

"Yo!" times four. Bobby motions for me to continue as he rubs his temples.

"Bobby's getting feedback from Ram. Reaction in Trenton to Steph's departure and Mark's ascension brought to you by the letter a. A for angry. A for astonished. A for annoyed. A for—"

"Shut up."

"That starts with S, Tank."

I hear Hector snicker. Ric is laughing. "Get the point, Les. Bobby, how to do you want to handle this? Julie? Be careful and don't run!"

"Video conference. Les and I will handle."

"Why?" Tank asks.

"My branch," I reply, "and Bobby's Chief Liaison. I think we can manage a simple message. We just want to be on the same page as the rest of you."

"Tell them what you want," Ric says. Bobby and I look at each other like Who's that guy?

"Whatever I want?"

"Keep it simple, Les."

"No, address the entire company," Hector orders. "Make sure everyone gets the same message."

OK.

The next morning, I hop on the video conference line from my bedroom. I'm transmitting from my new condo to test the connection in here. Bobby's in the kitchen making breakfast. I see Tank pop in, then Hector. My phone beeps; Ric's on audio. Good; the entire LC is on the line for this

"Good morning," I sing cheerily. "First, I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas."

There are a few muttered responses. Most of the men have their blank faces in place.

"Well, judging from the lack of responses, Santa was a mean old bastard this year. Look, I know the new pack of underwear and the tie wasn't really what you wanted, but if you don't tell Santa to bring you a Mercedes, he doesn't know!"

That gets more laughter.

"Are you Santa, sir?" Someone from RMSA.

"Santa left my Bentley somewhere near London. If I find that lazy bastard, it's on!"

"Yo, son, you might have to let that go." The cameras pan around to NYC. Drake's smirking. "Santa dropped an Aston Martin on you early, so I hear. I think he handled his shit."

I hear Bobby's laugh bounce around my kitchen. I'm grinning. Drake's starting to sound 'Brooklyn'.

"That gift was shipped to you from Ranger, right, sir? For your birthday?" Ches Deuce asks. I nod; good excuse, Ches. "OK. Drake, you realize that makes Ranger Santa, right? Ranger's a lot of things, but neither fat nor jolly is on that list of adjectives. Especially not jolly."

Every man around the company is laughing now. I see Ella laughing into Luis's chest, shoulders shaking. Bobby's gasping for air. My phone beeps.

Tell Bobby to tell Ches I said FU. I forward the message to Bobby and hear him laugh harder. We take a few minutes and allow everyone to calm down. That was great. Perfect way to begin this announcement.

"Good. Now, the CO's resignation. I'm sure many of you found that surprising, but it was her decision. This company has never asked any man, or woman, to stay once they've made the decision to move on, correct?"

There's a chorus of 'Yes, sir!'

"Same situation here," Bobby says, plating up some eggs and bacon. "The CO has tendered a resignation effective December 31st. Now, we know she touched a lot of lives during her short tenure in our company. Many of you grew close to her. I'm sure she'd love to receive emails from you letting her know how much she'll be missed, but we do ask that you don't ask her to change her mind. Respect her decision, please."

"Sir?" The voice is coming from Atlanta. I motion for the man to speak.

"Yes?"

"Will Ms. Plum's email work after the 31st?"

Bobby shrugs. "That will be a decision for our CTO and CIO to make. Traditionally, the answer has been no, so move forward in that knowledge. If you want to send her a message or ask her for a personal email address, do so before the 31st."

"Yes, sir."

"Any other questions?" None. I slide from the bed and head to the kitchen. "Now, in order to ensure continuity of business operations, we've asked Mark Phillips to step in as Interim CEO." We can see Boston smiling. Hector said the party was live in Boston when they heard. Mark has his blank face on.

"But sir, CEO is Ranger's title!" Ram says, bewildered.

Bobby and I stare at each other over the video. I glance at Tank and Hec, both of whom nod. Hell, might as well.

"True." Bobby leans forward into the camera. "At our last management meeting, the Leadership decided to change the management structure of the company. We intend to take a more active role in the company, but in a different manner. This company will transition into a more centralized, professional management structure, with an active day-to-day CEO and executive management team."

The whispers start in earnest.

What in the hell does that mean? I thought that's what the LC was.

Thank god! Someone qualified in charge again. I mean, Ms. Plum was nice, but I still wouldn't follow her in the field.

Does that mean that bastard got a promotion? And who's gonna be on this management team?

At least it's Mark. We know what his management is like. Shit'll finally go back to normal around here.

(First voice) If Steph wants to step down, OK, but they put Mark in charge? After all the shit he did this year? Mark?
(Second voice) What did he do?
(First voice) Well … I mean … he was rude to her all year.
(Second voice) You realize that makes it sound like she's leaving because no one would play nice with her, right? Besides, I hear that, at the end, they got along pretty good.
(First voice) Still. It's like he landed face first in shit and came up smelling like roses! Who has that kind of luck?

I don't know. I mean, Mark kinda had his ass handed to him this year. Maybe he lost the stick that was up his ass.

Skills and abilities, men. That's all that matters.

I hand Bobby a glass of OJ and take a seat at the bar. He raises a brow. I'm sooo dying to listen, but we should cut this off.

I agree, but we might have to pipe into the fifth floor in a couple of buildings.

I clear my throat and the speculation stops. "What does this mean for you? For 99% of you, there won't be any changes. For some of you, there will be slight changes." The noise dies down. "We intend to discuss fully how this will affect you in the coming days. However, just know that we are moving in a new direction, but forward at the same time. I think you'll like the changes we're bringing in."

"Last year was a year of rebuilding, growth, and reflection for the leadership," Bobby said. "We learned a lot and made new plans based on what we were seeing within the company and outside of it, but our bottom line remains ensuring that every man has a job. Are there any questions? Trenton, I would ask that you hold yours."

"Yes, sir. One question." The video pans around to Victor, in Boston, flanked by Rod and Pat.

"Go ahead."

"Did Ms. Plum recommend Mark for this position?"

Well played, Victor! Bobby and I share a quick glance of amusement and I start munching on bacon, turning my camera off so I'm not eating in the men's faces.

"Yes and no," Bobby replies. Victor frowns. "The LC asked Ms. Plum for her opinion. She agreed that it was a wise move and gave him an unqualified recommendation."

"Umm … what's an unqualified recommendation?" I hear someone whisper. "Does that mean she said he wasn't qualified?"

"An unqualified recommendation," Bobby begins, hiding a grin, "is a recommendation without reservations. A supportive one. A thumbs up on the decision." The questioner was an RMSA man who looks a little embarrassed.

The whispers explode again as Victor steps back, trying to hide a satisfied smile. He pats his partner on the back, but Mark's blank face is firmly in place. He doesn't make a single gesture that shows he felt that at all.

"Any other questions?"

"Yes, sir." The camera pans around to Mando, who has his blank face in place. "Was anyone else considered for this position?"

"Yes," Bobby replies. "Mark was not the only candidate. However, Mark's tenure in the company, his knowledge of the CO position, and his previous excellent management of both the company and his branch were factors in his favor. We decided that, at this delicate point in our transition, we preferred to go with experience rather than attempt to teach someone the position. As I said earlier, what matters right now is continuity."

There's a lot of nodding from the men. Everyone looks satisfied with the answer and Boston looks faintly happy with the praise of Mark. Most of the company, bar Trenton, looks satisfied.

"Any other questions?"

No questions, so everyone else drops off the call. I turn my camera on so Bobby can eat.

"OK, Trenton, any questions?"

"Yes. Why did Steph resign, sir? The truth, please." Juana says, looking upset.

"We're not at liberty to discuss why she's leaving. It was personal and unrelated to this company. That's all we'll say," I reply calmly.

"Steph really recommended Mark for her job?" Vince asks.

"Yes."

Confusion reigns in Trenton.

"The CO resigned in advance of any discussion of the other changes, so asking her to give you a hint won't help." I smile. "It meant we had to scramble a little because our plans included her remaining in her position, which is partially why Mark is being asked to take the reins in the interim."

"Sir …" I can hear Hal struggling and I can guess where he's going.

"Mark has been trusted to lead this company time and time again. No, we are not ignorant of his behavior over the past nine months and no, we are not excusing or ignoring it, Hal. I would, however, ask that you accept not only my decision, but the entire LC's decision and back your CEO as you should. Otherwise, this is going to look awfully familiar. Unexpected decision by the LC … new CO … angry XO … angry and recalcitrant branch unwilling to carry out orders without testing the new leadership first …"

Hal pinks and falls silent. All of Trenton pales.

"Damn," I hear someone mutter. Sounded like Binkie.

"Exactly," Bobby says, staring at the camera. "Boston thought they were right. Mark thought he was right. They both eventually learned differently."

"This isn't to say that we won't listen to your opinions, guys," I add softly. "We held this call specifically because we heard you were upset about the decision. But we're well aware of Mark's behavior and the general reluctance to trust him right now. All we ask is that you do for Mark what Boston did not do for Steph. Give him a chance. Allow him to reearn your trust. Allow him to show you who he is. Steph left the company for her own reasons. Don't allow loyalty to one to blind you to the other."

"HUA!"

We end the call and finish breakfast. My phone rings.

"Yo."

"Tank. 'Sup?"

"I contacted an executive head-hunting agency to find those two consultants. They think they'll have a few candidates right after Ric leaves, if not before."

"Perfect," Bobby says. "Let's get the interviews ready and our leadership prepped. No time to lose." Click.

I turn and look out of my windows. My entire east wall is windows, the selling point for buying this condo. The view is spectacular.

"I got a call from Miriam last night."

I glance over. Bobby's standing behind me, his 'professional' face in place. "And?"

"I told Ric that you and I were headed to the Bahamas when he left, so you already have a month off. Do I need to add on more time?"

I shrug and turn to my windows again. Bobby chuckles. "Just for that, I'm having Hector lock you out until Ric returns."

"Three months?" I yell in horror.

"Long overdue," he replies, that look on his face that tells me that I won't win if I try to argue.

We clean up and head to the Miami office. We get comfortable in Ric's office and start checking email. I spend the majority of the morning making plans for my strategists, determining how to rebuild brotherhood in Miami, and reviewing my workload. At noon, I put the laptop aside and stare out of the windows wondering how I will fill three months of forced inactivity.

Disappear for a few days … Take some trips ... Meet some new people.

The reason no one appreciates you? How can they say 'Welcome home' if you never leave?

Miriam knows me well, but so does Bobby.

I think you need a vacation … I think we should volunteer … get out of our ruts … get away from RangeMan and de-stress for a while.

I look at the workload on my computer and, for the first time in a long time, I don't see interesting challenges. I see other people's problems, their needs, their issues.

You've been the one supporting everyone else, carrying out their wishes, doing what they needed for so long that you've become a tool in their arsenal. A weapon to be used when needed, but who is taking care of you? Thanking you? Acknowledging you? Who is filling the empty spaces in your life?

No one. No one at all. And no one is going to take care of me except me.

"Yo!" I leave the room in search of Bobby, who sticks his head around the corner.

"'Sup?"

"Go back to Atlanta. Go eat at her restaurants. I'm going to take a quick trip."

Bobby knows me better. He stares at me, trying to read my body language, before sighing. "Not fooled. What's really up?"

"Need some time alone."

"Les—"

"Unless you're ready to go on a round-the-clock feeding frenzy, get back to Atlanta and chat that woman up." Bobby smiles. "Seriously. Little Les is about to go visiting."

"Fine. I'll be back on the second." He's packed and out of the door, headed back to my condo to pack, within three minutes.

Go romance your new woman and stop worrying about me. I'm not going to eat my gun. I need to get used to you not being here at every second anyway. I'll be OK.

I hear a commotion and stick my head out. Med and Midi Odom pass my door running down the hallway and into the stairwell. I nod at Mack and Thomas, then stick my head back into Ric's office.

Wait.

There's an idea.

—oOo—

12/30

Mark arrives tomorrow. I need to actually decorate my home.

I finally call Alina and ask if she's up to taking on a rush job.

"Of course! RangeMan?"

"My condo."

There's silence on the other end. "You mean I'll actually get to see it this time?"

"I just bought it." You liked thrill sex when you were decorating the Miami office. Beds were passé then. I guess getting to see my home means something to you now.

She arrives an hour later and starts measuring the space. "Decor?"

"Modern. Ultra-modern." I pull up the pics of my apartments in NYC and Boston and she grimaces.

"Cold and sterile."

"If this isn't your taste, direct me to someone who can decorate in this style."

She stares for a few minutes, then starts scrolling through the contact list on her phone. "Clive? Alina. I have a client who needs a rush job. Can you help me?" She listens then rattles off my address. She disconnects the call and smiles.

"It'll take him thirty minutes to get here."

"I don't have a bed."

She smiles and lifts her skirt. No panties.

Well, if you insist.

—oOo—

12/31

"Sir."

Mark looks exhausted. It's 1800 and he's just arrived at RangeMan Miami. I can tell he did the drive pretty much in one go.

The men have been slapping his back and welcoming him here for the past twenty minutes. Well, all except Thomas and Mack. That's going to be interesting. Thomas and Mack adore Steph. Mark?

"Don't move him," I whisper. Thomas cuts his eyes over at me. "I mean it."

"Yes, sir."

"No harm. Otherwise, I'll be forced to retaliate."

Thomas swallows hard. "Yes, sir." I look at Mack levelly and he nods, grimly.

Mark makes his way over to us and Thomas extends his hand to shake. "Welcome back."

"Thank you."

"We're the new boys," Mack says, coolly. Mark puts his blank face in place and shakes.

"That we are. Looking forward to working with you. Javi had nothing but praise for you."

"Thanks." Mack's not charmed. Excellent. Mack's not the kind to hold a grudge long. Making him keep a record detailing how Mark's not an asshole should help him come around faster, which will bring Thomas around faster. Thomas can hold a serious grudge. In the meantime, I still get my reports on how Mark's working out.

Lock me out of the system? Fine. I'll get my info another way.

He turns to me. "Sir."

"You'll camp here for the foreseeable future. My condo is being decorated but it should be done within a week." Mark nods, stifling a yawn. "New Year's plans?"

"None, sir. Phone calls."

I hand him the keys to Mando's on-site apartment. "Pack what you need for a week and meet me back here in twenty minutes."

"Yes, sir."

He runs to the stairwell and returns with a small overnight case and a laptop bag. Good. He still knows how to be ready at a moment's notice.

"Let's go."

Thomas drives us to Miami International, where we check the baggage and get on the plane. Mark looks completely confused as we board the plane.

"Atlanta, sir?"

I raise a brow. "I need to meet Bobby. Would you rather greet the New Year holding yourself or Nikki? Or looking at me across a counter?"

Mark's blushes bright red, but I see a tiny smile on his face. "Thank you."

I snort and lower my seat. "Believe me, after this week, you're going to earn this new position. And, if I were you …"

"Yes, sir?"

"I'd (a) Get a nap on this flight and (b) make sure to spend some time with Danny." I stare meaningfully at him. "Line up as many of the XOs behind you as you can."

Mark's asleep before we take off. The flight is unremarkable and we land in Atlanta and head to baggage claim where I'm met by the other member of my impromptu party.

"Lt. Santos." Manolo stands, also looking exhausted.

"Les, when there are no other recruits around." He smiles. "Got your bag?"

"Yes, sir."

"You tell him we were coming?"

"No, sir. As you asked."

"Did you at least tease him?"

Manolo blushes. "He's left a few messages wondering where I am. I was supposed to call."

I laugh. "Good. Keep him guessing."

"Yes, sir."

Mark and I wait next to the baggage claim, but I can see Mark looking at Manolo from the corner of his eye.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Why?"

"I believe that everyone who has a loved one should ring in the new year with that person."

Mark smiles. "Thank you, sir."

"Do me a favor?"

"Yes?"

"Tell Nikki to make sure she embarrasses Hector until he blushes."

Mark grins. "I won't have to. She'll do it anyway."

We grab our bags and I text Hector to come grab me. Hector pulls up and I walk over to the car and toss my stuff in the trunk.

"Hey, got room for two more?" I ask, climbing in.

"Who?" He's rubbing his eyes and yawning. I wave and Mark exits first. Hector scowls, then hides it.

"Thanks a lot."

I grin and wave again. The sight of Manolo makes him freeze.

"Thanks a lot." That's more breathless.

"You're welcome. Drop me at RM-Atlanta and Happy New Year."

I climb in the rear passenger seat, behind Manolo, and Mark and I put our blank faces in place as Manolo teases Hector all the way to RM-Atlanta. We arrive and I pass Hector an envelope.

"Thanks," he says.

I grab my things from the trunk and haul ass upstairs to shower and get comfortable before the peach drops.

My reason for being in Atlanta? Last minute prep, of course. Bobby's with Paris. I'm in his apartment at RangeMan Atlanta, kicked back sipping champagne as the peach drops.

"Three … two … one … Happy New Year!"

I ring in the new year with the person I need to start loving again: me. I took care of everyone last year except myself and I'm burnt out. I finally recognize it and Miriam put a big bow on it for me. I see why Bobby's been watching me closely.

I'm not going to eat my gun, RB. I promise you.

New Year's resolution: I'm going to be selfish this year. I'm putting me first, taking care of myself, staying happy and fulfilled. I'm going to take jobs I want to take, do things I want to do, and not ask for approvals or OKs from anyone else. I'm going to be selfish.

Well, as selfish as I know how to be.