Chapter 10
Bobby
The day had been interesting, to say the least. Steph's arrival this morning had caused quite the stir, especially once word got around about her being the new office manager. The few that knew her from the social gatherings we'd dragged her to over the last year were intrigued to know how Lester and I had convinced Tank to convince Ranger to hire her, while the rest were just plain confused as to why Ranger would think it's a good idea. And unfortunately for me, with Tank locked away in his office dealing with paperwork, and Lester occupied with a tour in the first instance and then out on patrol for the rest of the day, I was the go-to guy for all the questions and comments running through their heads. Which made getting any work done extremely difficult.
By mid afternoon, I was ready to call the next person to barge into my office to the mats, or better still stick them with a tranq. These were grown-ass men, surely they could organise a gossip tree better so that not everyone had to seek out foundational branches. I was midway through updating Manny's file after his latest check up following the shoulder injury he'd received New Year's Eve when he slipped on a patch of ice while chasing a skip, when the door to the infirmary burst open.
Again.
"I swear to God, if you're here to ask me about -" My words trailed off on a relieved sigh as I lifted my gaze from the laptop to find myself caught in the radiant sunshine that was the grin of my fiance. "Les," I breathed, dragging a hand over my face and closing the lid of the computer. "Thank fuck."
The left side of his mouth kicked up a little higher as he let the door close behind him. "One of those days, huh?" he asked as he hoisted himself onto the exam table, legs swinging idly off the side as he cast his gaze around for something to fiddle with. As always, though, I kept the infirmary too tidy for anything to be lying around conveniently within reach of his favourite perch. And he lacked the forethought to grab something before settling in, so instead he lifted one boot onto the once-sterile surface and leaned on his raised knee, peering at me expectantly.
I tossed him a pen which he caught in one hand, clicking it a few times before settling into a quieter fiddle, lifting the clip on the side by jamming his thumb under it, still watching me intently. "Every man and his dog has been in here asking about Steph," I explained, leaning back in my chair to watch him back. "How'd we manage to persuade Tank and Ranger? Are we sure it's a good idea? Is she single?"
Lester perked up at the last. "Speaking of her relationship status," he said, his foot dropping off the edge of the table to swing with it's pair while he straightened, like a child sitting on top of the monkey bars at the playground. "I just ran into Vince in the garage and he was saying he overheard Ranger asking Steph to dinner."
My posture instantly followed Lester's example, sitting up more to show my attention. Ranger wasn't one to do interpersonal relationships. Especially with women. I didn't know for certain what sort of systems he had in place for relieving his needs but I hadn't known him to go on an honest-to-god, not for professional gain or schmoozing date with a woman in all the time I'd known him. He'd sworn off it when his daughter Julie came into existence as the only surefire method of preventing a future baby Ranger. So the fact that he was heard asking not just any woman, but the woman he'd just hired out on a date was intriguing.
"Are we sure that's what was happening?" I asked with a reasonable amount of doubt in my mind at the supposed turn of events.
He nodded, bracing his hands (pen still clipped to one thumb) on the edge of the table as he leaned forward. "Yep. Vince said Ranger needed to apologise for something from before Christmas and offered to take her to dinner to make up for it."
"Ahh. So not a date, but a conscience clearing endeavour," I thought aloud.
"From Ranger?" Lester said pointedly. "You really think he doesn't have ulterior motives?" He shook his head. "Even Tia's ultimatum couldn't push him to this kind of action so quickly unless he has more than just reconciliation on his mind. He's a strategist, afterall. Life is his chess board. He's always analysing the game and thinking ten moves ahead. Today, an apology dinner. Tomorrow, dating for reals."
"For reals?" I repeated, receiving a half shrug as he returned to manipulating the pen more consciously. "When was the last time he dated?" I asked, leaning my elbows on the desk. "Hell, when was the last time he spent the night with a woman who wasn't a close relation or a potential client or investor?" This dinner is probably exactly what he said - an apology for his shitty attitude toward her and the assumptions he made in the process."
Les paused in the middle of twirling the pen through his fingers, looking at me with a dubiously raised eyebrow. "Then why did he get so defensive that he called Vince to the mats when he encouraged Steph to accept the invitation?"
I groaned. "He shouldn't be calling people to the mats," I said, thinking of all the things that could go wrong with so little effort from an opponent. He was lucky he hadn't caused any renewed damage when he'd attacked Marco at family dinner. "He's still got another couple weeks before he's out of the cast, and even then-"
"Chill, Dr. Brown," Les said, jumping off the table and closing the distance between us in three strides, gently lifting my weight from the desk and slipping between me and it. He settled my hands on his thighs and ran his own over my hair, cupping the back of my head so I was staring up into his vibrant green eyes, unable to look away even if I'd wanted. "He made the appointment with Tank." A small smirk lifted the corner of his lips. "Apparently it's a HR issue."
"Good thing Ranger isn't trying to date Steph, then," I replied. "Or Ranger will find himself being called to HR as well."
Lester cocked his head to the side even as he nudged my knees further apart, drawing me closer to him with a foot hooked around the base of the rolling office chair I sat on. "You really think Tank would jump to a disciplinary hearing for that?" he asked, locking his hands together around the back of my neck as I inched my hands up to his hips, sliding my thumbs into his belt loops. "I mean, he's the boss."
"First," I said, tipping my head back further to maintain eye contact in our new proximity. "Tank takes HR very seriously. You may recall from the meeting he called us into when we first got together."
"The one where he told us explicitly not to do things like this -" He bent to press his mouth to mine, nipping at my lower lip until I relented and let him sweep his tongue inside briefly before drawing back to finish his sentence. "- on company time? Yes I remember. But that was a discussion."
"And secondly," I added, a little short on oxygen and brain cells now that I had the taste of Lester lingering on my tongue. "Steph knows the names of all five of Tank's cats. If he thinks there's a possibility Ranger could hurt her, he wouldn't hesitate to pound him into the ground."
Something fierce flashed behind Lester's eyes as he nodded agreement to my point. "He's not alone in that stance," he said quietly.
"Believe me, I know," I assured him. "But I just don't think he's trying to date her. It's not in his nature. He's a solitary beast. Dating a woman who isn't an employee is too complicated for the man, what makes you think he's going to submit to the entanglement of an office romance?"
He shrugged, his mood lightening as quickly and easily as it had darkened just moments ago. "Call it a hunch." And to ensure I didn't continue to argue against him, he pulled me back in for another kiss.
*o*
I spied Lester across the floor on my way from the break room to my obligatory shift on monitors, and tried to gauge if he had the telltale signs of acquired information simmering under his skin, but unfortunately, the second I stepped within range of the monitors station, Cal was on his feet, desperate to escape the unique torture of the duty, and I was forced to avert my gaze to the screens instead, taking a deep breath to clear my mind and relax into the zen I'd managed to cultivate around this particular part of my job. Today of all days, with Steph's run down of the previous night's dinner date fresh in my mind, and my curiosity to hear Ranger's point of view on the matter lingering close to the surface, I needed it more than ever.
We'd decided over breakfast this morning that a divide and conquer strategy would be best to gather the information we desired. We still weren't sure exactly how much Ranger personally monitored the security feeds of the building, so we wanted to avoid the obvious hallmarks of two guys prying into their friends lives by keeping our enquiries low key.
I was the obvious choice to talk to Steph, since we already had an appointment scheduled for directly after the morning briefing to discuss her medical and physical situation for Rangeman's records and start the process of designing a suitable workout routine for her. A task that would be a lot easier, since Lester and I had already been working with her on and off for a year.
I knew that Steph hated hospitals and medical examinations, so I'd easily distracted her by asking about her date, getting all the answers I needed to compare with whatever Lester found out from Ranger if and when he eventually managed to drag the information out of him. Apart from the fact that with me taking Steph, that left Lester with Ranger by default, there was also the familial factor that made him the better choice to pester him. I wouldn't say that being related to Ranger gave Lester a degree of immunity; if anything, he came down harder on Lester because they were cousins. But being related did give Lester the advantage of having an Abuela Rosa shaped ace up his sleeve. Their grandmother was like a catch-all threat for manipulating each other.
It wasn't until midafternoon when I was heading out on patrol with Hank that I crossed paths with Lester again, on his way back in with Ram, and a fresh bandaid on his cheek. I changed course immediately, grasping his head between both my hands when we met by the elevator, turning it this way and that to get a good look at the thin red line that peaked out on either side of the regular size bandaid.
"It's just a scratch," he assured me, reaching up and brushing my hand away so he could rip the sticky wound cover off, revealing that he was correct. The actual wound was no more than a centimetre long and already scabbed over. "Tree branch whipped me," he explained.
"Like a little bitch," Ram added over his shoulder, grinning as he disappeared into the stairwell.
"Disinfect it, and cover it up again," I instructed. "Alcohol wipes are in the-"
"Second drawer on the right," he finished for me. "I know." Then he sent me a lopsided grin. "Aren't you gonna kiss it better?"
I rolled my eyes, and pressed my lips to the tip of my finger before poking his cheek. "Did you talk to Ranger yet?"
"Tick tock, Brown!" Hank called from the far end of the row of vehicles where he stood between our assigned SUV and the open driver-side door. "You can cuddle Santos on your own time, we got criminals to round up."
Lester and I sent him synchronised middle fingers. The guys accepted our relationship, sure, but that didn't mean they weren't above the same kind of shit stirring anyone else would get for showing softer emotions at work. I took a step back, and raised an eyebrow at Les, silently repeating my question.
"Saw him just before I headed out," he said. "You better go before Hank chucks a tantrum. We all know how he gets when he doesn't get to play outside." This earned him a reciprocation of the birds we'd flipped, and with a brief forearm squeeze, we were both heading in our opposite directions again. And had I realised how long my three hour patrol shift was going to end up, I would have insisted on a cliff notes version of the information Lester had gleaned from our friend before I got in the SUV, because it at least would have given me something to think about other than how hard the seats were at the police station while I was waiting to be interviewed and released after the wrong nosy neighbour caught sight of me skulking around the side the house we were inspecting for signs of a skip and I'd been unfortunate enough to still be on the scene when the cops showed up.
Growing up with my skin tone, I was used to the suspicious eyes of the law being narrowed in my direction, but it usually didn't go anywhere. Today, it was just my luck that I got the one racist prick on Trenton PD who insisted on taking me back to the station for questioning despite the fact that I'd offered to show them the appropriate documentation to prove I had the right to carry concealed, and that my purposes for being on the property were related to my job, and that I also had the right paperwork for that in the SUV. Eventually, they were convinced that I was innocent of any malicious intent, and I had an appointment with Rangeman's lawyer for the next day to see what could be done about my wrongful detainment.
Finally, two hours later than planned, and starving and grumpy as hell, I tromped into the house, and barely acknowledged Lester's greeting as I made a beeline for the shower. I made quick work of scrubbing the day from my skin and pulling on my pyjamas before returning to the kitchen where Lester was dishing up two plates of stir fry. He handed me an open beer, and inclined his head toward the living room, picking up the plates to follow me in, where I collapsed on the couch with a sigh, tipping my head back to stare at the ceiling while he situated himself on the cushion beside me.
He said nothing. Didn't ask if I was okay, or press me for details, or even encourage me to take the plate that was still in his possession. He just let me sit there and decompress for a minute or so until I was ready to move past it, dragging my hand over my face and taking a long pull of the beer before straightening, setting it aside and reaching for my plate.
"So, according to Ranger," Lester said, as I shovelled food into my mouth, "The date was a) fine, and b) not a date. He literally just felt the need to make up for how he treated Steph, and thought dinner was a nice gesture, since he'd probably made a few family dinners uncomfortable for her."
And this was why I loved Lester. He knew I didn't want to dwell on the shit afternoon I'd had, so he was moving on to something he knew I did want to talk about. He would have gotten most of the details from Ram before I came home, and I would eventually tell him the rest of the details, but not right now.
"That's interesting," I said around a mouthful of rice and managed not to spray any of it over the coffee table (this time). "Because Steph said it definitely felt date-y. Apparently, when she mentioned that she loved to dance and that the Dick had never taken her out anywhere nice, he offered to take her dancing once his leg healed."
Lester almost choked on his beer. "Ranger wouldn't have said that," he said, voice strained. "Not even Carlos. He made it sound like all they did was talk about how she'd found her first day at Rangeman."
I raised an eyebrow. "I would have known if Steph was lying to me," I pointed out, reminding him of just how terrible her poker face was. "Not only did it feel like a real date for her, I got the impression she wouldn't be opposed to it happening again."
"Steph and Ranger?" Lester said, shaking his head slowly. "Well, Steph and Carlos, probably, but…" he trailed off and I could see the wheels turning in his head, so I continued eating, waiting for the lightbulb to go off, signifying the completion of his thought. I didn't have to wait long. "Do you think that part of the reason for his behaviour toward her at family dinner could be because he's attracted to her?"
"You mean like the boy who dips the pigtails of the girl he likes in ink because he doesn't know how to communicate?" I asked, turning to face him more fully as I contemplated what he was saying. Could he be right? Could Carlos's behaviour have stemmed from his attraction? I'd certainly harboured my own fair share of ill-wishes towards all the floozies Lester had taken to bed while I was still in the denying-my-feelings-so-I-don't-ruin-our-friendship stage of our relationship. I could see how thinking the woman you're attracted to is with your brother could cause a sour impression, and lead to the smackdown at Christmas eve with all the assumptions he'd made.
He waved his fork around, chewing. "Think about it," he urged, like I wasn't already. "He tackled Marco to the ground because he thought he'd hurt Steph, a woman he'd barely spoken a few words to and whom he appeared to prefer to ignore, or glare at if given the choice. And by the end of the night, he's giving her a job? And you saw his face when he walked into that meeting last week. He likes her."
I was nodding along with him, now. "And she likes him." Undeniable.
