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Stirring Up

I was awoken by a shrill ring on my new cell phone, and I sat up, startled, and confused for a moment. I fumbled with the phone, unfamiliar with the buttons and functions, and managed to press the right button, just as the phone stopped ringing. It started again, almost immediately, and this time I answered it, "Hello?"

Les's voice came through, sounding exhausted, "Steph? Are you there?"

"Yes, Les, I'm awake," I replied. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table; 2.25am. Yikes.

"Steph, I need your help. Hector took a knife wound during the takedown, and he's been taken to hospital. I just finished dropping the skip off at the station and all the paperwork for the takedown, and now I don't know where to go to pick Hector up. Where is the hospital?"

"Do you know which hospital?" I had already got up and was pulling out a pair of jeans and t-shirt.

"I think they said St Francis?" I was pulling on my jeans now. I had the phone wedged into the crook of my shoulder as I wiggled into the jeans and bent down to pull on the sneakers.

"St Francis is on Chambers Street. It's super-easy. Just turn left about one block up from the police station and you're on the street. Follow it for about five minutes and you can't miss the hospital."

"Ok, thanks. Sorry to wake you up. I just realised I should have asked the cops, but I'm so tired I'm punchy." He certainly did sound beat.

I told him, "Come by my apartment instead." It was only a minor deviation, and I could drive him. "Pick me up, and I'll do the driving and navigating."

"That's not necessary, Steph. I'm really sorry I woke you, but I can handle it."

"C'mon Les, I want to help. Come by and pick me up and let me do the driving. I was going to meet you at the hospital anyway; I want to see that Hector is ok."

"Well, I guess. Ok, I'll come pick you up." I finished dressing and picked up my bag, before I headed out to wait for Les in my parking lot. He pulled up only a few minutes later, and I insisted he slide over and let me drive. Maybe it was because he was so tired, but he only put up a token protest. I quickly made our way to St Francis and found a park easily at this time of night. Or morning, technically I suppose.

We walked briskly into the hospital towards the ER, and we saw Hector already sitting and waiting for us. His upper right arm was heavily bandaged, and he looked tired and pained. We walked over and Lester spoke to him in Spanish. He replied, and Les looked at me, "He's been discharged. He has about fifteen stitches. He has some pain meds, but he doesn't want to take them until he's at home, because they'll likely knock him out."

I nodded, "He's ok though? He's going to be ok?" I asked in concern. Les nodded and gave me a tired smile.

"He'll be fine. He's mostly just pissed he let the skip get him." I moved forward and placed a tentative hand on Hector's left wrist.

"I'm sorry you were hurt. I'm glad you're going to be ok. At least you know you got the skip and he's back in jail." I looked up at Les quickly to indicate he should translate for me. He did and Hector smiled up at me. His smile was a little strained with exhaustion and pain, but still beautifully genuine.

"Gracias, hermosa," he replied. "Gracias por venir a recogerme." Les told me he was thanking me for coming to pick him up. I smiled back at Hector and Les helped him to stand. We made our way out to the truck, and Les loaded Hector into the backseat before climbing in himself.

Les directed me to an alley near Second Street in South Trenton. Hector's apartment was in an old, three-story, brick building with gang tags marring the façade. Les told me to stay in the truck with it running, and to lock the doors until he returned. I took his advice and waited anxiously as Les helped Hector into the building and emerged about ten minutes later. By now, Les looked completely done in, and I made a quick decision, driving back to my apartment and telling Les to come up.

I gave Les a pair of Carlos' sweatpants, a towel, and a shove into my bathroom, and told him to have a shower. I made up my sofa with a pillow and blanket. It was probably not going to be Les' most comfortable night, as my sofa was a bit short for him, but I thought he was too tired to drive back to Newark now. Briefly I considered trying to take the sofa myself, but I knew Lester would never allow that. I put a bottle of water on the coffee table for him and Les emerged, looking a bit better and more relaxed. I indicated the sofa and told him to get some rest. Les tried to object, but I pointed out that if he slept here, he could check on Hector tomorrow before he headed back to Newark. Eventually, Les conceded and settled down onto the sofa while I went back to my own bed and fell into it, barely having the energy to strip off my jeans and sneakers first.

I woke groggily the next morning. I lay in bed for a few minutes, wondering what had woken me. I heard a noise from my kitchen and smelled coffee, and for a second I froze in panic. Then the events of early this morning came flooding back and I relaxed. Lester.

I stumbled out of bed and dug in my chest of drawers for a pair of shorts to pull on under my t-shirt. I walked out, mumbling a good morning to Lester as I made my way to the coffee pot. Les was leaning against the kitchen counter and smirked at my rumpled and groggy morning persona. I paused to stick my tongue out at him before grabbing the creamer out of the fridge and Lester laughed out loud at that. I spooned in two teaspoons of sugar and stirred.

First sip. Ahhh… I heard Lester laugh again and realised I must have made noises. What can I say, the first cup is the sweetest! Lester doubled over now, and I knew I was still talking out loud. "You should write a song about that Steph," he choked out. He sang, "The first cup is the sweetest, baby I know!" to the tune of Rod Stewart's The First Cut is the Deepest. He then doubled over again in hilarity. I rolled my eyes at him but couldn't help smiling.

When he had calmed down, I asked him what his plans for this morning were. "I'm going to head over to check on Hector. Depending how he is, I'll head up to Newark later this morning or this afternoon. I'm supposed to head back to Miami on Tuesday. I'm going to drop by and visit some family tonight up in Newark."

I nodded in acknowledgement, "Do you want to go and get some breakfast first?"

"Sure," he agreed easily. "Do you have anything else of Ranger's I could borrow? A t-shirt or something?"

I nodded again, "He's got a couple of t-shirts here. I'll grab you one." I moved into my bedroom and emerged with one of Carlos' black shirts. Les took it with a word of thanks and moved into the bathroom to get dressed. He returned a couple of minutes later with the t-shirt and his pants from yesterday. I told him to just leave the sweats; I would get them washed for him. I moved into the bathroom myself for a quick shower and to try and tame my hair. I managed to wrestle it into a low ponytail and applied some light makeup. I moved into my bedroom to dress in the jeans I left on the floor last night and a clean t-shirt. I found a pair of flat sandals and called it good.

I directed Les to the diner nearby where Carlos and I had eaten our first breakfast together in Trenton. Les handed me the receipt he had collected for Alonzo last night and I tucked it into my bag to take to Connie at the Bond's office on Monday. She would send the check to our Rangeman office. Les' and mine work had netted Rangeman over $140,000 this week, and I was thrilled that this would help us in building the business.

Over our breakfasts, Les asked, "Tank and Ramon are staying in Trenton, right?"

I nodded, "I've booked them into a two-bedroom suite at the Marriot. I booked them a rental car at Newark airport, and they'll drive down Tuesday morning. In the afternoon, we're inspecting the Haywood Street building and Wednesday morning, the East State Street building. We're having dinner on Wednesday night and they're driving back to Newark on Thursday morning to fly back to Miami." Carlos and I had planned out the itinerary and I had booked where he suggested.

Les nodded and smirked at me, "A suite, huh? La-di-da!" I rolled my eyes at him.

"Well considering we want Mr Acosta to invest the big bucks, we decided to go all out." Les chuckled at my comeback.

After we finished breakfast, Les drove us back to my apartment. He followed me up to escort me into the apartment and say goodbye. I was a bit sad to see him go; he was fun and good company. I hugged him and told him to tell Hector to call me if he needed anything. Of course, I'm not sure how I would understand what Hector might need, but I would cross that bridge if I came to it.

Les left and I contemplated the rest of my Sunday. I decided to do a bit of cleaning and then take my laundry over to mom's place. If I was lucky, I could mooch lunch and get my laundry done at the same time. Tonight, Tricia and I were heading to the movies. At least it would keep me busy and stop me thinking about Carlos so much.

I could hope.

I waited nervously on Tuesday in the office for Tank and Ramon Acosta. Tank was picking up the hire car in Newark and driving down; I was expecting him to arrive anytime now. I almost jumped when my cell phone rang and I answered with, "Hello, this is Stephanie."

"Steph?" came the reply, "It's Tank. We're just pulling up to the office building."

"Great, Tank. I'll meet you at the entry door." I rose to go downstairs and escort the men up to the offices.

I nearly gasped at my first sight of Tank. I suppose I should have guessed from his nickname, but I am not sure that anything would have prepared me for his height and the breadth of his shoulders. He was an intimidating six foot six, and he looked to be about four feet across. His skin was very dark, his eyes even darker, and his head was shaved bald. But when he saw me, a smile flashed across his face, and I relaxed. He might look intimidating, but he was the same friendly, intelligent guy I had been chatting with for weeks. Ramon Acosta looked to be in his forties, with a mix of African and Latino colouring and flashing dark eyes. He was above average in height and reasonably fit, but he looked like a midget beside Tank. I could only imagine I would look even tinier.

Ramon stepped forward to shake my hand and introduce himself. I smiled and murmured greetings and led the men up to the office. I had purchased, with Carlos' agreement, a coffee machine, a small refrigerator, and a couple of pot plants for the office, to make it a bit more welcoming. The men seated themselves in the armchairs, and I got us all coffee. We chatted casually for about half an hour and then talk moved onto the business plan for Rangeman Trenton and the buildings we would be inspecting. Ramon, as he told me to call him, complimented me on the business plan and enthused over the potential business opportunities here in Trenton. I went over the pros and cons that Carlos and I had discussed about the buildings. Tank inserted some comments where he had ideas.

I led them into Carlos' office, where I had spread out the blueprints over his desk, and we studied them while discussing more options for development and expansion. The Haywood Street building was listed for $2,200,000 to purchase. We would need to make significant renovations, building a gun range, gym, apartments, and offices. Probably it would cost us at least another million. The East State Street building was even more expensive at $2,600,000, despite the slightly lower square footage, due to the more central location and proximity to the city centre. It, too, would require significant renovation. Although, we were not sure if we could fit the same number of apartments into that building; either Carlos would have to live off site, or there would be no staff apartments in that building. It was one of the major cons for the East State Street building.

I had booked us into Rossini's for lunch and directed Tank to drive to the restaurant. Over lunch we chatted casually; Ramon told me about his import/export business interests in Florida and his family estate in Jamaica. Ramon's branch of the family had emigrated from Jamaica in the 1920s, where they had been involved in rum production for more than a century. Ramon's family estate still grew sugarcane and had a distillery. It was quite fascinating.

After lunch, we drove to Haywood Street. We were meeting the realtor at 2pm and we pulled up about ten minutes early to find him already waiting for us. His name was Morieti and he escorted us into the building, enthusing about the facilities the building offered. We took the elevator to the top and slowly made our way down, floor by floor. Tank and I discussed the most likely usage of each floor, while Ramon listened, and Mr Morieti interjected with excited additions. We got back down to the ground floor, which was actually elevated about three steps above ground. There was currently some parking at the rear on that floor as well, but Tank and Carlos envisioned that could be used as the gun range or gym; parking would be mostly in the underground space. Mr Morieti seemed taken aback at the idea of building a gun range. I decided not to mention the 'holding cell' that Carlos had discussed with me, probably in the sub-basement. Mr Morieti might have a heart attack.

The underground parking was currently fitted with a standard garage door. Carlos would want to have it refitted with something more secure and ram-proof. The sub-basement was finished, but mostly empty. It would be easy to refurbish. Overall, the building seemed to be very suitable for our purposes. The major disadvantage that we had discussed was possibly location. However, given the advantages of access, size, and ease of conversion, it was not a deal-breaker. We spent about two hours in the building, then drove back to the office. I offered for Ramon to be able to work out of Carlos' office, but he preferred to go back to the hotel and work from there. I gave Tank Carlos' key so he could use the office as needed over the next few days. Tank was going to take Ramon out for a casual meal this evening, as I was going to my college class tonight. Tomorrow, we would meet at the East State Street Building at 9am to begin the tour there.

I met Tricia at our usual 5.30pm spot and we ate some sandwiches and chips as we caught up on our weeks. We were both excited to go to our class tonight, as we would be introduced to the internet and understand more of the opportunities. The class was really interesting. Mr Logan talked about searching across multiple search tools, like Yahoo, Altavista, Webcrawler, and Lycos. No one search tool seemed to cover all the information out there. We learned about how difficult it is to find information stored in databases, that need to be searched individually, and the emerging trend of users helping to index and rank various websites, which was the basis of the Yahoo index.

In the second hour, Mr Logan talked us through basic writing for the World Wide Web, using coding called HTML, or Hypertext Markup Language, and embedding images and clip art. He showed us some code and then showed us how that displayed on screen. I wondered if we should think about developing a website for Rangeman. Tricia mentioned they had also been talking about having a website for the library and mentioned her exposure to library online searching via catalogues and indexes. For the rest of the week, we would be using the search tools in the lab tomorrow to answer a series of questions and then on Friday night we would be experimenting with writing a basic web page. I was so excited to try.

I pulled up at the building on East State Street at ten to nine. I had gathered some coffees from a favourite café and Tank and Ramon pulled up a few minutes later and I handed out the coffees. It had just gone nine when a car pulled up and the realtor bustled out. Mrs Williams was a short woman in her forties or fifties, and she looked a bit flustered by the large men in front of her. However, she led us efficiently into the building for our tour.

Honestly, the building did not impress me anywhere near as much as the Haywood Street building. Aside from the lack of a basement and limited parking, we were concerned about the load-bearing capacity of the upper floors. It was questionable if they would be able to withstand the concentrated load of the electronic monitoring equipment, let alone a gym. Things like the gym and the gun range would have to be on the ground floor. Also, I doubted even more that Carlos could live onsite here, and I know he wanted to have an apartment onsite, especially for the early stages of getting the business established.

Overall, I thought the Haywood Street building was better suited. But I tried not to influence Tank or Ramon's comments and let the building speak for itself. After the tour, we headed back to the office. We had a discussion over a catered lunch I had brought in. To my satisfaction, their thoughts about the buildings seemed to echo mine. Tank, in particular, was much more enthusiastic about the Haywood Street facilities. Ramon continued to question us about the growth projections and marketing in the business plan. He seemed to be very much on board with becoming an investor, and I couldn't help the thrill of excitement that our plans were likely to come to fruition.

After lunch, Ramon again headed out with the hire car to go back to work from the hotel. Tank decided to stay at the office to work with me, and I would drop him back at the hotel later in the afternoon. I was going to get ready for dinner before going to class. I would leave a half-hour early tonight to make it to our eight o'clock reservation at the restaurant. I had booked at Rat's Restaurant in Hamilton. It was a stunning location and French cuisine, so I hoped it impressed Ramon. Tank and Ramon would head back to Newark early tomorrow to make their flight back to Miami.

Class went smoothly and I was a little sad to leave early. I would have to finish the exercises tomorrow night. Still, I was looking forward to dinner. I didn't often get to eat a fancy restaurant like tonight. I had worn one of my favourite LBDs with heels and gold accessories for a change. I had felt a little self-conscious sitting in the computer lab in my dress, but nobody commented, other than Tricia to tell me I looked nice.

At the restaurant I looked around in pleasure and curiosity. The restaurant was situated on a huge estate with sculpture gardens, and I was a little sad that it was too dark to see much of the grounds. The menu was very French, and I was trying hard to supress my moans as I enjoyed French onion soup, roasted duck breast, and the spiced chocolate tarte tatin almost brought me to tears. It was orgasmic. I would absolutely have to come back here with Carlos. Not just to dine, but to explore the beautiful gardens as well.

Over dinner, we chatted easily, and at the end of dinner, Ramon confirmed that he was going to make an offer to Carlos and Marco for the financing and partnership. I almost squealed in delight.

I was thrilled that the visit had gone so smoothly, and I couldn't wait to tell Carlos about the success.

So she's met Lester and Tank now - who will be next? :) I'm introducing another familiar fan favourite to the family in chapter 14. Virtual cookies if you guess who. Guarantee you won't guess how - I've never read it anywhere before so pretty confident it's original.