PROBLEMATIC

Chapter 12

oOoOo

A fresh perspective with a new mindset brings opportunities and motivation to improve. It also made me feel good about myself which gave me confidence with each step. As part of my physiotherapy action plan, Bobby had devised a moderated program for me. This was followed up with a new training program, obviously different from the men, but just as rigorous. Small steps. That was the initial transition. Looking back, that was the best way to modify my physical therapy, enabling me to progress to where I am now.

I have to admit, initially, I totally underestimated what was required. My skill set was ill-prepared. Let's face it, I went in blindly, yet determined to make it work, when I first started as a BEA. Desperate times called for drastic measures. Experience. Something I lacked. That's what it was all about. Experience and skills in capture. However, I liked the investigating aspect as it appealed to my nosy side, especially when I was uncovering interesting, and sometimes, dirty details of people whom I had known from the Burg. Growing up in a family where my mother and grandmother bargained and traded with salacious gossip, I was born curious.

But, undeniably, I needed to upgrade my training and definitely my skill set, especially my self-defence. Stubbornness prevailed in the early days. Childish and immature in a way, that I ignored those factors. Regardless, I have done a complete about face and am moving forward, while actively aiming for my new horizons.

Slowly but surely, I have become fitter. I am eating better, a more balanced diet which literally feeds my body's natural metabolism whilst providing me with even greater stamina. Being at Rangeman has made a difference in my life. Significantly, no one was breaking into my apartment on a regular basis, and that was peace of mind. At the same time, I knew Grandma was safe with the Rangeman Security there. My Rangeman family, plus my other constants, kept me focused and grounded. With my new confidence it enabled me to be me, with room for growth. There was mutual support, encouragement, respect, trust and faith.

It had been way overdue for me to change my surroundings, completely removing all those abusers and problematic issues from my life. I figured I had to get out of that rut before it would consume me. As I picked myself up and dusted myself off, I worked hard to become the me I wanted to be. Surrounding myself with those who are supportive and actually cared for me, was vital in enabling me to move forwards. Living at Rangeman, in an apartment on four, was the safest I had felt in ages. Not having to commute daily in one of my notoriously questionable vehicles made a difference too. That was a big bonus. Besides, I no longer drive POS vehicles. Secondly, I am up early and, in the gym, no longer whining about hating mornings so much. I get teased about that even now.

So, if, in this job, I had so many problematic issues, why do I still do it? That's a good question. I have asked myself many times, analysing my motives and motivation.

To be honest, I liked the hunt, the chase, the pursuit of information. Some of these were criminals who should not be out and about in the community. Delving deep into backgrounds, finding connections, locating places frequented and the people whom they knew or were related to, was fascinating. Bank details were an excellent source since it also hinted at their usual haunts and places of interest especially in this cashless society at present. My hunting skills were of a different calibre to that of my Rangeman Merry Men. They, too, liked to hunt. It was second nature for them with their military backgrounds, but also with their upbringing. Their hunting skills were more physical yet very tactical. To them it was a game, yet they were ardently serious about it. The thrill of the chase and all that. Initially, I just thought it was a guy thing, but I get it.

I realised the job was not problematic per se. Yes, certain elements were, especially in the beginning, as a novice BEA. Of course, I now approach it differently, which makes a huge difference. Rangeman has my back. There are strategies and protocols in place, for my safety, but not just for me exclusively. Being aware of our surroundings was high on the list. Many times, I was teased about that. Now, I always work with a partner, Manny, my "Hubby". He still calls me "Wifey" since that time when I finagled my way into the ER rooms to check on his status while claiming to be his distraught wife when he was shot. He has my back and I have his. I enjoy fieldwork more now, knowing I have a reliable back up and we have planned strategies for the capture.

I rotate on the rosters just like everyone else. I endure the monitors but with a better attitude. I like to read body language and considering that I am curious, I am able to cope with that ass-numbing experience, even though sometimes the shift drags on. I no longer whinge about it. They tested me relentlessly with distractions behind me while I was on monitors, but I maintained my focus. Go me!

Distractions? Yes, I still do those and it's another hunting experience which I enjoy, except when the perp touches me. They know once the distraction is complete with a successful capture, my need to shower off the sleazy skip cooties is a priority. Then I can join them for celebratory pizza at Shorty's, as we often do, especially after the capture of a high bond skip.

So, I had Tank, Bobby and Lester, the core team, as well as Hector, in my corner from the beginning. Manny, as my partner too. The Rangeman guys as a whole were there too, my Merry Men. I was one of them, no longer just a skirt playing with the big boys.

Ranger, most of all, encouraged me over the years, right from the start. Our very first encounter in that diner so long ago, was quite memorable. Who am I kidding? It was very memorable. I can still see the badass street Ranger, with his ghetto-speak, looking dangerous, sitting with his back against the wall, watching my entrance and inglorious arrival in that heap of shit Nova, the Pussy mobile. Someone thought it would look better with Pussy graffiti-ed on the side in Day-Glo paint.

It was patently obvious, even though Connie had called in a favour, he was not prepared to waste his time on some wannabe chick wanting to play with the big boys for some notion of fun. I bit back sharply, pointing out that POS Pussy mobile outside, explaining how that's all I could afford after my Miata was collected by the repo guy, and having to sell some appliances to have cash to buy some food and pay bills. I stopped short of a full-on rant. Yes, I was being feisty, which secretly I think appealed to him. To be honest, I not only amused him, I intrigued him.

Professor Higgins and Eliza Doolittle do Trenton was a good plan. The memory makes me smile. We've come a long way since then. But, there were times when Ranger confused me. There were times when Morelli confused me. Morelli, of course, had been my first skip and that's how anger came into my orbit. In capturing Morelli, after encountering him many times in my pursuits, much to everyone's surprise, I brought him in, inside that freezer truck, with the dead bodies and evidence to clear his name.

Morelli and I started seeing each other. However, we never actually dated, you know, as in going out somewhere, together. I was a cheap date. In hindsight, that should have been a sign, almost a red flag. In actual fact, we were just fuck buddies. But, somehow, I don't think I was the only one. I was easy, convenient, available and willing. Did I love him? I liked him… but I couldn't say the other L word. We would run hot and cold. It was an on-again off-again type of relationship. Those red flags were waving but I naïvely ignored them. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

It was at this time that I thought Morelli was great in bed and satisfying, but Ranger invoked a stronger sensation, way more than just satisfying. With Morelli it was sex, with Ranger it was making love. Granted, both were sexy men.

Morelli called it 'balls to the wall gorilla sex'. Oh my God. So crass. It was more about satisfying his needs. I'm embarrassed to even say it, let alone admit that. Gorilla sex? Eeuw. It makes me shudder. To think I thought it was acceptable. In the beginning it was. To be honest, in those days I had very little experience to go by.

Yes, my experience was limited in the bedroom. I didn't just do sex for the sake of getting off or scratching an itch. But, hey! Look at The Dick! I married him. Big mistake. See, naïve. He was rarely satisfying. It was all about his needs and he wanted more, more things that I was not prepared to do. Yes, I was still naïve at that time, to a degree. Jeez. I was 24 when we divorced. Satisfying. Such a bland word, to be honest. Was that what this was all about? But, whose satisfaction? And there was the real issue. I wanted more in a relationship. I certainly didn't get that in my sham of a marriage. The only satisfaction I had was getting a divorce and escaping that charade, my mother be damned!

Then the whole bond enforcement thing happened with Morelli in my life, and out, and in again, and out again, which also brought Ranger into the mix. The dynamics changed. Call it rivalry. Ranger showing an interest in me obviously had an effect on Morelli. Morelli became possessive. Morelli became demanding, almost to the point of aggression. That's how things evolved, since the arguments that caused each break up became more about Ranger, and me working with Ranger and at Rangeman. Morelli wanted to control me by demanding I exclude Ranger and Rangeman from my life. That's when the insistence that I marry him and have children came to the fore, as if that would solve the problem. The problem? Apparently, I was the problem. What logic he used to come by that I have no idea. However, I do know my mother and his scheming together influenced that decision.

Ranger was my mentor, employer, and guardian angel. He was my best friend. I liked working with him. When I was strapped for cash he offered me jobs, mostly research but sometimes a distraction job. He gave me cars. He was encouraging. He supported me. Come to think of it, Morelli was never encouraging. If anything, he was actively discouraging and constantly tearing me apart with gaslighting and nasty criticism. Images flood my brain of Morelli ranting and berating me at one of the many scenes of my early disasters.

The Cupcake Rants. I can't help but roll my eyes. Although, his last episode made me chuckle when he displayed his cock-strutting performance in front of Lieutenant Donna Benson.

Ironically, there were no Babe rants.

"Babe."

That single word said so little but spoke so much. Most importantly, Ranger would always ask if I was okay after doing a full body scan and a mental sit rep as he approached me. He was always aware of his surroundings. In contrast, Morelli rarely, if at all, asked if I was okay. Hm, Morelli never asked because he was all about his own reputation and how I made him look bad. Really?

Le sigh. It's so easy to see now with a fresh perspective.

Then there were the meetings in the alley, stolen kisses. Holy hot flashes. The things that man could do to me. He's the kind of guy who slips into a girl's dreams and desires and refuses to leave. Yes, I had many dreams, pleasant and stirring my desires.

Ranger would say, "I can ruin you for all other men," lifting just the one eyebrow.

His confidence was so close to arrogant. Morelli had that that lopsided grin, his panty-loosening grin. But Ranger had the capacity to make me hot without even touching me. That smouldering look, sometimes with just a tiny lift of the corner of his mouth, was enough to make me hot. Fanning myself. Oh boy.

Ranger had me singing the Hallelujah Chorus, and still wanting more. Ranger had remarkable stamina. He also made sure I was satisfied many times, well before he would seek his own release.

Until I had my one night with Ranger, I then realised he was right. He did ruin me for all other men. Morelli paled into insignificance by comparison. Tsk. I'm still shaking my head. Why did I not see this earlier? Why the hell did I go back to him? I was in a rut. Ranger sent me back to him, to fix my relationship. That stung. I cried. What is it with me and men? I questioned my own actions, but not enough.

And, there's that other word: relationship. Neither was serious about a relationship. Morelli said he wanted to marry me. It was expected. "The 'boys' miss you." Ick. Gag! "Bob too." That was a lure, when he invited me over to his house. Break that down and it was a night in, with a pizza and a six pack of beers, watch the game and then, you know, bedroom fun. Oh dear. How fucked up was that? That's not a relationship. How could I have let it go that far? He didn't want an actual relationship, just to keep me in a controlled way, like a possession. Was that the foundation for a good marriage? Nope. His family history was a constant reminder. The M word always brought me out in hives with Morelli. I did not want that Burg life future. It wasn't my vision. It wasn't even a shared vision, except the one visualised between my mother and Morelli. Once in a lifetime was enough being deemed the trophy wife and look how that turned out!

With Ranger constantly around, Morelli's jealousy flared and the intensity of his rants noticeably changed to more aggressive. He wanted to own me. Morelli recognised the way Ranger looked at me. Lester reminded me of that. "Every man knows that look. Competition. It means he has to work harder to keep you." Because of that, Morelli resented Ranger even more. The intensity of his hatred brought out the 'thugs and criminals' notion to tarnish Rangeman's reputation. Was he pissing a circle around me? Damn right he was. Ugh. Two alpha males. Lucky me.

But Ranger wasn't playing that game. He was playing his own games.

He categorically declared he didn't do relationships. There was no ring but a condom might be handy. He had me as a line item in his budget under Entertainment. That irked me. He also said he was an opportunist. Seriously? He declared that if my bed was empty long enough, and Morelli and I were over, he would take advantage. Hmph. Still waiting. Because Morelli and I tended to get together again, Ranger waited me out. Sometimes an extended business trip to Miami or Boston called him away. Other times a mission would steal him away. That uncertainty was another reason he intimated could cause issues between us. The other was the fear that his enemies might endanger my life, or worse, to hurt him. I knew he loved me. Morelli also knew he loved me. Ranger knew he loved me. Ranger knew I loved him. I was in love with Ranger.

Here's another one: commitment. That's a biggie. I no longer wanted to consider that scenario with Morelli. That boat had sailed when I came home to find him balls deep inside Terry. I packed up my laundry basket and left. Again. He wanted to maintain his bachelorhood trimmings with Terry and other sidepieces while being married to me? That was a hard no! He wasn't committed to that marriage concept. The engaged-to-be-engaged fiasco proved that. So, Morelli was permanently out of the picture.

Ranger didn't want to commit either. He had created his wall, even though I had somehow, unwittingly, managed to chip away at his self-imposed barriers. It was to protect himself. To protect his heart.

Ironically, I too had issues with relationships and commitment. I questioned my relationships. My track record was not exactly bathed in glory. Between Catholic guilt and this notion of not giving in to my sexual desires, like say with Ranger, I was doing the same as Ranger in protecting my heart. We had a great friendship. He was my best friend. I didn't want to lose that friendship. I didn't want to ruin that special connection we had. I was scared to commit further by blurting out my true feelings in case I scared him off. I had to admit that I needed him in my life. He made my life worth living.

Commitment-phobes, that's what we were. Maybe we just were not meant to be anything beyond having a deep and meaningful friendship.

Scanning around the gym absentmindedly, I was blatantly admiring the very fine specimens on display around me in various poses of exertion, sweating and grunting, muscles glistening, some without shirts or tank tops. Hmm-mm. Perhaps I should reconsider my focus on that new mantra. You know, the one about broadening my horizons.

Omigosh! Since when did I become so that I was seriously objectifying my Merry Men?

A gentle nudge beside me brought me out of my lusty haze.

"Si, Hermana. So much nice eye candy on display."

I blushed and quickly hid my face in my towel, to wipe the sweat, of course. Hector chuckled as he reached for my hand to pull me up from the yoga mat where I had been doing my cool down exercises. He handed me a bottle of water which I downed pretty quickly. As the guys walked past me they gave me deliberate winks, smiles, cheeky raised eyebrows and extra flexed muscles as they made their way to the locker room while I might have lingered on their sexy asses.

Hector laughed at me. I tossed the towel in the hamper and the empty water bottle in the recycler, and the lid in the sin bin. Time to shower and have a bite to eat before the morning meeting. After a knuckle bump from a grinning Hector, I left the gym, running up the one flight of stairs to my room on four. So much to think about. Maybe a cold shower might bring some clarity.

oOoOo