Side Story: Girls’ Night Out
Connie’s POV
Uncle Jimmy did a great job of keeping everyone off my back at dinner tonight. Thank god. If Steph ever asks why I don’t accompany her to dinner at her house, the simple reason is I don’t need to. I get it at home too. Why go experience her craziness?
Friday night and I’m bored out my skull. My sister had her kids over at dinner, which reminded me to look into tubal ligation again. Lula is back at her apartment, probably staring at the walls and missing Tank. She keeps denying it, but she hasn’t been the same since he left. I wonder what Steph’s up to.
“Steph?”
“Connie! Hey! What’s going on?”
“Not much. What are you doing?”
I hear a sigh and some shifting. “Nothing. I just got back from Atlanta this afternoon, and I’m exhausted.”
“Good trip?”
“Yeah. The office is doing well, and I had a lot of fun.”
Good for her. I’m bored. “Look, I’m not doing anything this weekend. Let’s get out and have some fun. Girls’ weekend out. What do you say?”
Sigh. “I have to check with Hector. What are you thinking?”
“Geez, do you have to check everything with Hector?”
“Yeah,” Steph laughs. “I’ve learned better. The first time I ditched Hector to go shopping with Lula, he caught up with us 15 minutes later and he was not happy. I’d prefer not to have Hector mad with me. It’ll be fine. Hector is a great bag mule and he doesn’t care what we talk about.”
I’m trying to remember Hector. If I’m thinking about the right guy, he’d be a made man if he were Italian. “Skinny—well, lean—teardrops on the face? 5’9″, with a 5 o’clock shadow and no English?”
“Yup, that’s him.”
The only RangeMan that actually scares me. Well, besides Ranger. The made men I know respect their reps, which tells me everything I need to know.
“Well, I’m thinking mani/pedis. Maybe a massage. Some shopping in Philly. Maybe a Chippendales showing in Philly. Whatcha think?”
Silence, then, “Chippendales in Philly?”
“Yeah. Mr. Rough and Ready is back.”
“Dark hair, blue eyes, way too small G-string?
“Glad to see you remember.”
Steph laughs. “Done. Let’s get tables near the runway. I’ll get the tickets.”
“OK. Call Lula and get her on board. I’ll call Mary Lou. Are you sure you’re going to be able to go?”
“I guarantee it. Tell ML to meet up here at 7:45 tomorrow morning. We’ll leave from here.”
Click.
Hmm . . . Steph’s starting to pick up RangeMan phone manners. Wonder if she knows.
Ever since Steph stopped working at the Bonds Office, I’ve struggled to find things to talk about with her. She doesn’t stop by every day, so we don’t get to talk about her skips. Vinnie’s a boring subject, and we pretend Joyce doesn’t exist. I refuse to talk about David. I have no love life to talk about, and Lula refuses to talk about what happened between her and Tank.
Morelli has disappeared and no one knows what happened to him. There’s 50-50 odds of his body being discovered as a floater. We’re giving 50-50 odds only because his mother says she speaks to him every week and knows he’s alive, but the cops are certain he’s not undercover.
Ranger’s in the wind and there are coups happening all across the Middle East, so there’s no telling which country he’s in.
Has this been the basis of our friendship? Men and work? If so, it feels as if we’re breaking apart because both are gone. I miss Steph and I’m determined not to lose my friend to something as basic as work. Men will never come between us.
I shake my head and call Mary Lou. Ever since Steph introduced us all, I’ve found I like Mary Lou. She’s great to talk to and she’s the only ‘Happily Ever After’ in the bunch. And it’s with her high school sweetheart. If she weren’t such a great person, I’d hate her on principle.
“Mary Lou?”
“Connie?”
“Hey, how are you?”
“I’m great!” I hear her cover the phone. “Lenny, can you get the boys ready for bed? Thanks! Sorry about that Connie, trying to get them in bed. What’s up?”
“I just talked to Steph. She’s back from Atlanta. I was thinking maybe we could all get together and have a girls’ day? Massages, mani/pedi, a little shopping in Philly? Chippendales is going to be there and I’m sure we can get some tickets.”
Mary Lou laughs. “Oh, that sounds great. I’m in. Steph coming?”
“Yeah. I told her to call Lula and get her on board. She’s going to get the tickets. I know the owner of a great spa in Philly, so we should be able to get in tomorrow.”
“Great! I’ll cover dinner. We’ll be in Philly, right?”
“Yeah. Steph’s got her bodyguard, Hector, so I’m sure we’ll all be in a RangeMan SUV.”
Mary Lou laughs. “Never met him. Which one is he?” I describe Hector and it’s silent for a moment. “Nope, pretty sure I haven’t met him. Well, he’s doing chauffeur and bodyguard duty? Just him?”
“Believe me, he’s the only one needed.”
“OK. Well, I’ve got the restaurant. What’s Lula going to cover?”
“Not sure. Probably the shopping. If you need to find clothes, Lula knows where to go.”
“OK. What time?”
“Let’s meet up at RangeMan at 7:45.”
“OK. See you tomorrow, Connie.”
“See you tomorrow, ML.”
Click.
7:45 the next morning, we’re all on the first floor of RangeMan. I recognize this RangeMan.
“Cal, right?”
He nods. There are absolutely no emotions on his face, but the look in his eye suggests nervousness.
“Is Steph coming down?”
Another nod. The elevator opens and Steph appears with Hector in tow. “Come on. Let’s hit the garage. Thanks Cal!” She waves and he nods back.
RangeMan. 10 words or less in all conversations. Total words from Cal: 0.
We head out to the garage and Hector clicks the remote to a Suburban. He opens the doors for Steph, Me, and Mary Lou. Lula waits on the other side of the SUV. He opens her door and we all climb in.
“OK, so here’s the plan,” I say. Everyone turns to look at me, including Hector, and I realize no one in this car speaks Spanish. “Um, Steph. How are we going to communicate with Hector?”
Steph smiles. “We have a pantomime thing going, but it helps if you write stuff down.”
I don’t see how this is going to work out, but I pull out a piece of paper and write the schedule as I explain. “OK, 8:30 to 2PM, shopping at King of Prussia. 3PM, massages, manicures, and pedicures at a Salon Patrice, 6PM dinner at one of nearby restaurants, then 8PM—”
“8PM, our evening’s entertainment,” Steph says, grinning. “No telling, Connie.” She cuts her eyes toward Hector, who doesn’t appear to be fooled. He’s raised an eyebrow at Steph, but he looks amused.
“Do we have enough time to walk King of Prussia?” Mary Lou asks. “That usually requires an all day commitment.”
Lula is grinning. “And we’re women of substance and means. We got it like that. And we’re giving the mall 5 ½ hours. I think we can manage.”
I’m thinking I’ll want that pedicure badly after 5 hours in a mall. Steph starts doing some pantomime with Hector, who nods and pulls out. I didn’t understand a single thing she did, but he understood because we’re on US 1 and I-276 in no time. 45 minutes later we’re staring at the mall like true devotees.
“Shoes or undies?” Mary Lou asks.
“Shoes,” we all chime.
By 2PM, I’m flat broke and ready for my massage. We all pile back into the SUVs and Steph types the salon into the GPS system. Hector takes off and 30 minutes later we’re there. Patrice is an old friend of mine and she’s smiling.
“Connie! Great to see you honey. How’s Tony?”
Hell if I know or care. “Don’t know, Patrice,” I tell her, smiling. “Probably hoping to never run into Uncle Jimmy again.”
Patrice laughs. “Don’t blame him. Two legs, 2 years spent hobbling, and I thought you were being nice.” We both laugh. “OK, well, I have three masseuses here, so I can do three of you at once and the other two get the mani/pedis. How do you want to break this down?”
We hadn’t considered Hector, but he looks slightly amused. Steph answers before I can say anything.
“Hector and I are together.” We look at her and she shrugs. “No matter what, he’s not going to let me out of his sight, so it’s default.”
Hector is cramping this little girl weekend, but I shrug. Hazard of Steph’s new life, I suppose. ML, Lula and I head off to the massage room while Steph and Hector take off for a pedicure.
“OK, Hector’s cool and all, but he’s cramping this,” Lula says, irritated.
I shrug. I want to see what ML says.
She shrugs. “I thought that too, but we’ve talked quite a bit since she took this job. It’s something she hates but accepts. To work at RangeMan means accepting a partner. Hector is hers. She said the only thing that made it work is the knowledge that as long as Hector knows where she is or is OK with accompanying her, she has more freedom than most people with a RangeMan bodyguard. They’re proud of never losing a client.”
Lula still looks irritated, so I turn to her. “When have you ever seen Ranger without Tank? Or Tank without Ranger?”
“I see Tank without Ranger all the time.”
“Yeah,” ML says, “but that’s only when they’re something called ‘offline’. Steph said she can’t be without a guard until she meets standards, until they’re confident she can disarm threats on her own.”
Lula pouts. I don’t think she ever considered that. We all strip and lay down, ready for an hour’s pampering.
“Well, it still seems like we gotta put in a request to get her out that building. You can’t get past them RangeMen to get at her, and if you get her out the building, Hector’s gonna be with her. You can’t do nothing spontaneous with her no more.”
The masseuses get started on us and I request more time in the shoulders. I have no idea how long they work on us before I hear ML speak.
“You know, at first I was frustrated by all this too. I’d leave messages for Steph to call and not get an answer for days. My boys miss Aunt Stephie and it seemed like every gossip in the Burg was stopping me at the grocery store for news on her.” ML moans and we smile. “Sorry. Anyway, my point is this. After a while, I blew up on the phone at her and it was the worst thing I could have done. I forgot that Steph had been dropped in the middle of a completely new situation. She’s running Ranger’s company, his multi-million dollar security company with hundreds of employees and buildings and contracts, et cetera and so forth. I felt horrible, like the worst best friend ever.”
We flip and the masseuses start on the other side. “In the meantime, in order to get away from Hector and all the RangeMen, she has to spend hours trying to get up to RangeMan standards. Now, which one of us wants to admit that Steph doesn’t need training?”
We’re silent. I’ve wondered for years why Ranger didn’t force her to get training and I finally realized that Ranger wasn’t going to force her to do something she didn’t want to do. She wasn’t his employee, she was Vinnie’s and Vinnie didn’t give a damn as long as she brought in his skips. Ranger gave her tips and loaned her men and cars. It was as far as he could go.
I sigh. “You’re right. She needs the training. She’s needed it for years.”
“Why?” asks Lula. “She’s been doing the job for four years. She’s always gotten her man. Why in the hell does everyone think she needs this training now?”
I shake my head mentally. She needs it for the same reason you do, Lula. Because at some point, Trenton’s going to declare you two menaces to public safety. Mary Lou’s answer is more to the point.
“Lula, do you want Stephanie to die?”
“Hell no! Of course not!”
“How many times has she cheated death?”
We stop to count. I stop after 20.
“Exactly. Look, I don’t know what’s necessary to be a bounty hunter, but they got her a trainer and they’re teaching her to shoot and pick locks, and do all that stuff. Her day starts a 5:30 and she says she’s lucky when she’s in bed by 10.”
I consider this. That sounds horrible, and Steph won’t last long. Not if she doesn’t get some breaks.
“Steph’s not even working a 9 to 5. She’s working 14 hour days six days a week, and that’s after dropping some of the workload on Hal. I can’t imagine what her life is like now, so I just leave her encouraging messages. Remind her that getting out the house on weekends is still an idea. Remind her if she wants to talk all she has to do is call me.”
We lay in silence and consider ML’s words.
“Honestly, this reminds me of right after I had Junior. I was exhausted, housebound, barely cooking, eating or bathing myself because I was responsible for this new little life, and Steph was still single. She could still go out, have fun, be free and we had a God-awful fight one night because I couldn’t join her for dinner. It was bad. We didn’t speak for a week, and at that point in our lives, we spoke every day.”
I can hear the tears in ML’s voice and I reach for and squeeze her hand. Finally, ML speaks again.
“Eventually, we made up, but it meant changes in our friendship. Steph had to accept that my son and husband would come before her. I was responsible to them first. And I had to stop being resentful of the fact that Steph was free. She didn’t have a husband and child tying her down, and I did resent it at 3AM when Junior wouldn’t stop screaming. To me, this is the same situation. My boys are older and Lenny is able to take them at a moment’s notice so I can get out, but Steph’s tied down. She can’t get away without advance planning and when she does get out, she has a guard. I can’t and won’t argue with the restrictions on her life because I know they’re there to keep her alive, so I accept Hector and the RangeMen.”
“Yeah, I understand all that, but it don’t make no sense that they treat us, her friends, like we just anybody. We ain’t just anybody! We’re the ones who’ve had her back for the past four years. We support her. Why can’t we go see her and why can’t she come see us at the office?”
“Because her life has changed, Lula,” I answer, weary. ML is right, as usual. “Steph is Ranger now. She has a schedule and responsibilities. She’s doing Ranger’s job and she doesn’t have any experience at it so she’s learning as she goes. It takes her longer to do the same stuff. It’s not like she won’t come see us. She came out this weekend, agreed to it the moment I suggested it. It’s just that we can’t just call her to go somewhere and expect her to go right then. It has to be planned.”
“Yeah,” Mary Lou says. “Just like me. You guys get to do stuff all the time and if you don’t tell me in advance so I can get the boys settled away, then I can’t go. Steph’s in the same situation.”
“And we can’t see her because?”
“RangeMan is a secure building. You don’t get in unless you work there,” ML answers. “I asked too.”
It’s silent in the room before I hear the sniffles. “He hasn’t called, has he?”
“He’s called,” Lula says quietly. “I don’t answer.”
“Why?” ML asks.
It’s quiet before Lula answers. “It’s over between us. He left, moved to Texas. I don’t do long-distance.”
“They’ll be back.”
“He told me it’d probably be permanent.”
Damn. Sorry Lula.
Hector’s POV
Angelita won’t tell me where we are going. She just gives me directions with a small smile on her face.
This makes me very nervous.
The other women are having a great time in the back. They’re talking, laughing, and complimenting each other on shoes and purses. I shrug mentally. I picked up two new pairs of shoes and some new shirts. Angelita will never believe it, but I like shoes too. Men’s shoes are much simpler, but it’s all about the cut and the quality. Finding quality men’s shoes is a hunt.
My true passions are neckties and cologne. I have at least 75 neckties, probably more. I never get to truly dress up in this job, but I’m prepared if I have to. I have no idea how many bottles of cologne I own, but I use them on a constant basis.
I will never tell the men, but I had fun on this ‘girls’ day out’. My massage was nice, although the masseuse seems disturbed by the fact that I had to remove five weapons before she could touch me. And by the fact that I kept two of them within reach at all times. She earned her money; my body is almost completely muscle. I’m a RangeMan. It’s part of my job to keep myself in top shape. I still can’t believe I allowed someone to touch me for an hour without bloodshed. I should consider this more often.
I really enjoyed the pedicure and manicure. I never realized my feet were so calloused nor that I had an ingrown toenail. My toes hurt (what was she doing? Drilling for oil?), but my heels feel fantastic. Warm water, a foot massage, hot wax treatment, that was an excellent idea. Money very well spent. I examine my fingernails. Not sure about this high buff shine, though. Looks like polish to me.
Still, I will talk to Angelita about her getting together with her friends to do that at least once a month. If this is what women get together and do during these girl weekends, I’ll consider it. It felt nice to be pampered. I could use more foot rubs.
As we pull into the parking lot, I realize what my precious little Angel is up to.
Chippendales.
The opportunity to ogle other men for at least an hour without anyone commenting on it? I love my partner. These ‘girl’s weekends’ need a regular schedule.
I turn to Stephanie. “Dulce Angelita, te atesoro. Este es el final de un día maravilloso.” (Sweet Angelita, I treasure you. This is the end to a wonderful day.)
Angelita grins. “I’m not sure what you said, but if it’s what I think, muy bienvenido, mi amigo.” (very welcome, my friend). We laugh and I escort the women from the SUV into the venue. Steph slides next to me. “Drinks are on me,” she whispers. “I need to do something to say thank you, for taking me on and for helping me.”
I grin. There is no one else in the company I would even consider partnering with. Angelita is so innocent and trusting; it’s one of her better qualities. I want her to improve, but I don’t want her to lose sight of who she is. Every other man in the company, including Ranger, might have drummed that quality out of her, but not me. I just want her to be on her guard more.
I like to be needed, and Angelita, well, Angelita needs me.
We approach the venue and I flip to my PA armed security guard license to allow me to carry into the venue. The guards at the door spend a ridiculous amount of time examining it before letting us through. I think the fact that there are at least 100 excited, frustrated, irritated, and horny women behind us encourage them to move it along. We find our tables and the ladies look at me in surprise, so I pass my license to Angelita. The ladies all examine the license.
“How many of the guys have these?” Angelita asks. I raise an eyebrow, so she points to the RangeMan T-Shirt and pantomimes counting on her fingers.
“All.”
She blinks. Lula looks at me and says, “I thought you said he didn’t speak English.”
“He speaks some. Not much.”
Lula hurrumphs. “I don’t know what ‘all’ is in Spanish.”
“Todo,” Steph says absentmindedly, flipping through all my licenses. She seems intrigued for some reason. The women are looking at her in surprise. She looks up and shrugs. “I can’t pantomime all the time.”
The women are looking at us in suspicion, but I’m proud of Angelita. She’s keeping my secret well and she’s learning. I would’ve answered in Spanish if I’d known she knew that word. Eventually, they all start talking about the dancers, who they’re looking forward to seeing and who’s worth taking a bathroom break during.
I need to see this dancer they keep talking about, Rough and Ready. The waitress takes our drink orders and I nurse a Sprite while waiting for this show to begin.
Finally, it starts and, although I have my blank face firmly in place, well, some other parts of me are definitely showing less restraint. I’m grateful I had enough forethought to wear the loose cargoes. I’m now a fan of girl weekends. Men don’t do this when they get together. We aren’t going to comment on how another man looks in his boxers or how a particular cologne smells on him. Fart, watch sports, drink and, if you’re a straight man, fantasize about women you’ll never be able to fuck or look at strippers. That’s the ideal guy weekend.
I’m loving the tight jeans and the ingenious ways they come up with to strip to music. Our table is at an angle and, as long as Lula stays seated, I can see a hell of a lot. I gulp my water. Steph leans over and pats my thigh, except she misses my thigh completely. She looks shocked, then embarrassed, but when I grin at her, she starts laughing. We’re having a good time and there are plenty of screaming women, which gives her the opportunity to whisper, “Rough and Ready is next. I see him backstage.”
He appears and I’m astonished. I’m not jealous, but I’m feeling a little envy. It’s like the first time I saw Lester and Ranger stripped down. They aren’t my type, but Jesus, who wouldn’t feel faint looking at them. Gracias a Dios, I got over that quick. Would’ve been awkward otherwise. Rough and Ready is definitely giving me a Lester moment.
I quickly down my water. I’m feeling a little faint. Angelita smiles and passes me her water. I smile, gratefully, and down her glass. The Chippendales start scanning the crowd and I can see one grin at Angelita. I quickly move into the line of sight and frown, but still he comes down and attempts to pull Angelita on stage. I’m not a fan of this, and Angelita notices my face. She blushes and shakes her head and hands the Chippendale over to Connie. He takes one look at Connie and grins bigger and quickly pulls her and Lula onto the stage.
I’m having a bad feeling about that combination.
The music starts, “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.” Am I the only person tired of this song? I get over it as the men dance and they tie Connie up. Lula isn’t nearly as compliant. She’s grabbing every dancer she can, trying to get at his goods, and I can tell that the man who pulled her onstage realizes his mistake. Finally, they strip the shirts (where is the water?) and do a few hip thrusts before stripping . . .
Angelita has flagged down a waitress and gotten a pitcher. Just in time.
The dancers drop their jeans, cover their crotches with the cowboy hats and turn around. It’s like the Full Monty, and I’m in seventh heaven. The man closest to me has an amazingly tight ass and not everything is hidden by that hat. All the men are facing forward again. Connie has her hands around one man’s midsection and, I’m not sure what she’s doing, but if she keeps it up his hat will be able to hide the goods without him holding it in place. Meanwhile, Lula takes direct action. She finds a Bobby look-a-like, smiles at him big, waits for him to wink at her, then steals his cowboy hat and darts out of arm’s reach.
I love Lula.
I can’t look away and I’m grinning. Angelita has disappeared under the table with Mary Lou in hysterics and Connie seems hypnotized by the penis dangling in front of her. So am I. That’s one to be jealous of.
The music has stopped and the dancer is trying to get his hat back. Lula bends over, looks intently and shrugs. “Very impressive, but Tank’s got him by a mile,” she yells to Angelita, who blushes and slumps in the seat. The dancer blushes, steals his hat back and the curtain drops with Connie and Lula on the other side with the dancers.
Now, I can laugh. Poor man, but it doesn’t seem to inhibit the 20 or so women who have stormed the stage after the poor guy.
My Angelita. Mayhem and confusion are her friends and today, they carry the names Lula and Connie. Finally, Lula and Connie come from behind the curtains, both sporting cowboy hats and big grins.
“This was a great idea, Steph! Those guys are hung!” Connie giggles. They have two more hats for Angelita and Mary Lou. The ladies toast each other and their weekend, big grins on their faces.
I have tears of laughter running down my face. This needs to be a semimonthly thing.
I love Girls Night Out.
