Chapter 109 We Choke on Humble Pie
Tank’s POV
“Sir?”
I wave Candace into the room. “I have a management problem.”
“One moment, sir.” She leaves and returns with a legal pad. “OK, shoot.”
I give her the brief outline of the discussion with Steph, taking care to represent what happened on both sides. I also give her the recording of the meeting from my phone. She sits back to listen. By the end, she’s pale and shaking her head.
“Wow . . .”
“Yes. Opinion?”
“Verbal reprimand.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why not written?” I slide the one I wrote over to her and she reads it, nodding, before sliding it back.
“Because this is a first offense, sir. Yes, she was insubordinate, but gloves off?” She shrugs her shoulders. “OK, maybe I wouldn’t have told my bosses to go fuck themselves, but she felt comfortable enough to.”
“And that makes it OK?” I ask coldly.
“No, sir,” she replies, arching an eyebrow. “It makes this entire situation a pain in the ass. You’re all friends but you also have a line. She’s a subordinate doing the job of a board member. Lines are blurry. I have to ask, sir, if you intend to keep her.”
“We do. We want to, but my partners will vote to fire without some sort of corrective action.”
She’s quiet. “Does Steph have a contract?”
“Yes. One year.”
“Firing on a first offense will seem retaliatory. Courts like to see corrective actions. Verbal reprimand, sir. That’s my opinion.”
I smile and thank her for her opinion. She leaves and I grin. Hal has a smart woman by his side.
OK. I’ll leave the written reprimand alone and issue a verbal one, but before this day is over, Stephanie and I are going to have this out.
-oOo-
Steph steps into the conference room and retakes her seat. I texted her and asked her to come down ASAP.
We stare at each other for a few moments before I motion to the papers in front of her seat.
She picks up the list of thwarted threats and begins reading. Her hands shake at the end. Once she finishes that, she skips to our list of her FTAs and our offers to train her and reads through that. Finally, she puts those down and stares at me.
“Do we need HR in this room to have this discussion?”
She shakes her head, her cheeks reddening.
“Is that an accurate listing of the number of times we asked you to get some training?” I ask quietly.
“I don’t know,” she says.
I let the silence fill the room again. I’m comfortable with silence. She’s twitchy.
“What did you really want in that discussion, Steph?” I ask her.
She swallows hard. “An acknowledgment and an apology for having manipulated me.”
I nod as if I’m considering it. “I’m prepared to offer an apology on one condition.” She looks suspicious. “Tell me the circumstances under which you would have agreed to undergo training, if not ours, anyone’s, without having been ‘manipulated’ into it.” She opens her mouth and I raise a hand. “Keeping in mind we asked you multiple times, to save your own life.” I motion to the listing in front of her.
I assume she won’t have an answer for this. Her jaw clenches and her eyes snap angrily at me, but she’s still quiet.
I thought about what Ranger and Lula said and realized there was a difference in the situations. Lula did not come back blaming us for having manipulated her. She knew she’d been manipulated, told me point blank she was tempted to buy another gun, but accepted that it had been the right move. Lula could make my life miserable if she was really angry about it, but she accepted responsibility for her past bad decisions.
I apologized to Lula because I realized I was treating her like a child, like someone who lacked the ability to make a decision about what was important to her. The fact that Lula accepted responsibility for her actions meant I didn’t end up with a bad taste in my mouth for that apology.
Steph wants us to apologize for taking steps to force her to give up her bad habits without acknowledging that it was her refusal to take her life seriously that forced us to run a psyop on her. Bobby’s right; she still wants to blame someone else for her decisions.
No. I’ll apologize if she can acknowledge that it was her lack of care for her own life that forced us to that point.
“No answer?” No response. “Then explain to me why you’re furious at us for forcing you to get some training.”
Still no response. I sit back and stare at her. Her eyes are unfocused and she’s chewing her lip, but she’s thinking.
“You say we manipulated you and we took advantage of the situation, right?” She nods. “Fine. Tell me, if we had not, what would you be doing right now?”
Complete silence in the room. Steph’s red again. I get up and pour myself a glass of water and pour one for her too. I pass her hers and drink mine. She hasn’t touched hers.
“Less than 24 hours after you broke your leg, we were in your apartment presenting you with options and trying to get you to accept our help without breaking your pride. But we’re assholes.”
She swallows hard and chews on her lip. Her face says she doesn’t want to acknowledge this.
“Would you have preferred that we ignore what happened to you?” I ask quietly. Her jaw clenches. “Would you have preferred that we waited until you came to RangeMan and asked for a job? If you’d come to RangeMan to ask for a job, would you have thought we gave you a job because we believed in you? Or because we pitied you?”
She turns bright red and looks up at me. I see the tears in her eyes that she doesn’t want to acknowledge.
“Let’s say we gave you the job. How did you intend to get physical therapy for the leg?” No answer. “Without our insurance, you would have had to pay out of pocket. And when your leg healed, would it have healed properly? I know you, Stephanie. You would have refused our help and assistance, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt, that you didn’t need help bathing, moving, the day to day living people do.” She cringes. “Were you going to attempt to drive on your leg? How were you going to catch skips in a cast?”
She turns and stares out of the window. I let the silence settle in the room again.
“You see, we spent all night working through all of that,” I continue, quietly. “Les hit 48 hours without sleep thinking through options, trying to figure out how best to get you to finally accept our help.” Her mouth drops and I nod. “Not because we’re assholes but because we thought we were your friends. And, like good friends, we wanted the best for you. We didn’t want to see you struggle and we didn’t want to ignore that you needed help. Not when we had the means and ability to help you.”
I sit back.
“Thank you,” she finally says, softly. “I assumed, when you arrived, that you were there to talk me into running searches for you. I never thought about the rest of it.”
I nod. “You’re welcome. We don’t plan like that, Steph. We try to consider all possibilities when we plan, but we knew step one was giving you a way to meet your needs without you having to beg. We know your pride is considerable. We had no intentions of breaking it.”
She nods and drinks her water quietly. I finally take my Tylenol. I wonder if Chenae bought me in shares in this company.
“Now, I didn’t tell you that to make you feel indebted to us. I told you that so you understood why we did what we did. You are our friend and we care about you. We didn’t do it for praise or thanks. We did it because you needed help and we wanted to help.
I’ll apologize, and I’ll ask Les and Bobby to apologize, the day you can give me a credible reason to believe that you would have gotten the training without having been ‘manipulated’ into it. Otherwise, Stephanie, I’m afraid that none of us are prepared to apologize to you for having done what was necessary to force you to protect your own life. However,”–she looks up–”I will apologize and I do apologize for making you feel as if you were manipulated. That was not our intention.”
She sits back and nods. “Thank you.” She looks up at me. “I appreciate that and no, I can’t give you a reason to believe I would have done it without being forced.”
I nod. Finally! “We love you. We care. If you feel that we were assholes about it, I’m sorry, but we cared about your health. The broken leg? That was our line in the sand. Your injuries are escalating and we didn’t want the next injury to be something permanent. Something life changing. Something debilitating. That broken leg could have been debilitating.”
She pales. “Shit.”
“Yeah. You have more lives than my cats.” She finally laughs and I smile. Good. I hate tension between us. “But you’re using them up fast, Little Girl.” She sobers, a smile on her face. “Now, I kept my promise from Saturday night.” She attempts to raise an eyebrow. I try not to laugh. “I told Les and Bobby to blank slate you. Let the mall thing go. As a matter of fact, we’re letting everything that happened to you prior to your clearance go.”
“Didn’t seem like it when you threw all of it in my face,” she shoots back.
I shrug. “Impossible to explain our reasoning without dredging that up. Did we want to? No. Bobby was pissed about it because it meant breaking his promise to blank slate you. Now, as to telling me, Les, and Bobby to go fuck ourselves?” She winces. “Speaking as your boss right now, I’m telling you that you will never, as long as you remain in this company, tell me I can go fuck myself in a business discussion—”
“I know. I apologize.”
I wipe my brow mentally in relief and nod. “You said gloves off so we agreed. However, gloves off did not mean disrespectful.” I lean forward. “We don’t treat friends like that, no matter how angry we are. When we discuss business, it’s kept professional and respectful. Would you tolerate the XOs telling you to go fuck yourself?” She shakes her head. “I thought not. You ripped Patrick a new asshole for what he said to you but we were just supposed to take that?”
Her eyes close and she appears to be in pain. “No. I should not have said that.”
I nod. “You can consider what I just said your verbal reprimand. I will write up that you were issued one and submit it to Candace for your employee file. You’re welcome to review it and dispute the factual allegations contained within it. Agreed?”
She nods, bright red again. There’s a knock at the door and Les and Bobby walk in. Les checks his watch.
“Are we late?”
“No.”
They stare at me before sitting. The room is silent and the guys are quiet. I hope Bobby has his temper under control again.
Oh dear God, don’t let this go off the rails again. I don’t have enough Tylenol for this.
Steph’s POV
No one says a word. Les and Bobby are staring at me, blank faces in place, and I can’t say a word.
Bobby leans on the table, looking at me. “Look at me, Bomber.” I look up at him. Bobby’s face could be carved in granite right now. “We’ve made it a point to always point out to you that you’re good at what you do, but you were not good at the physical aspects of being a BEA. You’re creative, you’re trustworthy, people find it easy to talk to you, and you’re a good person, a genuinely good person. It’s those qualities that have made you such an outstanding CO.
Even the morning we confronted you in your apartment, the morning after Thomas Mann first blew up your car, we pointed out how good you were at finding people but not so good at hauling them in. We were pissed that you even thought you were incompetent—”
“Extremely pissed,” Les says, shifting in his chair. Just as he does, Bobby does.
Did they coordinate this? They’re even shifting in unison. This partner thing has me wondering what habits Hec and I have in common.
“Because no matter what, we’ve always admired your guts and your willingness to do the job with no training, no background, and no expertise,” Bobby finishes. “For the skips you had and the training you had, you’re a damn good skip chaser, as evidenced by Atlanta’s amazing turnaround. Now you’re hauling in our skips, skips that require far more firepower, creativity, and research, and you’re doing a fantastic job. We got the video from Binkie and Zip.”
Tank snorts. “They put it in RangeWorld so the entire company could see you in action.” Tank’s lips curve into a tiny grin.
I blush and sink in the seat. I didn’t realize they’d posted the video until I started getting the emails about how well I tossed a rake. That’s when I realized what they’d done.
“Now you’re finally in a place where you hear what people are telling you and you can accept the truth behind what they’re saying. Good—”
Les cuts Bobby off. “But don’t think, for a single moment, that you’re going to sit here and tell us that we’ve treated you as shitty as the Trenton cops. Don’t think, for one minute, that we’re going to allow you to tell us we’ve beat down your self-esteem like your mother and sister have.”
“And don’t think, for a nanosecond, that we’re going to tolerate you trying to tell us that we haven’t supported and encouraged you these past nine months,” Bobby finishes. “Yet again, we put RangeMan resources at your disposal to help get you training and expertise, we paid you the full amount of your pay, put the company in your hands, told everyone we trusted and believed in you, and we did. We do, and you exceeded our expectations, Steph.”
They’re tag-teaming well. Is this what Hector and I look like?
“You proved everything we ever thought about you and more and you proved it to everyone. We believed in you and you didn’t let us down. We backed up all of your business decisions and trusted your plans even when we didn’t fully know what you were up to-“
“And still don’t know,” Tank mutters. “Mando? Mark? Still no clue what you’ve done.”
I blush and close my eyes.
“We cheered for you from Texas, teased you about the progress you were making, and Bobby and Tank went back to oversee your clearance so that everyone knew that you cleared fair and square,” Les says, tossing his pen in the air.
“No one gave you a pass,” Bobby says. “You earned every accolade you’ve gotten. So why, please explain to me why, you thought you were going to come to San Antonio and tell us ‘fuck you’ after all the help, belief, and trust we’ve given you?”
I look Bobby directly in the eyes. “Because you manipulated me. I’ve spent my entire life fighting other people’s attempts to manipulate and order me around.” I look at Les and Tank. “My friends manipulated me and I was hurt and angry. All I wanted was for you to acknowledge that you’d done that and apologize.”
Bobby sits back. We stare at each other. Finally, Bobby nods. “I acknowledge that we manipulated you.”
“So do I,” Les says. “But-“
I raise a hand. “Tank and I just went through this. I cannot give you a single reason to believe that I would have gotten the training without manipulation. And I acknowledge that you did it because you care about my life.”
I get half smiles for that.
The room is silent. Everyone’s won one and lost one here.
The guys have a point. They teased me from Texas about my hatred for Sarah’s grueling routine. They partied and praised me when I passed standards. I didn’t even really realize they paid me my full salary even though I should have been paid probation salary until I met standards.
The guys supported me, quietly, like Ranger does, and I intended to come smack them in the face. I intended to deliver a steaming load of ingratitude. No, they weren’t there telling me how to improve all the time, but they handed over a multimillion-dollar company to me, the person who graduated in the top 98% of her class. That was an insane move, but they trusted me and I was determined not to let them down.
I’m not stupid; I know Ram spent the first few weeks calming clients who wanted to leave because of my reputation, but they let me know I was in charge. They never questioned my decisions, unlike everyone else in my life. They never made me justify my actions. I explained if I wanted to and the guys are right: I still haven’t told them the truth behind what’s going on with Mando and Mark. Ranger knows about Mando. They clearly don’t.
If I said I wanted to do X, they said OK.
They backed me and every decision I made.
And they never made me feel like an idiot when I needed their help or to bounce an idea off them.
And no, they didn’t spend hours teaching me how to get out of handcuffs like Hector, or how to drive like Jase, but they did put all the company resources at my disposal to train me, the same training I ran from for years.
And I told them to go fuck themselves.
Tank raised a very good point: How did I intend to take care of myself? I broke my leg and my automatic, immediate assumption was that I would have a job at RangeMan. I could go run searches. I knew I could because Ranger told me I could. But how did I intend to get my leg fixed? Bobby, as usual? And how would I have gotten around my apartment, driven to work, eaten?
I guess I could have called my dad to pick me up every day, but the cab company would make me pay for it. I can’t bum a ride off everyone all the time and Thomas Mann had blown up my car. I would have had to buy another wreck with the $150 I had in my bank account at the time. Moving to RangeMan put Ella and her meals at my disposal, gave me a job, and health insurance. Ella was enough but health insurance was the cherry on top. I think they were sincere in moving me out of my apartment. Once they had me in their clutches though . . .
Well, that’s one hell of a thank you.
Like ML said, they’re not responsible for my current frustration. I didn’t tell them I needed time away, they didn’t ask, and I just let RangeMan take over my life. Well, like Lula said, time to shelve this discussion. Like my skips, I didn’t get my apology today. I’ll get it another time and it’s time for me to take back my life. Starting with a move.
The pillowcase has shrunk to the size of a handkerchief and been stuffed, neatly, back into my pocket.
“I’m sorry.” I look each one of them in the face. “You’re right. You’ve supported and encouraged me all year, and I was wrong to act as if you haven’t helped me. You have and I haven’t been grateful. Thank you.”
Tank smiles. “We are proud of you, Little Girl, for taking your life seriously. That’s all we wanted.”
“He’s right, Bomber. We just wanted you to take your life seriously. We want you to outlive us.” Bobby smiles, but it’s not his usual warm smile. I think I’ve lost Bobby’s respect for a while. “We’ve never thought you were incompetent. We were just tired of seeing you get hurt. That’s not the same as calling you incompetent.”
“It felt that way,” I mutter.
Bobby shrugs. “We didn’t mean for it to feel that way. We wanted you to know and understand that we admire your talents and abilities. Everyone has something to add, a talent to share. Hell, we joke about the Plum Curve!” I smile and the guys laugh. “We just didn’t want your talents and abilities to be overshadowed by your injuries.”
You’ve never considered what it must be like to love someone and watch them lurch from disaster to disaster.
Thanks a lot, Angie Morelli. Guess I have to give you that one too. I smile, seriously considering what Bobby just said and what Angie Morelli said to me barely three weeks ago.
“Oh, this is crap. I’d attempt to hug you—”
“And squeeze my butt?” I cut Les off and try to raise an eyebrow. The guys stare. Seconds later, my eyes are blinded by three flashbulbs.
“Holy Shit! You got it! You figured it out!” Les says, grinning.
“It comes and goes,” I reply, smiling. “Send me the pic.”
“No prob. Yeah, I’d try to hug you, but I don’t want to sit through another sexual harassment video!” Les moans.
I laugh. “I thought you liked your nuts where they are.”
“Forgot about that knee,” he says. Tank and Bobby smirk at him. Bobby leaves and returns with a pitcher of water and Tank grabs some granola bars from inside the side cabinet.
“Speaking of which.” I smile and the guys sober. “Let’s talk company. Here’s what I think.” I shift forward. “My head is firmly removed from my ass. I get it.”
BLT actually gives me a standing ovation for that. I roll my eyes and they sit back down, grinning.
“Yeah. I see where I’ve cost you and frustrated you and not been grateful. I am grateful to the three of you for helping me even when I didn’t know or recognize it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” they each murmur.
“That said, you three need to have a blunt talk with Ranger. He’s supposed to be the manager, but I think it’s pretty clear he was managing at the Mando level.”
They cringe and I nod, internally satisfied.
“Ranger hates being in the office and he hates paperwork. I get that. But when we met up in Miami, he gave me great ideas to help get Miami on track and I could see why he was the designated manager. He’s creative and he knows that stuff off the top of his head. But he hates managing. He told me years ago that he hates being in the office and having to deal with paperwork. He hates it to the point that he was considering selling Atlanta and Boston.”
“Yeah, we know,” Tank mutters.
Bobby smirks. “And we quickly stopped his little hissy fit there.”
I contemplate the idea of Ranger having a ‘hissy fit’. What would that look like?
“We had that talk with him this morning,” Tank says.
I gape. “Really?”
They nod. “We said the same things you just did.”
“Wow . . .” I sit back.
Les grins. “We told you we’ve done some thinking.” He laughs. “Ranger’s not exactly happy with our assessment of his job performance right now, but he’ll deal.”
I nod. Well, the guys pillowcased themselves then pillowcased Ranger. Wow.
“So you also agree that the structure we have right now should be permanent?” Tank asks.
“Yes. The four of you at a high level and someone under you who is willing to manage. It has to happen. This is working now because the XOs report to me and they know that if they bring me a problem, I’ll fix it.” I look at Tank. “And I’ll talk to them. They need that. Meanwhile, the person at my level needs to be someone you trust to bring you problems and someone you trust to do stuff without you watching all the time.”
I raise a hand as Bobby opens his mouth. “I already said I wanted to get through this year. Honestly, I’m another Ranger.” First true smiles since I started talking. “I hate being in an office all day. I hate paperwork too. Let’s say I stayed.”
“Yes, let’s say that,” Tank says, looking relieved, and I laugh.
“OK. I need a secretary. This company is growing and all the XOs need a secretary, someone to handle the massive amounts of paperwork shoved across the desk. Atlanta and Miami? Those branches are so big and complicated that they’re drowning in paperwork. They both need a secretary. Maybe even an assistant XO or two. I have an idea in mind but I’m still working through it, trying to see if it would make sense, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
I stand up. “This is a multimillion-dollar business and you guys were running it like a cookie shop, handing out free product to someone who kept eating but never bought a cookie until she had to. Meanwhile, the back of house was going to hell. Well, the cookie eater gets it. She’s stepped into the back, whipped the bakers into shape and is making money for you instead of eating it all of the time. You guys took responsibility for the fact that you allowed me to drag it down like that.”
I look at the guys then face Tank. “I’m telling you now. After Thanksgiving I’m transferring to Miami.”
“OK.” His face looks confused then calms, but he’s not asking me to justify my actions. Again. He trusts me and he’s talking to me. Time for me to respect that and talk to him. He told me to tell him what I need and be blunt about it. OK.
I thought about Lula. If I’d ever been in a position to help Lula out like I did for Joyce, I would have. I did when I could and she’s been a great friend to me for years.
I was their Lula. They helped me when they could because they could and because I was their friend. Unlike Lula, I’ve been pissed at them for doing it.
I’m not angry at Tank right now. Bobby and Les are going to be on my shit list for a while.
I take a deep breath. “Two reasons. One, we need someone down there managing it. Diego’s doing a great job but he’s stretched. I want to help him.”
Tank nods. “OK.”
“Two: I need help. Professional help.” I smile at them. “I love Ranger.” They grin. “Yeah. I want this relationship to work, but I need to work on me. I need to get over this need to run all the time, but if I go to a therapist anywhere in New Jersey, it’ll hit the Burg in days. I’d rather do this out of town.” I look at Bobby. “Can you find a therapist or someone for me to work with?”
“I’ll get on that today,” he says quickly.
I don’t like this, but ML and Lula were right. I was wrong for telling them ‘Fuck you’. It made me seem even more ungrateful in light of the trust they’ve shown me. And I can’t think of a single reason I would have gotten training on my own without having been manipulated.
I nod at Tank and leave the conference room.
Bobby’s POV
I’ve worked hard to get my temper under control right now, but Les and I are agreed: firing her is on our plate as an option and we intend to bring her employment in that position up for a vote.
No RangeMan, none, has ever told us to go fuck ourselves. None and I’m not prepared to have Stephanie Plum be the first to do it and get away without punishment. I’ll fire her myself if I have to but no fucking way does that stand.
Steph leaves and the room it’s silent.
She told us we need a manager. We agree.
We accepted that even before she arrived here. Tank’s irritated and he, more than me or Les, is desperate to keep Steph in her position. He likes working with her, he likes that the XOs already trust her and he likes backing her. He says most of the time he simply agrees with or signs off on what she has planned. He trusts her completely.
Tank wants to hit Ranger over the head with this because these past nine months, more than anything else, have exposed the fact that none of us were doing our jobs, but Ranger was the worst of us. Steph’s success at the job is making Ranger’s absence from it look even worse.
“Fuck,” Les says softly. He looks up. “I’m not ready to run a psyop on Ranger right now. I’m not in the right headspace.”
“Why?” I ask. He’s been having a blast up and down the East Coast.
He shakes his head. “Because this is too personal. I should have seen it. I should have recognized it, but I was blind to it because I was concerned about Ranger more than Steph.” He smiles sadly. “This is why Ranger leaves the planning to me when he can’t remove himself personally from a situation. That’s what I failed to do. I failed to do this neutrally, truly neutrally.”
Tank raises an eyebrow. Les shakes his head. “I’ve spent my entire life fighting other people’s attempts to manipulate and order me around.”
“Fuck!” Tank and I mutter in unison. Tank drops his head forward and rubs his forehead. I close my eyes and Alex, Celia, Ana, and Sophia, Ranger’s siblings, pop into my mind’s eye. Our last trip to his family home in Newark was spent listening to their opinions on his life and trying not to strangle all of them. Ric could barely stand to be there and we stayed less than a day.
“You did say that they were two of a kind,” I mutter, looking at Les.
“Exactly,” he replies. “We were looking at this psyop from the vantage of what Ric needed to be in a relationship with her. We completely missed what she needed to be in a relationship with anyone. Ric needs her to be safe and care about her safety. Steph asked for what she really needs: serious counseling for her issues.” He sighs. “We accomplished her training at the expense of possibly ruining our friendship with her.”
I feel a lead ball sink in my gut. I love Steph but I hate that she refuses to accept responsibility for her actions. That’s the difference between Steph and Ranger. Ranger accepts his faults and works to minimize them. Steph ignores them in the hopes that they’ll someday go away.
I’ll have to apologize. We went about this wrong. We should have tried to get her some counseling. We should have pointed out that she needed counseling and training.
Steph’s finally gotten it. She’s seen the costs her little adventures had but she’s also identified the root cause: her own lack of self-love. I look at Les. “Well, we helped her accomplish the easy part. We built up her self-esteem to the point that she recognizes that she needs help and, more importantly, she’s asked for it. That’s a small victory in itself.”
“The psyop worked,” Tank says. I open my eyes and look over. “This is the Plum Curve.”
Les and I both raise an eyebrow.
“Our goals were simple. Make her get the training and make sure she stayed under RangeMan protection. Simple and it was a success. She’s trained, she’s ready, she’s stronger—”
“Is she really stronger?” I ask skeptically.
Tank smiles. “Old Steph? Old Steph would’ve never attempted to come back on us like that. She would have walked away. Hopped a plane to Trenton as fast as she could find one.” Point. “You see, none of our goals has anything to do with changing her psychologically, except to the point that she would stop hating exercise. Think about it. Think about our discussions.”
I glance at Les. He’s deep in thought. I’m trying to remember and I think Tank’s right. Our goals were all about getting her trained to defend herself. This new attitude? Plum Curve.
He sighs. “But you’re right. Our friendship with her will never be the same.” He smiles. “I hope it will be stronger now.”
“How?” I ask.
“Because we never backed away,” Tank says. “We could have abandoned her quite a few times but we never did. We stood behind her. We told her we believed in her even when we were angry with her.” He snorts. “But don’t expect her to see that or acknowledge it for a while. And don’t expect her to be easy with you.”
We’re quiet, considering how that’s going to work.
“Now, how did she get there?” Les asks.
“Lula and ML. Mostly ML,” Tank answers.
I toast Lenny. Smart man.
My eyes slide over to Tank. He’s looking at me and we all crack up and take a few moments to relieve the tension.
“Disputes?” Tank asks.
I shake my head. So does Les.
“I issued a verbal reprimand. I still need to write it up.”
“Verbal?” Les asks.
Tank nods. “On the advice of our HR representative.” Les and I nod.
I look at Les. What do you think?
How many times are we gonna blank slate her, Bobby? I mean, damn!
Yeah, but she acknowledged she was wrong. And she’s getting help.
You suck at holding a grudge.
I don’t like to give anyone power over me. Anger is a useless–
Les rolls his eyes. Anger is a useless emotion! Yeah, I know but it’s a fucking useful one sometimes!
Idiot. I grin. First, she’s a RangeMan. We didn’t have to take her to the mats for her to get the idea. Second, this worked out even better than I expected.
How!? Les throws up his hands.
She’s getting professional help.
Yeah. Les calms. His face is thoughtful. She wants help.
And she needs it. And she wants it because she needs it. She knows she needs it to make her relationship with Ric work. If I ever worried about their relationship, that just eased my concerns. Knowing that Steph would see a shrink to work on her? She’s serious about her love for him.
Yeah. Les’s face softens into a happy smile. She’ll do what she has to for mi primo.
Right.
I turn to Tank. He looks amused. Mental conversations between me and Les require movement. We’re kinetic. He and Ranger do it without moving a muscle. They’re contained.
“OK. We’re satisfied.”
Tank’s body relaxes. “Good. Me too. She knows she’s not getting an apology.” We nod. Good. “I still want to keep her in that position.”
“That can never happen again,” I state emphatically.
“Understood.”
There’s a knock at the door. “Enter,” Tank says.
ML walks in. “I know you guys are doing important things, but I need ten minutes of your time.”
“Certainly,” Les says, smiling. “What’s up?” We all take a seat, curious about ML’s appearance.
ML sighs deeply. “Tell me, what do you guys know about Steph’s childhood?”
We’re quiet. We know enough. “Younger daughter. Perfect older sister. Perfectionist mother. Absent father. Crazy grandma.” I grin at Les’s characterization of Edna. “Why?”
“Do you guys really understand what’s it’s like to be told, all your life, that you’re not good enough? Second best? No one except your ‘crazy’ grandma in your corner and, let’s be honest, is Edna really the best support system?”
Good point. I look at Les and Tank. They both have the same look of bemusement on their faces.
“You called Helen Plum a perfectionist.” ML snorts. “I grew up around her. Our mothers were friends, best friends at one point. Helen Plum was hyper critical when we were kids. She taught me to cook and, believe me, I’m a good cook now only because I stuck it out. I loved eating at their house and I wanted to be able to make more than box mac and cheese like my mom.”
We smile. ML grins.
“Yeah, but believe me, she turned simple cooking lessons into torture sessions. She wanted to turn Steph and Val into Betty Crocker clones. Donna Reed doubles. The woman’s idol was June Cleaver while her mother and younger daughter were more Lucille Ball.”
We smirk. Not a bad comparison.
“Steph’s teenage years are defined by her losing her virginity to the local lothario, at work, and having him brag about it on the walls of the town before he left for the Navy. So now she’s not good enough, a slut, stupid, and easy. Oh, and fired. She got fired for that. She goes to college, barely graduates, and marries Dickie. Now, I personally think she did it to get away from her mother, but you know Dickie was a coke-head, right?”
Tank’s mouth drops. So does Les’s. And mine. Fuck! Did he beat her? If he beat her, if he even touched her, he’s a dead man!
“Yeah, cokehead, among other things. She tried to back out of the wedding, but by then she felt it was too late. Her mother pushed her to get married and so she did. First time in her life she ever pleased Helen and what does she get? Dickie and Joyce fucking on her dining room table, the only piece of furniture in that house she got to choose. Her home, which Dickie chose, was decorated by her mother and mother-in-law. Her home, guys, and she didn’t get much of a say in it and had to leave when she refused to ignore Dickie’s infidelity.”
Les is pale. Tank’s put the blank face in place. I feel that lead ball return.
“So she ruins his ass and makes it impossible for him to really recover his social standing or career. She takes a job at EE Martin and has the luck, or misfortune, of getting laid off before the company is shut down for embezzlement. So was she such a bad employee that the Mob didn’t even want her? Or was she lucky to get out ahead of them?”
Well, details make a difference. I’d say we knew 80% of what ML’s saying, but the way she’s saying it, it’s no longer dispassionate facts. It’s an interesting, and horrifying, narrative.
“So now she’s unemployed and begging Vinnie, the slime of humanity, the diseased branch of the Plum tree, for a job. How low do you have to be to beg Vinnie for a job?”
“Low,” Les mutters, cheeks red.
“Right. So she gets the job and finds out she’s good at it. She catches Morelli and, just like a decade earlier, she falls for his charm and promises but this time she’s smarter. She’s prepared to ditch him and she does, every time he lets her down, tells her what to do, or tries to change her. Every time he tried to turn her into her mother, or his mother, she left his ass.
Olive juice in the peanut butter might seem minor to you”—we all cringe—”but to her, that was another attempt to tell her she was a bad cook. Well, OK, olive juice in peanut butter is disgusting but that’s her favorite sandwich. Joe should’ve just bought another jar of peanut butter and labeled his. Simple compromise but they couldn’t manage it.
You guys, and all of Trenton, see her back and forth, her inability to make a decision, her insistence on doing things her own way as yo-yoing or being irresponsible or not taking responsibility for her actions and yes, in many cases you’re absolutely right. But I’ve known Steph all my life and I also see it as someone who has been told, for nearly thirty years, that she’s not good enough as she is and every time someone says it, she’s hurt all over again. It’s another person who hurts her.”
“ML, I . . . we . . . we knew this but the way you just put it . . .” Tank looks at her. I swallow hard. Goddamn. What a fucked up life. “That helps. It helps to know that. We would have gone about trying to help her differently if we’d known this.”
ML exhales. “I know. I know she doesn’t talk about her past. I know that Connie knows only because she’s from the Burg. I know Lula knows bits and pieces but Tank, neither of them has seen it for years like me. Now, right now, I’m throwing cold water on her, trying to help, but you guys were her friends and she felt you manipulated her just like every other person in her life. It hurt.”
She stands and we stand with her. She smiles. “I know you guys had the best intentions and, honestly, I think you’ve done her a lot of good. Hell, I think you’ve really shown yourselves to be great friends to her. But the manipulation hurt. You went from being people whose motives she never had to question to just three more people who manipulated her into doing something. It doesn’t matter that it was all her own choices and that she needed it.”
She looks at me. “She told me a lot of what you said to her. I’ll deny I ever said this, but you were absolutely right in a lot of it, but from her perspective you were just another person throwing her past in her face and telling her what a fuckup she is.” My smile falls.
“ML, not that we aren’t grateful—”
“Because believe me, we are,” Les says, cutting off Tank.
“But tell me, why did you tell us that?” Tank asks.
ML smiles sadly. “One: because you needed to know. Two, because I’m in the same boat you’re in.” She looks at me. “I just told her to get a grip and at the end of that she told me that she hated me less.” She gives a short, unhappy laugh. “She hasn’t told me she hated me in any amount since I had my first baby and it took months for our relationship to recover. I think Junior might have been walking before she really and truly forgave me.
So I may have lost my best friend, or our friendship may never be the same, because I agreed with you and I agreed with Lula. She needed to pull her head out of the sand. So I just joined the confederacy of people who told her she wasn’t good enough as she is.”
She stands. “She’ll never forget that but, when the hurt has passed, I think she will forgive you. All three of you. I hope she forgives me and Lula too.”
ML leaves and we drop into the chairs. It’s entirely silent in the conference room for a long time.
-oOo—
We leave the conference room sobered. None of us want to talk about what we’ve heard. I think we’re raw and we didn’t even live through that. And I’m sure there are details ML still didn’t give us.
And I thought my mother was demanding.
I immediately go in search of Steph. She’s in Lula’s office with the ladies, ready to hit Houston.
“Steph?”
“Yes?” She looks nervous.
“I need fifteen minutes of your time.”
“OK.” She follows me to my office. I close the door and immediately pull her into a hug. She’s stiff, but she eventually relaxes into it. “Thanks. What’s this about?”
“One, I’m glad you’re getting help,” I murmur.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
“Two, I hate being mad at you.” She looks up at me and I smile. “I really do. I prefer when we can laugh and joke. Being told to go fuck myself hurt Steph. I’d never tell you that.”
She nods. “I know. I’m sorry, Bobby. But I didn’t exactly appreciate getting my history thrown in my face.”
“Touché.” I’m quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry you felt we manipulated you.”
She’s quiet. “You know, time spent with Ram has taught me how to analyze a sentence.”
I smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She smiles then starts laughing. “Again, no one is apologizing for actually doing it!”
I lean against the door and laugh. Yup, she’s good. “Sorry. Convince me you would have taken the job without being convinced.”
“I can’t, which is why I’m accepting that almost apology,” she says, making an annoyed face.
I smile. “As long as we’re clear.” I wave her to my chair. “Now, in order to find you the right therapist, I need a quick idea of what you need to work on. Most of the therapists I work with are accustomed to working with PTSD.” I look up at her. “I get the feeling that’s not quite what you need.”
Steph raids my mini-fridge for water. “Not bad. Does Tank know you have chocolate in here?”
“Bribery gifts for Lula.”
She looks over. “Really?” she grins.
“When I need her to take on a project I really don’t want to handle.” I wave her back to my chairs. “OK. Nothing you tell me will be shared with anyone, Steph.” I sober. “I mean that. I’ve taken an oath to maintain patient confidentiality.”
“I know.” She exhales and swallows hard. “I told you I need to get over my need to run.”
“Right.” I flip through my assessments. “I need you to answer this honestly. Sixteen questions.” I smile. “That will help me figure out who to contact.”
She tenses. “Right.”
I smile. “Nothing invasive, Steph. I hope.”
“OK.” She starts taking the assessment. There’s a knock at the door. I go over to the door and crack it.
“Hey,” Lula whispers. “Everything OK? We’re ready to go.”
“Everything’s fine. I needed Steph for some company business really quick. I’ll release her to you soon.”
“OK.” Lula grins.
“Ready to wear out the credit cards already, huh?”
Lula grins and flips me off. I catch ML’s eye. She looks concerned. I smile and she relaxes and waves. I wink and close the door.
ML is a very good friend.
I return to my desk and pull the score sheet for that exam. Steph’s moving fast. Finally, she hands it back over.
“Thanks.”
“Are you going to score it now?” She looks anxious. I look at her and realize that this is important to her. She wants to know.
“Sure. Just a few minutes.”
I start scoring it and shake my head. I was right and wrong.
“OK. The score sheet says that you show some of the signs of PTSD but do not fulfill all the diagnostic criteria.” That’s a surprise, but now that I think of it she just saw a skip blown up in her SUV. Not as surprising now. “It also indicates that your relationships are at least in some ways dysfunctional.”
ML’s narrative has me thinking that all her relationships are probably somewhat dysfunctional. I look up. Steph and I stare at each other and we both break into laughter.
“Yeah. There’s talk of adding Relational Dysfunction to the DSM-V.”
“I think they should,” Steph mutters. “I’m the poster girl.”
I hide a grin. “OK, so I get the feeling that while Ram and I have been joking about the therapist who lays you back on the couch and asks you to discuss your earliest memory, that’s exactly what you need.”
Steph exhales loudly. “Great. I get to talk about how the Burg turned me into me.”
I shrug. “Yeah, but let’s acknowledge something here.” She looks at me. “You want to get this therapy in Miami specifically to avoid the Burg.” She winces. “Yeah. There’s something to be said about the Burg if you need therapy to help you face issues and you can’t do it there.”
“Good point. Anything else?”
I wince. “A 47 on the Rumination Subscale for depression and a 66 on the Worry about the Judgment of Others subscale.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, Worry about the Judgment of Others reads: You worry about what people will think of you when things go wrong in your life. Perhaps you are sensitive in some areas or feel more vulnerable to social scrutiny on some days than others. Unfortunately, this attitude can lead you to feel worse about your problems than you need to. It also means that you may be less likely to seek comfort from others when you are in emotional pain.”
Steph nods.
“Rumination is rather serious.” I look up at her. She starts chewing her lip. “It’s a major component of depression. It involves dwelling and brooding about things that cause you to feel worse about yourself. Rumination can also cause you to interpret neutral events in a negative fashion. Rumination is dangerous because it paralyzes your problem-solving skills. You become so preoccupied with the problem that you’re unable to push past the cycle of negative thoughts.”
She sits, a faraway look in her eyes. I keep reading the information on the subscale and get an idea.
“Personal question Steph.” She looks up. “Are you questioning your relationship with Ranger right now?”
She stares at me before finally giving me a tiny nod. I nod and circle the part of the assessment that says ‘Women tend to ruminate more than men because of an increased focus on interpersonal relationships. Interpersonal relationships are great fuel for rumination because ambiguities abound in relationships.’
“OK. So this will help me find the right therapist for you.” I look up at her. “Can I make a suggestion?”
“OK.”
“I think you and Ranger need couples counseling at some point. You two will need help crafting a relationship that makes you both happy.”
Steph stares at me before answering. “OK.”
I smile. “But first, we’ll get the right therapist for you. Need me for anything else, Bomber?”
She smiles, the first real ‘Bomber’ smile I’ve seen since this morning. “No. Thanks, Bobby.”
“No prob. Now go hit Houston hard.”
She leaves and I kick back in the chair.
She’s tackling this head on. She’s brave. I admire her all over again.
-oOo-
I hit my Rolodex for a therapist in Miami. This person has to be the right one for Steph. I finally find one I trust.
“Miriam?”
“Hello, Robert! How are you?”
“Good.” Miriam Rodrigues is the best and I trust her. “Are you still licensed?”
“I am. Have a RangeMan you need me to see?”
“Yes, but this is a special case.”
“They’re all special cases,” she says, laughingly.
“True,” I reply. “This one’s different.”
“How?”
“Well, we can start with this is our first RangeWoman.”
“Wow,” she breathes. “Someone penetrated the all-male bastion?”
I laugh but wonder how many women really think that. Steph did say we had a rep in Miami.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve run her mad already?”
“Damn. Making assumptions, Miriam?”
She stops laughing. “Teasing, Robert, but you’re right. It’s in bad taste. OK, what’s up?”
“I gave her an assessment to determine mental health issues according to the DSM-IV. She scored highly in relational difficulties, two subscales of depression, and PTSD.”
“Which two?”
“Worry about the judgment of others and rumination.”
She whistles. “So she has difficulty making and maintaining healthy relationships?”
I love therapists. They can take a diagnosis and get to the heart of it. “Among other things.”
“Such as?”
“I’d rather you work with her. I don’t want to taint your impressions of her.”
“And that’s why you’re the premier PA, Robert Brown.”
I grin. “Thanks. She’s moving to Miami after Thanksgiving. How soon can you start?”
“Tell her to call me when she gets here. I’ll make time.”
“Thanks, Miriam.” Click.
A/N: The reason they aren’t addressing the possible embezzlement right now? Because that’s on the agenda for the full management meeting. This discussion was originally meant to discuss RMSA’s review. Steph changed the focus to discuss the company but the guys are staying on track with what they want to talk about. They want Ranger present and Hector, as the newest member of the LC.
Psychology Today has an entire battery of self-tests. I used a combination of the ‘Depression Test’ and the ‘Do I Need Therapy’ test for Steph.
A LONG Time Coming—BLT Edition, will be posted tomorrow. It’s short.
I think the point that is being missed is that BLT does not expect Steph to be perfect. They expect her to admit her faults and work to reduce or eliminate them, just as they do. Steph steadfastly refused to do that and had done all her life (the point behind the Poopy Connolly story).
This is the new year, a time when we all seek to address things in our own lives and work on them. Me? Diet (again) and exercise. That’s the idea: seek out your weak points and address them. When others point out something you need to work on, accept that (if it’s valid) and address it. Don’t allow your failings to just linger, hoping they’ll all go away like magic someday.
That’s the source of their frustration with her. They do not expect her to be perfect. They aren’t perfect, but when their faults are pointed out (like their lack of management), they apologized to those they wronged and began paying attention to what was going on. That’s all they ask of those around them, even the men they hire. With ML pointing out to them just how little they really understood Steph, they were humbled and penitent. How they move forward? You’ll see.
You don’t have to be perfect or have a perfect background to be a RangeMan. Just accept you were wrong, put your past behind you, and move forward. Examples? Mack. Thomas. Hector. Mark. Mando. Javier. Every single one of them put their past behind them, or accepted the assessment of others, accepted that they had been wrong, and sought to address their failings and move forward.
i adored this chapter, quite frankly was scared to death to read it…………but what a lovely chapter it turned out to be, making those decisions on her own (thanks mary lou!). and moving far away to do so….will there be a housekeeper in miami?