Chapter 113: Welcome Home
Steph‘s POV
I drop my purse on the side table and kick off my shoes. I have ice cream, a blanket and a blank TV.
RMSA was a disaster.
I’m not even sure how it happened. I went expecting to have a great trip. I was going to get the guys for the manipulation, I was going to point how bad they were at managing their company, and I was going to help Lula plan her wedding.
Well, I kinda helped Lula.
I stare at the apartment I’ve spent the past month decorating for me and Ranger. It looks great, but Ranger won’t see it until Tuesday when he comes back.
I check the time. 5 p.m. If I hurry, I can make dinner.
—oOo—
“Stephanie!”
“Hi, Mom.” I walk in and look around. “Where’re Val and Albert?”
“Working late, so it’s just me, you, your father, and the girls.”
We take our seats at six and start passing dishes. Dad looks around.
“RangeMen?”
“Nope. Just me.”
“Oh.” He looks disappointed.
“We didn’t expect you to be here today. What happened? How was Texas?” Mom asks, pouring a spoonful of peas onto Lisa’s tray.
I told my friends to go fuck themselves. They told me to get a grip. They were not apologizing for doing what they felt had to be done. I told Lula what happened and she refused to take my side because of Tank. Nope, she told me that I want someone to tell me I’m always right. I talked to ML, expecting her to side with me and agree that Bobby, Lester, and Tank were manipulative assholes who needed to apologize me to. ML told me I was acting like Val, who definitely needs to get a grip. Hector told me he was disappointed in me. And that he was tempted to tell me to get a grip. Chenae LaPierre told me I was a disappointment and that I needed to act like a friend, i.e., get a grip.
Mrs. LaPierre told me to figure out who I am. Is that another way of saying ‘get a grip’?
Does anyone actually like me? Or were they all just putting up with me?
I met a new version of Ranger: Ric. Ric freaked me out because he was normal, like a normal person, and I don’t expect that from Ranger. I expect mysterious. I told Ranger what happened with BLT and Ranger told me I needed to get a ‘fucking’ grip. Hec says I bring Ranger joy.
When? How?
I glance at Mom, who is helping MA cut her meat while spooning peas into Lisa’s mouth. Mom has four hands.
She praised me for doing this job for the past eight months and told me she was bragging on me. Why? Why now? What am I doing differently?
I glance at the other end of the table. Dad’s gaze is on his plate and he’s deep in mashed potatoes.
Daddy told me to start acting like a security chief and wear my gun, i.e., get a grip.
I look back down at my plate. Grandma told me to pull my head out of the sand, i.e., get a grip. Mrs. Morelli called me a whore and told me to get a grip. Joe told me to take a trip to Cuba and ‘good luck’. Well, at least that’s an FU, not ‘get a grip’.
“Stephanie?” I look up. Mom looks worried. “How was Texas?”
Rumination is rather serious. It’s a major component of depression. It involves dwelling and brooding about things that cause you to feel worse about yourself.
Well, there’s a name for it. Rumination. I have to stop this.
“Texas was fine. The review was fine.”
Smooth, Plum.
“Did you see any cowboys?” MA asks.
“Nope. No cowboys. San Antonio is too busy for cowboys.”
“Well, that’s a waste. How do you go to Texas and not see any cowboys? What about Indians? Did you see any Indians?”
“Native Americans, MA,” Angie says, looking at MA the same way Val used to look at me. With that know-it-all look.
“What?”
“Native Americans. Indians are from the Indian subcontinent. Like, closer to China.”
“Then why are the Indians called Indians?” MA asks indignantly.
“Because Columbus made a mistake.”
“Columbus did not make a mistake,” my dad says, looking up. “The maps were crap.”
There are a lot of things an Italian will tolerate, but not a slur on Christopher Columbus’s character. We all concentrate on our meals for a while.
“Did you go to the Alamo, Aunt Steph?” Angie asks.
“How did you know the Alamo was there?”
“Every time you go to a new place, I look it up. I look to see what’s historical there.”
I smile. “Oh. Well, yeah, I went Tuesday. I have pictures. I’ll get them printed for you.”
“Thank you, Aunt Steph.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve been talking to your Mom about a trip to New York right before Christmas. What do you think?”
“Really?” MA’s eyes are wide. “Just me and Angie?”
I nod. “Yup. I’m thinking skating in Central Park and going to Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas tree and going to see the Rockettes.”
Both girls grin. “Yes! Oh, Aunt Steph, that would be great!”
“Well, I’m still working it out with your mom, but we’ll let you know.”
“What about Lisa?” Angie asks, looking over at Lisa.
I really don’t want a toddler along. MA and Angie are old enough to tell me what they need and want. I don’t want to spend my time calming tantrums and changing diapers and trying to clean her up when she throws food.
Mom smiles at the look on my face. “Maybe it would be better to wait until Lisa’s a bit older, girls. Lisa still doesn’t like being away from your mother for very long.”
Lisa is covered in squashed peas and milk. The Exorcist, baby version.
“Yeah, I think Grandma’s right. Lisa can come when she’s older.”
Angie shrugs. “OK.”
We finish dinner and Mom brings out dessert, apple pie. “Sorry. I would’ve made a cake if I’d known you were coming.”
“It’s fine, Mom,” I reply quietly. I serve Angie and MA and pass the pie to Dad. He grunts his thanks. Mom heads to the kitchen and returns with whipped cream and ice cream. We pile our plates high and start digging in just as Val and Albert arrive.
“Hey!” Val sinks into the seat next to me and swipes some of my whipped cream.
“Get your own plate.” I move my plate away from her and she smiles.
“I’m exhausted. Make me a plate,” she whines.
“Make your own.”
“My legs have swollen.”
I look down. Reason #18 to never have kids: your legs end up looking like tree trunks.
I motion for Mom to sit and head into the kitchen. I return with pie for Albert and Val and the container of whipped cream.
“So? What kept you late?”
“Meeting with the Regional Manager,” she replies, piling whipped cream on her pie. “I’m the top saleswoman in the area and he came in to meet me. The store at Franklin Mills needs some help, so they’re considering moving me there. I told them no because I need to be home for the girls. The hours I have are enough. I don’t need an hour-long commute on top of that.”
“But you’re the best saleslady, Mom,” Angie says, smiling. “You said that when you’re the best, you should always be proud of your accomplishments and accept opportunities to show it. That’s what you said to Albert.”
We look at Albert, who blushes. “That was different, Angie.”
“How?”
“Your mother is the best saleslady but she also wants to be home with you girls.”
“Well, maybe if Mom impresses these people, she can make even more money. Mom’s the best! Don’t you want her to show her skills, Albert?” MA asks.
I’m holding my blank face right now. Val looks like she’s both proud and embarrassed.
“Of course I want your mother to show her skills,” Albert says. “But your mother has to want to do that.”
Val smiles at him. “Thank you, snuggie-uggums.”
I mentally barf. So do the girls. Dad cuts his eyes at Albert and closes them slowly, as if in pain.
“Well, I think Mom should go to Franklin Mills and show their salespeople how to sell,” Angie says. MA nods in agreement.
“Yeah, Mom! You’re the best! Show off, like Aunt Steph!”
“Hey, don’t bring me into this,” I cut in.
Wait, hold on. The girls are telling their mom, my perfect sister, to be more like me? Did the world flip when I wasn’t watching?
“We don’t mean Mom should blow up a car,” Angie says. Ah, normal. I eat another mouthful of whipped cream. “We mean that she should take the job and show everyone how to sell furniture.”
Well, as long as Val isn’t blowing up cars. I scrape the last of my apple pie off the plate and lean back, smiling.
Val looks at MA and Angie in bewilderment. “Don’t you girls miss having me at home?”
They look at each other. “Not really,” Angie says slowly. “We have gymnastics twice a week and our work at RangeMan—”
“I’m the Pony Express,” MA says. “I deliver all the mail and the memos and the guys give me lots of hay!”
Val looks at me. I shrug. “Twizzlers.”
“They’re feeding her candy?” Val asks, outraged. “No wonder—”
“Granola too. They feed her ‘oats and hay’, which is granola and a few Twizzlers. Ella keeps an eye on her candy intake.”
“Still—”
“Whatever treats they’re eating at RangeMan haven’t affected their appetites for dinner,” Mom says. “And they haven’t gained any weight so I think it’s fine. Anyway, I think the girls are right, Valerie. You’re doing a great job and it’s being noted and rewarded. Go show the Franklin Mills people how you do it.”
Albert suddenly mimics Dad, face in his apple pie, pretending to see nothing.
Val look around the table at our faces and bursts into tears. “But I don’t want to go to Franklin Mills! I want to stay at home with the girls and now they’re telling me they don’t care. Albert doesn’t care. No one needs me! No one needs me! My job is to be Mommy and no one needs Mommy!” She pulls herself to her feet, puts the remaining quarter of the pie on her plate, and leaves the room, crying about how no one needs her and no one wants her and she hates working and no one loves her.
I stare at my plate, regretting not getting a second slice of pie before Val ran off with it.
ML is wrong. I’m not acting like Val. Val needs to get a grip.
—oOo—
I follow Dad out to the garage while everyone else tries to calm Val down. I’m not going to. I did my part weeks ago. Dad passes me a cigar and we light up. We don’t speak until my cigar is nearly gone.
“What really happened on that trip?”
I look over. Dad is solemn.
“It was fine. The branch—”
“Try not to lie to me, Stephanie.” Dad looks annoyed. “I’ve always been able to tell when you were lying. That was a lie. Try again.”
I puff on my cigar for a while. I wave to Val, Albert and the girls as they pile into the minivan and leave, Val carrying leftovers. Mom leans out of the kitchen door and reminds Dad to dump the trash and make sure put the trash at the curb.
“I’ve been putting the trash out for thirty years. I know the trash schedule,” he mutters. He clears off two seats and offers me one. I’m trying to avoid his gaze but I crack.
“I may have burned my bridges,” I mutter, stubbing my cigar.
“How?”
“I told the guys to go fuck themselves.”
Dad cringes. “You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because they manipulated me into taking the job.”
“How?”
I tell Dad what happened. He shakes his head.
“Why?”
I stare at the ground. “I don’t know.”
“Yes you do.” I stare at him. He’s looking directly at me. “You know why you said it. So why?”
I swallow hard. “Because I changed my whole life to be with Ranger and he hasn’t been here to see it or make any changes for me or—”
“So you blamed his friends instead of taking it up with him?” I nod. Daddy shakes his head. “Why do you want to be with this man in the first place?”
“I love him—”
“You’re afraid to disagree with him.”
“No I’m not.”
“Then why not talk to him? Why not confront him?”
“Because . . . because . . . because fighting isn’t healthy! Fighting in front of your kids isn’t healthy. Look at Val and Albert. Val screams at him in front of the girls all the time. You and Mom never fought—”
Dad chokes on the smoke from his cigar. I pound his back and his coughs turn into laughs. “You really believe your mother and I never fought?”
“Well, yeah . . . “
Dad snorts. “I’m Italian. Your mother is Hungarian. You kidding me? Those cultures love a good argument. They’re passionate, Pumpkin, and before you and Sunshine came along, your mother and I were young and in love. We fought like cats and dogs.”
I’m staring at Daddy. This is like hearing Jimmy Hoffa is buried in our backyard.
“When you girls came along, we waited until you were out of the house, then we let loose. We’d scream at each other for hours. We weren’t afraid to fight because we both knew that neither of us was leaving. Your sister? Your sister’s . . . hormones”—Dad says the word as if it’s evil—”are getting the best of her, but Albert’s not walking. He loves your sister.” Dad stubs the cigar and looks at me. “You and Ranger don’t have children. There’s no one to be hurt watching you two argue. So why won’t you argue with the man?”
I gaze out into the street. Porch lights are being turned on, curtains are being closed—the Burg is getting ready to go to bed.
Joe and I fought all the time. We screamed at each other all the time. That wasn’t healthy and it didn’t resolve anything. We just broke up because of it. I’m trying not to do the same stuff with Ranger that I did with Joe. I don’t want to scream at Ranger.
Besides, I don’t think Ranger is a screamer. I don’t want to be the only one screaming.
Dad sighs. “You really feel fighting isn’t healthy?” I nod. “You’re wrong, Pumpkin.” I look up. Dad is solemn. “Avoiding fights is worse than screaming at each other. When you don’t fight, you resent things. You have things you want to tell him you’ve been holding on to? Some for a long time?” I nod. “And those thoughts have been sitting there, waiting for you to say something?” I nod again, biting my lip. “Then you need to say it. Say it to him and let it go. I’m sure he has things he wants to say to you.”
“I don’t want to hear them.” BLT was enough.
“Then keep your mouth shut,” Dad snaps.
I lean back, hurt by the tone of his voice. “What?”
“If you can’t take hearing him say something to you that he’s needed to say, then you don’t say anything. That was the rule when your mother and I fought. Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.”
You slammed them and they slammed you back! You opened up tit for tat then got mad when they hit you?
I stare out into the driveway and the street, not sure what to say here. Dad comes and stands by me.
“Relationships that last last because the two people in them make a choice to keep it, fight for it, and work for it.” Daddy looks at me. “Doesn’t matter what kind of relationship it is. Fight fair. Have ground rules for your fights, then have it out.”
He walks out of the shed and closes and locks the doors. I stand in the driveway as he goes back into the house, gathers all the trash and dumps in into the can. He walks me down to my car, pulling the trash along behind him.
“You want to keep your relationships?”
“Ranger?”
Dad nods. “And your friends?”
“Yes.”
“Then get ready to fight for them.”
—oOo—
I return to my old apartment and spend the night cleaning up, airing it out, and sitting around, thinking about what I want to do and how I need to move on from here. I start making plans for the next six weeks.
Miami with Les. Maybe we can work on being friends again. I miss being able to call him and just talk. I don’t know what happened, or when, but all of a sudden we stopped talking.
I miss Les. I miss talking to Les and laughing with him. I miss listening to his ridiculous stories. I’ve always felt that Tank was my big brother, watching out for me, trying to keep an eye on me for Ranger. Bobby? I was Bobby’s most unwilling patient. I usually felt frustration from him, unless Les was around. Then he’d loosen up and we could joke around. If I wasn’t hurt we could have fun. He’s just as crazy as Les.
I do want my friends back. I wish that whole confrontation in San Antonio had gone differently.
NYC is the only review left, and I’ll ask Tank and Bobby to join me on that review. Les will be there, maybe Ranger, and it’ll be good to give them a reason to all be in NYC. They can review the branch that nearly went under. If they see how it came back, maybe . . .
I sigh and keep making plans. I see Trenton every day, so I’m not reviewing it. I’m going to ask Mando and Chase to review Trenton, with Les doing my part. Charlotte will be last and Javi and Manny will review it. I check my notes. Yup, each branch, except Atlanta, will be or has been reviewed by another XO and strategist. The next time this is done, I’ll recommend the liaisons and strategists do the reviews with me. Fresh eyes each time.
I pull out my computer and hit the internet. I start looking for a hotel to stay at in NYC with the girls and run into a problem.
There are no hotels available in NYC during that week. It’s insane! Everything is booked and the closest hotel I can find is in Nassau County. That’s way too far away! I keep searching and it’s clear I’m going to pay through the nose unless we stay at RangeMan.
I didn’t want that. I didn’t want the girls to have to stay in Les’s cold apartment. I add a task to my Outlook calendar to contact Candy and ML and get the names of any travel agents they know. Maybe they can help me get a good deal.
I shut my computer down, take a shower and get in bed. I pull out my “Ella list” and look at it. I’ve been working on it, steadily, but now I have a new list to make. I take out a clean sheet of paper and write ‘Things Ranger and I need to discuss’ at the top.
Time to talk, really talk, about our relationship. He said he was ready to talk when I was. OK. I have six weeks between now and when he leaves for Syria. Time for us to decide what our relationship is going to be.
I start a short list of items and stop when I feel my head getting heavy. I put the list in the bedside table and set my alarm clock.
Tomorrow’s another day.
—oOo—
I’m determined to spend the weekend doing ‘normal people’ things. I go grocery shopping, to the mall, and to Pino’s.
I do it with a RangeMan in tow. “Mike, what do you think of Trenton so far?”
“I like Trenton. It’s quiet and a lot calmer than Boston.”
I laugh. Mike’s been here in Trenton for a little over a week so far and he says that his first few days were rough. The guys definitely treated him like he was a spy and he’d had enough after three days. I’m amused that, even though he has one of the lighter accents of the Boston RangeMen, his way of speaking stands out here in Trenton. Boston is “Bahsten,” calmer is “calmah,” and even Mark sounds more like “Mahk” to me. Well, people in Boston, Atlanta, and Miami told me I have a Jersey accent, so it’s no big deal.
“I stood in the middle of the break room and told them that their brotherhood was crap,” he says to me. He’s examining my apartment while waiting for me to finish making my list. “If they didn’t like my XO, fine, but don’t judge me by my XO. If they needed to know about me, call Boston, but don’t treat me like I’m frickin’ braindead because of Mark.”
“How’d that go over?”
“I watched for spare blades for a day or two, but we were all good by Wednesday.” Mike grins. “I updated my will before I left, though. Don’t want to leave DeeDee unprovided for.”
I laugh, pick up my purse and gun, and head to the elevator.
“Hi, Mrs. Bestler!”
“Hello! Where are we going?”
“Ground floor, please.”
“Certainly. Ground floor. Ladies intimate apparel, sportswear, and luggage.”
“Luggage?” Mike whispers.
“Don’t ask.” I smile at him. “Welcome to Jersey. This is ‘Bombshell Duty’.”
“Not so bad, so far.”
“Are you prepared?”
He grins. “Oh yeah. I’ve been told that I might get some action. I want to know what that means, believe me.”
“Famous last words.”
We walk to the parking lot and hop in my car. Mike’s holding on to the door but he looks amused watching me dart through traffic in my Miata.
“So? What’s it like?”
He’s quiet, scouting for a parking space in the mall parking lot. “I think this training program is good.”
“Yeah? Why?”
“Because Hal’s definitely a different leader than Mark.”
“Really?” Mike points to a space and I speed up and whip in ahead of another driver. I get a hand gesture for that, which I happily return. “How?”
We get out and he’s quiet, thinking, as we walk to Macy’s. “Well, Hal’s definitely more of a top-down leader here, but he gives broad instructions. Like, the staff meeting. I like Hal’s staff meetings. Everyone updates him, he issues the orders, and we leave. Fifteen minutes. Maybe.”
He holds the door open for me and the six women who quickly follow me in then jogs to catch up. “Mark’s meetings take longer. We used to have short meetings like Hal’s, but Mark always wanted to know why. If you were having an issue, even if you detailed it in your status report, he wanted to know why. Our staff meetings were more brainstorming session where everyone chimed in on each division’s problems.”
“Was that before or after I did the review?” I check the sale racks. Nothing new.
“Both. His meetings were always like that, but since then it’s more like he’s a referee in the meeting. We all get in there and hash stuff out.”
“So how is it different from a strategy meeting?” I’m looking for something sexy. Silk?
“Well, Pat’s strategy meetings are each product group and line looking at stuff for defects and flaws. Really probing ideas and trying to make some decisions. There’s discussion about new product lines and possibilities too. Mark’s meetings are to decide priority and talk about implementation then we talk about city or branch-wide issues. There’s a line.”
I nod. Interesting. “Which do you see yourself doing?”
He shrugs. “Both. Hal’s meetings are great to get in and out, but I like Mark’s meetings because everyone leaves on the same page about the branch and what’s going on. Everyone knows the status. I’d have a Mark-style meeting on Tuesdays and Thursdays and a Hal style every other day.”
I finally find what I want, grab three of them and pay. I head to the cologne counter and order a bottle of Ranger’s cologne and then stand around, stumped.
“Christmas shopping?”
I smile. “Not quite. I can’t think of anything else. I bought what I like but he’s different.”
Mike smiles. “Watch?”
“Bought one.”
“Tie?”
I make a face. “That would make Hec swoon.” Mike doubles over laughing. “I’m talking something to make him smile.”
Ranger’s face pops into my mind.
Ranger’s face with that hideously gorgeous beard.
Bingo! “Nevermind. I have an idea but I’ll need to ask Hec where to go for it.”
“OK. Anything else here?”
I think. “Nah. Let’s go, Danno.”
He laughs as I hit the road back to Trenton, then change my mind and whip the car around again.
“Who taught you to drive?”
“Jase.”
He grins. “It shows.”
“How?”
“Jase is the only man I know who drives through Boston traffic like it’s not there.”
“I still didn’t get the parking karma.”
“He couldn’t teach you everything.”
I laugh and pull up in front of Rodgers and Fletcher’s Furniture. We walk in and I look around quickly. Mike and I appear to be the only people in this store and everyone is watching us. I feel like a piece of bait on a hook. A short balding guy in a wrinkled suit makes a beeline to me.
“Hello. Welcome to Rodgers and Fletcher’s Furniture. I’m Andy. How can I help you today?”
“I’m looking for Val.”
His smile dims, as if he’s trying not to grind his teeth. “Valerie is on a lunch break. Are you sure I can’t help you? I’m the assistant manager and I’m more than happy to assist.”
I’m texting Val on my phone as he explains. “Nah, I need to see Val.”
“I’m afraid it’ll be a while before she gets back. Can I take a message?”
“Nope, that’s ok. There she is.” I point to Val, who just appeared.
“Steph!” She smiles. “Did Mom send you?”
“Nah. I’m thinking about a chair for the apartment. Leather.” I shrug. “You’ve seen the place. I need it to fit in that color scheme.”
“Beige, beige and more beige?” Val says, cocking her head to the side.
“Well, our leather chairs are right this way,” Andy cuts in. He turns to Val. “You can finish lunch. I can help this customer.”
She snorts. “My sister, and you’ve never seen the apartment she lives in with her boyfriend. Believe me, I got this.” She waves for me to follow her, Andy turning redder by the moment. “I remember lots of wood tones and neutrals.”
“Yeah. I repainted the walls gold—”
“Yellow?”
“Nope, beigey-gold.” Val laughs. “Trust me on this. Ella found the paint. It’s amazing. I added purple and green accents, like rugs and throw pillows—”
“I remember those.”
“Right, but I want a leather recliner. Not like Dad’s—”
“Something sleek, sophisticated, and more mid-century. Detached ottoman.”
“Exactly.” I glare at her, irritated that she keeps cutting me off but grateful she seems to know exactly what I’m looking for. We’ve drifted over to the chairs and Val’s looking around. Andy’s tagged along too.
“We’d need to special order that, Steph.” She turns to me. “Ranger’s tastes are definitely more high-end.”
“Our furniture is high end,” Andy says. We turn to him and Val pinks.
“Yes, it is high end. What I meant was that her boyfriend is the kind of man to have something custom built if he couldn’t find it, so this piece has to be right.”
“And nothing here is good enough for him?” Andy sneers.
I’m staring at him. You want this commission or not, buddy?
Val rolls her eyes. “He’s replaced every Porsche, Mercedes, and fleet car my sister has managed to lose, have stolen, or blow up. Money is not an object for this man, if it’s the right thing.” She turns to me. “Quit scowling. You know I’m right. Anyway, I’ll check our supplier catalog. You looked around?”
“Yeah. I like the chaise lounges from Restoration Hardware, but Ella had me measure. They’re just a little too big for the space.”
She nods. “I’ll look through our catalogs. I think I know just the piece.”
—oOo—
“Steph!”
Hal hugs me tight. “Avoiding us?”
“Nope. Taking the weekend off.” He nods. “Anything I need to know?”
“Status normal.”
“Great. I’m at my old apartment.”
“I know.” I roll my eyes and he smiles. “I worried when you didn’t come back. Hector gave me the update.”
“OK.” I head toward my office before his voice makes me stop.
“By the way, you have 15 hours of monitor duty.”
I turn. “Why?”
He smiles. “I’m out of closet space.”
“Tough.” I walk into my office and shut the door.
“Welcome home, Sis,” I hear him say as he walks off.
I boot up my computer and check my email. My phone rings at that moment.
“Steph?”
“Thomas? What’s up?”
“You sitting?”
I sit. “I am now. What’s wrong?”
Thomas chuckles. “Want to know if you’ll personally guarantee a bond.”
“What?”
“Get comfy. This one’s a doozy.”
—oOo—
I’m back to work on Monday. I spend the day reviewing numbers. So far, the mid-month report shows that NYC has edged ahead of Trenton by 0.1%. The NYC guys are going to throw a massive party if they win it outright this month. I check the contracts and my mouth drops.
They won Fashion Week? I call Javi.
“Yo!”
“Hey, Boss.”
“Hey, just doing some spot checks. You guys won Fashion Week?”
He laughs. “Yeah. Les set it up. We gave a demonstration of how bad their current security was and how good we are. Jorge can’t wait to crow to Manny, but I told him to keep it quiet.”
I’m grinning. “I can see why. Congrats.”
“Thanks. Did it pull us ahead of Trenton?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“If it didn’t, every man here is going to recheck Accounting’s math.” I laugh. “I’m serious. The men want to take the crown before you come to visit.”
“I’m coming for personal reasons.”
“Doesn’t matter. They want to show off.”
I laugh. “OK. By the way, I hear Mack’s in some trouble.”
Javi sighs. “One moment.” It’s silent for a moment. “He’s not in trouble. His ex-wife was picked up for possession. Serious amount of weed. He has custody of his boys at the moment and he’s trying to help her.”
“Is he still going to take his position?”
“Depends on what happens with his ex.”
I sigh. “Anything we can do to help?”
“Not yet. Believe me, I’ve got my partner’s back. Right now, the best thing going on is your visit. His boys are excited. They’ve never seen the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.”
“Really? I saw it every year as a kid. They’re right there in NYC.”
“You gotta remember, Steph, NYC is different. I know people who don’t leave their borough more than once a year.”
“Wow. Well, gotta go.”
“Word.” Click.
—oOo—
Bobby pokes his head in my office. “Wow. Doesn’t even look like Ranger’s space anymore.”
I look around. “Really?” I haven’t changed much.
He walks in. “Yeah.” He smiles. “It looks as if you could pull an all-nighter off in this room.”
“I’ve come close a few times.” I look around. There are plenty of blankets and pillows, my shoes are in the middle of the floor again, and the mini-fridge has lots of water and Pellegrino. “Need something?”
“We’re taking a break from Hector’s negotiations and heading to Shorty’s. You wanna come?”
“Sure.” I lock my computer, grab my things, and follow Bobby down to the garage. Les and Hector are waiting.
“Where’s Tank?”
“Personal errand.” We climb in Hec’s Lexus and set off to Shorty’s. The place is still a dive but they have (arguably) the best pizza in Trenton. We order a full pie and sit back.
“So, you need anything from us while we’re here, Steph?” Les asks.
I shake my head. “Nah. I’m still working on finishing the year strong.” I look at the Bobby. “I would like you and Tank to help me with the NYC review.”
Bobby lifts a brow. “Us? Why?”
“Well, I’ve always had a strategist and an XO from a different branch help me do the review, all except Atlanta’s. I think it’s a good move to let the other XOs and strategists do a review of the other branches. They know how they would run things, so they catch stuff faster than I do. I catch the personal stuff.”
Les nods. “So the reviews are more peer review?”
“Yeah. I learned that from the Atlanta one. Ram and Hector used their instincts to catch things.” Hec grins. “I took the sniper who doesn’t miss details and the hacker who’s used to looking through everything. I learned just as much from Ram and Hec as I did checking things myself. That’s what taught me to take people who know what to look for.”
“Good move,” Les says.
“Right. You can’t do NYC because it’s your home branch. You’re biased.” Les flips me off and we laugh. “So Tank and Bobby should handle NYC. Plus, I think you guys should all show as a group to see how it’s come back.”
Bobby smiles. “Good idea. Plus, Hec should have signed his life away by then”—Hec flips a finger and they laugh—”so the full LC, minus one, plus the CO coming to see the ‘comeback boys’ would be a good way to end the year. When did you have them scheduled?”
“December.” Bobby cringes. “Bad time?”
“I have family obligations in Atlanta between Thanksgiving and Christmas that I usually don’t miss. Give me plenty of advance warning, Steph.”
“OK.” I grab a slice of the pie that’s just been placed in front of us and all conversation stops to concentrate on the pie.
“What did you have in mind?” Hector asks.
I bite through the gob of cheese stretching away from me. “I told Mack I would be there between the 15th and the 22nd, to shop and take MA and Angie to see the Rockettes, so maybe we could take the first three days of that? Would that work?”
Bobby pulls his phone out and checks. “Yup. Perfect timing.”
“Great.” I look at Les. “You keep it shut.”
He grins. “I won’t say a word. I want my branch to be checked like every other.”
“Good.”
The guys start talking about the contract negotiations for Hector’s partnership. Hec got a shark for a lawyer and he’s putting the RangeMan lawyers through their paces, but the partnership agreement is coming together really well. Everyone is happy. Hec should be a partner by Christmas.
“So, Thanksgiving?”
“Bobby and I are headed to my parents’ house.”
I look at Bobby. “What about your family?”
“They get Christmas.”
“Which of you gets custody of the friends when you divorce?”
Hec chokes on his slice. Les and Bobby both flip me off and I grin back at them while pounding Hec’s back. He has tears running down his face. He gulps his water down carefully.
“It’ll be an even split. Les’ll take Ranger, Bobby will get Tank. Holidays and Christmases will be awkward because they’ll stand in opposite corners and talk shit about each other,” Hec says, smiling. I’m wiping at the tears rolling down my face. Les and Bobby roll their eyes. “We’ll be left trying to play nice with each one, trying not to choose sides, so we’ll be branded traitors and unfaithful. The children will be devastated. They’ll end up in therapy, talking about how ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’ don’t love each other anymore and ‘Daddy’s’ a bastard and ‘Mommy’ cries all the time—”
By now Les and Bobby are cracking up. I have a stitch in my side. We can’t contain the laughs and we’re drawing attention in the restaurant. Bobby lowers his hand in a ‘Shhh!’ motion and we wipe our faces and try to calm down.
“You’re a mean little bastard, Hec. Just for the record,” Les says.
Hec turns to me. “FYI, the RMSA men call Les ‘Daddy’ and Bobby ‘Mommy’. The divorce would be devastating.”
I choke on my pizza. Hector pounds on my back as I consider what to say. “I know. Tank is Grandpa.” Hec slides down in the booth as all of us start laughing again. “You two need some space.”
They both roll their eyes in unison. “We have space.” Again, in unison.
“Yeah,” Hec says. “About as much space as Siamese twins.”
We finish the pizza and pay. We walk out and return to RangeMan and get comfortable in my office.
“So, you asked us,” Bobby says, rubbing his belly. Nothing but washboard abs there. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Steph. Burg?”
“Yup. Grandma’s coming back for it.”
“Do the men know yet?”
“Hal’s got the sign-up sheet going.”
The guys laugh before turning to Hec. He grimaces. “Nikki invited Mark.”
Les and Bobby crack up. I grin. “And?”
“I was planning to go to Atlanta for Thanksgiving.” He looks at me. “I usually stay here and go to my mother’s but I want to spend this year with Mijo. Looking at Mark across the table wasn’t in my plan.”
I smile. “It’ll be fine.”
“How do you know?”
“He likes Nikki and Manny and he’s willing to put himself out there for her. That means getting along with you too. If she wasn’t worth the chance to him, he wouldn’t bother. You don’t have to like him. Just give him a chance.”
Hec snorts. “How do you know he means it? How am I supposed to know he means it? He’s been a pain in the ass for years.”
I look at Les and Bobby, sober. “Because he wants a chance to show that he realizes he was wrong and that he’s sorry. He wants to show he really does get it.” I look out of the window. “I know how he feels.”
—oOo—
The week is calm and quiet. I finish loads of paperwork and prepare to get out of town over the weekend. On Friday afternoon, I pack the car, tell Hector to disable Hal from being able to see me, and head to the coast. I make good time to Bay Head, grocery shop, and head to Ranger’s house. I’m settled in and watching Ghostbusters before the sun goes down.
I shut the house up and head to bed. I’m sound asleep when I feel it. A tingle. I lift my head, searching for the source.
“Welcome home, Ranger.”
I hear the soft rustle of clothes being shed. The bed sheets lift as he slides in next to me and I feel the warmth of his body as he pulls me closer.
“Good to be home, Babe.”
