Chapter 129: Another Complication
Les’s POV
“I need the background on your time under Magic.”
I reach forward and adjust the heat. Mack has it at sauna levels in this SUV. I peel out of my heavy coat as his jaw tightens and he glances at me. It’s noon and Queens is quiet. No real traffic from LaGuardia back to the office, so I need Mack to talk fast. I boot up my computer while waiting for Mack to reply.
“Everything OK?”
“Yeah.” No. His face clearly says something is wrong (shoulders hunched, jaw tight, eyes squinched), but he’s not ready to talk yet. Fine. I’ll get it out of him before this is over. “I started at eight. Lookout. Moved up the ranks and by sixteen, I had five blocks.”
Impressive. “Fast.”
“Yeah. Sixth sense. I listened to it.”
“Chain?”
“King, Magic, then Juicy.”
“Inca?”
“Kevin.”
My head snaps up. “Kevin?”
Mack slouches in the seat and turns the heat up. I adjust my vent to blow at half strength. “Yeah. He was pulling shit quiet, but Jersey was making a run for Brooklyn. I knew. I saw. I kept my mouth shut and watched the hustle, son. When he drank the milk, no one knew what was up.”
Fuckkkkkkk! Mack, you are a mountain of untapped info!
“Who was the blow man?”
He bites his lip before glancing over at me. “Officially? No one knows. Unofficially? Anybody drank the milk in Jersey, NYC or Philly for a while and everyone wondered if Hector was moving.”
That’s why Tomas is interested in this. I connect my wireless signal to my cell phone and consider logging into RangeWorld but we’re halfway to the office. No point. I open the latest RM-NYC report.
“Who took over?”
“No one. Everyone was scrapping. Shit was major, son. One week it was Magic, next week it was Tino. You couldn’t trust the top. Got so serious I thought about calling the Motherland. My boys, under me, they knew I had ’em. I watched their backs.”
“You went down because of Petey?”
“Yeah.” He frowns. “I still don’t know why Petey talked. He knew I had him. He knew.”
Good question. Time to review Petey’s arrest and plea. Traffic finally slows to a crawl, then stops. Good. Mack knows these back streets. I connect to RangeWorld, just in case I need to pull something fast.
“Raptor move him?”
“Yup.”
I’m thinking, pulling it together. The picture is just starting to take shape in my mind. “How old were you when you went down?”
“Twenty four.”
I’m impressed. “You survived sixteen years on the streets.”
He smiles. “Yeah.”
“Shit! You qualified as an OG!”
We laugh. Mack’s shaking his head. “Yeah. That’s why I got out and stayed out. When you ever heard of a true OG older than thirty?”
Tomas. Piman. Those two will die loyal to the streets.
So … Kevin was making a run at Brooklyn, just in case Tomas found his balls and cast him out of Trenton and lower Jersey. But Kevin made a fatal mistake; he went after Hec and Hec ended the war. That destabilized Brooklyn. Petey was flipped for some reason, which took Mack down. Makes sense.
Everything I have so far says that Mack was probably the most powerful banger in all of Brooklyn at that point. Mack’s modest, but he was moving at least $2 million in product a day. The Reyes in Brooklyn haven’t been the same since; there’s a power vacuum and it’s degenerated into needless violence for territory. Cops don’t like to admit it, but when there’s a strong organization running the streets, violence actually goes down. Cops are bad for business.
If Mack had made a run at a promotion, he’d run Brooklyn at this point. Hmm…
“Why didn’t you make a run for Don or Inca?”
He barks a laugh. “Nah, son. Too much heat. Too much attention. I wanted just enough for me. You gotta want that power to run game like that.” He slides into the right lane and moves up a few car lengths. “For real, I didn’t want to stay in the game forever, but I didn’t know how to get out.” He sobers. “By the time Midi was born, I was looking for a way out, but I was in too deep. I knew I could be my Pops, never there for my boys, if I got 13 ½.” He looks over at me, stone sober. “By the time they got me, I wanted out. That’s why I never went back in.”
I nod. “Understood.” I’ve always admired Mack’s devotion to his sons. Reminds me of Ric’s love for Julie.
So who flipped Petey? That’s what I need to verify now because I think I already know. I send an IM to Ranger and Hec.
Check if DM was after Kevin in Brooklyn. I think we need to look there.
Hec’s moves in Trenton, Mack’s moves in Brooklyn and they’re connected by the same Inca and Don. Now, this is starting to make some sense. “What was Yala doing when you got locked up?”
He doesn’t answer at first. “Yo, you think my wife had something to do with it?”
“I won’t know until you answer me.”
“She had nothing to do with the game, Les.”
Mack’s voice is raw, disbelief in every syllable. He doesn’t even want to consider it, which means he has considered it. He’s considered it and he wants to fool himself right now. He doesn’t want to believe it’s possible.
“What was she doing?”
“She worked for a homeless charity.”
“As?”
“Program Coordinator.”
“Doesn’t sound like it makes much.”
“Doesn’t.” He thrums the steering wheel, looking tense. “Yo, I held some back.”
“I knew that, Mack. Every good hustler does. No one shows all their cards.”
He snorts. “Nah, I mean, I held serious paper back. I had a wife and two boys. Just in case it went wrong, I wanted them to be OK.”
“You paid all your tribute?”
“Yeah.”
“You held over what was yours?”
“Nah.”
“Then you didn’t owe them shit. Who was holding … Thomas held it?”
“Yeah.” He looks over at me, surprised. “Yo, how you know?”
I give him a ‘duh’ look. “Who knew?”
“No one. Not even Yala. I never told her.”
“So Thomas has it?”
“Nah. He used it when I got locked up to keep Yala and the boys afloat. He sent her a check each month for two years.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t plan good enough, son. I still came up short by six months. Yala slanged a little to make ends meet ’till I got out.”
Bingo! “How much? How much did he send?”
“A ‘G’.”
“Yala slanged? Who did she work under?”
Mack shrugs. “No idea.” He glances at me. “You think she was working under Magic?”
“Maybe.” I frown. Too simple, though. If Mack held back enough for Thomas to keep Yala afloat for two years, then Magic would have been all over that when Mack was in. He didn’t bother then, so that’s not it. Hmm … “You used the cash you held back for …”
And it clicks. All the pieces start clicking. Hec and Mack. Same thing! I text Hec and Ric.
I finally have the puzzle picture. I just have to start connecting the pieces.
And I finally have the right leverage against Yala. She’s just lost custody of her sons and she will sign that relocation order before Christmas is over.
—oOo—
The men of RM-NYC are on it. The entire building is buzzing with anticipation. Everything’s being polished, straightened and reviewed. Jorge and Drake are reviewing each man’s stats with him in advance of Ranger’s appearance. The men don’t know Ranger will be here, but the Core Team here does and they’re bouncing, they’re so nervous.
Javi meets me at the door and shakes my hand. “Welcome back, sir.”
I grin. “Security on the ball?”
“Good fucking luck. You aren’t getting anywhere near my keys.”
I laugh. “We need a new game.”
Javi groans. “I need a new boss.”
I slap his back and walk to my office. It’s so clean I smell the lemon Pledge and the air freshener. A new table has been added with a switch for internet. I shake my head and drop my stuff. “Core Team in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” Javi leaves and I run up to my apartment and shower. I return to my office and start running through my email. There’s one from Bobby.
Bahamas. 1-8. Pack your sunblock this time!
I grin. OK, RB.
—oOo—
“Are we ready?”
Javi’s leg immediately starts bouncing. Jorge, Mack, and Drake all glare at him and he stills his leg. I’m trying not to laugh.
“Yes, sir. We took the number one spot”—I pump a fist in the air and start thinking about the party I need to throw for NYC and for Trenton—”and we’re ready to discuss product lines and how we’d like to grow.”
Jorge pulls his folder but I wave a hand. “I’m not part of the review but don’t tell me. I want to be surprised with the rest of the LC. I will say this.” I sober and stare each man in his eyes. “I’m proud of everything you men have done here in NYC. Last to first in one year? That will not go unrecognized.”
Mack and Javi grin. Jorge and Drake look relieved. “Thank you, sir,” Jorge says.
“Thank you.” I smile and slouch in my seat. “Thanks to you, I’ve been, how would you say it Mack?” I look at him. “Swinging my balls in my brother’s faces?” The men start laughing uproariously and Mack throws deuces in the air. “Boston, Trenton, and NYC? Every branch that’s been number one is under my review?” I stand and hit my drinks cabinet. I toss a shot glass at each man and return with the tequila. “Ranger is sick of looking at my balls! Bobby? Bobby truly thought Atlanta was going to take the crown and Tank can’t wait for RMSA to get into their stride! If you think the XOs talk shit, you should hear us!”
I pour each man a shot and raise mine. “To NYC!”
“NYC!”
Mack, unable to resist, yells “BROOKLYN!” before knocking his back.
I pour another shot, barely able to control the bottle, I’m laughing so hard. “To Stephanie Plum!”
I need to hang with Steph during this trip. I’m finally over being mad. She told me to go fuck myself because she was angry, not because she hates me.
And I want my friend back.
“To Steph!”
“To the new year!”
“To the new year!”
—oOo—
Steph’s POV
Now that the Miami men have been handled, the house is a comfortable 75 degrees again. Ranger comes back home and it’s like we’re in Sarasota again. I make Ranger’s favorite salad again and he makes me a chocolate cake in my CrockPot. Best part? Throw some chocolate on top of the cake and let it melt. Instant frosting! He feeds me bite by bite, stealing kisses between bites.
Since no one’s around and no one can see in, Ranger walks around nude. Skinny dipping, tanning, showers, wet and sweaty Ranger I can deal with. I spend an hour drooling before he makes a mistake.
“Ranger?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re naked on the couch.”
“Yeah?”
I love naked Ranger, but … I’m having a Sex in the City flashback. Seeing naked Ranger sitting on the white couch … I understand how Charlotte felt.
“Not the couch.”
Ranger raises a brow. “Gotta sit somewhere, Babe.”
“Not the couch.”
I didn’t move fast enough. Ranger moved quickly and caught me before I made it to the stairs, laughing the entire time. “I can’t sit on my couch?” he asks, tickling me.
“Not a white couch! Not naked!”
“Fine.”
He stripped me slowly, pausing when he reached the Agent Provocateur panties. “Babe …”
I grinned. “What?”
I recommend never making love on a staircase. It’s hard on the knees.
Since I decreed no naked Ranger on the couch, he surprises me the next day by building a pillow fort in our living room. I drool at him again and, before I know it, he strips every piece of clothing from my body before pulling me inside. I expect him to make love to me but nope. He needs to ‘think’ and he wants me with him.
We both do some ‘thinking’.
—oOo—
Occasionally, Ranger puts on clothes and disappears at odd hours. He returns looking tense and worried. Like last time, I ask if he’s OK.
Like last time, he kisses me and tells me he’s fine. It has nothing to do with RangeMan, he says.
OK.
He takes over the CO job for the rest of the week while I continue to work on my tan for one hour a day. We settle into a pattern. I clean, he cooks, and we spend time with each other. We dance in the living room and make love everywhere. We work through our agreed-upon questions and I learn that Ranger’s greatest fear is coming home, whether from overseas or from the office, to find I’m dead. That he didn’t make it back in time to save me. Or that I’m taken and held and he can’t find me. I know he told me that once before, but this time there’s no doubt that he’s serious. Ranger turns pale when he admits that and we sit in the pillow fort holding each other.
That reminds me to ask Hec how many trackers remain on my body. I’ve been giving that chip some thought and the answer is still no.
I tell him I’m afraid that he’ll go overseas and never return. That I’ll never hear from him again. I’ll never know where he is. I know that he loves that work. I’ll never tell him what to do because I’ll never let him tell me what I can and cannot do, but … the thought that he might go and never come back? That no one will tell me where he is? That I might go weeks or months, maybe years, without word of him?
We promise each other that we’ll always come back home. No matter what. We’ll come back home.
I wonder if I should bring up Ella’s list before deciding against it.
I’ll bring that up when he returns from Syria.
—oOo—
I check on things at night and start making plans for the new year.
The biggest?
Trying to decide if I’m going to stay.
Honestly, listening to Rod rip me to shreds did something to me. I’m tired of working and not being appreciated. I don’t have any support, no one behind me to bounce ideas off because Tank doesn’t talk, Ranger’s gone, Bobby’s … Bobby, and Les …?
Les and I barely speak. I miss him.
Being the CO is a hard and thankless job and I’ve done it for nine months. No. I think it’s time for me to go. I don’t need this. I don’t need the drama and the suspicion and the aggravation.
I miss being a bounty hunter. I miss being independent and being able to call my own shots. I’m tired of following someone else’s plans. And I’m sick of the unspoken expectations and the constant insults. Ranger telling me I’m arrogant, just because I don’t want someone following me around every second of the day, hurt.
Then Danilo followed me in the mall and that kinda made Ranger’s point, not that I’ll admit that. He told me his life was constant danger, constant checking for enemies, and displaying few weaknesses. I was, I am, his biggest weakness. I don’t want to accept that. I want to continue to live my life my way, no bodyguards, no one following me all the time. I want Ranger to fit into my life just like he wants me to fit into his and one of us is going to lose this battle.
I’m tired of always thinking I’m going to be the loser.
The sound of the screaming baby in the Aventura Mall parking lot jolted me. The unwelcome memory of Drew Stefanic’s screaming, coupled with the warning I’d just gotten from Danilo, circled around in my mind, a nasty mix of circumstances and chance, but it was a reminder: Ranger’s life is dangerous. My life is dangerous. I have to stop hiding from the truth.
Ranger’s enemies had me and I got away because of training and luck. I got away because RangeMen had trained me to protect myself and Ranger’s allies were there to pick me up. I did most of the work, but I had help. Being trained and prepared means that I’m ready for what might happen. I’ve been kidnapped before in Miami. It’s not impossible.
What if Danilo hadn’t been there? What if I hadn’t been trained to break holds? What if I couldn’t run a ten minute mile?
That was the only reason I apologized. Because Ranger’s always had my back and I’ve always depended on RangeMan to save me in the nick of time. Like Grandma said, if a whiny bunch of RangeMen needed an apology to get their panties out of a twist, I’d give it to them but not because of them.
Because of Ranger. Because he’d always been there for me to save me in the nick of time. Because the Trenton men had always been there for me, to save me in the nick of time. Yeah, I can save myself now and yeah, sometimes I saved myself without their help. But it’s nice to know someone’s on their way.
OK, so I wasn’t the best in the field. Jeez, give me a break. I’m trained now. I could lead in the field now. I was never a bad bounty hunter, just … OK, I wasn’t great. I’m a great skip tracer but I wasn’t good at the physical stuff. I get it. I gave Rod credit for that. I was good at the investigation part of the job but the apprehensions? OK, I sucked. I get it. Everyone needs to get over it. I can do it now.
In any case, Ranger’s leaving for Syria, Tank’s going on a tour of the company (is that like my review? What is a ‘tour of the company’?). Les? Bobby? No idea. Hec’s moving here to Miami to support me.
I gave my apology. I choked back my pride and supported the man who always supports me because he stood before his men and backed me, yet again.
—oOo—
It’s Friday night and Ranger says he has special plans. I’m wondering what they are. He’s been glued to the computer screen all day.
“Ranger?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s this surprise?”
Ranger glances up at the clock. “Shit! Thanks for the reminder, Babe.” He dashes from the room and I hear his Mercedes convertible leave minutes later. Since the Lamborghini was getting too much attention, he’s ‘slumming’ it in the Mercedes. I head over to his desk to shut his screen off when the IM dings, so I scroll up to the top.
RB: Le booked to Bahamas. Leaving 1/8
RM: Cool. Get his head back on straight.
RB: No prob. He‘s in NYC now, having fun. Trying to find out what’s going on.
RM: And?
RB: Mack‘s involved somehow. Les thinks he has it and Yala is the key. Leon’s working that plea deal out.
I sit and start reading. I’m worried about Mack. Javi is keeping me up to date but he says Mack’s been quiet lately. Looking worried.
RM: Magic and Tomas threw him under a bus?
RB: Les does his work well.
RM: LOL. Jorge?
Jorge? What’s going on with Jorge?
RB: Working on that. Figured out your end?
RM: Looking through op notes. I‘m overlooking something. I know it.
RB: Need fresh eyes?
RM: If I don‘t figure it out by NYC review, have at it.
RB: OK.
** TL joins conversation **
TL: Honeymoon booked. Kenya, Tanzania, Namibia, South Africa, Morocco, Botswana, Egypt, Gambia. One week each.
My jaw drops and I pull up a map of Africa. Wow, congrats Lula! Tank’s taking you all over the place!
RB: You leave any of Africa?
TL: We‘ll bring you back a pirate.
RM: LOL
RB: Finger.
TL: That‘s your RB’s move, isn’t it?
RB: It works. You should go to Senegal. I spent summers there as a kid and teen. It‘s magical. I love it.
TL: I couldn‘t remember which country you mentioned. That’s how Namibia made the list.
RB: Namibia is cool. Safari.
** HG joins conversation **
HG: OK, what‘s up?
RB: Les and I are leaving on 1/8
HG: OK. And?
RB: Steph. Gotta line up support for her while we‘re gone. Tank’s moving around, you’re in Miami with her. Call us if you need anything. We’ll hustle back.
TL: Me too.
HG: Right.
I smile. OK, so maybe I was wrong. They haven’t talked to me about it, but they’re already trying to support me.
Thanks, guys. I honestly didn’t know if I should even ask you.
RM: Lula?
TL: Classes, RangeWoman wives training, wedding planning. She‘s good. Thanks, RB
RB: No prob
RM: he meant me. No prob.
RB: *finger*
HG: Les still angry?
RB: *sigh* not as much. Don‘t press for a miracle. You won’t get it.
HG: Still …
RB: He has a right to his anger. He tried to help and was told to go fuck himself. By a friend. A close friend. One he trusted. If he didn‘t love her, if he didn’t care, he would have ignored her. He didn’t. Stop trying to make it better. I think he’s nearly over it anyway.
HG: Good. I thought he was.
RB: Watching her support Ric made him happy. He’s just annoyed right now.
I stop reading and turn off the monitor.
‘I’m sorry’ will never be enough.
—oOo—
“Steph!”
I stop prepping dinner and whirl around. “Julie!” I get a tight hug and I step back and look at her. “I wish I looked like you at fourteen!”
She’s beautiful. Her long dark brown hair is nearly waist length and she has perfectly clear skin. Her brown eyes are sparkling and she’s smiling, showing off her braces, a different colors on each tooth. “You kidding? I have a massive zit right here.” She points at her chin.
I peer at it. “Are you sure that not a mosquito bite?”
Ranger laughs, dragging a suitcase in behind him. Julie pouts. “That’s what Dad said but I promise you, it’s a zit!”
“Yeah. Right,” Ranger says, lifting the suitcase. “I’m putting you in your usual room, Jules.”
“OK, Daddy,” she says, digging into the fridge.
Ranger’s face lights up for a moment. Julie misses it but I don’t. He disappears upstairs and Julie grabs the OJ and a glass. “So, Steph, how long are you staying?”
“Well, I’ll be here for a few months.”
“Really?” She smiles, replacing the OJ in the fridge. “That’s great! Will you come to my soccer games? Daddy said he would when he gets back from this new assignment. He said he’s moving to Miami permanently. Are you?” she asks slyly, looking at me over the rim of her glass.
I smile, mysteriously I hope. “Perhaps …”
“Perhaps?”
“I do know where this house is located and I’m shipping my clothes down.” I take the platter of marinated chicken and veggies out to the outdoor fridge. “How’s band?”
“You ever try to play a trumpet with braces?” She shudders. “I loved band camp, though.”
“Great. Come on, let’s sit on the deck and you can tell me about it and how high school is going.”
She smiles into her OJ. “OK. By the way, nice ring. Wrong hand.” She leaves the kitchen and I stare at my hand and smile.
Maybe, Julie. I’m kinda getting used to this one being on this hand.
—oOo—
“Yo.”
Ranger turns. “What’s up?”
“Julie is not a surprise.” I close the door to the bedroom. “I love Julie, I’m glad she’s here, but she’s not a surprise.”
Ranger’s face shutters slightly. “Not sure I follow, Babe.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “Don’t get me wrong, Ranger. I love Julie and I’m glad she’s here, but if you were going to bring her here for a few days to spend time with us, I really could’ve used a heads up on that.” I cross my arms. “This is supposed to be time for you and me to spend together. I was a little surprised, that’s all.”
He stares at me. “Noted.”
“Is she coming back for Christmas or New Year’s?”
“I haven’t talked to Rachel about that yet.”
I stand and smooth the bedspread. “OK. Just let me know.”
“Babe, if this is a problem—”
“It’s not. It’s really not. Just give me some heads up. I know you want to spend time with her. I like spending time with her. Just … tell me, OK?” I grin. “We’re running low on orange juice and sunscreen.”
“OK.”
I kiss his cheek and leave the room.
—oOo—
“What is that?”
Ranger is staring at Julie. She’s wearing a bikini. It’s cute, very modest, white with polka dots and with Julie’s long legs, looks really adorable on her.
“What?”
“What you’re wearing.”
“It’s a bikini, Daddy.” Julie looks confused and I see a problem about to develop.
“Ranger. Ranger.” He drags his eyes over to me. “One moment.” I tug him into the house. He’s still staring at Julie’s bikini.
“Ranger, look at me.” He drags his eyes over to me. “She’s fourteen. You cannot tell her what to wear. Not only will that not go over well, but”—I search for a kind way to say it—”her mother and father approved it. They were comfortable with it and they think it’s appropriate. You don’t have a call here.”
“She’s not old enough—”
“She is.” I cup his face and drag his face to mine, turning so he can’t look at Julie from the side. I look; she’s jumped in the pool and is swimming laps. “Ranger, she’s not a little girl anymore. No more one pieces with ruffles on the butt. She’s becoming a woman and, honestly, that’s a pretty modest swim suit.”
He stares at me. “That’s modest?” I nod. “What’s obscene?”
“For her age? A string bikini.”
Ranger’s face reddens. That’s what I’m wearing. He turns at looks out the window. I wait.
“My daughter is in high school and wearing bikinis,” he whispers, a note of wonder in his voice.
“You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
“Still …” He has a look of regret.
“You regret it?”
He shakes his head. “No. I gave her the best I could. My support and love and I didn’t drag the situation out. I gave her the chance to have a Daddy with her every day. I did the right thing.”
“Trying to convince me?”
“No.”
“Trying to convince yourself?
“No.” He turns to me. “I don’t regret my actions. My daughter has two daddies who love her very much. I could have died at any time when I was active duty.”
“You want any more?”
He turns and looks at me critically. “I’m not trying to make up what I lost with Julie, Steph. There will never be another her. There will never be another chance to be her Daddy from the beginning. I did what was right for her. I made the decision. I lived with it.”
“I know.” Why am I asking this? I’m not ready for kids!
Ranger’s staring at my face. “You’re not ready for kids.”
“No, I’m not but I’ve never said I never wanted to have any. I’m just not ready now.”
“Fine. Let’s talk about this when you think you’re ready.”
I squeeze his hand and we walk back outside. Julie splashes her father. “Ha! Can’t catch me.”
“That’s what you think!” He strips his shirt and dives in. Julie shrieks and takes off but Ranger has her before she’s a body length away from him. I laugh and take pictures of the two of them. They’re dunking each other and racing from one end of the pool to the other.
It’s a great night. Julie tells us about band camp and I have to squeeze Ranger’s thigh a few times. I tell my high school majorette stories, my best one covering how I tossed one of my batons into the tuba and caused the entire band to have a midfield collision. Ranger and Julie both laugh until they cry at that one.
“Yeah, well, they decided that maybe flaming batons might be a bad idea,” I finish, wiping the table. Julie’s stacking dishes in the dishwasher and Ranger is tying off trash. “I thought they were probably right. Me and fire?”
Ranger laughs harder. Julie shakes her head. “Daddy, did you play an instrument?”
“Nope.” He smirks. “Band was for nerds. I played football.” Julie sticks her tongue out. “Yeah, Daddy was the star quarterback, Homecoming king, Prom king, you name it, I did it.”
“A decade late, but I’m finally dating a jock,” I reply, rolling my eyes at Julie. She laughs. “And just as I always suspected. The jock is an egomaniac.”
“You called me a nerd the other day.”
“Oh, yeah!” I turn to Julie. “Your dad was in Chess Club!“
Julie’s mouth drops. “OMG! You’re joking! Daddy, that’s like nerd squared!”
Ranger snorts and leaves with the trash. Julie and I make jokes about the chess geeks and Ranger returns and tickles Julie until she’s crying. “And I’ve gone from egotistical jock to nerd squared in half a second. Women. You’re all fickle.”
We laugh. Julie trudges off to bed and I go take a shower, joined a few minutes later by Ranger.
“Your daughter is in the house.”
“So don’t scream.”
I don’t scream but I definitely leave fingerprints in Ranger’s back and arms.
—oOo—
Ranger’s POV
Having Julie for three days is great. She and Steph go shopping for Christmas presents and I get updates.
I asked one of my Miami men to follow them, discreetly. Hec told me about Danilo’s mall surveillance.
Paul is pretty certain Steph never picks up on him. Her attention was on Julie.
Sigh. I can’t change her. I can only adjust for it.
—oOo—
“Rachel?”
“Alex?”
“Hey. Thanks for allowing me time with Julie.”
“No problem. She’s excited about being able to see you.”
I smile and decide to press my luck. “Any chance I can see her over Christmas?”
“When?”
“What’s good for you?”
Rachel hums. “What about the day after?”
Perfect. “That’s great. How many days can I have?”
She laughs. “How about from the 26th until 9PM New Year’s Eve?”
“I’ll take it.”
“Great. I’ll meet you at RangeMan on the 26th. Bye.” Click.
I hang up, glad that after all the hurt and disappointment, Rachel and I really get along. I’m no longer ‘that asshole’ and I’m allowed to see my daughter again. I have no legal rights, no official standing, but Rachel is finally treating me like what I am: Julie’s father.
It’s great to see my daughter in my home. Like her father, if she does it, she excels. She plays part of her trumpet solo for marching band and I’m proud to hear her hit the high notes with precision. I ask her if she has the energy to do it again, for Uncle Les. She agrees, rubbing her lips, I get Les on a video call, and she plays the piece again.
“I played that! Sophomore year! Beguine, right?!”
Julie’s mouth drops. “Yeah! You played this?”
Les smirks. “My trumpet is still at my Mom’s. I’ll bet I could still pull it off.”
“You’re a band nerd, Les?” Steph asks.
He sticks his tongue out at her. “Yup. First chair for three years. Marching and symphonic band. I loved band.” He grins. “I loved band camp.”
“Me too!” Julie says excitedly.
His smile drops. “I hope you didn’t like band camp as much as I did.”
Julie rolls her eyes. “I play trumpet, not flute, Uncle Les.”
I stare at Les. His mouth dropped and he looks shocked. Something about that was significant. Steph is red and shaking, trying not to laugh.
“Do I want to know what that means?”
“Nope. You want to concentrate on 4th and 5, primo, believe me. Julie, I’m glad to hear that.”
Band geeks. Entirely different … Oh. I just got that.
Yes, flute will never be allowed.
“Prude.”
Les looks offended. “I’ve never been called a prude!”
“You’re becoming a prude in your old age.”
“No, he’s not, Julie,” Steph says, smiling at Les. “He’s definitely not a prude.”
—oOo—
“So, your mother and I have worked out that I’ll pick you up here on the 26th and you’ll hang with me and Steph until nine on New Year’s Eve.”
“Sweet!” Julie looks excited. I’m waiting for Rachel to pull into the parking bay at RM-Miami. Steph’s in the SUV with Thomas, waiting to go to the airport. We’re flying into RM-NYC, different flights, different airlines.
I feel Julie’s hand take mine and squeeze. The women in my life. They like holding hands. I look down at her and smile.
“So when are you going to marry Steph, Daddy?”
When she’s ready, Jules. I smile. “We’re trying the cohabiting thing first, Jules. I’m waiting for her to freak out over how much of a slob I am.”
She laughs. “Yeah right. I’ll bet you starch and iron your shorts with military precision, Daddy.”
Nope. Starch isn’t that great for silk, kiddo, but I get your point. “Your mom tells me you won’t clean your room. Should I mention how neat and tidy you kept everything at my house?”
She shudders. “Please don’t. Besides, your house is like a showroom. I feel weird making a mess there.”
Rachel pulls into view and while she’s pulling in, I take a moment to kiss the top of my daughter’s head. Fifteen years of loving her and twelve of barely being able to see her. I love everything about her, though. Ron and Rachel did a great job. “I’ll see you on the 26th, OK.”
“OK.” I get a tight hug as Rachel pulls up. Rachel pops the trunk of her car and I stash Julie’s duffel before going around to the driver’s side.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Rachel waves at Steph. “See you on the 26th.”
I nod, Rachel rolls up the window, and they leave. I get in the SUV.
“You have the first flight, right Steph?” Thomas asks, pulling out. I’m in the back seat, trying to apply my mask.
“Yup. I’m up first.” She turns to me. “I’m staying at the hotel, you’re staying at RM-NYC?”
“Yup.” I finish applying the mask and glance at Thomas, who is trying to hide a smirk. “Don’t breathe a word of our arrival to the RM-NYC people. Any of them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Useless. I’m sure he’s already told his cousin.
I text Bobby, Tank, and Hec.
Traditions must be kept.
Bobby: Agreed
Tank: Ready
Hec: I brought a DSLR! You really do this every year?
Me: At least once a year. Mi primo expects it.
—oOo—
Les’s POV—All conversations in Spanish
My eyes fly open.
I heard a noise. There shouldn’t be any noises in my—
“ARGGHH!” Not the fucking ankles! “Ric! Let me go!” I’m scrambling, grabbing at pillows, sheets, blankets, anything to get some traction! Nothing!
No man should wake from a sound sleep like this!
This idiot has me by the ankles, Bobby has one arm, Tank has the other and I hear a shutter. “Should we put some underwear on him?” Hec asks, turning on the lamp. Now I see all four of them, in black SWAT and barefoot, laughing as my naked body twists helplessly, reaching for anything that will keep me from—
“You kidding me? Hanging him out of his window by his ankles with his dick waving in the wind? What’s the temp outside?” Ric laughs.
NOOOOOO! We’re too old for this, dammit!
“Cold enough that even Little Les will be forced to seek shelter,” Tank rumbles.
Hec grins. “Wait! Let me go across the street with the really good camera!” A momentary pause and I hear my door slam. I hope you lose your toes, Hec!
“Don’t you dare take any pictures of this!” How humiliating!
“Hec brought a DSLR for this,” Tank says.
“Here, take his arm,” Bobby says. “I got the window.”
“Some RB you are!” I scream, twisting as much as possible, trying to break Ric’s hold on me. There’s no getting away from Tank, but if I can break Ric’s hold, I have a chance.
I feel the freezing cold air hit my legs and I scream louder. I don’t care that I sound like a teenage girl. Little Les is upset at the indignity of all this!
“OK, Hec’s in position. Who’s hoisting him?”
“We got him,” Tank says. I can hear the grin in that fucker’s voice. I’m scrambling to grab onto anything I can reach, but they prepped. How hard was I sleeping? How did I not hear them moving my furniture around?
There’s nothing between me and that goddamn window, so out I go!
It has to be below twenty degrees outside. Little Les and his two best friends express their displeasure at the situation by doing their best attempt at a retreat. Hec’s across the street laughing and taking pictures and Bobby leans out of the window and slaps my ass. “Oh, you big baby! It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?!” I scream.
“Nope, but if you keep screaming, you know the NYC men are going to … and there they are.”
I look. No. No no no… this is fucking humiliating! My men are running outside and stopping in the middle of the street, gaping, trying not to laugh.
“If I see even one camera phone, you’re on the mats with me for a month!”
All phones disappear but I still hear the snickers.
Thankfully, Ric and Tank turned me so it’s just my ass on display, but still. I’m going to get those fuckers back for this!
All four of them.
“You’re ruining the pictures!” Hec yells and the men part so he can get better shots, laughing their asses off.
“You know what would make this perfect?” Tank asks.
“Edna,” Bobby says, laughing. “Edna here to give comments on his ‘package’.”
Little Les completely disappears at the mere mention of Edna. No. We won‘t be pinched anymore!
“Damn! We should’ve thought of that,” Ranger says, laughing. “Les, you OK? Hec, got enough pictures?”
“Those better not end up in RangeWorld!” I scream, hoping the indignity ends soon. I’m starting to get lightheaded.
“Just the LC section!” Hec shivers. “OK, I’m done.”
Ric and Tank hoist me back in and Bobby drapes a blanket around me. I shiver uncontrollably while those idiots collapse on the floor laughing.
“You just put my dick on display like a fucking flag,” I grouse. I look down at Little Les, currently shivering near his two friends. “It’s OK, mi amigo. I won’t let them do that to us ever again,” I croon.
Little Les is not convinced. This is the eighth time, Lester! Make them stop! I don‘t like having to duck and run for cover! It’s not natural!
I’d attempt to warm him faster, but the last time I did that Ric and Bobby told me to stop. That was more than they wanted to see. Tank just grunted and tossed me a towel and a fucking willy warmer. A wool willy warmer! And it was at least three inches too short!
Ric’s on the floor laughing. “Some traditions have to be kept, Les.”
I eye him. “Oh yeah?” I look at each of them and I’m glad to see them all flinch.
Payback’s gonna be a bitch.
Hec walks back in, smirking. “I think you lost at least four inches to the cold, Les,” looking at the pics on the camera screen. “Maybe another two to Edna.” Those fools on the floor crack up even more. Hec nods, an admiring smile on his face. “Impressive.”
I stand with as much dignity as a man whose ass was just put on display to all of Brooklyn can still have. “I’m going to take a bath and when I return, I hope you bastards are gone. Otherwise, sleep with one eye open.”
As I head off to my bathroom, I hear Hec ask, “Should I be scared?”
“Depends on how fast he stops being mad,” Ric answers.
“Depends on what you do with those pictures,” Bobby counters.
“Yes,” Tank says simply.
Right answer, Tank.
I close the bathroom door and look down at Little Les. He’s still shivering, upset at the evening’s activities. He likes warm, moist areas, not blasting cold!
Yes, payback will be a bitch, but …
I grin.
That’s still funny. If they hadn’t done it, I would have been a bit upset.
Some traditions have to be kept.
I look inside my bathroom cabinets for the Sriracha.
My RB, and his delicate little stomach, is first.
Your job is to protect and back me, you fucker, not join my idiot cousin in hanging me out of my windows bare assed to the world! You’re up first.
And Ric, I hope you brought that expensive shampoo you don’t like to admit you use.
You’re getting dirty. Dirty like filthy.
Tank? I think a day of client calls with Jorge is going to be on your schedule. Except I’m pulling Jorge back and you’ll be forced to do them. Talking? Hope you brought your Tylenol.
Hec? I think a completely fruitless search through Brooklyn is the name of the game for you since I know you hate wasting time. Either that or the itching powder? Or the insulation. Hmm… wasting Hec’s time? Or making him physically uncomfortable? Hell, why not both!
Just in case you fuckers did it, I planned with NYC core. After all, traditions have to be kept.
Enjoy!
