Chapter 47.5: Good News Gets Around
Bobby’s POV
San Antonio, 8p.m. CST
I’m grinning like an idiot and I can’t stop. Lula looks so happy. She and Mrs. Carol Jean are examining her ring, cooing over the diamonds and the inscription Tank put in. My Love is Forever Yours. I’d tease him about that but hell, I’m jealous. Lula’s the right woman for Tank. She livens his dour ass up, and I’m thrilled she’s here. He’s been in a much better mood since he found out she was coming.
“So, strippers at the bachelor party?” I murmur. Tank raises an eyebrow and I grin. Hey, you and Ranger may be taken (oh please God let Ranger get his shit together) but Les and I aren’t. “Come on, we’re looking forward to celebrating the end of your bachelorhood.”
“Not with strippers, you don’t,” Lula says, looking up. Her face is fierce and Mrs. Carol Jean is smiling at me. “You can celebrate with strippers if you wanna, but no Tankie at that party.” She leans over to him and whispers something that makes Tank blush red. Like, literally, red. Mrs. Carol Jean hoots and laughs loudly and I join her. Whatever it was, it must have been good for Tank to turn colors.
I grin. “Fine. Les and I will hit the town on our own.” I turn to Tank. “You tell your best man yet?”
Tank shakes his head and, smiling, pulls out his cell phone. He types a short message then motions to Lula. “Baby, lemme see your hand. Need to get a picture.”
“Wait!” Lula says. She pulls the ring off, reaches into her purse and applies some lotion. “Don’t be sending pictures of my ashy hands. This is the first announcement. It’s gotta be right!” She puts the ring back on and poses her hands.
Tank takes a few shots and finishes the text. “You wanna be on this?”
“Hell yeah!” I grin. “Gotta save that one for posterity. The first one of the Four Shades of Death to go down.”
“OH! Send that to Steph, too!” Lula says.
Mrs. Carol Jean snorts. “Include me on that text. I want to send it out to the family.”
Tank looks up, but his mother looks at him hard. “Better they know now, and can start putting their affairs in order, than later.”
I laugh mentally. Baby Shug is going to have problems with Tank getting married. He’s already told me that she’s upset about it, but since this is her last year in school, he’s shrugging it off. He’ll pay for her to finish. He’s waffling on paying for grad school. He did for Wilma and Thelma and he recognizes that it’s unfair to cut Chenae off without allowing her to finish her education. She kept up her end of the bargain so he wants to keep up his.
I turn to Mrs. Carol Jean. “How is Baby Shug?”
“Who’s Baby Shug?” Lula asks.
“Chenae, honey,” Mrs. Carol Jean answers, patting her hands. “She’s doing real good at Tulane. You know they got the oldest school of Social Work in the South and since that was Pie—” Tank looks up sharply—”Tank’s alma mater, that where she went.” Mrs. Carol Jean wrinkles her nose and frowns at Tank. “He know yo’ real name. Why can’t I use it?”
Tank sighs and rolls his eyes. He glares at me. “Call me by it and I’ll choke you.”
No need to threaten. I still remember the pain the first time he punched me for calling him by his real name. Les and I had been teasing him and we had no clue why he reacted like that. Ranger quietly told us later. We promptly put that information out of our heads.
Mrs. Carol Jean smiles. “So, since that was Pierre’s alma mater and he loved Ms. Lucille so, she honored that by going to Tulane to study to continue her work.”
Tank grunts, but I know he’s proud of his baby sister. Les and Ranger are waiting for the day that Tank realizes that he’s created a selfish entitled snob. I tried to tell him, but he ignored me. Chenae is a sweet girl and she loves her big brother, but having Tank subsidize and praise her for all her achievements has given her a sense of superiority. That’s going to make it extremely difficult for her to be a social worker. It will be hard for her to accept that her best work will be among those with the least and she won’t be able to continue to afford her current fabulous style of living without his support.
Baby Shug and Lula will butt heads. I expect that showdown to happen sooner rather than later.
My phone beeps. I check the message and laugh. Perfect!
This time, I remember the proposal.
Steph’s POV
Brooklyn, NY 9:30 p.m. EST
Lester’s shower isn’t bad. It needs more shower heads, but there’s so much room! I stayed in there for at least 20 minutes. Something else I love about staying in these apartments: the guys don’t skimp on the luxuries. This is a great bathroom. Fluffy towels, designer toiletries and never ending hot water.
I exit the bathroom and look for my phone. I’m almost certain I heard it beep. I can’t find it so I give up and pull on a black t-shirt and a thong. I find the phone under the t-shirt and check the message. Moments later, I’m jumping up and down and yelling at the top of my lungs.
“LULA AND TANK ARE ENGAGED!“
I’m so happy for her and the ring is magnificent. My cheeks hurt from smiling and I hope that Ranger knows. I’m sure he does. Tank would have immediately sent this to Ranger. I forward the text to Connie and ML and my phone rings two minutes later.
“Steph?”
“Hey Connie! Isn’t it great!” I’m trying to tame the scary hair for bed.
“Isn’t what great? Your text just shows as a black bubble.”
I check the phone. Crap. Encrypted. My phone beeps. “Hey, ML is on my other line. Let me call you both back.” Minutes later I have both on the line. “OK, I forgot that texts sent to me from other RangeMen are encrypted and won’t forward to anyone outside RangeMan. Sorry. Anyway, Tank sent a message that he and Lula are engaged!”
I hold the phone away from my ear. Smart move. Connie and ML start yelling and cheering.
“Oh My God! We have to get her on the line. Call her, Connie!” ML says. Connie disconnects and I wait three minutes before calling Connie back.
“You see my ring?!” Lula squeals. She sounds giddy.
“Hell no! Steph tried to forward the text but Tank sent it encrypted. We couldn’t see shit,” Connie grouses.
“Hold on.” My phone beeps moments later and I hear the intake of breath on the other lines.
“Damn!” ML and Connie breathe, in unison. Lula and I laugh.
“I know, I know!” Lula sounds breathless and excited.
“Does Tank have a brother?” Connie asks.
“He ain’t bout shit,” Lula replies.
Huh?
“Huh?” Connie says. “You’ve been in the south too long, Lula. What does that mean?”
She laughs. “Means he’s no good.”
“Damn! You got the good one,” Connie laughs.
“You know, I know this is a weird question to ask, but what’s your new last name going to be, Lula?” ML asks.
Lula is quiet. “You know, I don’t know. His last name is LaPierre.”
“LaPierre?” Connie and ML echo, in unison. They’ve been spending time together to respond like that.
“Yeah.”
“So you’re gonna be Lula LaPierre?” Connie says. I can hear her snickering.
“Oh shit,” Lula mutters. “That doesn’t sound all that great.”
I laugh. “OK, Lula LaPierre doesn’t sound that great, but Tallulah LaPierre does.”
The phone is silent. “I could hurt you for that, White Girl.”
“Which one? There’s three of us on the line,” I reply. ML, Connie and I all laugh. Finally, I hear Lula laugh.
“You could hyphenate,” Connie suggests.
“Lula Jackson-LaPierre. Not bad. I think the two L’s running on was too much,” Lula says.
“Hey, are we breaking up the happy moment?” ML asks. “I mean, I remember what I did after Lenny slipped my ring on my finger.”
My smile drops. I spent the night listening to my mother make wedding plans because Dickie proposed at my parents’ house at dinner. I don’t want to think about that. Apparently Connie and ML had a better time because they’re giggling.
“Nah, not yet anyway.” We laugh. “We’re in the car headed back to my future mother-in-law’s home.” We hear someone speaking in the background. “It’s my best girlfriends. They’re congratulating me,” Lula says to the unknown person. “Mrs. Carol Jean, Tank’s momma, is in the back seat. She said to tell ya’ll hey.”
“Hey!” we reply.
Lula passes the message over then says, “Tank says hey too.”
“Did he really say hey?” I ask. “Or did he grunt?”
Lula laughs. “You know the man. What you think?”
“He grunted,” Connie replies and we all laugh. I hop up and get a glass of water, then stretch out on the couch.
“Hey Steph?”
“Yeah?”
“Maid of Honor?”
“Of course, Lula.” I smile. She and Tank are getting the happy ending.
Connie starts asking Lula about where she wants to have the wedding and what her colors are going to be, and I’m thinking about Ranger. I hope he’s safe and that he wraps this op up soon.
I miss him.
“Steph? You OK?”
“Tired. It’s that time and I’ve been up since six.”
“Damn. Sorry girl. I know how that is. Take that nap and we’ll talk later. We gotta plan.”
“Goodnight,” everyone says, and we hang up.
Come home soon, Ranger.
Les’s POV
New York, NY, 10 p.m. EST
Man, am I glad this plane is finally about to land. I feel naked. I’m ready to get my bags from baggage claim and reattach the hardware now.
The flight attendant comes over the speakers and announces we can turn on our electronic devices again, so I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. Flying out of San Antonio wasn’t bad, but their airport sucks. Thankfully, United has decent flights out, which is great if I need to make a quick trip back to Newark or NYC, so it will work.
Beep. New message.
I click on it and start laughing like a loon. He did it! That crazy motherfucker did it! Bobby owes me a hundred bucks and a bottle of tequila. I told him Tank would go down first. Lula required much less effort than Steph. I whistle at the ring on Lula’s finger. That’s a stunner. I hesitate to even try to guess at the price tag on that beauty. That’s serious cash, I know that.
Did you leave any diamonds for anyone else?
I sit back in my seat and grin. Congrats, Tank! Congrats, Lula! ‘Bout damn time you two decided to try again. I hope Tank talks this time. With Mrs. Carol Jean there to remind him to talk, I’m sure they’ll work out any lingering issues. I’m thrilled Lula gave Tank a chance. Mat time with him was becoming a bit painful for me.
Lula and Tank have the same issues Steph and Ranger have. The ladies have issues with trust, bad past relationships with men, lack of family support, and a disturbing tendency to want to show their independence by doing things their way . . . without listening to or accepting anyone else’s opinion. They’re bright, loyal, funny women with big hearts and lots of courage, but loving them won’t be easy. They’ll always want to have a say, to be involved in the decision. Ranger and Tank are accustomed to giving orders.
I shake my head. Conflict of interest there.
On the guys’ side, Ranger and Tank both have problems communicating, and they also have trust issues and issues with being ’emotionally available’ (if I listen to Dr. Phil …which I’ll never admit). Ranger and Tank will throw money at a problem to solve it without getting in deep because that could get messy . . . and require talking. Actions are easier than words, but money doesn’t impress Steph or Lula. You have to be willing to talk. That’s why I knew Tank would go down first. He will accept his mother’s advice and if she advised him to talk, he’d talk. Clearly, he talked.
Ranger? I told Hector he was going to have to drill that into Ranger’s head. Since he’s the closest to Steph right now and working with Ranger on his op, he’ll have better opportunities to do it. Normally that would be Tank’s job, but since he’s in Texas, he’s out of the loop this time. Hector is proving, yet again, why we were right to trust him with our lives and bring him into our close brotherhood. He’s working to ensure Beautiful sees (and accepts) her part in this fiasco and that Ranger is prepared to open up to her when she’s ready.
Tank’s success with Lula is making me wonder if Ranger has thought about how Steph’s going to integrate into his life and the changes he’ll need to make in order to make a relationship with her work. He doesn’t realize how much she’s a part of his being. When a woman can sense your presence in two minutes or less, she’s a part of your soul. Steph is Ranger’s other half, the missing part of his heart, and I think she’s getting there.
I know why he’s waffling and I know why he’s scared. He needs to tell her. He needs to open up to her but I finally see his dilemma. I finally understand why he’s held back.
Beautiful doesn’t love herself. The morning we confronted her in her apartment, when she let it slip that she wasn’t incompetent, that’s when it hit all of us. She’s been told that she’s inferior, replaceable, second best and less than all her life, and she’d internalized those messages. She’s still got a fighting spirit though. She’s still trying to tell the ‘Burg “Fuck You!” but she was going about it the wrong way. She saw asking for help as an admission of her weakness, her incompetence.
When Ranger fills her with his love and support, it makes her stronger, but without him there to back her and prop her up, she falls. She’s not strong enough to live a life with him yet and living with Ranger, you can’t be weak. She has to be able to stand by his side and stand up to him. I finally get it. Ranger wanted to see that Beautiful loved herself before he offered her his life. She needs that internal strength to stand by his side and he can’t give her that. That’s something she has to find all on her own.
Lula loves herself, a lot, but she didn’t believe Tank could really love her without her having to fight for it. He’s shown her that he does and he will. No fight needed. She just needed to accept that and stop distrusting his love and his word. She’s accepting it. She believes him. She’s ready to move forward. That short time apart was good for both of them. It made them recognize what was important.
I exit the plane and claim my bags at baggage claim. I hate NYC cab drivers, but I didn’t want to bother with renting a car or having a RangeMan pick me up. This guy obviously learned to drive where the roads are mere suggestions. This is the second time my dinner has nearly decided to revisit. I tell him to take me to Flatbush in Brooklyn and I’ll direct him from there. Flatbush has made him nervous.
Little known fact about NYC taxi drivers: They don’t know NYC. That myth of the friendly, knowledgeable cabbie is bullshit. They know how to get there if it’s in Manhattan. If you can tell them ’60th and Columbus’ they can get there lickety-split. Anywhere else? Good luck. I hope your phone has GPS. I reach into my duffel and reattach my weapons. Both guns and all three knives back in place. I feel fully dressed again.
The appearance of the hardware made him nervous. He’s a Sikh; I can’t understand everything he’s saying, but I recognize the prayer. He’s driving with his eyes on me, via the rearview, instead of on the road. I’d smirk but I want to make it to the building tonight in one piece.
I wish Ranger could see Steph right now. She’s getting there. She’s learning to trust her own strength, rely on her own judgment. Convincing her to become the CO showed our belief in her and gave her an opportunity to use her skills for other purposes. Pulling her out of the sight of Trenton and the ‘Burg has given her time and space to start finding her own worth. Without the ‘Burg and her hypercritical mother there to constantly beat her self-opinion down, she’s standing up and learning to fight back in a smart way.
I know that Hector’s watching out for her. He’s taking the ‘care and concern’ part of being partners to the utmost right now and she’s giving it back. Listening to Hector grumble about Steph’s order of bed rest made me, Tank, and Bobby howl. Then she followed it up by almost ordering him to stay home and not accompany her to NYC. We toasted her ‘balls’ for that one. We’ve never heard Hector sound like a little boy pouting, but if Steph is willing to go toe to toe with Hector, she’ll be ready for Ranger when he returns.
I direct the cabbie to turn at 4th Avenue and the building appears up ahead. Thank God. NYC cabs make my bladder weak.
She’s getting there. About time. Those two need to end the foolishness. I’d pay for the wedding if they make it down the aisle. It will be the one psyop I’ll be the most proud of and never, ever speak of. Their love will speak for itself.
Hector’s POV
Brooklyn, NY 11:00 p.m.
I’m exhausted and grateful Angelita allowed me use of Lester’s Jacuzzi. This damn injury hurts. I never realized how important my shoulders were until now. I’m careful to never wince around her. I love and hate that weepy look in her eyes. Makes me want to kill my attackers for making her worry.
Normally I would be asleep now but I was determined to take Angelita to the 34th Street Macy’s. Javier and Jorge went with us and we had a great time. Angelita shopped till she dropped then picked out ties for me. Javier and Jorge hid smiles but I allowed it. I was truly surprised when we got back into the SUV and she passed me the Issey Miyake shower gel. I was running low and it was thoughtful of her to purchase a bottle for me.
I’m settled in bed, in my boxers, when the phone buzzes. I debate checking it because Angelita dictated that I had to get more than four hours of sleep until this injury heals in order to accompany her. Normally I’d ignore this, but she chooses the weirdest times to want to climb into bed with me and make sure I sleep. I’m grateful Ranger’s not around to see it. I might be gay, but I get morning wood too. He’d unman me before he finished thinking it through, and I’m rather fond of my balls. I decide to check the phone and pray it doesn’t contain an urgent request that Angelita will catch me working on all night.
Manny. New intel to discuss in the morning. OK. There’s a second message. Must have come through while I was in the Jacuzzi. I check. Damn! I’m grinning at Lula’s hand. That is one amazing ring. My god. Hmm…princess cut center stone, pave diamond setting and the center stone is at least 2 carats. Hmm…that’s definitely somewhere between $25K and $50K in diamonds and platinum decorating Ms. Jackson’s finger and it’s the perfect ring for her. Not quite over the top and ostentatious but definitely eye-catching. It screams ‘Lula!’
I’m not the world’s biggest fan of Lula, mostly because of her lack of self-control, but if Tank’s chosen her, I will accept her as a sister. The woman is Tank’s opposite in every way but he loves her, and I will admit that Lula does have her good points.
The woman has amazing strength and self-esteem. The Spandex proves it.
Lester’s text is funny too. I’m wondering what to send to Tank, how to congratulate him, when Ranger’s text comes through. I burst into laughter. Good one, hermano. Ranger’s sense of humor is suspect on a good day but he always says the right thing to Tank. I ponder what to send back as a message and finally hit on the right thing.
This bad ass does not wear PINK.
I roll over and get comfortable. Minutes later, the phone beeps again four times in a row.
Neither does this one.
From Tank, Lester, Bobby, and Ranger.
Ranger’s POV
Dover, DE 6:30 p.m.
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
I hit the button to stop the vibration and resume my position against the wall. I look like any other wino, half passed out against the wall, complete with bottle in brown paper bag, but my Colt 45 is filled with water. I can’t wait to go take a shower. Pissy clothes? Dirt on the face and under the nails? Badly shorn wig and blacked out teeth? I feel itchy. Cleanliness is such a virtue.
I’m watching two gangbangers right now. MS-13. The machete is hidden behind the dumpster …or at least it was. I shuffled over and stumbled, pretending to be drunk, and carefully tossed it inside the dumpster about 15 minutes ago. I don’t want to watch a murder tonight. I already know who this idiot is that was scheduled to die and I’m ready to save his worthless life. I shuffled across the street after removing the murder weapon and I’m sitting right within sight.
The glasses have a camera, and I was able to plant a microphone near them during my little alcoholic stumblings. They hit me but otherwise? I’m a wino. They left me alone.
“Yo. There he is.”
The agent steps out of the cab and nods. They direct him into the alley, out of sight of most everyone. I can still see. Once there, they exchange intel and he asks about his payment. They grin and start beating the shit out of him. This is a vicious beating so I send the already prepped text to Hector. He’ll call in an anonymous citizens’ report to the cops so they’ll respond and save this jackass’s life. I can’t stop this part and, hell, he’s earned it.
Johnathon Coston, 26, from Dover. Delaware Gang Task Force. Dirty. He’s hip deep, connected to Mason and Jackson. I need Morelli to dig up the information I need fast. Knox is tied into this up to his neck.
Tonight’s intel? I’m still considered a possible. The feds don’t believe I’m here but MS-13 does. Their gang members overseas haven’t heard any rumors about me being in Pakistan, so they’re questioning it. I’ll have to go to ground for a while. That’s why I can’t intervene to save Coston’s life. It would confirm that I’m stateside unless I’m prepared to kill all three. Nope. Coston’s just going to have to accept this beating and hope for the best.
The kid is reaching for the machete when he realizes it’s not there anymore. He starts looking around for it and realizes it’s gone.
“The fucking wino. He’s the only one that’s been nearby.”
“So let’s fuck him up too.”
They stab Coston repeatedly. OK, switchblades. I’m glad I watched. They slit his throat but they do it wrong. They pulled his head back, so his carotid should be fine. Windpipe might not be but at least he won’t bleed out in seconds. They kick Coston once more and leave him alone. Good. I hear sirens in the distance. They’re getting close. The little thugs head for me. I get up and stumble/walk into the alley, out of sight of the street.
“Yo! Man, you got something of ours?”
“Nope,” I reply belligerently, swigging my water.
They come closer. “We think you do. We think you took something that don’t belong to you.”
“Prove it.“
Their eyes widen and they rush me. I clock one over the head with the bottle and kick the other in the stomach. The mouthy one pulls that switchblade and I smirk. I pull my blades and watch him pale.
It’s a short fight. No need to elaborate. They’re unconscious, bleeding profusely, and black and blue by the time I’m done. Quick taps to the temples and they’ll be lucky to remember their own names. I remove the IDs from both and drag them into the alley. I remove my ‘wino’ clothes and step into a jogging suit. Baby wipes to remove the dirt, switch the wig, and I douse myself with water so it looks like I’ve just been jogging. That’ll somewhat explain the smell. It’s hard to explain why a grown man smells like piss, so I can always say a wino tossed a beer bottle in my direction. I use a Wisp to remove the blacking from my teeth. I pick up the duffel bag and take a quick look in the mirror. Good. The lightweight fabric face mask altering my appearance is still in place too. I don’t look like Ranger. I look like any other fat jogger on a Monday night.
I exit the alley to the sight of EMTs loading Coston into the ambulance. I stop, like everyone else on the street, and pretend to gape. The codes they’re calling sound as if the idiot may be bleeding out. They did hit his kidneys pretty hard. I hope I sent the text to save his life in time. I watch the police comb the area, searching for clues, and head back to my POS. I’m still listening to the audio. They figured out the agent’s identity and they start a canvass of the area but it’s useless. I’m the only witness and I’m long gone, headed back at the hotel to truly clean up.
Thirty minutes later, they find the gang bangers in the alley. I listen to the codes. They’re calling for ambulances to transport them. I left them with serious internal bleeding and they’re touch and go. No ID, no idea who they are. The cops are stymied. Martinez, a member of my task force, shows up in his consultant role. He’s good. He listens more than he talks and his work has been solid. Coston is his objective and it will be number three for him if he can manage it.
I continue to listen while packing up my hotel room and preparing to check out. I have a hot lead in the Bronx to check out so I’ll overnight in NYC and then hit Trenton. I wonder if Babe is still on 7. I miss her and I want to try to see her before heading to Philly. I tune back into the audio. The cops are still walking the scene, but they’ve moved away from my microphone so I can go retrieve it. I situate the fabric mask back over my face, use the makeup to blend it in, and leave.
I check my phone before hitting the Jersey Turnpike (Manny. SitRep: Everything’s fine.) and I’m in a zone for the next three hours. Finally, I pull into the garage at RangeMan NYC and scramble the cameras. I grab my bags and hit the stairwell when I feel the phone buzz again. Shit! I open the text.
Lucky fucker! I hit Les’s apartment grinning ear to ear. I’m happy for my partner and closest brother. Lula’s the right woman for him and she loves him. I’m sure Mrs. Carol Jean is in seventh heaven now. I decide to answer this one.
Your woman’s hand needs an exercise plan.
I text Hector that I need to meet with him in the morning.
I hear a commotion from the bathroom. Les and Steph.
“You’re naked.”
“I have a towel on.”
WTF!
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I check.
I can’t wait to watch you go down.
