Connie and Lula shifted their attention from me to the front door. The bonds office is located on Hamilton Avenue. It's a small two-room storefront setup with a cluttered storage area in the back, behind a bank of file cabinets. I didn't hear the door open. And I didn't hear footsteps. So either Connie and Lula were hallucinating or else Ranger was in the room.
Ranger is the mystery man. He's a half head taller than me, moves like a cat, kicks ass all day long, only wears black, smells warm and sexy, and is percent pure perfectly toned muscle. He gets his dark complexion and liquid brown eyes from Cuban ancestors. He was Special Forces, and that's about all anyone knows about Ranger.
Well hell, when you smell that good and look that good who cares about anything else, anyway?
I can usually feel Ranger standing behind me. Ranger doesn't ordinarily leave any space between us. Today, Ranger was keeping his distance. He reached around me and dropped a file and a body receipt on Connie's desk.
'I brought Angel Robbie in last night,' he said to Connie. 'You can mail the check to Rangeman.'
Rangeman is Ranger's company. It's located in an office building in center city and specializes in security systems and fugitive apprehension.
'I got big news,' Lula said to Ranger. 'I've been promoted to bounty hunter on account of Stephanie just quit.'
Ranger picked a couple strands of sauerkraut off my shirt and pitched them into Connie's wastebasket. 'Is that true?'
'Yes,' I said. 'I quit. I'm done fighting crime. I've rolled in garbage for the last time.'
'Hard to believe,' Ranger said.
'I'm thinking of getting a job at the button factory,' I told him. 'I hear they're hiring.'
'I don't have a lot of domestic instincts,' Ranger said to me, his attention fixing on the unidentifiable glob of goo in my hair, 'but I have a real strong urge to take you home and hose you down.'
I went dry mouth. Connie bit into her lower lip, and Lula fanned herself with a file.
'I appreciate the offer,' I told him. 'Maybe some other time.'
'Babe,' Ranger said on a smile. He nodded to Lula and Connie and left the office.
No one said anything until he drove off in his shiny black Porsche Turbo.
'I think I wet my pants,' Lula said. 'Was that one of them double entendres?'
I drove back to my apartment, took a shower all by myself, and got dressed up in a stretchy white tank top and a tailored black suit with a short skirt.
I stepped into four-inch black heels, fluffed up my almost shoulder-length curly brown hair, and added one last layer to my mascara and lipstick.
I'd taken a couple minutes to print out a resume on my computer. It was pathetically short. Graduated with mediocre grades from Douglass College. Worked as a lingerie buyer for a cheap department store for a bunch of years. Got fired. Tracked down scumbags for my cousin Vinnie. Seeking management position in a classy company. Of course, this was Jersey and classy here might not be the national standard.
I grabbed my big black leather shoulder bag and yelled good-bye to my roomie, Rex-the-hamster. Rex lives in a glass aquarium on the kitchen counter. Rex is pretty much nocturnal so we're sort of like ships passing in the night. As an extra treat, once in a while I drop a Cheez Doodle into his cage and he emerges from his soup can home to retrieve the Doodle. That's about as complicated as our relationship gets.
I live on the second floor of a blocky, no-frills, three-story apartment building. My apartment looks out over the parking lot, which is fine by me. Most of the residents in my building are seniors. They're home in front of their televisions before the sun goes down, so the lot side is quiet at night.
I exited my apartment and locked up behind myself. I took the elevator to the small ground-floor lobby, pushed through the double glass doors, and crossed the lot to my car. I was driving a dark green Saturn SL-2. The Saturn had been the special of the day at Generous George's Used Car Emporium. I'd actually wanted a Lexus SC430, but Generous George thought the Saturn was more in line with my budget constraints.
I slid behind the wheel and cranked the engine over. I was heading off to apply for a job at the button factory and I was feeling down about it. I was telling myself it was a new beginning, but truth is, it felt more like a sad ending. I turned onto Hamilton and drove a couple blocks to Tasty Pastry Bakery, thinking a doughnut would be just the thing to brighten my mood.
Five minutes later, I was on the sidewalk in front of the bakery, doughnut bag in hand, and I was face-to-face with Morelli. He was wearing jeans and scuffed boots and a black V-neck sweater over a black T-shirt. Morelli is six feet of lean, hard muscle and hot Italian libido. He's Jersey guy smart, and he's not a man you'd want to annoy . . . unless you're me. I've been annoying Morelli all my life.
'I was driving by and saw you go in,' Morelli said. He was standing close, smiling down at me, eyeing the bakery bag. 'Boston creams?' he asked, already knowing the answer.
'I needed happy food.'
'You should have called me,' he said, hooking his finger into the neckline of my white tank, pulling the neck out to take a look inside. 'I have just the thing to make you happy.'
I've cohabitated with Morelli from time to time and I knew this to be true.
'I have stuff to do this afternoon and doughnuts take less time.'
'Cupcake, I haven't seen you in weeks. I could set a new land speed record for getting happy.'
'Yeah, but that would be your happiness,' I said, opening the bag, sharing the doughnuts with Morelli. 'What about mine?'
'Your happiness would be top priority.'
