Chapter 4
Ranger
Want to know what sucks? Being woken up at seven in the morning for a non-emergency because your friends can’t help themselves and they have to know what’s going on at all times in all matters in all ways. And it’s really fucking annoying on a good day.
Today is a busy day. There’s too much shit to get done and no time to do it, and if my friends don’t stop with the all day worry, it’s not going to get done. Of course, they don’t know what I have to do, and I’d like to keep it that way.
I’m starting the morning in my shop. An appointment to cover up some fading spring break mistake from twenty years ago. I don’t normally ink women. Personal preference and all that, but this is a favor to Barbie, one of my fellow artists and friend. Her real name is Brenda, but she looks like a fifties pin-up model with platinum blonde hair and huge knockers. Barbie was given to her in Ranger school, and it stuck. We served together, and she’s the one who talked me into opening this place. She’s been with me since day one, moving her wife and kids to Boulder Canyon without a question. She also covers for me when I need to be out on a case.
See, being still doesn’t work for me. The skills I learned as a Ranger are quite helpful in the private sector, but I didn’t want to go into bodyguard or mercenary work. I excel at sneaking around in the shadows, collecting evidence, and giving it to the people who need it. Sometimes that’s spouses looking for infidelity, other times it’s insurance fraud. There’s just enough danger to keep it interesting, and then I can go into the shop and let out my creative side.
“Barbie.” I nod as I walk through the lobby, only pausing to take a swig of my large coffee from the Diner.
“One of those days, huh?” she smirks at me.
“Oh, yeah,” I laugh humorlessly. “Tiny’s sister is in town. I guess I’m renting her the upstairs studio.”
“A woman?” she gasps with mock shock.
“You’re a woman,” I point out, knowing she’s just calling me out on my shit.
“I’m a woman who doesn’t want anything to do with what you have dangling between your legs. We both know it’s the only reason you tolerate me. And I let you look at my tits every once in a while to tide you over until you give up the celibacy fight.”
Sometimes I hate that certain people know me so well. “Fuck off.”
“Love you, too.” She smiles at me, patting my cheek as she moves to her station. “What are you secretly investigating tonight?”
“Just a job, nothing exciting.”
“Bullshit. If it was nothing exciting, you’d tell me. Who you trailing tonight?”
“A friend’s boyfriend. He gives me the creeps, and he’s a grade A asshole. He’s up to something, I know he is. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“You have the best gut I’ve ever met. If you say he’s shady, he’s shady.”
“Thanks, Barbie-girl. Let’s get this show on the road and open the doors. Your friend will be here soon.”
“Ah, yeah, thanks again for fixing her up.”
“No problem. When’s Evan and Charlie due in?”
“After lunch. They have the late shift. Think Evan has someone coming in from Baltimore for a late-night session.”
I nod while I get my supplies ready for the day, but my mind keeps wandering back to the text exchange this morning with the group and Elle. How she gets me so riled up so fast. How I felt a stirring below the belt that I haven’t felt in a while. The way her eyes haunt me. I need to find a way to shut that shit down. Fast.
Time to focus and get ready for my day. I will not let her derail my life.
Barbie’s friend was in my chair for a little over two hours before she needed to call it a day. She’ll come back in a couple of weeks for me to finish the shading on her new design. Flowers to cover the ‘What happens in Daytona, Stays in Daytona…except herpes’ she has stamped on her right shoulder. She lost a bet when she was nineteen and that was the outcome. Why it took her ten plus years to fix it, I’m not sure. Not my problem. I’m just here to make it go away.
We’ve just finished lunch from the Diner and I’m cleaning up my station when the bells over the door jingle. I don’t pay it much attention until I hear Barbie squeal. She doesn’t get riled up like that too often, so I’m interested. I step out of my station and immediately wish I hadn’t. But I’m also very confused. Barbie is hugging Elle like she’s a long-lost family member. Her pink-tipped hair is pulled back in a messy bun on top of her head and she’s wearing baggy jeans with paint flecks on them and a red tank-top. She’s got an oversized black cardigan on over the tank that hits at her knees, but the sleeve on her right shoulder is falling down, exposing something I never thought someone as high society as her would have. Ink.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, and even I can hear the asshole in my voice.
“It’s so good to see you, too!” she exclaims with a huge grin on her face. “I just knew you’d be so excited to see me!”
“You know Ranger?” Barbie asks her.
“You know Barbie?” I ask at the same time.
“Yup!” she answers both of us. That smile is still plastered on her face, and I’m not sure if I want to kiss it off or yell at her until it falls.
“How do you know Barbie?” I growl, frustrated at both of them.
“Asshole,” Barbie chides me. “She designed my sleeve! I can’t believe you’re here!”
“How’s Roxy and the boys?” Elle asks, ignoring me, all of her attention focused on Barbie.
I lean against the wall and listen to their conversation. Obviously, I’m not needed.
“Oh, they’re wonderful. They love this little town. Max is playing cello. He’s in love with his teacher at the high school, Miss Mills.”
“Ginny Mills?”
“Yes! Do you know her? Oh, she’s just the sweetest thing there ever was. She’s been coming to the house twice a week for private lessons. She thinks he might be able to get a scholarship. Can you believe it?”
“Of course I can! Max is amazing. Has he decided what print he wants for his high school graduation yet?”
“Hold up,” I interrupt when I can’t take it anymore. “Someone explain how the fuck you two know each other and why I didn’t know about this little relationship.”
“Oh, he’s extra grumpy today.” Barbie rolls her eyes and looks at Elle like I’m the problem. I’m not the fucking problem, they are!
“If I use tiny words, you should be able to understand,” Elle says in a baby voice that is going to drive me to violence. “I met Barbie and her family about nine years ago. We became friends. Max was in the first art class I taught at Canvas and Clay, and we’ve kept in touch. Did you catch all that?”
“You’re a bi—” I stop myself before I can finish the word. ”You”re such a pain, did you know that?” I ask. “Again, why does anyone think I’d want to rent my space to someone like you?”
“Someone like me?” she asks, her hands on her hips.
“Yeah, Tink. Someone like you. Rude, thinks everyone should bow down to them, shitty attitude, the works.”
“Oh, shit.” Barbie blows out a breath and takes a step back from where we’ve gotten close. Too close.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” Elle begins, “but I’ll have you know that the only attitude I throw around matches the attitudes of the people around me. You don’t know fuck all about me, but you’ve decided, and that’s that, huh? Don’t want to rent me the space? Fine. Don’t fucking rent me the space, asshole. I’ll find somewhere else for what I need.”
And then it happens. She stomps her foot, her messy bun bounces on top of her head, her eyes sparkle like she might be enjoying this, and I laugh. Out loud and from my belly. I don’t think I’ve laughed like this in ten years, if ever. My eyes are watering, and I can’t stop. When she huffs and stomps her foot again, all I can picture is Tinkerbell pouting. She needs some wings, a green dress, and cotton balls on her feet and she could go work for the Mouse right away. No interview needed.
“Is he okay?” I hear her ask Barbie.
“I don’t know, but I’d back up in case you’re in the blast zone.”
But I can’t let that happen. I grasp her wrist to stop her from even thinking of moving away from me. But the jolt of fire up my arm and the look of shock on her face, makes my next words a fucking lie. “I’m fine.”
“You might look fine,” she tries to sass, giving me an up and down look I feel everywhere, “but you, asshole, are deranged. Were you dropped on your head as a baby? Did the Army do this to you? Who hurt you?”
And without thinking, without even understanding what I’m doing, I open my mouth and one word comes out. “Vanessa.”
I hear Barbie’s intake of breath. I see Elle immediately sober up and emotionally shut down. I need to fix it, but I don’t know how. I haven’t said her name out loud for years. It tastes foreign on my tongue, and I don’t like. I don’t want to ever say it again, if I can help it. Elle won’t make eye contact with me, but she hasn’t tried to take her wrist from my hold either.
I don’t know what to do. I know I need to drop her hand, but I can’t make myself do it. I know I need to kick her out and tell her to never come back, but I think we all know that’s not going to happen. This, ladies and gentleman, is me. Completely fucked.