Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

Standard disclaimer: not mine, not making any $.

 

a/n Parts of this story have been posted online at times, in various places [so it could feel familiar]. But no one ever asked me for the whole story, the complete story. So it's old but kinda fun, despite the sad bits in Part One.

This IS a Mercenary Ranger / Take a Chance arc story. Hang in there! It will two or three parts, I think. I'll put a post here when the next bit goes up, probably next Friday, and I'll tell you on ff.net too. enjoy.

 **This is for Mel who wanted "older" Stephanie & Ranger, sorry it is not entirely new though.***

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda 

 

POSSIBLE ANGST WARNING???? for Part One which takes place after Eleven on Top.

 

Part One

 Twenty-five years ago I stood in the yard of a little ranch house in Trenton and

decided to change my life.

I’m not sure even now why the capture of Constantine Stiva was the final catalyst. But that night after Ranger stood, hands on hip, helplessly saying just ‘Babe’, then hugging me tight in his arms…..well, I finally got wise and made a decision.

I told Joe the next day we were done, finito, bye, have a nice life. I went online and looked up MBA /Marketing programs. By the end of the month I had moved to NYC and began a new chapter. One that did not include Ranger Manoso and his tantalizing somedays.

I got my degree and I used my lingerie buyer experience plus my hard acquired street smarts to form a clothing company. My business makes non-girly but cool workout clothes. By the end of the first decade of the 21^st century, women were fed up with girly and glitz---the Kardashians' big butts were passé. I was in the right place, at the right time, with the right stuff. You’re surprised? Me too.

My clothing line tapped that wave of fashion and has never stopped. I make a lot of money now. My hair is straightened and colored and gets cut each month by the top stylist in NYC. I have a good thin 105 pound NYC-style figure and great but simple clothes. I wear $800 pumps that do not scream Fuck me! and I have a cool car. I have a loft in Manhattan and a house in the Hamptons.

My life sucks.

My life sucks big time. It has sucked for 25 long sad years.

My name is Stephanie Plum. I own PlumCrazyWear. Yeah, you’re wearing something from my company right now, aren’t you? I once was a bounty hunter and a security researcher. Then I changed.

………

Why am I reminiscing about this now?  I am sitting here in a church in Trenton listening to someone try to eulogize Vinnie and keep a straight face.  Vinnie had a heart attack last week and went to the great porn shop in the sky. I’m sure he thinks it’s Heaven. But that’s not what set me off just now. No, the nostalgia was triggered by the man sitting a few rows in front of me. I didn’t expect him to come here today, but like me Vinnie gave him a start all those years ago. I guess we both owed Vinnie. So Ranger, like me, had come to the funeral to pay his last respects.

I can’t stop looking at him. I see him from the side and back, a perfect view of broad shoulders in dark blue full-dress Army uniform. His hair is short and well-cut. No earrings, too bad. The slice of chin and cheek that I can see are warm mocha latte brown, smooth and firm as ever.

I have made a point not to follow Ranger’s career, but Rangeman has been hugely successful and is a worldwide concern now. The business still keeps a low profile but dark clothed Rangeman guys show up on TV sometimes, guarding foreign dignitaries and rock stars.

One of the hardest times during these past twenty odd years was the day about ten years ago, maybe fifteen…. a Vogue magazine got tossed on my desk. I’m in the fashion business so I have to look at these rags. I picked it up and it was like the floor fell out from under me. The model on the cover was a stunning Latino girl, all straight black hair and liquid dark eyes. Like her father before her she was amazingly beautiful. It was as if no time had passed since the days when the fallout from this girl’s kidnapping had plastered Ranger’s oh so hot face on the news and America’s Most Wanted and the covers of Newsweek and People.

I wondered if anyone would remember. Anyone besides me, I mean. Look at her---omigod that is her father’s face, his smile, just a bit more feminine, but the otherworldly beauty…..I was sobbing, thank god my office door was closed.

The cover girl's name is Jewel. No last name. I was surprised she was permitted to model, but on the other hand it had always amazed me that Ranger had not been a media star. He made a point of not being photographed and he didn’t need the fame or the money, but still.

 

Over the years I had  seen Jewel again and again, in print and in person at fashion industry events. She was always guarded by Rangeman bodyguards but no one ever mentioned the connection. I’d heard she was also a student at an Ivy League college, but I never followed up. I’d rather not know. My days of allowing Ranger’s life to touch mine were long since over by then.

Anyway, back to this funeral. Boring as ever. Too bad Grandma Mazur isn’t here to liven things up. Ooops, bad pun! Anyway, she passed on awhile ago. My parents had too. Valerie and her family were here though. I planned to stop in at  the wake briefly to give my condolences to Vinnie’s wife and to say hello to my family. Then I’d go back to NY and pretend I never saw him---Ranger, I mean.

I dab my eyes with my hanky, drawing skeptical looks from the people sitting near me. Hey, I can cry for Vinnie! That IS why I’m crying, right?

…………….

The wake was crowded. Who knew Vinnie touched so many lives. All those lowlifes and scumbags, mob guys and bookies, hookers and dealers, Burg residents of all kinds. I turned away from the open bar, white wine in hand and bumped into a wall. No, a man, a man in a full-dress military uniform.

 “Babe.”

I froze, breathing carefully through my nose. I didn’t drop the glass of wine. I didn’t scream or start to sob hysterically.

I fixed my eyes on Ranger’s chest. It was covered with service decorations, the small ribbons that signify a soldier’s medals and battles. As he’d told me years ago, he had a lot of them. And in the twenty-five years since I’d seen him, there had been plenty more wars for him to fight. Covert, overt, he did it all. World peace had not miraculously developed just because he walked away from me.

From us.

Do I sound bitter? Yeah? Lemme tell you---bitter is putting it mildly.

I looked up and met his serious dark eyes. I said, “You finally came out of the closet, then?”

He looked like he was thinking about smiling. Then he said, “Finally even I had to give it up, babe.”

Meaning black ops undercover work, I guessed.

I looked him over carefully. He was examining me just as closely and I felt old and haggard compared to his classic Latino beauty. He looked older but not at all old. He was far too handsome to be called distinguished. His hair was still espresso dark--- almost black, no grey. His face was as dear and calmly wonderful as ever, his eyes were dense and ----loving?

I gestured with my wineglass to the shoulders of his uniform.

“What do the stars mean?”

“I’m a three-star general now, Steph. I re-upped as regular army. I’ve put in my 30 years and then some.”

“Will you retire?”

Why are we having this conversation?

“I’ll probably be promoted to four star general soon, then I’ll decide. Maybe a position at Joint Chiefs or a Cabinet position in a year or two.”

 

“Wow. Tank once said you were born to be a general.”

“Yeah.”

“And a Cabinet position! Secretary of Defense? Homeland Security?”

“No, Secretary of the Treasury.”

“You always were good with money, weren’t you.”

“I’ve heard you did well too, Steph. I know about your company, how successful you’ve been. I was proud of you.”

He smiled a little. I wanted to kick him.

“So---did you ever remarry, Ranger?”

“No. And everyone calls me Carlos now. What about you? Happily married? Kids in college?”

I said, “You gotta be kidding.”

?

I said, “No. No kids. No marriage. But I do have a good job now, lets me buy myself a nice car. And the car doesn’t even explode!”

 We smiled a little at my feeble joke.

 Ranger looked at me quietly for a minute. Since the time I’d bumped into his chest we had not touched, but his eyes felt like a caress on my face.

 He finally said, “I have missed you every day for 25 years. I wake up each morning and reach for your warm body snuggled up next to mine. But you’re never there, babe.”

“I missed you too.” 

 What else could I say?

 He took my elbow and led me outside onto the patio of the restaurant where Vinnie’s wake was being held. 

 Ranger said, “It was the way it had to be.”

 “You know what, Ranger---Carlos---whatever---. You made your choice and I had to live with it.”

“I had to protect you.”

“And I had to protect you…..You thought by pushing me away you would keep me safe.” The old anger filled my heart again like it was yesterday.

He said, “Safe. And alive.”

“Maybe. And I accepted your choice because I knew if something did happen to me you’d be devastated, it would break your heart. So we broke my heart instead, Ranger. No one could have ever loved you like I did. And you were scared and you threw it away. Because you know what, Ranger? One night of being with you, one day---one hour!---one second of being loved by you would have been worth dying for. Instead I---we?--- I’ve had a long, grey, empty non-life. It would have been better if you had pulled out your Glock that day and shot me.”

 

While I was speaking Carlos had turned away from me, grasping the railing of the deck, his head bent from my verbal blows. His profile looked serious and stoic, but somehow sad.

 There was a pause, a silence between us and I could hear the canned music that was playing.

 He said, “I didn’t know.”

 I shrugged. “You must have felt so alone, Ranger.”  I thought of all those lonely years wasted in some hellhole that Ranger still could not name. Iraq? Afghanistan? Peru? Panama. Paraguay…

I was crying silently. I don’t think he realized until he turned and grasped me by the elbows. He drew me against his medal encrusted chest, enveloped me in his still familiar warm hug. His body was as hot and hard and perfect as ever. He smelled wonderful.

 His beautiful low voice said, “You told me once you always cry at funerals.”

 I said, “Yeah.”

 “Steph? Babe?”

 I tilted my head a little.

What?

He said, “What if someday could be now? Could you forgive me, could you love me again? I don’t—“

His voice cracked a little, then he resumed calmly---  “I don’t want to spend the next 25 years missing you. Please, babe, I'll always love you.”

I sighed and said softly, “You’re here now. That’s all that matters, Ranger.”

He said, “Carlos.”

“Yeah. Carlos. Whatever.”

Geez.

He smiled and said, “If you want the same thing I do, we’re in the wrong place.”

We kissed. We left the funeral. We spent the rest of the night making up for all those lost years. Then we spent the rest of our lives doing that.

I forgave him the long sad lost years. 'Why?' you ask? Because.

 

Because……

 

Because Ranger is magic, always will be. The face, the eyes, the body---the hair, the mouth, what he does with that body and that mouth…..that smile. The hero thing………(sigh).

…………………………..

PART TWO

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

 

previously: I forgave him the long sad lost years. Why you ask? Because.

 Because……..

 Because Ranger is magic, always will be. The face, the eyes, the body---the hair, the mouth, what he does with that body and that mouth…..that smile. The hero thing………(sigh).

………………………………………………………

Part Two

click for you tube link       The Way We Were

 

 ''Babe? Babe, wake up, you're having a nightmare.''

I jerked awake in the elegant dark bedroom of Ranger’s apartment above Rangeman on Haywood Street.

 ''Steph, you're crying in your sleep.''

 Ranger's dark intense eyes bored into mine. Gee, he looks so young…oh.

''Are you okay, babe? Were you dreaming about Stiva and the kidnapping? I'm here, babe, you’re okay. I'm  here. I love you…..You're safe with me, I love you, shhhh…..''

He was murmuring soft garbled words and rubbing my back and arms.

Finally he leaned way from me and said,  "What?''

I said, ''Ranger, you remember what you said about someday and how it won't be anytime soon?''

''Yes.''

''Ranger, someday is right now, don't fuck this up, mister. I don't give a shit about the Burg or the guns and the rep and the black ops.''

He started to interrupt. I put my finger gently on his lush lips and he was silent.

''I know this—one moment of loving you is worth any sacrifice and any pain. But if I lose you, I will die. And so will you. We may go on breathing, but we'll be dead, dead, DEAD.''

I was screaming and sobbing as I finished my little tirade.

Ranger didn't hesitate. He got up and went to his gun safe, the locked drawer.

Oooops, maybe shrieking “dead dead dead” wasn't a good idea.

He opened the gun safe and took out---not his gun--- a small box which he brought to me as I sat on the bed. I was still crying, but just soundless tears pouring down my face.

He opened the box and showed me what was inside---a spectacular diamond and platinum ring set. He took out the solitaire engagement ring and slipped it on my finger.

He said, ''Okay.'

He smiled his megawatt smile and he kissed me.

……………………………………………………………………………….

 

           Memories…light the corners of my mind

Misty watercolor memories

Of the way we were

Faded pictures

Of the smiles we left behind

Smiles we gave to one another

For the way we were

 

           Oh can it be that it was all so different then

Or has time rewritten every line?

If we had a chance to do it all again

Tell me

Would we?

Could we?

 

Memories may be beautiful and yet

What's too painful to remember

We simply choose to forget

 

So it's the laughter

We will remember

Whenever we remember

The way we were……

The way we were….

 

                                  Bette Midler, The Way We Were]

……………………………………………………………

 

 

I woke up with a start. Wow, what a weird dream.

 

That song was still echoing in my mind. I looked around, almost expecting  to be back in the Haywood Street apartment. Or at Vinnie's wake. You know how dreams mix fact and fantasy, worries and realities?

No, I was in my bed in my big bedroom in my big house in Virginia. One thing about my life with Ranger, we'd gone a lot of strange places but the houses were always beautiful.

I looked around the elegant bedroom. We were living here now because Ranger had accepted a Cabinet appointment. He wanted to do it, his final gesture in a life of  quiet public service. He reminded me that it would only be eight years and that when he was done being the Secretary of Defense we could go home to Trenton and he'd relax and run Rangeman.

 Cabinet appointees are deeply scrutinized. It was amazing that Ranger was passed after all his years undercover and in black ops. The fact that he was a highly qualified and much decorated army officer outweighed some blank spots in his resume. Or maybe they accepted him because he looked so beautiful on TV during the confirmation hearings. The passing years had been kind to Ranger. He was still the gorgeous man he'd been when I met him in that crummy diner, all those years ago. That smile, those eyes……..

 The man himself tightened his arm around my waist and snuggled deeper into my shoulder. His voice was muffled by my hair and sleepiness. His days were long and maybe boring, I thought, though he never complained.

 Ranger said, ''Are you okay, babe?'' Old mercenary-speak for I love you, remember?

 ''I'm fine. I just had a weird dream is all, woke me up.''

 ''What was it,'' he mumbled, kissing my back between my shoulder blades.

 ''I dreamed that you wanted me to call you Carlos.''

''Huh.''

''And that you are the Secretary of the Treasury, not Defense.''

He turned me in his arms to face him. ''You can call me Carlos if you want to, lots of people do these days.''

''No. That part was sad. ''

''I can cheer you up, babe.''

Of course he could. And did.

……………………………………………………………….

 

much later.....

 

''Ranger.

''Yeah babe.''

''You're not gonna run for President, are you?"

''Why?  Don't you like DC?"

''Ranger!''

?

''You said eight years.''

?

''Then we'd go home.''

''You're home babe. Wherever you are is home.''

''Ranger.''

?

''Are you gonna run for president?''

''I'm not a politician.''

''Neither was Eisenhower, lots of presidents have come from the military.''

 "Yeah? Name four, beside Eisenhower."

I frowned. "Uh. Grant. Andrew Jackson. Teddy Rooosevelt....George Washington!"

''Babe.''

"All those term papers I proofread for the girls over the years," I shrugged modestly.

''Let's go back to sleep, okay?"

"Fine. But no one better ever call me FLOTUS, geez. Or expect me to have a Twitter page called FLOTUSTWITS."

..............

Part Three

 a/nThis is total silliness, far, far in the future. it was inspired by a comment made by JE's daughter Alex, something about how Ranger could someday rule the world...

enjoy!

Press Conference with the US President Elect

 

Reporter: Tell us, Mr. Secretary, will you be satisfied using the Secret Service for your security detail when you're in the White House?

 Secretary of Defense, General Carlos Manoso, President Elect: Treasury—as you are aware, Secret Service is a part of Treasury---they do good work.

 Reporter--But you will augment them with your own people, sir?

 Manoso--I don't discuss my personal life.

 R--You've said that before, sir, but you're in the public eye now.

 M--(No response.)

 R--Sir?

 M--No comment.

 R--Sir, is there a reason you won't answer the question?

 M--What part of no comment don't you understand? Next question?

 R--Sir, you've been quoted as saying you won't drive "shitty" cars even for Uncle Sam. Does this mean you'll still drive your personal German vehicles?

 M--For official functions we will use [new black shiny]Lincoln Navigators with the usual upgrades.

 R--What upgrades do you mean? Like bomb-proof?

 The President Elect grinned and hugged his wife. He said,

 M--Oh yeah.

 R--Anything else, sir?

 M--Custom rims, good sound system, blackout windows, lock box, bullet-proof glass---the works.

 R--Will you continue to drive your Porsches and BMWs and Mercedes?

 M--No comment.

 R--Sir…

M--NO comment.

 R--jeez....

 Reporter #2---Mr. Secretary? General Manoso, sir….do you have any concerns about the fact that your wife, the future First Lady----is well-known for ---uh---blowing things up?

 M--No worries. It's never her fault.

 Everyone in the room laughs. Steph huffs in annoyance, then smiles at Ranger. She does the famous Nancy Reagan cow-eyed stare, my hubby is a god, and whispers in his ear.

 S—[You're a dead man.]

 Reporter # 3--Mr. Secretary, you ran on a platform of worldwide peace and global economic prosperity, you have strong views on-antiterrorism and solid personal experience in that area. Isn't that correct?

 M--Like the man said, 'Wars come and go, but my soldiers stay eternal.'

 R--Sir, is that a quote from that old action film , XXX---Triple X?

 M--Actually, it's Tupac.

 R---Back to my point, though, Mr. Secretary. You have a strong, well-thought out agenda. How do you feel when the media says that you were elected because you are so…..uh…

 Steph leaned into the microphone and in a sexy, breathy voice supplied the word---

 S--Hot?

 Reporter--Hot? I mean charismatic. Uh---handsome….

 The entire room burst into applause and laughter.

 The president elect said,

 M--The shallowness of the American public will be used for the good of all mankind. You can quote me. Goodnight. Say g'nite, Steph.

 S--G'nite.

 They angled into Manoso's vintage black shiny limited production BMW 850Ci. And were gone.

………………………….

 Back in Trenton NJ:

  at Shorty’s Pizza…..

Acting Rangeman CEO Thomas Sherman AKA Tank raised his beer to the TV screen over the bar. 

He said, "Yo, boss."

The guys chorused, "Boss!"

...

 

At a row house in the burg…..

Moon Man Dunphy and Dougie Kruper, well-known purveyors of stolen goods, AKA fences, raised their beers to their huge new plasma monster screen TV that fell off the truck last week. They sucked big hits of reefer from the bong on the coffee table. They said, "Dude!"

...

 

 In LA, rock star legend Sally Sweet adjusted his red sequined bustier and said, "Fuckin A."

...

 

At Pino's Pizza Parlor in Trenton NJ, retired Det. Joe Morelli sipped his beer and sighed. He thought, That asshole Ranger. Man, he's got it all….What the fuck went wrong?  Somewhere around book 3…everything went to the shits.

In the rest of the nation, all the women between the ages of 8 and 80 and all the gay men sighed with pleasure and admired our new leader. Some walked into walls, some dropped what they were carrying or stumbled over nothing.

That smile….oh yeah, the face, the body, the hair, the eyes…the million dollar ass, the million dollar smile. Our new President.

……………………………………….

 Back in DC, at a secluded mansion in rural Virginia......

"Jeez , Ranger. I can't believe you got us into this.''

''Babe.''

 

the end~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ''