Snow Day 4 End

Chapter 10

Anthony 

I am losing track of time---the tedium, the cooped-up feeling, that weird scene with Morelli. I think subconsciously it bothered me---not the guy on guy thing but that Ranger would let it go so far when he didn’t give a shit. Yeah you can scoff and say we should all be so burdened but it isn’t easy being Ranger---the outside of him superficially is not the same as the inside, if you know what I mean. And I’m pretty sure he, um, likes how he looks---or at least he’s used to it.

But just because some asshole wants a piece of that, that…I don’t know---perfectness? ---it’s not like Ranger to give in.

So, like, what was the  point?

Anyways.

Morelli seems happily deep in denial land and he has made no reference to the interlude. As far as I can tell, for him it never happened. So I’ve focused on business and sat out the snow days making money. Yeah, more money.

Finally, on about day four, Ranger’s cell buzzes across the coffee table. He picks it up and does his charming phone grunts for a minute or two. After he disconnects he stands for a moment gazing at the renewed snowstorm. I can practically see the little planning wheels spinning in his brain. He says, “That was the sheriff down in town. Seems our man has spent his snow day in the local sports bar watching the NFL playoffs and hitting the Uncle Jack.”

He means Jack Daniels whiskey but Morelli looks puzzled.

Ranger goes on, “Now he’s bragging about how he’s a local boy made

good---.” Ranger’s eyes flick to Morelli--- “Got too loud about his exploits back in Jersey. Off-duty deputy was there and got interested, checked in with his boss.”

We nod.

Morelli says, “It’s snowing again. How will we get out of here?”

He has asked this same question every day since we got here, but Ranger patiently answers again, “Sheriffs  Department S & R---search and rescue---heli will be here in twenty. Let’s move out.”

................. 

Morelli POV

The helicopter dropped us off in a snowy field behind I was guessing the local high school. There was a new black Yukon Denali XL parked at the edge of the adjacent cleared lot, keys in the cup holder as usual. Despite the snow and ice and slush, the SUV was pristine and shiny, gleaming under the streetlights. How does Ranger do it? The snow had lessened but the grey winter day was already ending and in the dusk I studied Ranger’s face as he silently slipped behind the wheel and pulled up the location of the sports bar on the GPS system.

I said, “How are we gonna play this?” I knew from years of observing Ranger in action that barging into a crowded bar and making a scene that could escalate quickly into a brawl was not his usual method. It was the reason he so often used Stephanie to lure the skips out of wherever and into custody, no fuss, no muss. I didn’t like Steph’s involvement or the way she dressed so slutty to do the job, but I had to admit it worked and worked well.

No Stephanie here today though.

Ranger looked over at me, his hand still on the gearshift with the car idling in Park. Ranger said, “You can’t do it, you reek of cop.”

“Excuse me?”

Shrug. ‘’Thompson will make you for a cop and rabbit.”

I said, “You can’t go in, you reek of bad boy.”

 
“Bad boy?”

I said, “You go in a redneck bar full of drunk football fans, looking like you look---" Ranger pulled down the visor and looked at his black-sunglassed face. After a moment he pulled off the sunglasses, apparently finally realizing it was pitch dark by now. “---And the biggest brawl in Idaho history will probably break out.”

Behind us Anthony said, “Are they rednecks in Idaho? Or only in like Georgia?”

Ranger’s eyes met mine and then we both turned to look at Anthony who was sprawled sideways across the backseat. Anthony was rereading the file on Thompson and was mostly ignoring us. He was dressed in an old blaze orange hunting jacket that he’d found to replace his bullet-torn ski parka. The grubby orange coat hung open now to reveal a flak vest that was, incongruously to me, stenciled in large yellow letters saying FBI. Stewart hadn’t shaved since we got to Idaho and now had a grungy stubble a few shades darker than his hair. And he had removed his earrings.

Finally aware of our stares he looked up from the file and said, “What? I’m just sayin’.”

Ranger said, “Joe wants to know how we’re gonna decoy this guy out of the bar.”

“We can’t just shoot him?”

“No.”

“The federal warrant is dead or alive, isn’t it? Wild West shit? We be gunslinger dudes. Awesome.”

“We take him alive, Antonio.”

“But he shot me! With a rifle!” protested Stewart.

Ranger looked for a second like he wanted to ask why using a rifle was an issue, but then he settled for his best silent menacing glare.

Anthony said, “Send Morelli in.”

“Cop aura.”

“Eeeewww! Oh okay. I’ll do the decoy shit.”

“Is Thompson gay,?” I blurted out.

Stewart answered, “Not to our knowledge but he’s a user, says here he looooves his crystal meth and like you know, I got some in my truck if he wants to try it,” flawlessly falling into his stoner persona, only more so: “ ’Cos we’re like buds, both from Jersey, man.” He rummaged in the jacket’s big game pockets and came up with a dirty old  t-shirt that he pulled on over his flak vest, then he shrugged back into the hunting jacket. I looked at the shirt--- Guns ’n Roses---and Anthony smiled at me.

Obviously he and Ranger had had a plan before we set out. Ranger put the Yukon in gear and said, “Let’s do it.”

….    ….   ….

An hour later we had Thompson and two of his buddies shacked securely in the third row seats of the big SUV.

Ranger said to Stewart, “What took you so long?”

Anthony huffed. “I had to have some brews. I had to establish my bona fides and like, bond, man. And you know, the Giants were playing.”

“Did they win?” asked Ranger.

“Yeah.”

Ranger said, “We’ll leave this guy in the local lockup til morning, Morelli.” To Anthony he added, “The other two men will be charged with drunk and disorderly and also conspiring in the attempted murder of federal agent.”

Anthony said, “They weren’t shooting at me…” while I was thinking What?

Ranger said icily, “They shot you.”

“But---''

“Even if it doesn’t stick it’ll hold them for a few days so we can snowboard in peace. I don’t want some asshole shooting either of us when we’re halfway down some mountain, exposed and vulnerable.”

Anthony said, “Oh okay but I am not gonna testify at some trial.”

“No problem.”

….    ….    ….

By the following morning the roads had actually been cleared somewhat, somehow. We went into the barn where Manoso had stashed his Cayenne. It was parked next to two other vehicles, presumably belonging to the unknown Olivia. These were Anthony’s mom’s cars.

I thought, These don’t look like mom cars to me. Her clothes hadn’t looked like mom clothes either---designer jeans, tiny expensive baby tees, well-worn but handcrafted cowboy boots, stacks of colorful cashmere sweaters. Everything a tiny size, everything very expensive and perfect. I wondered what she was like, besides rich---was she beautiful? Intelligent? Hot?

And now, her cars…..There was a vintage Jeep Commanche pickup, beautifully restored, painted a true turquoise, big off-road tires, lots of old chrome. And a cream-colored, apparently brand new Jaguar XJ 12 convertible that had a light tan suede custom interior. The car retails for well into six figures without the custom features. It has a V-12 engine with 400-plus horsepower, very fast and sleek. How could a person just buy such a car and leave it like this?

Ranger glanced at the Jag and said, “Very girly.”

Anthony said, “Olivia likes girly.”

Ranger looked at the Jag again, saying, “Maybe Steph would like something like this....”

“For hauling skips, dude? Get real.”

?

“And it’s too powerful for her,” added Stewart.

“She drives the Turbo okay, she could handle it.”

Anthony smiled at Ranger. “So, okay---put it on her Christmas list. Buy it for her in red for Valentine’s Day—go for it, bro.”

“Red?”

“Pink?”

“Are you on drugs? I’ll get it for her in black, man.”

At this point Ranger glanced at me, catching my stare. He shrugged a tiny bit, one shoulder, and actually said, “Sorry, man.”

But it wasn’t that I was offended that they were so casually discussing buying a $150,000 car for my ex-girlfriend. After all I saw her constantly wearing the diamond rings and bracelets that Ranger gave her. It was that I couldn’t imagine wasting that much money on a woman, she’d be thrilled with a bottle of perfume for Christmas. Hey, a six-pack and a pizza, even. Ranger looked at me harder and then he added, “I like cars….”

I got in the Cayenne saying, “Yeah I can see that.”

I picked up the skip at the local jail. Ranger handed me all the paperwork and Anthony choppered me and the felon back to Boise, where we caught a charter flight, courtesy of Rangeman, back to Jersey.

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

Chapter 11

Ranger 

We got the deputy from the bar arrest to fly the small BellJet heli
for snowboarding. It’s better and safer with three guys because you
can buddy up, it’s not like these empty mountain tops have ski trails
or rescue patrols.

Picture Vin Diesel in that movie, I don’t know, XXX?

When you heli ski or heli board, you just drop out of the vehicle and start
your run, there’s no hot chocolate stand, no ski hut to stand around in,
shooting the shit and talking. Which suited me just fine because I was
totally aware of Anthony’s speculative stare after the Morelli thing.

A good long run can take an hour or more and now at the end of the day
we finished our final run and were standing below the tree line in an open
 field waiting for Brian the deputy to find us and pick us up.

It was cold and the wind was picking up. We were both moving around,
trying to stay warm.

“Ranger.”

“Hmmm…?”

Antonio gave me his hardass look.

I said, “I want to go back to Jersey tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure.” Then, “What was the deal with Joe, the other night?

I shrugged. “I figured he needs to expand his horizons,” I yelled over
the noise of the helicopter as it circled and landed.

Anthony said in my head, Bullshit.

….    …..    ….

Morelli 

“So, Joe. How was Idaho?”

We had met up for pizza and a beer at Pino’s. When I asked Stephanie
to join me for a bite she had said, “Sure. Ranger’s still out of town with
Anthony, doing God knows what. What the hell is heli skiing anyway?
Do I want to know…..?”

Now I rolled my eyes and said, “It was fucking cold, Steph.”

“I can imagine.”

“We stayed at this house that belonged to someone Ranger knows….”
I hesitated, weighing the choices between discretion and cool gossip,
not  sure how much info Steph had on Manoso and Stewart. I wasn’t
going to be the one to tell tales.

Steph prodded, “Oh yeah? Like a ski cabin?”

My inner Burg boy won out and I went on. “Well, they called it a cabin, or
a chalet, but, Steph, the walk-in closet was as big as my living room. Bigger.
There were maybe seven or eight bedrooms and an indoor pool and a
brand new Jag in the barn.” I shook my head in wonderment. “Serious
money, you can’t imagine. Awesome place.”

“Wow.”

We ate in silence for a couple of minutes, then I heard myself blurt out,
“We played hockey.”

Steph  laughed. “No way!”

“Yeah….And Stewart got shot the first day, he stepped right between a
bullet and Ranger. And Manoso sewed him up. It was scary. They were all,
like I’ll kill for you/ I’ll die for you kind of thing, like some crazy gangbanger
creed.” The memory of Ranger, all in black, walking into Stephanie’s
apartment, calmly going in alone to face  Scrog ---for some reason,
my words brought that night back in scary realtime.

There was a silence as Stephanie’s eyes went from laughter to shock.
Her face got pale and I cursed myself. I said quickly, “Cupcake, he
was fine! Ranger is actually a good medic, he seemed very
competent.”

Silence.

Steph said, “Someone shot at Ranger and instead Anthony got hit? Is that
what you’re saying?”

I sighed. Me and my big mouth. “Yeah. Stewart saw the drive-by coming
and shoved Ranger out of the way. The bullet caught him in the side.”

Stephanie stared at me. “Okay. So what else happened?''

She looked like she might just kill Ranger herself.

“Well…it was weird hanging out with those guys. They make conference
calls to Switzerland. And they speak a bunch of foreign languages---not
just street Spanish, either--- and do business shit. It was all very boring,
in a way. They work all the time, and they work hard.”

“I know, Joe.”

I hesitated, then told her, “And uh---shit, Steph---I could see how Manoso
treated Stewart. Even me. What a shock. He works hard, he is totally
about the job and he is cold and tough as nails. But then he interacts with
his friend, and he is very different.”

Stephanie said, “Antonio means a lot to Ranger.”

 “And you know what else, Cupcake. One night I took a good look at
Ranger—he was finally asleep---he finally shut up, turned off the bad boy
vibes. Geez, Stephanie, I sat there like a fool thinking how hot he is.”

Why was I telling her this? Do I really need to tell Steph that Ranger
is beautiful, that we---he---no. I must have a death wish….

She smiled. “Did he wake up and shoot you? Ranger doesn’t much like
people noticing his appearance.”

“No. But I guess he is used to it.”

“Guess he is,” she shrugged.

It was difficult but I got out the words. I asked her, “Is that why you love
him? He is more attractive than me?”

Steph swallowed her pizza and said, “Noooo…I think it’s a chemistry
thing. Pheromones or something. Or---soulmates.”

My heart cracked yet again. Soulmates! How hopeless is that?

She went on, “And you know, the nice guy under the bad guy façade. The
warmth, the love.”

“And all that money,” I suggested snidely.

She said, “No. It’s not about the money, it’s the guy---Ranger is the right man
for me, Joe. He never lies, he never yells, he’s never too busy, never lets
me down. If I need him, he is there, no questions asked, no recriminations.
No bullshit. Ranger is loyal and honest and dependable, he’s intelligent,
he’s even tempered. He doesn’t get loud. He doesn’t get crazy. Our
relationship is about me and him, not me, him and his ego.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I ground out, “Freakin’ Boy Scout….And how
is it possible that he never gets mad, never yells?”

He is after all living with you, the famous disaster magnet.

Steph shrugged and sipped her beer. She said, “Have you ever seen him yell?”

I said, “He sort of yelled at Stewart when Stewart got shot. He didn’t raise his
voice and he wasn’t speaking English, but, yeah he sounded mad.”

“Poor Antonio. Then what happened?”

“Anthony laughed at him.”

“Oh boy.”

“Then Ranger laughed too,”  I said. “And  Stewart called him Carlito.”

She giggled. “Oh that is so cute! Carlito…!”

“Yeah, babe?” It was, of course, Ranger, arriving soundlessly by our
tableside.

“Aaaaaiii! You’re in Idaho,” squealed Stephanie.

“We’re home, babe” Stephanie looked beyond him at Stewart who smiled
wide at her.

She said, “Did you really get shot?”

Stewart said, “Uh huh but Ranger like you know—healed me.”

Ranger said, “Scoot over.” He sat next to Steph, Anthony by me. They
both nodded at me and said, “Morelli.” Steph’s eyes skittered from one
blank face to another, uncomfortable with all the testosterone in the
cramped booth.

Anthony smiled some more and said, “It’s okay, babe, we’re buds now. We
played hockey.”

“Yeah I’m sorry I missed that.”

“Me too.”

“Male bonding and all….” teased Steph.

Ranger and Anthony exchanged a complicated stare and Anthony said,
“Yeah. Male bonding.”

A less than relaxed silence grew. Stephanie abhors a vacuum and she
spoke up brightly, “Want another beer, Joe?”

“No. I gotta go. Be safe, Cupcake.”

“You too, Joe.”

I started to leave, but I hesitated and turned back. I asked,
“Are you two really together now? You’re gonna get married?”

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

Steph 

The silence was weird. Was hockey some sort of guy code word? Had
they spent the Idaho days in some strip club or something?  Morelli broke
up the moment by saying he had to go. And then The Question. Geez,
Morelli, just spit it out, why don’t you?

“Are you two really together now? You’re gonna get married?”

I thought about the beautiful rings that I usually kept carefully stored in Ranger’s
gun safe and didn’t answer. Ranger’s warm callused hand found my icy hand
and held it under the table, on his hard thigh. Both Ranger and Anthony
shuffled their feet, their boots kicking my feet gently. Distracting me. Why?

A little breathless, I said, “Yes, Joe. Ranger and I are together now.”

Ranger’s face showed nothing. But Joe knew Ranger loved me . And Joe
 probably guessed Anthony loved me too. He nodded to the two men and
said to me, “Be happy.”

“You too, Joe.”

The men watched Joe leave the pizza place. Then Ranger said, “Can I kiss
you now?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Me too?”

I laughed and I heard the note of joy in my laughter. I said, “Yes. You too,
Anthony. Welcome home, guys.” And I kissed them both.

….    …..    …..    …..

Chapter 12- Epilogue

A week or so later….Another day, another pizza~

Morelli

“He loves you.”

“Yes. I love him too.”

“You never said that to me….”

“Joe, we can’t keep belaboring this. Yes, I cared for you and we’ll always be
friends, I hope. But I’ve never loved anyone except Ranger, it’s all big and scary
and spectacular and this feeling I get, like my heart is gonna explode---I love him
so much.”

“Be safe, Cupcake. Be happy.”

I shoved out of the booth, took  a final look at this woman I had loved for so long
and I turned and left the pizza parlor.

Steph said softly to my retreating back, “Have a nice life, Joe.”

….    ….    ….

A couple days later I got a check from Rangeman LLC, signed by Carlos Manoso. In the envelope was a handwritten post-it in Ranger’s neat scrawl.

It said, Your share of the bounty.

The bond on the skip had been $500,000 and the reward for the outstanding
federal warrant  another half mil. Rangeman got 10% of the bond and all the f
ederal fee, making the Rangeman payment $550,000.

Whoever picked up a skip for Rangeman, Ranger, Anthony, Tank, whoever, got 10% of the Rangeman fee in addition to their regular salary. Ranger didn’t pay
my salary but he had cut me in for a share. The Rangeman check to me was for $55,000, nearly as much as my Trenton PD annual salary.

Hmmmm. Maybe I should broaden my horizons…..

the end

a/n: I hope you enjoyed Snow Day. a short commentary on the story,
 my thoughts about Why? is here