I Only Do the Spiderman Shit in Nice Weather

Chapter 1

STEPHANIE

I once read on a poster that it is always darkest just before it is pitch black. My name is Stephanie Plum, and the last six months of my life have been pretty damn dark. I graduated from Rutgers University with a degree in Business Administration and Management and spent six and a half years working as a Lingerie Buyer at the headquarters of EE Martin, a regional department store. And then one day the FBI showed up, detained all the workers for several hours, and ultimately let us go. The following morning, we all received emails that we were on indefinite, unpaid leave. By the weekend, the headlines were plastered on newspapers and internet feeds across the country - EE Martin had been taken down for corporate fraud, money laundering, and commodities fraud. And just like that I went from living a nice, comfortable life to being turned completely upside down.

I gave up my adorable two-story townhouse in Newark and moved into a one-bedroom efficiency apartment on the outskirts of Trenton, NJ. I'd been raised in Chambersburg, and my Mom, Dad, and Grandma still lived there in the same house where I grew up. I'd sold my car - my beautiful cherry red 2018 Chevy Camaro SS. I bought a 1991 Honda Civic with a manual transmission and a factory paint job that was the same color as a smoker's teeth. But, it had low miles and no mechanical problems, and it gave me a nice pad to my savings account.

I've spent the last six months pounding the pavement looking for a new job. Apparently, when you're connected with a business that goes down for corporate and commodities fraud, you're not super appealing to future employers. I applied for every job that opened up. The ones I was qualified for didn't want to take the risk or the potential of bad press. Nearly everything else I applied for, I was overqualified. Apparently, even if you have a college degree, if you've never had experience waitressing or working a cash register you can't really compete in that job market either. Fuck me. I'd blown through my entire savings account and was down to my last $1800 bucks. By the time I paid my rent, cell phone, and utilities, I was hoping I'd have enough leftover to be able to squeeze in a trip to the grocery store. And then I would be officially broke. I'd have one month to figure out how to come up with enough income or I'd be homeless. Or living in the bedroom I grew up in at my parent's house, which, when I think about it might just be a little worse than being homeless.

It was Friday night, and I'd promised my Mom I would come over for dinner. It wasn't my first choice, but I supposed it was better than sitting at home alone and pondering if anyone would actually notice if you weren't alive. Grandma was waiting on the front porch and waved excitedly when I pulled up. She was wearing a purple velour track suit with the word "juicy" written in hot pink stitching across the ass. She looked like a teenager who had been left out in the sun too long and as a result her skin had shriveled up like a raisin.

"I was hoping you weren't going to bail on us!" she said as I slammed the door on the Civic.

"Mom says come, I come," I said, giving Grandma a hug. I followed her into the house, greedily inhaling the smells coming from the kitchen. Mom was a great cook. I gave Dad a quick kiss on the cheek and dutifully reported to the kitchen to help. Mom smiled when she saw me.

"Hello, Stephanie. I'm glad you're here. Would you please take the pot roast to the table? Mother, you grab the potatoes and beans, please," Mom said as she ladled gravy into the ceramic gravy boat with tiny pink roses on the edges.

We did as we were told, and at 6:01, the four of us were seated around the table, digging in. I filled my plate with pot roast, mashed potatoes, green beans, fried apples, and a yeast roll. I was just about to ask for the butter when Mom dived in.

"How's the job search going, Stephanie?"

Damn, I was hoping I could at least make it to dessert before I had to admit I was out of money. "Not great. I'll probably going to have to make some more changes if I don't find something in the next couple weeks."

"Oh, you could move in here and save lots of money!" Mom said, the idea clearly occurring to her for the first time. This is exactly what I was afraid of. I love my family, I really do. But they're best loved in small, doses a couple times a week. 24/7/365 - and sharing one bathroom? I'd rather vacation in Hell, thank you very much.

"I'm sure I'll find something soon," I said, trying to figure out how one should say "no fucking way" in the most diplomatic and respectful way possible.

"Pumpkin," Dad spoke up. We all turned to look at him in shock. Mostly he spent meals with his head down, shoveling in the food and hoping we wouldn't make him talk. "I was talking to Vincent last week, and he mentioned hearing about an opening that might be good for you."

"Vincent as in Cousin Vinnie? Doesn't he run a bail bonds business?" I asked.

"He does, but he said he heard that the Trenton Police Department will have an opening very soon."

"Frank!" my Mother said, horror written on her face. "Stephanie can't be a police officer!"

"It's an opening for a clerk working the desk, Helen, not in the field," he said with more patience than he usually has.

"Wonder if they'll let you carry a gun," Grandma forked more mashed potatoes into her mouth. "You could always borrow Elsie if you needed some extra protection," she said, referring to her long barrel weapon.

"Mother! You were supposed to get rid of that gun months ago!" Mom reprimanded her.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. I don't have a gun anymore. I must have been thinking of something else," Grandma said, clearly lying.

"Rosalie Marino works the desk now," Dad continued, opting to remain in denial land and ignore Grandma altogether.

"She's having a baby, Frank!" Mom interrupted.

"I guess that's probably why they're looking for someone new," he said, helping himself to another piece of roast. "Vinnie said they're trying to fill it quick. I could have him make a call. He's an asshole, but a good bondsman, and he has a good reputation with the PD."

"Thanks, that would be great," I said, nodding my appreciation. After all, I was totally desperate. Beggars can't be choosers and all that shit.

We finished dinner, and Dad excused himself to make some calls. We cleaned the table and did the dishes, and Mom brought out dessert - a delicious looking chocolate layer cake with a ganache frosting. When she handed me an extra-large piece, I knew I'd been suckered, and she was about to take the conversation somewhere I didn't want to go.

"Have you been seeing anyone, Stephanie?" she asked innocently.

"Yes, Mother, I'm engaged to marry the man I've been seeing for the last 18 months, and I just forgot to mention him to you."

"You don't have to be smart about it," she snapped. "I was just thinking it would be so nice for you to meet a nice boy and settle down to have a family..." Blessedly, Dad came back into the dining room and took his seat.

"Vinnie made the call, and you've got an interview with Chief Vaughn tomorrow morning at 8:00am."

Mom huffed out a breath, as if she were going to argue, but then her face lit up, as something new occurred to her. "Maybe you'll meet someone at this job! Rosalie is married after all. Oh, Stephanie, maybe you'll meet a nice detective! They could provide a nice stable life. Be sure to wear your black suit to the interview. And pantyhose. Leave your hair down, it looks better, more feminine that way."

"Helen," Dad said. "She's going to a job interview, not a dating show."

"You'll knock 'em dead!" Grandma said.

I wolfed down my cake and tried to make a quick escape. Mom packed me a bag of leftovers and sent me home with half the cake, which was almost nice enough to make up for the constant nagging about finding a husband. Not that I was against dating or marriage. I'd had a husband before, and I didn't like it. Granted, he was a total ass, and I'd caught him balls deep inside someone who wasn't me less than 3 months after the wedding, but to be fair, that pretty much puts you on my permanent shit list. I'd met him in Rutgers, and we'd had a lot of fun together. He graduated a year before me and started law school. To my mom, Dickie was the perfect candidate for a husband: he was from the 'Burg, he was studying to be a lawyer - and eventually wanted to be a politician – plus he wanted to get married and have a family. For Mom, he was the perfect man. Dickie proposed at the nicest, busiest restaurant in Chambersburg, and I was so caught off guard and overwhelmed, I just dumbly nodded my head while he slipped a yellow-gold diamond solitaire on my finger. I hadn't even made it home before Mom was blowing up my phone - she'd gotten calls and texts from nearly everyone in the restaurant it seemed. From there, Mom jumped into action and had a wedding planned before I really even thought through what I wanted.

We married in June, a month after I graduated, and I filed for divorce before the end of the summer. I'd been 22 at the time, and I hadn't really figured out how to stand up for myself yet. The divorce had been a turning point for me in that regard. Mom had wanted me to work it out with Dickie. I'd looked her incredulously and said, "Fuck no!" That was the first time I'd actually started standing up for myself and taking control of my own life. It wasn't my normal MO, but I refused to let people push me into something I didn't want ever again. Grandma had cheered and jumped in to help me search for a new house. I'd just started my EE Martin job a few weeks before I filed for divorce, so I had plenty of income and it wasn't hard to get myself set up.

I set my alarm for 6:15 the following morning and went to bed early. I was so not a morning person, and during my six months of unemployment I'd been sleeping in, so I knew it would be rough getting to the station by 8 on a Saturday morning. After what seemed like no time at all, the alarm was blaring. I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. The coffee was ready by the time I got out (thank GOD for a programmable pot that I can set the night before). I took my mug into the bathroom to work on taming my hair. When the first cup was gone, my hair was dry and some of the cobwebs had started to clear. I purposefully corralled my curls and pulled my hair into a low, stylish ponytail. I carefully applied my makeup, adding an extra coat of mascara for confidence. I was a Jersey girl through and through. I picked the navy-blue suit from my closet and since it was summer, slipped into a pair of wedge sandals with wide straps. One more coat of hairspray, and I was out the door by 7:42 and drove to the station, hoping this would be the day my luck turned around.