480This is the second thing I ever wrote, right after the prologue to this story. It was in response to a 21st birthday challenge on pp and done as a stand-alone. But I've tweaked it, and it's definitely a part of the same story arc, so here it is. This is what the future looks like for R/S.
Epilogue—Ten Years Later
Ranger's pov
"Babe, don't you think you're going a little overboard here?" I asked, looking at the multitude of decorations and the mountain of gifts Steph had piled in the living room.
"You only turn twenty-one once in your life, Carlos. I want to make tomorrow an unforgettable day for Julie," she replied, adjusting some of the hanging ornaments… what the hell were those things, anyway? Silver squiggly balls that turned and reflected the light. It was an interesting effect. The room looked great.
"Okay, Babe. You just go ahead with your plans. I'm going to call the dealership and make sure the car is delivered this afternoon so it will be waiting for her when she arrives in the morning." Rachel and Ron were flying in tonight with Sarah and Sam, and Julie was driving down from Yale in the morning to celebrate her birthday with all of us.
I couldn't wait until Julie saw the Porsche I'd picked out for her. Not black, that was an absolute according to Steph, so it was a gorgeous deep blue, the color of Stephanie's eyes when I'm making love to her. A lot has changed in the ten years we've been together, but not that.
"Daddy, Daddy, look what I made for Julie!" shrieked Carlita, skipping into the room with a package wrapped in birthday paper, covered with ribbon. Curly-haired and beautiful like her mother, even at six she knew she could twist me around her little finger. Talk about a Daddy's girl…
"That's beautiful, chica. Um, what is it? What's underneath all that beautiful wrapping?"
"It's a jewelry box! I made it myself with shells from the beach," she responded, smiling Steph's smile and leaning against my leg. I scooped her up into my arms, marveling at the joy she'd brought to my life.
"Mommy, Mommy, Aunt Ella is here with the cake!" Ricky came racing in as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him, the excitement of the coming celebration written all over his cherubic face. He grabbed Steph's hand and tugged her toward the doorway. I couldn't help but smile at our son, his straight hair and dark eyes making him look like a clone of me, but with an appetite for cake inherited directly from Stephanie.
"Okay, sweetie, let's go check it out." With a quick grin at me she allowed herself to be dragged to the kitchen. I thought for the thousandth, maybe millionth time how lucky I was to be married to the love of my life and raising two perfect children.
I never thought birthdays were that big a deal until I met Steph. For the past ten years every single birthday I've had has been a special memory. And I've tried to do the same for her, mostly by showering her with exquisite jewelry, expensive cars, and exciting vacations. Nothing in my life means a thing without her, and I've tried to make sure she realizes that.
As I carried Carlita into the kitchen to see the cake, Steph's phone rang. After checking the caller ID she grinned and answered. "Jules! Where are you? What time will you be here tomorrow? Wait until you see what Ranger got you!"
oOo
After duly admiring Ella's beautiful birthday cake creation I headed to my office to call the Porsche dealer. Steph and I were both technically on vacation from RangeMan this week because of the birthday party, but we'd each had several phone calls to deal with. It's one of the disadvantages of running a successful business.
Steph had cut back her work schedule after Carlita was born, but she was still able to oversee all the bond enforcement for RangeMan while working on a part-time basis. And it was still the most profitable business area in the company. I'd cut back my work schedule, too, wanting to spend more time with my family, and I often worked out of my home office.
I picked up the phone to make sure everything was perfect for Julie when she arrived in the morning. After all, a twenty-first birthday was an event of a lifetime. I just hoped she didn't drink so much when she turned twenty-one at midnight that she was hung over, or worse, still drunk for the drive down from Connecticut.
After assuring myself that the Porsche for Julie would be delivered this afternoon, I put my feet up on my desk and thought back to my own twenty-first birthday, a whole lifetime ago it seemed. It had been a day to remember, all right, although not in a party-and-gifts kind of way.
It was my first day of Ranger training. I'd finished basic training eight months previously and spent the intervening time in Indianapolis at the Defense Finance Academy. Interesting and educational, but no action, and I'd been impatient to get to Ranger school. I knew that everything I'd done my whole life—all the getting in trouble, the gangs, the time spent at Yardville, the Garden State Youth Correctional Facility—had brought me to this point, and that this was where I was meant to be.
As I walked into the bunkroom with my gear, I looked around curiously at the other guys. They would be my team, my brothers, not only for training, but also possibly for my whole career.
I particularly focused on a very large black man. He was joking around, his huge booming laugh ringing out as he talked with some of the other guys. He appeared to be the leader of the group, and if I was going to make something of myself here I needed to let him and everyone else know who the alpha dog was. It was early, but never too early to establish dominance. I was quite an ass in those days.
I swaggered into the room, located the prime upper bunk instantly, and tossed the pack from it onto a bunk across the way. I slung my own pack up and turned to face the group.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, asshole?" snarled a good-looking Latino, about my height but just a bit thinner than me. "That's my bunk." Well, at least I was picking on someone of my own race and size. Wouldn't want them to think I was prejudiced, or a bully. Not characteristics of a good leader.
"Not any more, grunt." I gave him the blank-but-intimidating stare that had served me so well in the 'hood and in basic. Coupled with my size and obvious fitness, it should have made him retreat, but I guess anyone picked for Ranger training had more balls than the average GI.
"I'm going to need my bunk back, and I'll give you to the count of three to get your stuff the hell off it," he ground out in a tense voice. "Don't make me make you."
I laughed loudly, but without any real humor. "Make me if you can, grunt."
I loosened my stance and turned just a little sideways, ready to take him down if he tried anything. As he stepped toward me, the very large black man moved between us. "Okay, men, let's take this thing outside so we don't wreck the place."
All the years of being told what to do and how to do it boiled up inside me, and I turned and brought my fist up into his face, smashing his nose, blood spurting. "Okay, bring it on, big guy. I can take anything you and your buddies can dish out."
A couple of guys grabbed me by the arms, trying to hold me back, but my ferocity overwhelmed them. It finally took five of them to stop me, and both the Latino and the big guy were on the floor.
"Okay, I'm done. Let me go," I told them, pulling away, shaking my arms free. I held out my hand to the Latino and pulled him to his feet. "Carlos Manoso," I introduced myself. "Newark, New Jersey."
"Lester Santos," he replied with a grin. "Tallahassee, Florida."
We both turned to the big guy and each offered a hand to pull him up. "Carlos Manoso," I said again.
"Tank Sherman. Delacroix, Louisiana," he responded. As he reached his feet, I saw a huge, ham-sized fist just before it hit my face, and that's the last thing I remember for a while.
"Well, that's a hell of a birthday present," I muttered as I came back to consciousness. I was lying on the good bunk, the one I had ousted Santos from, and I could taste blood in my mouth and feel my eye swelling shut.
"Shit, is it your birthday, man?" Santos. Sitting on the bunk across the aisle. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-one today."
"Have you had a chance to celebrate? Did you go out at midnight for your twenty-one shots?"
"No. I was en route here. No chance yet."
"Guys, did you hear that?" Santos called out to the room at large. "It's Manoso's twenty-first birthday today and he hasn't even had a legal drink yet."
"Well, we'll just have to do something about that," boomed out Tank. And the entire bunkhouse took me out to a little local dive and bought me my twenty-one shots.
My face was so swollen and multi-colored from Tank's punch that I didn't have to worry about women hitting on me. We sat and talked and drank and got to know each other, my new brothers and me.
That was a birthday to remember. I woke up the next morning with a huge shiner, suffering from a skull-splitting headache and cotton-mouth, but feeling great in spite of it. I had a family now…
I shook off the memories. It was a long time ago. Now I had Steph, Julie, Carlita, Ricky. I'd rather think about today, Julie's birthday tomorrow, tonight in Steph's arms. Planning what I was going to do to her once the kids were finally in bed, I walked out of my office in search of my Babe.
oOo
The Next Day
"Omigod, omigod, omigod," squealed Julie, leaping out of her Acura MDX and racing toward the Porsche in the driveway. Guess she knew it was for her because of the big bow on top.
I'd decided to get her the brand new GT-5, the one that just came out last month. It was the hottest thing on wheels, maybe a bit powerful for a 21-year-old, but I knew Julie was mature enough to enjoy it without killing herself. She'd grown into an amazing young woman.
Of course Steph had given me a hard time about the bow. "Jeez," she commented the previous afternoon as we walked out the front door to inspect the just-delivered vehicle. "Are we in a Porsche commercial? Is that why there's a big-ass bow on the roof?"
"Babe," I said.
"No, really, Carlos, I didn't think those big bows were real. I thought they were just on TV." She poked me in the ribs, giggling. "Of course I know nothing's impossible for Batman."
I pulled her tight against my side, wrapping both arms around her. The feeling of her body touching mine had the same effect it always had, I guess always will. I felt a stirring in my cargoes.
"Babe," I said again, skimming a hand up her back, tracing the ridges of her spine, cupping the softness of her neck, and then sliding my fingers further up into her curls. Pulling her head back gently by the hair, I tipped my face down to hers and captured her mouth with mine, using my lips to part hers and slipping my tongue between them. Now the stirring down below had turned into a throbbing, and I pressed myself against the softness of her belly.
"Carlos," she murmured against my lips. Lucky for me the kids were in the kitchen with Ella and Lena, baking cookies for the party. Our examination of the Porsche had turned R-rated, fast approaching XXX if I had anything to say about it.
I scooped her up into my arms and carried her back up the front steps, through the door, and up the main staircase to our bedroom. The inspection of the new Porsche would have to wait an hour… or two… or three…
I pulled my mind back to the moment. The kids were racing down the driveway toward Julie, yelling her name and competing for hugs. Sam and Sarah followed more sedately, trying to maintain the image of cool and sophisticated teens, but obviously happy to see their big sister.
Steph and I stood together on the porch, giving Rachel and Ron their chance to greet Julie. She saw them briefly last month when she went to Florida for spring break, but spent most of that week in Daytona Beach with her friends. She was here for a weekend after that, and since she'd been going to Yale, we now saw her more often than Ron and Rachel did, except during the summer. I was really glad she'd decided to come north for college.
Finally it was our turn to greet her. She and Steph hugged and jumped up and down together, screaming over the Porsche, her birthday, who knows what, their dark heads close together. They looked more like sisters than stepmother and stepdaughter, similar in size and build, both dressed in jeans and snug little t-shirts.
After the hugfest, Julie turned to me and threw herself into my arms. "Thank you so much, Ranger. That is the best birthday present ever!"
I hugged her gently, trying to communicate to her how much I loved her, how glad I was that she was here. As horrendous as the Scrog kidnapping experience was for all of us, I was almost grateful to him for bringing Julie back into my life.
And I was even more grateful to Steph. Without her prodding and urging and advising I would never have been able to show Julie how I felt about her, would never have developed a real connection with her. We would have lapsed back into the distant biological parent/child once-a-year relationship we'd had before Scrog.
"I love you, querida," I whispered to Julie. "Happy birthday."
oOo
"Thank you for including us in Julie's birthday party." Helen Plum's Burg manners were out in full force. Although Steph would never be a real Burg wife, cooking meals for her family and washing her windows until they sparkled, Helen was very glad to have Steph married off with children. And Steph continued to accept her mom's occasional criticism and barrage of advice on housekeeping and child rearing with equanimity.
Frank, as always, grunted and nodded and headed for the family room with its huge plasma TV. My father was already in there watching the Phillies play the Mets. The two of them had developed a healthy rivalry over Philly versus New York sports teams, as well as an alliance based on their fondness for Carlita and Ricky.
A few years ago Grandma Mazur went on to that great beauty parlor in the sky. I know Steph missed her intensely; they had a unique connection because of their shared longing to fly. And surprisingly, I missed her, too. My relationship with Grandma Mazur changed drastically once Steph had a serious talk with her about appropriate behavior with your granddaughter's husband. The groping and inappropriate comments about my 'package' stopped and we became fast friends.
Valerie, Albert, and their five girls arrived sedately. Angie had mellowed out and loosened up in high school and now college. She was attending the College of New Jersey, studying to be a teacher, and I'm sure she'll make a good one. Mary Alice was a senior in high school and had finally gotten over the whole thinking-she-was-a-horse thing. She retained her love of horses, though, and is planning to be a veterinarian, beginning her study of animal sciences at Rutgers in the fall.
My reflections were interrupted by Shelley Morelli charging in and skidding to a stop in front of me. "Where's Ricky?" she demanded breathlessly.
"Out back," I answered, gesturing toward the kitchen and the back door.
"Thanks, Uncle Ranger." As she motored on, I greeted Joe and Becky, helping Joe add their gifts to the mound in the living room and gesturing Becky toward the kitchen with her large pan of lasagna. It didn't work out with Robin Russell, but Joe found his perfect Burg wife at last, and they both seemed happy.
Tank, Lula, and little Stephan Carlos, known as Stevie, arrived next. They were expecting another baby, a girl, in just a couple months, and Lula was big and beautiful.
My family was, as usual, numerous, noisy, hectic.
The day was perfect, like a dream thanks to Steph's planning and hard work and the talented assistance of Ella and Lena. Ella and Luis still managed the Trenton building, and Ella kept the seventh-floor apartment perfect for the rare night Steph and I spent there nowadays. Lena and her husband Jorje had moved up from the Miami house to live with us when Carlita was born, and I don't think we could get along without them now.
oOo
Finally at ten p.m. Steph and I were alone. Julie had headed back to Yale at about eight, with Sarah riding shotgun in the new Porsche, and followed by Rachel, Ron, and Sam in her Acura. They were spending a few days in New Haven with Julie, since she was staying at school for the summer this year, taking some advanced business courses and interning for an international law firm. She was majoring in international business and preparing to apply to law schools in the fall. Her studies kept her so busy she didn't have time for guys, or at least that's what she kept telling me. Smart girl.
Everyone else cleared out shortly after Julie left, and we got to the task of bathing the kids and getting them ready for bed. After stories and cuddling, we kissed Carlita and Ricky goodnight and headed for our suite down the hall.
As I walked into the bedroom with my arm around Steph, I was thinking about the day, how well everything had gone, how lucky we were. Always aware of my surroundings, I immediately spotted the plate of cake sitting on our bed.
"Babe," I said, "more cake? Didn't you have enough at the party?"
"Oh, this piece is for you, Soldier," she replied, eyes twinkling.
"You know I never eat cake," I told her, adding our running joke about junk food. "That stuff will kill you."
"Lula told me all the world is birthday cake, so take a piece, but not too much or your ass will get fat." Her grin was wicked. "Besides, I know how to get you to eat cake."
She pulled off her top, dipped her finger into the frosting and stroked it diagonally across her throat, trailing her finger down her chest into the cleavage created by her wonder bra.
I hustled over to lock the bedroom door and returned to Steph in three long strides. Grabbing her and pulling her close, I kissed her with passion, growled, and began licking the trail of frosting down her body. When I reached the barrier of her bra, I finished undressing her and reached for the plate.
She was right. She did know how to get me to eat cake.
Finis