CHAPTER 86

Joe's POV

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Stephanie Plum drives me nuts! She's been ruining my life – or trying to ruin it, anyway – since we were kids. Sure, I had a little fun with her when she was five or six, but after that, I'd always catch her following after me or watching me with those big blue eyes of hers. A man could get lost in those eyes, you know. In fact, those eyes could drive a man to do stupid things – like when I nailed Stephanie on the pastry shop floor. She'd actually been a virgin, but like I said, she drives me nuts!

Damn! I can still remember the way Stephanie gave herself to me that night at the Tasty Pastry. I'm just lucky she didn't get pregnant right then and there, because I was totally unprepared for the encounter. There I was, minding my own business and buying a few snacks for my trip to the Navy base where I'd be shipping out on my first sea tour. And there she was, working behind the counter at the bakery shop, looking like a "tasty pastry" herself. She smelled so good – like butter cream frosting – I just had to have her. And I knew she wanted me, too, by the way she licked her lips and gazed intently at me while I made my selections. It was very sexy!

I always meant to call and see how my little Cupcake was doing, but I was out to sea and I never got around to it. Hey! I never claimed to be a Boy Scout! My stint in the Navy flew by quickly and when I came home to New Jersey, my mind was on other things. By then, I'd figured out that I wanted to become a policeman and I was trying to get my life on track with those plans. The next time I saw Stephanie, though, she ran over me with her father's car and broke my friggin' leg!

Actually, I'm a sick man. I continually lust after women that are no good for me; women I can't have, women I shouldn't even fool around with – and Stephanie Plum is a prime example. I never should have allowed my mother and her mother to try to play matchmakers between us. What a disaster! I knew I'd have to face my mother and Mrs. Plum eventually, but they'd have to wait until tomorrow. I was certainly not in the mood to tell them Stephanie had chosen an aging Latino fry cook over me to be her lover.

Teresa Grizolli, or rather, Terry Gilman as she calls herself these days, is another prime example of a woman I can't have. Sure, I've always had a "thing" for Stephanie Plum, but my first true lover was Terry Grizolli. She caught my eye back when we were in high school and we dated off and on until I graduated and joined the Navy. We finally broke up for good because we both knew I'd never been completely faithful to her and I certainly wasn't going to keep my hands to myself whenever I got shore leave.

By the time I got out of the Navy, Terry was married to some idiot jerk she'd chosen specifically to annoy her parents, but that didn't really stop us from seeing each other if we felt the need. Terry had been a pretty brunette throughout most of our high school years before she dyed her hair platinum blonde. After her divorce, she kept the non-Italian name, just like she kept the blonde hair color. Turns out, those were smart moves on her part – she could float in and out of various situations and nobody who didn't already know Terry would suspect her of being connected to her family of origin.

Anyway, as soon as I drove away from Crazy Stephanie's place, I went back to my place, showered and changed into dry clothes. Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected that woman to turn a water hose on me. Damn! Just the idea of playing in the water with her made me want her all the more! Obviously, wild-gorilla sex was the only thing that would get my mind off of Stephanie Plum and I always could count on Terry Gilman to come through for me. So I called my old girlfriend and she told me when and where I could meet her.

It's really a shame that I've turned out to be such a good cop, especially since Terry works for her Uncle Vito, who's a local crime boss. Being on opposite sides of the law, we have to keep our relationship on the down-low. Actually, I do have a few mob connections of my own, but they're from my mother's side of the family and I have to be very careful. Even if I get married someday, or if Terry remarries, we'll always have our little flings on the side. That's just the way things are between us, but hey, I'm not complaining.

Since I had to wait another hour and a half before I could meet Terry, I decided to drive back over to Stephanie's hoity-toity neighborhood and do a little more surveillance on her and her Ricardo Montalban-wannabee sugar-daddy. Luckily, I had barely put on the parking brake of my truck when I saw the old goat coming down the front steps and walking toward his car. On a whim, I decided to follow this Mr. Mañoso for a while to see where he was headed and gather more information on him. Once I saw that he used a key to enter the back door of a popular restaurant in Newark, I figured he really was who he said he was. I'd just have to deal with him later. Then I drove off to get with Terry.

After we satisfied our mutual needs – with considerable gusto, I might add – I held Terry in my arms and stroked her short blond hair. Smiling down at her, I said, "I remember the first time you dyed your hair this color."

Her mouth twisted into a smirk and she replied, "I suppose you're referring to the time I caught you boinking Heather Mackie in a utility closet during the Homecoming Dance?"

"Uh, yeah," I admitted. No point in lying now. That sort of thing happened a lot back then. "She was a blonde, right?"

"Right," Terry said. "I've been a blonde ever since then, too. And you know what I've discovered?"

"No, what?" I asked, gazing down at her impish grin.

"Blondes really do have more fun!" Terry said.

Then she proceeded to show me again just how much fun she could share with me. Sometimes I really wish I could marry Terry. I mean, we truly understand each other in ways that nobody else could even come close. Sadly, she'll always work for her family and I'll always be a cop with ties to a rival family. Oh, well, I thought for the thousandth time, I'd just have to take what I could get whenever I could get it. Feeling rather frisky after striking out with Stephanie Plum, I decided to go in for a third helping of Terry when she stopped me cold.

"I gotta go," Terry announced and she vaulted out of the bed. We had met up at an out-of-the way motel, as usual, and I'd had hopes of spending the entire night there with her.

I sat up, perplexed, and asked, "What? Why so soon? We just got started here! I had big plans for us tonight." I knew I sounded almost whiny, but I didn't care. I'd had a miserable evening and still needed to let off some steam.

Terry was unaffected by my tone of voice. She calmly finished fastening her bra and pulled on her stockings. Unfortunately for her, she didn't have any panties because I'd ripped them off of her as soon as we got in our room. After she slid her dress over her head and adjusted everything, she shook her head at me and said, "Sorry, Joe. My Uncle Vito's wife's favorite niece is getting married this weekend and her bridal shower is tonight. You know how it is with my family – I can't skip this one."

"Awww, Terry, this really sucks!" I complained. I raised my hands in a gesture of complete frustration and asked, "Why me?"

She smiled wryly at me and said, "Well, Tiger, I would've told you about my plans for the night earlier, but you never gave me a chance. It's been a while since we've had that kind of sex. I guess you've really been missing me, haven't you?"

"You have no idea how much!" I said. "Why don't you come back after the bridal shower and I'll show you? I'll just stay right here in bed and finish watching the game on TV till you return."

"No can do," Terry said, as she glanced around the room. "I gotta make a delivery for my uncle afterwards – in Philly. I'll call you later this week, though." Then she gathered her purse and coat, kissed me on the tip of my nose and slipped out of the motel room.

Damn! First, Stephanie gave me the shove-off and now Terry just gave me the kiss-off. Women! They all drove me crazy! And I was beyond ready for action again. I flopped back onto the bed and punched the pillows a few hundred times to release some of my frustration. When that didn't work, I reached down and did the only other thing I could do to get rid of the sexual tension in my body.

After I got up and took a shower, I glanced at the bedside clock and realized it was still early enough to head out to one of the local bars and knock back a few drinks. There was a little hole-in-the-wall tavern within walking distance of my house, so I decided to go there – just in case I got too drunk to drive home. And after the day I'd just had, I planned to drink until the bartender cut me off.

Freddy's Bar and Grill was, like most places of its kind, very dimly lit and had very few actual food items on the menu. When I arrived, a few of the 'regulars' sitting on the barstools nodded at me and then turned back to watch the game on the overhead TV screen. I assumed my usual place at one of the back tables and ordered my first bottle of whiskey. My encounter with Stephanie Plum and her sugar-daddy on her porch was still bothering me and I needed to take the edge off quickly. At this point, hard liquor was the only way to go.

About a half-hour later, a woman entered the tavern, quickly glanced around the room and then sat on one of the recently-vacated barstools. Everyone in the place stared at her, mainly because women usually didn't come in to this particular establishment, but also because she seemed to be upset about something. Without paying attention to anyone else, she ordered one of those frou-frou pansy drinks and Freddy, the owner and primary bartender, fought to keep from laughing in her face.

"Listen, sweetie pie," the tough old bartender said to her, "if you want one of those kinds of drinks – the ones with the little umbrellas in them – you'd better head over to the Rumble Room Bar on Broad Street. I mostly just serve the basics here: wine, beer and liquor. I guess I could make you something with orange juice or tomato juice, but that's about as fancy as I get."

"Fine," said the woman, shrugging out of her light-weight denim jacket. "Make me a screwdriver, then – heavy on the vodka, light on the OJ." And with that, she hung her jacket over the back of her chair, placed her elbows on the countertop of the bar and rested her forehead in the palms of her hands. As soon as Freddy placed her drink in front of her, she downed it in a few large gulps and asked for another one.

The woman was pretty, in a girl-next-door kind of way, with shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair cut into one of those sexy, shaggy styles. She was sitting at the corner of the bar closest to me, so I couldn't really see her whole face, but she definitely had a real nice figure, especially her backside. I frowned when I saw that all the other men in the place were checking out her ass, too. The funny thing was that the woman also looked vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place her.

After I sized up the competition and determined none of the other men in the bar could hold a candle to me, I decided to make my move. I picked up my bottle of whiskey, which was almost empty already and sauntered over to the bar. Since I couldn't have Terry for the rest of the night, this blonde would probably do just fine. Besides, most women just sort of fall into my lap once I turn on the old Morelli charm, so victory was assured. What can I say? It's a gift!

"Hey," I said to the woman as I slid onto the barstool next to hers and plunked down my glass of ice and the whiskey bottle. "I know this is gonna sound like a cliché, but what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

The blonde glared at me for a second and then her expression changed to happy surprise as she exclaimed, "Joseph? Joseph Morelli, is that you?"

Unfortunately, I still couldn't place her, so I casually asked, "Do we know each other?"

"Omigod!" she exclaimed. "Of course we know each other; we were in the same graduating class. It's me, Valerie."

My eyes widened in surprise and I said, "Valerie ... Plum?"

"Yep," she nodded, "Valerie Plum... well, that's my maiden name, but as you probably know, my husband just abandoned me and the kids, so I might be getting a divorce soon and Plum'll be my name again." Then she giggled and took another long swallow of her screwdriver. Valerie looked like the kind of girl who usually drank wine coolers or an occasional light beer. The hard liquor was affecting her quickly.

"I'd heard that you moved out to California after you got married, but your mother told me all about your problems and why you came back home," I said, still not quite understanding why I hadn't recognized her, when it finally hit me and I asked, "Say, didn't you used to have brown hair?"

"Oh, yeah, I did. But Steve, my soon-to-be-ex-husband, had a crush on Meg Ryan, so I dyed and styled my hair to look like hers and I've been blonde ever since. You know what they say: Blondes have more fun!" She giggled again and placed her hand on my forearm. Oh yeah, I knew I'd be getting lucky again tonight.

Valerie Plum had been one of the "good" girls back in our school days. She always did her homework and only dated "nice" boys, like Teddy Rinaldi and Harold Markowitz. Unlike her sister, Stephanie, Valerie was one of only a half-dozen or so girls in our senior class I never boinked – primarily because "Saint Valerie" wouldn't give me the time of day back then. I later found out that the other girls I'd missed turned out to be attracted to their own kind, anyway. The fact that the elder Plum sister was here now and getting drunk off her ass meant I would have a prime opportunity to complete my high school 'list,' although I'd never expected it to come my way in such an easy manner.

I even have it on good authority that this dame was a total virgin on her wedding night. According to my sister-in-law, who was best friends with one of Valerie's bridesmaids, the virginal bride was a nervous wreck by the time the wedding reception was over and it was time to consummate her marriage. I'd be willing to bet that her soon-to-be-ex-husband had never really put her at ease before they did the deed, either. Poor thing! I even began to feel sorry for her as I listened to her current tale of woe.

"...and after Steve ran off to the Cayman Islands with our babysitter, I discovered he'd taken all of our money with him – the louse!" Valerie's words had begun to slur together. "So I dragged my two little girls back home to Trenton and my mother tried to get me a job at the button factory…" She let out a loud hiccup, "Excuse me," she said daintily covering her mouth, "but they weren't hiring. So, Mom got me a job at the personal products plant instead. I'm supposed to start there on Monday. God, I hate my life!"

"Oh, it's not so bad, Val," I soothed. "I'm sure you'll be back on your feet and out on your own again in no time. I mean, look at your sister."

She stared at me blankly for a moment before she remembered and said, "My sister? Oh yeah, Stephanie!" Then she giggled again and said, "My mother is so mad at her!"

"Really?" I asked, wondering what sort of info I could wheedle out this drunken Valerie. "Why would anyone be mad at Stephanie?"

"Because she's a... a...a diniot!" Valerie exclaimed. "I mean… idiot. Omigod, I think I'm… drunk!" Then she giggled again.

"Why do you think your sister is an idiot?" I asked, trying to sound casual. I had my own ideas, of course, but I wanted to hear hers.

Before she answered me, Valerie gulped down her third screwdriver drink and asked for another one. Freddy glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and shook his head very slightly. I gave him the signal that meant we'd be heading out soon and he nodded his understanding. Luckily, Valerie thought that the nodding was about her drink and she didn't seem to notice that the bartender placed only plain orange juice in front of her this time.

"Stephanie thinks we're stupid," Valerie said, her speech affected by the alcohol she'd consumed. "She's being stubborn about going out with you, so she created this fake fiancé so that our mother would leave her alone. Daddy and Grandma Mazur are buying her cockamamie story, but she's an idiot for thinking that anybody else would believe her. For crying out loud, she's still trying to sell ladies' underpants! It's so embarrassing!" This came from a woman who had just gotten a job at the local personal products plant. Go figure.

"Well, Valerie," I said, feigning a yawn, "It's getting kind of late. May I walk you home? The 'Burg is mostly safe, but you never know."

"But I don't wanna go home yet!" she whined, sounding like an obstinate child.

"Won't your...parents be worried about you staying out so late?" I asked.

"I don't care!" she declared. "It's been a really crappy day! The kids kept running around, Grandma and Daddy kept yelling at them, Mom kept trying to convince me that my new job will be fine. My life sucks! But what can I do? I'll tell you what – I can sit here and drink until dawn. That's what!"

"Sorry, Valerie, but Freddy closes this place down at 2 a.m., so you won't be able to stay here until dawn," I informed her.

"Oh, darn!" Valerie exclaimed. "I told my mom I was going out for the whole night to spend some time with my girlfriends. Of course, then she got mad at me, too, but she agreed to babysit the kids anyway." Then she leaned in close and whispered to me in a conspiratorial tone of voice, "The thing is, Joey, I didn't want any of them to see me like this, so I came down here where I thought nobody would recognize me."

Joey? Nobody had called me that since high school. Drunken Valerie was being nicer to me than she ever had been before. Seizing the opportunity, I asked, "Would you like to come back to my place, Valerie?" I asked in a kind, nonchalant way. "It sounds like you have a lot on your mind. We could just ... talk."

"Oh, I don't know about that," she slurred. "You're one of those bad Morelli boys my mother always warned us about when Stephanie and I were kids."

"Well, I used to be," I admitted, turning on the charm. "But things change. You know I'm a cop now, right? And I'm pretty good at listening to people's problems."

"That's right! I'd heard you were a cop," she said, more to herself than to me. Then she paused for a moment, clearly having an internal debate before she nodded and said, "I guess I'd feel safe with you. Okay, let's go!" Then I had to catch her, because her legs went all rubbery the moment she tried to stand up. Freddy just smiled and winked at me as he cleared away our dirty glasses.

Persuading Valerie to tumble into bed with me was almost too easy. After we arrived at my place, I let her prattle on about whatever was on her mind. Of course, I wasn't really listening to her because I was too busy trying to separate her from her pants. At first she protested, saying her divorce wasn't a sure thing and she didn't want to pass her problems on to me and blah, blah, blah. After I kissed her senseless, though, she basically gave in to me – just like almost every other women I've dated. Take that, Stephanie Plum!

The good news, at least where I was concerned, was that bedding a woman like Valerie was almost as good as bedding an actual virgin. You see, women like Valerie tended to be extremely faithful wives. I was willing to bet she'd only ever had sex with her husband and no one else; therefore, she probably hadn't experienced anything close to what I'd given her. Yeah, it felt great to hear the ecstatic sounds she uttered while I had her in between my sheets that night and I knew she'd never forget what I'd done with her.

Unfortunately, now that I'd had another helping of 'Plum pudding,' I knew I had to get back into Stephanie's pants. There definitely would be fireworks with the younger Plum, but Valerie wasn't anything like her sister. There was no 'spark' in the older Plum girl to keep me coming back for more, that's for sure. And despite the good time I know I gave her, she really seemed to be holding back, almost as if she really didn't want to get laid by anybody.

Hell, what did I expect? Valerie Plum wasn't anything like Terry Gilman, either – not even close. Well, except for the blonde hair, I guess. Now, I honestly could say I'd boinked every straight woman from my high school senior class. Yes, even though it had started out disastrously, this turned out to be my lucky night after all.

TBC