Gypsy Chapter 1~5

Story Three of The Impeccable Lies. 

The sequel to [Somebody That You Used to Know].

Based on Ronan Hardiman's beautiful and enchanting song Gypsy. 

Babe HEA, of course.

Gypsy

He locks the door and places his keys onto the silver plate. He holds her prisoner with his gaze. Insecurity, uncertainty, resignation, and sadness. The long-term dwellers in her eyes. Tired. Pale. And the trace of tears on her face. She looks like someone's abandoned pet. One of his men is planting a tracker on her newest excuse of a car downstairs. He wonders why she's here. A healthy tasty meal prepared by Ella? A decent and much better car? Some help with her job? A makeshift haven for a couple days? A bottle of his shower gel? Or another round of the game they sometimes play? The game that always ends with her running away screaming back to that hairy man with a timid, awkward "Thank you" and a lingering backward glance the very next day?

It was supposed to be a grown-up game. A game of give and take. A game of take it or leave it on the table and walk away. It was perfectly designed and expertly arranged. A night of pleasure. A moment of passion. To quench the thirst. To satisfy the need. To silence the lust. To fill the void and emptiness. No price. No obligation. No strings attached. However, it has somehow become something much deeper than a one-night stand. It's now an affair of the heart, an affair of the soul, and a tangle of trust, betrayal, love, and guilt. And now the stakes are high. Too high to ignore by looking the other way while your heart and soul yell in pain. He sits down beside her and almost smiles. Will he be interested in the answer? Will he start searching for redemption? Will he ever grow tired of the boring loneliness? Will there be a "someday"? Right now he honestly has no idea.

He's a busy man. He lives a regularly dangerous life and walks his own chosen path. He has his needs and desires. He has remorse and regrets. He has goals, directions, destinations, and aims. He's never a wounded, scarred, lost, or desperate man. He knows what he likes and doesn't likes. He follows his own rules and understands his limits. He keeps his distance from impractical longings and impossible dreams. He can be adventurous and wild at times. And he can also be smart and perceptive should the need arise.

He can cope with detours and change of plans. He knows why she is here. He knows why she looks so frustrated and scared. But it's a decision she has to make. It's a choice she has to learn to accept. And there will be no turning back once she takes the first one small step.

"I need to pee." She blinks nervously and finally squeaks before jumping off the couch and scuttling away like a crab.

He hasn't laughed so hard in years.

J'veux Ton Amour

She sits on the toilet seat chewing her lips. His laughter is still ringing in her ears. She hates feeling embarrassed and feeling small. But she always loves to hear him laugh. She knows she can't hide inside his bathroom forever. Sooner or later she will have to come out to face the world and tell him why she is here. But the problem is, now that the momentum is suddenly gone, her courage is fading away rapidly. And she's more and more unsure of what to say. It's not like they are committed to each other. They're not exactly in a relationship. She's not exactly in the position to demand anything. And she doesn't even know if she holds a special place—any place—in his heart, though he once told her he loves her in his own way and never—well, almost never—fails to come to her rescue. He makes her feel cherished. He makes her feel special. But who is she to him, really? Does she misinterpret his kindness and generosity for something else? What if all the blood and money he bled for her somehow makes her feel cocky and take him for granted? What if they are nothing but friends with benefits? What if she has been using him without herself knowing? What if...what if...
Did Jeanne Ellen fall in love with his shower gel?
Did Jeanne Ellen purr like a Persian cat while cuddling in his arms?
Did Jeanne Ellen leave kiss marks and bite marks on his neck and shoulders?

Did Jeanne Ellen leave scratch marks on his back?
Did he melt Jeanne Ellen with his beautiful enchanting gaze?
Did he whisper in Jeanne Ellen's ear in husky Spanish?
Did he make Jeanne Ellen see the golden sun, the silvery moon, the misty blue ocean, and the millions and millions of shining stars?
Did he tell Jeanne Ellen he loves her in his own way, too?
Doubt and fear cut through her heart slowly like a dullest knife. The poisonous bitterness of jealousy blooms on the tip of her tongue. She finally realized that without him she cannot survive. She stands up, flushes the toilet and washes her hands. Her eyes fall upon his toothbrush and razor. Clean and crisp. Silent and stern. Straightforward and easy. Mysterious. No nonsense. She unlocks the door and steps out. His bedroom is empty. His TV is on. He's sitting on his couch, right next to her cherry pink fake Kelly bag, looking relaxed and at ease. On the screen Roy "the Doc" Halladay, his favorite baseball player, is pitching. Both of them calm and assertive. The ace of the Philadelphia Phillies. And the man who has helped her out and saved her butt for countless times and ruined her for all other men. She sits down and blinks. He gathers her in his arms and kisses her on top of her head. Doc Halladay strikes out the side and steps off the mound. The die-hard Phillies fans in the Citizens Bank Park cheer.
"What do you want from me, Stephanie? What do you need?" Softly and quietly he asks without turning his head to face her and her heart skips four or six beats.
She opens her mouth but no sound comes out. Her heart is about to burst, but her head is pathetically empty. She was caught unaware. She was not prepared. But deep down within she knows he's probably not talking about cars or bottles of shower gel. This is it. This is her chance. To come clean. To confess. To be honest. To be brave. To get rid of her burden. To let go of her fears. To bare her soul and show him her love. To hand over, to surrender a part of her. To be a part of his life. To be the love of his life. Or to be...rejected, and denied.
"I love you." She finally says. Her voice cracks and trembles a little and sounds like a stranger to her own ears. Now her fate is in her hands. Her happiness is in his hands. And she totally forgot to wash her face. Damn.

Mr. Hard To Get

"Babe,"
Ranger cups her face in one warm steady hand, his tone soft and almost casual, the gleam in his eyes enigmatic and mesmerizing. The intriguing and seductive mixed scent of Bulgari and warm Ranger dances in the air around her and invades her senses. Memories flash past her eyes in an amazing speed. The first time she saw him. The first time he smiled at her. The first time he got shot and bled for her. The first time he held her prisoner with his eyes. The first time he kissed her. The first time he made love to her. The mornings she woke up in his arms. The night he traded his life for hers. The joy, the pleasure and the pain swamp her mind. The corners of Ranger's lips twist upward a little bit. Her breath catches in her throat. She cannot blink. She cannot think. She's helplessly attracted and absorbed by his silent and powerful force field...
"You look like a raccoon."
She gapes, her mind a total blank. She has no idea what to say or how to react. She hears her blood rushing in her ears. She feels her face starting to burn. The double layer of mascara this morning is a mistake. Big mistake. The fans cheers and laughs as Phillie Phanatic, the large furry green mascot of the Phillies, starts dancing his trademark belly dance. She feels like a tiny trembling mouse facing an unblinking big silent cat. Her eyes are about to twitch when suddenly she realizes Ranger is feeling playful. And playful Ranger, though charming and sexy, is most unpredictable and scary as Hell.
He watched her frown in confusion. He watched her eyes widen in surprise. He watched her mouth hang open in the shape of a perfect O. The sweetness of her perfume dances around him teasingly. The warmth and softness of her body invade his senses playfully. He's a bit surprised, he admits. A confession of love is the last thing he expects from Stephanie Plum. Being with her is like playing with someone else's cat. She will allow him a stolen moment of intimacy and then shy away abruptly. It's like the restraining collar she wears around her heart is equipped with an automatic timing and homing device. Watching her break up and then make up with Morelli has become a part of his daily recreation. He has learned not to feel frustrated over the years. He was getting tired of waiting for the change that would never come. But now she has taken the first step and things have changed.
Is it time for the gamble? Is it time to take that risk? Does he really want to have her in his life? Does he really want to make the necessary change? The growing mutual attraction and deepening affection. The stark differences between them. She finally blinks, closes her mouth and nervously bites her lips. Fear and anxiety grow in her eyes. But still she doesn't turn or look away. Slowly he leans in and gently kisses her.
"But I love you anyway."

Promises Promises

The Phillies won. The players smile. The fans cheer. The late afternoon sun shines down upon the Earth. A sleek black SUV stops at the entrance of the old 3-story apartment building. A tall muscular man clad in black takes the stairs to the second floor, opens the battered door, grabs an old glass aquarium from the kitchen counter, relocks the door, and leaves as quietly as he came. The streets are busy with traffic. Here and there car horns and sirens sound. Drivers curse at the red lights and yell at other reckless drivers. The sun falls under the horizon. The little old lady who thinks she's an elevator operator steps out of the elevator and goes home. The moon rises and shines. The wind blows. People sit down around the dining tables and dig into their home-cooked dinner. The pizza and Chinese delivery guys knock on the doors and ring the bells. Dogs bark. Cats meow. The small dark apartment remains empty and silent except for the ringing of the telephone and the mechanical sound of the answering machine.
The night grows deeper. The dishwashers complete the cycles. The TV shows come to the end. The lights in the windows darken. The wind gets chillier. Everything is quiet and and asleep. The hint of autumn dances in the air and laughs. Children dream. Parents snore. Lovers kiss. A tall dark hairy man gets out of his car and takes the elevator to the second floor. A charming sexy smile blossoms on his face as he reaches the battered door. He fishes the keys out of his jean pocket and lets himself in. He kicks off his shoes and starts undressing as he heads toward the bedroom. He stops dead by the side of the narrow queen size bed. He blinks and frowns in confusion. He turns on the light. The bed is empty. The whole apartment is empty. Where is she? He tries her cell phone but gets the voicemail. It's too late to call her parents, sister and friends. He starts feeling a little uneasy. Her car is not parked at the usual spot in front of the dumpsters. He gets dressed, waits for a while and decides to go find her.
He starts his car. He drives through the city and feels antsy. Her car is nowhere to be seen. Maybe it's time to face the music. Maybe he should drive to that 7-floored building. Maybe she's there in his bed, naked. Maybe he is kissing his way down her soft supple body. No, it's impossible. He waves the thought away with a laugh. She won't be there. She can't be there. She's not there. He knows that for a fact. He doesn't have to see it with his own eyes. It can't be. It won't be. Tomorrow she'll be home at the first ray of the morning. Tomorrow he's going to buy her a ring, a diamond ring, a wedding ring. He will get down on one knee. There will be happy tears in her misty blue eyes. They will spend the rest of their lives together as husband and wife. They will start their own family. They will have most beautiful children, 3 boys, 3 girls, all 6 of them. They will grow old together. They will have their happily ever after. He drives through the sleeping city. The wind, the moon and the stars laugh in his ears but he doesn't hear a thing. Tomorrow will be another day. Tomorrow will be the day. Then they will both be happy. They will be.

Wrapped Around Your Finger

Bright sunlight shines through the windows lazily. The air inside the silent 7-th floor apartment smells cool and clean. Stephanie stirs and wakes up alone in the bed. She yawns, stretches, and feels drowsy. She reaches out a hand and lays it on the bed beside her. Yesterday is like a beautiful dream. Ranger's side of the bed is cold. He's already on the plane to Miami, and he won't be back till next week. She vaguely remembers him kissing her on the lips before he left. She will go back to her apartment later today to clean up and pack her stuff. Yes, she's moving in with Ranger. They are finally together after all these years. And she can't help feeling a little uncertain and afraid, though she knows she's happy.
She gets out of bed and heads for the shower. She closes her eyes and lets the warm water flow down her face. The scent of Ranger's shower gel embraces her. She now shares his closet. Her toothbrush has its own place in his bathroom. He once told her he didn't do stupid things and relationship. But now all of a sudden thing have changed. And for the first time in many, many years, she feels complete. She dries herself and puts on Ranger's bathrobe. She looks into the mirror and locks eyes with her own reflection. She's relieved that she no longer looks like a raccoon. And she knows perfectly well what she's afraid of. She's afraid that she's not good enough. She's afraid that Ranger will have a change of heart. She's afraid that the boring and tiresome everyday life will eventually wash away their passion and thin down their affection. She's afraid that one day there will be no more sparks between them. She has divorced once. She knows how it feels like. She knows she probably won't survive if Ranger walks away and leaves her. She has a nasty feeling that her worst nightmare may come true if she's not careful. But she's got to try. She wants and needs and loves him too much. She can't let go without giving herself a chance.
She's not a bad person. She's not that ignorant or stupid. She deserves some happiness. She almost died when she saw Jeanne Ellen Burrows and Ranger together. She nearly lost the courage to live when she came face to face with her own imperfectness. And she finally, finally realized that she couldn't afford to lose Ranger. She walks in the closet. She runs her hand through the rack of Ranger's clothes and breathes in the lingering scent. She puts on a RangeMan t-shirt and a pair of black cargo pants. She doesn't know the combination of his safe. She doesn't know his parents' names. She doesn't know where his siblings live. She doesn't know if he will want to go to her parents' for dinner every Friday. She doesn't know if one day his love will come with a wedding ring. But she does know she loves him and he loves her too.
And that is more than enough.

~The End~