Chapter 11
"Elizabeth." She begs.
"Elizabeth." She pleads.
"Elizabeth." She croaks and chokes on her tears.
But
the stubborn and confused Elizabeth refuses to hear or answer. She
tries and tries and tries again. She cries. She sobs. She stops to wipe
away her burning tears. She feels like her whole world has just fallen
apart, and she is buried alive under millions and millions of tons of
debris. The pain is so strong and so intense. She cannot breathe. She
cannot think. She has never been this unsure and scared. What is this
strange feeling? What is this powerful craving? What is this persistent
longing? What is this ferocious hunger? Why is she thinking of all those
worthless thugs? Why is she thinking of all those strong muscular arms?
Why is she thinking of all those smooth darker skin? Why is she
thinking of the sweat intoxicating smell of manly sweat? The heat of
their bodies. The tattoos on their arms, necks, and faces. The raw
power. The attraction. The desire. The lust...
NO!
She
stomps her feet and shrieks in frustration. She is supposed to remain
loyal to Joseph! Elizabeth is supposed to remain loyal to Joseph! Her
precious Joseph. Their precious Joseph. The wonderful and flawless
Joseph. The sweet and gentle Joseph. The wild and passionate Joseph. The
brave and brilliant Joseph. She has to preserve her innocence for
Joseph. She has to save her purity for Joseph. She needs to stay on the
path of her true calling. She cannot afford to be distracted. She cannot
betray her faith. She cannot betray her love. She cannot betray her
fate. She cannot betray Joseph. She is destined to be a Cupcake. She is
destined to be his Cupcake. She is destined to be his Strawberry
Delight. She is destined to be his Chocolate Devil. She is destined to
be his Passion Fruit Mango. She is destined to be his Cream Cheese
Lemon.
She won't be seduced!
She will not betray!
There cannot be another man!
There will not be another man!
She will not be allured by those colored man!
She will not be allured by that colored man!
She will not be tricked by his exotic appearance!
She will not be tricked by his almost black dark brown eyes.
She will not be tricked by his Mocha Latte skin.
She will not be tricked by his perfect lips.
She will not be tricked by his deep sexy voice.
No.
NO.
NO!
She is a Cupcake, Joseph's one and only precious Cupcake...
She will remain true and and loyal...
She will remain sweet and fluffy...
She will remain cute and lovely...
She will remain soft and airy...
She belongs with Joseph...
He's the one she's always wanted...
She has been in love with his shining smile, his off-white teeth, his garlic breath, his hairy chest for years...
She will always be Joseph's Cupcake...
She won't fall for another man...
She will not...
She can't...
That perfect, perfect, perfect man...
YUM.
Chapter 12
Joe Morelli tries to find as much as he can about Emily Hasting, the plain, ordinary yet mysterious woman who used to live right across the street from him. She comes from a well-respected family, has no siblings, and is three years older than him. They grew up in the same neighborhood. They went to the same schools. Their parents used to be friends. But now he has absolutely no memory of Emily and knows nothing about her personal life. And he just can't get her face out of his mind.
He thinks about her all the time. He even dreams about her at night. Sometimes when he abruptly wakes up in the middle of the night, he will sneak out of his mother's house, walk all the way back to his home and sit on his doorstep to watch the empty lonely house right across the street. He doesn't know why he is so obsessed with Emily. They have never been friends. They have never been close. He just feels this powerful urge deep down inside. And the sad and cruel fact that he doesn't remember her or anything else makes him feel guilty and somewhat ashamed. He doesn't remember if he has ever nodded politely and said "Good Morning" to Emily. He doesn't remember if he has ever smiled at her while saying "Merry Christmas" and "Happy New Year". He doesn't remember her straight shoulder-length light brown hair. He doesn't remember her misty gray eyes. He doesn't remember her sweet innocent voice. He remembers nothing. Nothing at all.
So he goes to the Trenton Public Library nearly every day. He searches through old newspapers and gossip magazines. He uses the public computer to google her name and read millions and millions of related blogs and Facebook pages. And the more he knows about Emily, the more he wants to meet her in person. He wants to look into her misty gray eyes and tell her how sorry he is. He wants to ask her what her favorite color is. Though he knows what Emily did was very, very wrong, he still wants to thank her for standing up for him. He has seen Ranger and Stephanie from afar once or twice, and though he didn't feel a thing—no anger, no remorse, no resentment, and no fear, but a part of him can't help blaming Stephanie Plum for what happened.
He felt so awkward the day his mother went home from the church in angry tears. He feels uncomfortable every time he steps inside Pino's or Tasty Bakery and senses everyone's eyes on his back. He hates being the topic of gossips and rumours. He suffered from severe head trauma. He has to move in with his mother. He has finally lost his job. He was grilled by the not very friendly and utterly unattractive DA. He may have no choice but to sell his house. He is a victim, too. And no one can say Stephanie Plum is not to be blamed. She did cheated on him. Nobody can deny that. Even if he himself remembers nothing of it.
Joe Morelli shakes his head and blows out a heavy sigh. No, he's not trying to play the blaming game. What's done is done. There's no way to turn back the clock. It's just that he feels so alone and so frustrated sometimes, and his foolish heart keeps yearning for Emily Hasting—a woman he can't remember. A woman who loves him enough to kill for him. A woman who is smart enough to build time bombs all by herself. A woman who screamed in the courtroom and told the whole world she would do the same thing again, again, and again had she had the chance. She's unstable. She's dangerous. She's way beyond crazy. She's not beautiful, sexy, or attractive. But somehow he can't stop wanting her, longs for her, and...loving her.
He lets out a bark of laughter. Bob, the loyal, playful and always drooling dog, turns to look at him with undoubting eyes. He pats Bob on the head gently and smiles a sad sarcastic smile. Maybe he's the one who's really crazy and madder than the Mad Hatter.
Chapter 13: Chapter 13
Chapter 13
She
starts drawing paintings with crayons. Sometimes she draws colorful and
yummy-looking cupcakes. Sometimes she draws muscular and handsome men.
And she sings to herself while she draws. She has a most beautiful
voice. Some inmates sing along under their breath. Some inmates actually
have tears in their eyes upon hearing her angelic voice. Some inmates
forget where they are and why they are here. Judas. Bad Romance.
Starships. Papa Don't Preach. Nessun Dorma. Only Time. Domino Dancing.
Amazing Grace. In Too Deep. On and on she draws. On and on she sings.
The heavenly voice soars through the corridors. The paintings fall onto
the hard bare floor.
Emily and Joe's Cupcake Place. In clear and orderly handwriting she writes beside a rack of Boston Creme cupcake.
Elizabeth Hasting Manoso. In elegant and carefree handwriting she writes and writes on the plain white paper.
The
tranquil smile on her sometimes peaceful and sometimes contorted face
deepens as her inner conflicts and struggles wage on like a newly nuked
Hell. She wants a normal life with a handsome and extra hairy Italian
man. She craves for passion and excitement and a dangerous, mysterious
and most intriguing Cuban man. She wants to bear Joseph children. Joseph
Junior. Anthony. Marco. Ana Maria. Angel Bella. And Rosalina. All six
of them.
She wants to be beautiful and strong and tough and sexy
and good enough for Ranger, for her Carlos. She wants to be held in his
perfect arms. She wants to kiss him in the open wind. She wants to look
into his eyes and see millions and millions of shining stars. She wants
to laugh with him. She wants to weep with him. She wants to be free. She
wants to be wild. She wants to be brave. She wants to be smart. She
wants to be the love of his life. She wants to be the mother of his
children. She wants...she wants...she wants...
She stops drawing
pink and blue and green cupcakes with colorful sprinkles. She stops
drawing red cupcakes with creamy cheese frosting. She stops drawing
orange cupcakes with chocolate buttercream on top. She stops drawing
cupcakes all together. And instead she writes, and writes, and writes.
Elizabeth Hasting Manoso.
Emily Hasting Manoso.
Elizabeth Manoso.
Emily Manoso.
"And
when the samba played. The sun would set so high. Ring through my ears
and sting my eyes. Your Spanish lullaby." She starts singing, her voice
soft and dreamy, her eyes shining and glistening. And later that
evening, Emily Elizabeth Hasting calls her lawyer and politely informs
him that she has no wish to meet Mr. Joseph Morelli during the weekly
visiting hours.
Chapter 14: Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Joe
Morelli can't believe his ears. Emily Hasting has no wish to meet him.
Her lawyer sounds polite and genuinely apologetic on the phone, but the
intrigued smile in her voice is unmistakable. He thanks her and hangs
up. He's suddenly at a loss. He's not really sure what he's been
expecting, to tell the truth. He may have lost his memories but he's not
naïve. It's not like he and Emily have a chance for happiness. He know
perfectly well that they can't have a life together under the current
circumstance. She's going to be imprisoned for the rest of her life. He
will probably have to move to a new state, find a new job and rebuild
his life eventually. Sometimes love has to bow to reality. Besides, they
don't really know each other that well.
But still it shouldn't end up this way.
He
holds his head in both hands. He has never thought she would turn him
down. He thought she would be pleased or even thrilled. He thought they
can talk and know more about each other. She will smile when he thanks
her for standing up for him. She will laugh when he tells her about the
funny and absurd things in his everyday life. She will bare her soul to
him and give a vent to her fear, loneliness, sorrow and frustration.
They will become friends. They will become soul mates. They will become
Platonic lovers. Then they can both be happy and stop feeling lonely and
unwanted. But now his bubble has been busted by no one other than Emily
Hasting, the plain and ordinary woman he thought he could trust and
love. How cruel can life be? How much more does he have to put up with?
He feels like a stranger among his family. He feels like an intruder
inside his own house and body. Whenever he pats his own dog, he feels
like he's playing with somebody else's pet. Whenever he looks into the
mirror, he sees someone he doesn't know. There's no familiarity. There's
no closeness. There's no heartfelt affection. And no matter how hard he
tries, he just can't erase the awkwardness and distance he feels from
his mind. He feels like an abandoned child facing the vast unknown
world.
And maybe he's more than a little scared, he admits.
He
lets out a sigh, gets out of his car(he can't even remember his name or
his own mother's face, but he remembers how to drive. Just how strange
is that?), walks in the new French bakery and café he found last week
and comes face to face with a plus-sized black woman in a too tight suit
and Stephanie Plum. And the moment he sees the panic and surprise in
Stephanie's suddenly widened blue eyes, he remembers.
Chapter 15: Chapter 15
Chapter 15
"Cupcake."
Like a stealthy venomous serpent the familiar word quietly slithers out
of Joe Morelli's mouth. There's no affection in his cold steely eyes or
flat emotionless tone, but the hurt, the distrust and the hint of anger
are too apparent. Memories rush back into his suddenly clear and fully
functioning mind, many of them extremely unpleasant. That hot summer
day. Her blown up car and apartment. His worries. His anger. His
frustration. The disbelief. The betrayal. The pain. The fear. The
loneliness. The sweet scent of her new perfume dances around him in the
air. She looks great, he has to admit. Her hair is shorter than he
remembers. Her eyes are as blue as ever. The beautiful necklace she's
wearing looks elegant and expensive. So it does pay to have a rich new
boyfriend. A humourless smile creeps into the corner of Morelli's mouth.
He takes a step closer, towering over his slender ex on-and-off
girlfriend and blocking the exit. No, he doesn't plan to hurt or scare
her. He just wants her to know his sadness and frustration. She's the
one who ruined his life. She owes him that much.
Silence falls.
Time stops.
Everyone freezes.
Stephanie pales.
And then all of a sudden the hot pink-haired Lula reacts.
Without
warning she swings her cherry pink Kelly Bag hitting Morelli in the
side of his head and lashes out a vicious kick at his knee. She then
grabs hold of Stephanie's arm and barge out of the door as Morelli
tumbles out of the way in pain. Before anyone inside the bakery has the
chance to recovers from the shock, Lula's brand new vampire red Firebird
has already disappeared from the scene. With wild, widened eyes she
turns to take a look at Stephanie and decides her friend is not feeling
okay. Immediately she hits the speed dial and starts talking non-stop in
a panic tone the moment her giant mountain of a fiancé answers the
phone. Minutes later, the Firebird takes a sharp right turn at the
crossroad and screeches into the underground garage. Lula stops and
parks the car like a pro and turns to hold Stephanie's slightly
trembling hand as Tank opens the door and squats down to check on
Stephanie.
Well, maybe she overreacted. Lula gets out of the car
and admits to herself. Maybe Morelli meant Stephanie no harm. Maybe he
just wanted to say Hi and have a friendly talk. Who says exes can't be
friends? And maybe she stepped on Morelli foot and jabbed him in his
ribs with her elbow by accident on the way out. Too bad she didn't have
the time to stop to check. She's not a violent person, really. She will
never hurt anyone intentionally. She's sorry if she caused Morelli any
kind of pain or discomfort, but still she's very proud of herself. She
has been taking self-defense lessons from Tank for weeks now. She can
and will step up and protect her friend like a kickass chick anytime. No
harm shall come Stephanie's way even when Ranger is in the wind. So
what if she did overreact? Better overreact than underestimate the
threat. Besides, Mr. Morelli is not exactly the nice and harmless Prince
Charming, let's be honest.
And ain't it nice that Stephanie didn't drop the bags of ultra-delicious buy-2-get-1-free chocolate croissants?
Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Joe Morelli
struggles to stand up. The armour of coffee and freshly baked pasteries
makes him dizzy. He steadies himself as the buzz in his ears quiets
down. He's not sure if his nose is bleeding. He's not sure if he should
feel more angry or more humiliated. His whole body is hurting. People
are watching and whispering under their breath. He doesn't want to make a
scene. He contains whatever emotion raging in his mind, finds himself a
table and sits down. The tall youngish waiter tries his best not to
look him in the eyes when taking his order Suddenly he feels voracious.
He dips his croissants in his coffee and wolfs them down. Soon his
mother will be calling, he's pretty sure of that. He's glad that Lula
didn't break his bones or anything. He just wanted to talk to Stephanie.
He just wanted to ask her why. He just wanted to make sure that she
takes her share of the blame. He just wanted to see her pay the price.
Yeah,
he knows they were not exactly in a committed, serious relationship.
Yeah, he knows he was not sure if he really wanted her to be a permanent
part of his life. But they were technically together at that time. He
told her one day she would the mother of his children all the time. And
he did risk his life running into her apartment to see if she was
alright shortly after the explosion. He did have feelings for her. He
did enjoy having her in his bed and so did she. They did have a lot in
common. They did know each other's family and friends. She was
comfortable and familiar. She was both safe and excitedly dangerous. She
had always been different. She was his challenge. She was his trophy.
She was the living proof of his superiority over the average boring
ordinary men. He had managed to gradually tame her over the years. He is
her first, and that fact alone should mean something. Her betrayal was
like a slap in his face. So he was not good enough for her. So he was
not as good as Ranger. So he came in the second place. And God knew how
he hated being second. So without thinking he reached for his gun, and
immediately realized he had made the biggest mistake in his life the
moment he felt Ranger's powerful merciless fist on his skull.
Morelli
order another cup of coffee and another plate of perfectly baked eats
and drinks in silence. He thinks of all the things he has lost because
of Stephanie Plum. He hates it when life is such a mean nasty bitch. He
wonders why his mother hasn't called. He thinks of the crazy look in
Lula's wild widened eyes and almost sighs. He will have to find a new
job soon. He will miss his days as a police detective. Somewhere deep
down within he still wants to meet Emily Hasting. And he knows without a
trace of doubt that he will never forget the scary and almost cruel
gleam in Ranger's eyes. The day Stephanie made her choice in front of
the crowd. The day he tried to kill Stephanie Plum.
Chapter 17
Joe
Morelli tries to sell his house, but the real estate market here in
Trenton is still a bit slow. And though people keep telling him the
price he asks for may be a little too high, he stubbornly refuses to
budge. He has cleaned up the house and moved all his stuff back to his
mother's place. He still has some money in the bank. He's not in such a
hurry to find a new job. Maybe he can rent the house out for the time
being or something. Maybe someday a well-to-do newly-wedded couple from
Asia or Europe will fall in love with it and decide to start their
family in the neighborhood. Maybe he doesn't really want to sell it, he
sometimes thinks. The lovely cozy two-story house has been his home for
many years, and he doesn't want to let go of the memories so easily. He
hasn't told anyone he has regained his memory. He believes this will be
easier and better for everyone—he himself included. And he hasn't run
into Stephanie again since. He still feels angry and bitter whenever he
thinks of her. He hopes Stephanie is not suspecting anything. He doesn't
want to wake up in the middle of the night one day and find Ranger
standing at the foot of the bed with a gun in his hand.Yes, he knows he made a most foolish mistake that day when he tried to pull his gun on Stephanie. No, he is not ashamed to say that he's afraid of Ranger. He has known all long Stephanie means a lot to Ranger and has a special place in Ranger's cold calculating mercenary heart. He has known all long Ranger is the most dangerous and unpredictable man he has ever encountered. Now that he no longer has his police-issued gun and badge, he can't help feeling small and timid whenever he thinks of Ranger and his ex-military and ex-gangster thugs. He has seen the pictures of Eddie Abruzzi's contorted dead face. He wasn't exactly surprised when he heard that there was a fresh burn mark on Abruzzi's arm. And there was no proof of foul play and no trace of struggle. He done a little research and asked around just last year, but still has no idea where Ranger's sleek black cars come from. He always felt more than a little victorious when Stephanie came back to his bed after Ranger and his men helped her out and saved her ass. He always enjoyed calling her "Cupcake" in his most sexy lazy bedroom voice and watching her blush when Ranger was right there. He knew he was teasing the lion, but it felt so good. And now he's afraid that Ranger may finally decide it's payback time.
He runs a slightly shaking hand through his hair and exhales a sigh. No need to worry, really. He tells himself. What will come will come. And if Ranger wants him dead, he's dead. He may as well use the time to do something constructive and try to live as happily as he can. He opens the drawer of his wobbly old desk, finds some letter paper and a pen, and starts to write a letter to Emily Hasting. Dear Emily, he writes and stops to look at his own handwriting. Cramped and tilted, but thankfully not messy. He wets his lips and keeps on writing. He tells her about his childhood, teenage days, and his life in the Navy. He tells her about his dreams, his longings, and wishes. He tells her about his his pains, his hurts, and his loneliness. He smiles and frowns and almost cries as he writes. He doesn't take notice of his mother when she pushes the door open, takes a look inside, and tiptoes away. He's not sure if he is a good man, he tells Emily. Somehow he's not really sorry for what he did to all those little girls and the 6-year-old Stephanie. He was but a lonely and horny teenager. He took girls' virginity, wrote about them on public bathroom walls, and had a good laugh with his brother, cousins, and friends. It wasn't his fault. He just wanted to have fun. And it's not like he raped them or something. They all knew about his reputation. They had sex with him out of their own consent. He was royal pissed when Stephanie ran him down and broke his leg. But his mother decided not to press charges after a long talk with Mrs. Plum and Mary Lou's mom. He writes and writes and writes. He bares his soul to Emily. He shows her his vulnerability. He won't expect her to write him back, but he will keep on sending her letters and holiday cards. He wishes to know her better. He wants them to be friends.
Thanks for stepping up for me. He finally writes. Sincerely yours, Joseph A. Morelli. He carefully folds the 4-page letter. He seals it inside an envelope. Maybe Emily will write him a letter. Maybe Emily will want to be friends. Maybe Emily will smile when his next letter arrives. Maybe Emily will tell him about herself. Maybe...maybe Emily will love him back. And he won't be this lonely and helpless. He will once again be brave and courageous. He will find a job, maybe as a mall security guard, or a private detective, or...or a bounty hunter. Yes, he will be one hell of a bounty hunter. He can team up with Jeanne Ellen Burrows and work for Les Sebring. He can go after some of FBI's most wanted. He will make big money in no time at all. He will be famous, and successful. His mother will be proud of him. He won't have to sell his house. And he will be happy. Yes, he will be happy. He needs to be happy. He deserves to be happy. He really does.
Joe Morelli stands up from his desk and smiles and stretches. Maybe he can run to the bakery before dinner and get some cupcakes. He always loves cupcakes. Sweet, fluffy, colorful, and tasty cupcakes. And he will also get a box of cannolis. Both Grandma Bella and Bob love cannolis. He grabs his wallet, steps out of the room he used to share with his elder brother, and sniffs the air. Ah, tomato and eggplant lasagna, his all-time favorite. Life is good. He goes downstairs and tells himself. And yes, he is happy. He really is.
Really.
~The End~
Epilogue
She has found her true love.
Yes, she's helplessly in love with that tall, dark, dangerous, muscular Mocha Latte man. She has heard his calm quiet voice, but has never ever spoken to him in person. She wants to know more about him. She wants to be an essential part of his life. And every day, every hour, she wishes and hopes and prays that one day he will love her back. Yes, she knows he doesn't look like the marrying type. Yes, she knows he probably has other beautiful, faithful, submissive and cooperating women in his bed. She also knows for a fact that she's not drop-dead gorgeous or physically attractive. Thus she's happy enough to love him from afar.
Emily runs and runs and runs. The gentle wind blows past her face and makes her feel like she can fly. No, she's not trying to escape. She just wants to hide at the corner across the street when he drives out of the underground garage. She just wants to take a quick look at his shining black car. She just wants to see with her own eyes that he is alright. She will go straight back after that. She won't even stop on the road for a snack. She likes her tiny tidy prison cell. She likes doing her share of the daily chores. She likes the small and not bright enough library. The air inside smells of unread and neglected books. They allow her to read as many books as she wants. They will try what they can to get more books. The only condition is that she must keep quiet during the night. No shouting, no screaming, no wailing. No banging her head against the bars. They will even think about letting her work in the kitchen if she behaves herself. That's an opportunity she can't afford to waste. She's a great cook. She's an excellent baker. She makes the best iced tea and pastries. She loves to see the big happy smile on people's faces when they bite into her chocolate croissants. And people down at the soup kitchen always got in line for a third or fourth helping of her creamy pumpkin soup.
She just wants to take a look of him. She just wants to be near him. She just wants to see him smile. She just wants to hear him speak. She just wants to feel the emotion in that soft, amused "Babe". She still can't believe Stephanie Plum was that stupid. Who, in their right mind, would want Joseph if they could have him? Emily sighs and rolls her eyes. Elizabeth keeps her silence and simply smiles. Soon they will arrive at that street. Soon they will see that seven-floored building. Soon they will find a shadowed corner to hide. Soon they will weep silent, happy tears when they see his car. Yes, the sleek powerful Porsche, the beautiful, amazing artifact, the—
She trips over a stone. She doesn't feel any pain in her foot. She stumbles and falls. The ragged ground turns transparent in front of her eyes. She sits up and gasps. Her heart thumping wildly in her ribcage. She can hear the slim blonde woman snoring like a train in the cell across the hall. She looks around dazed. She's still inside her small clean prison cell. She's sitting in her hard narrow bed. The night shift guards walks down the corridor. Someone moans and murmurs something in her sleep. And Elizabeth, her sweet, brave, brilliant twin sister, is still not talking to her.
Emily Hasting quietly gets out of bed. She goes to sit down at her small desk and takes out a thick stack of unopened letters sent from Trenton. She opens the envelopes carefully, smoothes out the paper, and starts doing origami. She makes paper cranes. She makes paper boats. She makes paper flowers. She keeps humming under her breath. Her pale face becomes peaceful. Her misty grey eyes turn clear and calm. She's a woman in love. She's a woman in jail. She has made some foolish hasty mistakes. She may or may not have remorse and regret. She sometimes dreams about running away from the prison. She always wakes up before she arrives at her destination. She has gotten more and more used to the disappointment. She has quietly accepted her destiny without fighting back or complaining. She's no longer obsessed with Joe Morelli. She's not interested in his life, his dreams, his longings, or his new job as mall security. She's bright. She's smart. She's truthful. She's loyal. She feels sorry that she and Elizabeth are no longer on speaking terms. But only one of them can be Mrs. Carlos Manoso. And she, Emily Hasting, would rather die than let go of his large warm Mocha Latte hand...
Author's Note: This chapter is inspired by the ever so talented sweetdreams-sunnymornings. If you haven't met her Mercenary Ranger, you totally should.
