Any Man Of Mine by sade meeks (best 7 inch ereader .TXT) 📕

"Surely you recognize roses when you see them. What do they have to do with me getting my files?" Lula and Connie exchanged a look.

"Uh Oh," I heard Lula mumble under her breath.

"Um…" Connie started. I looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Spit it out already!" I was starting to really wonder what was going on. Connie isn't usually tongue-tied, at least not unless Ranger was in the vicinity. Lula wasn't fanning herself so I was pretty sure this wasn't a Ranger-induced hormonally-charged short-circuiting of Connie's vocal capabilities. Connie continued to stammer and Lula apparently had had enough. With a disgusted look at Connie, Lula began to talk.

"They're for you. They were on the door step when Connie opened the office this morning." At that, Connie slid a small white envelope across the desk towards me. I took it and realized it must have been in with the flowers. On the outside one word was typed: Bombshell. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I carefully opened the envelope and trying to handle it only by the edges, I removed the card from inside. In the same type as the envelope, it read: I got your message loud and clear last night. I plan to prove to you that I am the man for you. Black dots swam into my vision. I saw Connie's mouth moving but I heard nothing except the sound of the blood rushing through my veins. My legs gave out and I collapsed.

Chapter 2

I slowly became aware of my surroundings again. I was half sitting on the floor, half leaning against the front of Connie's desk. I probably would have smacked my head on the floor something good if the desk hadn't been there. Connie and Lula were squatting next to me, staring at me with concern written all over their faces. I wracked my brain trying to remember what I was doing in this position and what warranted the looks on their faces. I looked down at my lap. Ah ha! There was a card from a florist shop in my lap. That's right. I remember now. And now, I'm going to forget. Denial is definitely the course of action to choose here. Sound started to filter past the pounding in my ears and I heard Ranger's name mentioned.

"No!" I suddenly shouted, startling Lula so much she fell back and landed on her backside.

"Ooof!" Lula expelled with a grunt. "What the hell you do that for?"

"Sorry. No Ranger, no need. It's okay. I know what this must be about. I was just surprised. Really. There's no need to start up a Code Red alert." I knew I was babbling but I couldn't have them calling Ranger. No way. I had made a complete fool of myself last night with that song and Joe, and I'd just as soon Ranger not know about it. I didn't see any reason to raise an alarm that would have the men in my life trying to put me in a safe house and or have a body guard on me 24/7 just because I received flowers with a cryptic message. It's not like I was being threatened with harm or death. I scrambled to come up with something believable, anything remotely plausible to get them off the idea of calling in the troops. "The flowers must be from Joe. We had another fight yesterday, remember? He must be trying to make it up to me." I gave Lula a "duh" look.

"Huh! Since when does Officer Hottie send roses? You two fight all the time; this is the first time I've seen flowers show up here. And what does that card mean about 'getting the message'?" Lula didn't look like she was buying my explanation and every word she'd said was true. Joe doesn't send flowers; flowers never even cross Joe's mind. Joe's idea of making up was sex. I sighed.

"I told you last night that I saw him at the bar. I picked that song to get his attention. It must have worked after all." I gritted out through my teeth as I pushed myself up off the floor and headed for the dingy couch across the office from Connie's desk. Since Connie didn't ask about the song and why a song would get Joe's attention, I could only assume that Lula had already filled her in on last night's escapades. Beautiful. I thought to myself sarcastically. I sat down on the far end of the couch. I wanted distance between me and those roses. As much distance as possible. If I could will them into outer space it still wouldn't be far enough away for me. As much as I was trying to deny it to myself, I was getting weird vibes from those stupid roses. Connie and Lula were exchanging looks again. I sighed. I'm pretty sure I knew what they were thinking.

The last time I got cryptic notes with flower deliveries, the Web Master, aka Clyde Cone, was playing a murderous game of cat and mouse with me. For that reason alone, if I had had any doubts, I was pretty certain these flowers were not from Joe and I knew without a doubt they weren't from Ranger. For one thing, Ranger would never have left flowers outside the office. If he wanted to have flowers here for me, he'd have unlocked the office and left them on Connie's desk himself. Not likely he'd leave flowers for me here though; most likely he'd have left them in my apartment. Ranger is a very private person. I cannot see him leaving flowers for me in public. For another thing, Ranger would never address a card to me as "Bombshell". Come to think of it, I didn't think Joe would either. The only people foolhardy enough to call me Bombshell to my face were the media and the occasional "Bombshell groupie" who followed the news stories about me. Anyway, neither man would be so inconsiderate as to send flowers with a cryptic message after what happened with Clyde. They would be worried about me freaking out, and they would be right.

"Just let it go. I'll swing by and thank Joe in person for the flowers later. Can I have my files now?" I heard Lula mumble something under her breath about the card being addressed to Bombshell and not Cupcake but I decided to let it go for now. Like I said, denial is the action of choice right now. If I deny I heard it, I don't have to think about the implications. Yep! Denial is a friend.

I glared at her and put a sickeningly fake smile on my face as I turned towards Connie, hand outstretched for my files. "I explained the roses, now, my files."

"Suuuure." Connie said, handing me three files. "Carmine LaPaglia – domestic violence. Jonathon Marcantel – disorderly conduct and resisting arrest. Kevin Brokal – possession. Be careful with LaPaglia. I saw the pictures of his wife. Not a pretty sight. He's a repeat offender."

Great! Just what I needed – a skip who didn't think twice about smacking the shit out of a woman and knew enough to know what "rescheduling his court appearance" would really mean. I definitely don't plan on going after that one alone if I can help it. "What about Marcantel? You said he resisted arrest?"

"Not much to worry about there. He locked himself in his car and refused to unlock the doors for the cops. His car is a '68 Chevy Impala. You know, the kind of car before automatic locks? Well anyway, every time the cops went to pop the locks with a hanger, he'd straighten it back out and they'd have to start again. Apparently he also taunted them with some unflattering nicknames through the closed windows. He was drunk as a skunk." Connie rolled her eyes. I could imagine the types of things he said.

"Okay. I'm going now. I'm going to go thank Joe for the flowers and see if I can get some more information on Marcantel from him and the guys at the cop shop. Wanna come with?" I asked Lula. I knew what her answer would be, but I asked anyway.

"Hell No! I mean, no thank you. I have a lot of filing to get done here." I rolled my eyes. Lula used to be a hooker, working one of the corners on Stark Street. Benito Ramirez got his hands on her in an attempt to get a message to me and showed Lula first hand how deadly the world's oldest profession could be. Once she healed from the brutal attack, she altered her career plans but still has an aversion to the police station. That and the shockingly bold spandex wardrobe are two remnants of a lifestyle Lula preferred to keep mostly in her past. I knew she wouldn't go with me. I was counting on it actually. I had no intention of thanking Joe for flowers I knew he didn't send, but I would still stop and talk to Eddie Gazzara or Carl Costanza about Marcantel.

I gathered my stuff, sliding the card carefully into its envelope and placing it in my purse. It was definitely going in a plastic bag as soon as I could get access to one – just in case it suddenly became evidence. I purposely left the flowers on Connie's desk. She looked like she was going to say something about them, but before she could I spoke. "I'd like to keep them here for now if you don't mind. They'd just wilt in the car. Take care of them for me for a day or so, okay?" Connie nodded. I gave them both a finger wave and forced myself to walk as normally as possible out the door. The truth was those flowers scared me.

The guys at the station had no new information to give me on my skip, other than confirming my suspicions about the choice phrases he used while locked in his car. Heading back out to my car, I sighed in relief. Thankfully, I had managed to avoid Joe. I didn't want to face him after last night's debacle at the bar. I guess I'm a bit pissed at him for disappearing like that. I know this relationship between us needs to end; it certainly isn't going anywhere, but I'm not up to the scene right now. Hey, if I'm not facing him, I don't have to face the way things are, right? Did I mention that I do denial well?

I looked at my watch. Lunch time. I had a few choices. I could go back to the office and get Lula. We could get something eat and then attempt to go after a skip. Not the best idea, the way I was feeling right now, I might actually be tempted to shoot someone. I could go to my parents. Again, I might shoot someone. I could go to Rangeman. Problem is, I didn't know if Ranger would be there. One look at my face and Ranger would know something was bothering me. I wasn't ready to tell anyone, especially Ranger, about the flowers yet. They could be a simple, one time, no big deal thing. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I'm sure that's all they are. That left one option. Home.

I parked my newest rust bucket on wheels in my lot and headed into the building. I have, at least for now, given up on the idea of driving anything other than a rust bucket since my cars go up in flames anyway. I got sick of the hassle. If my life ever calms down enough that my