Navigating Nine: Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The plot of To The Nines, and the entire Plum universe is the creation and property of Janet Evanovich. This is just seeing how much stress it can handle, and will cause no permanent harm to anything, except maybe the reader's mind.

Note: This story is all in good fun. In other words, it isn't serious. It's just a writing exercise for me and hopefully somewhat amusing for you. And to help us all wait out the long, cold year between books. Oh, and you need to have read Surviving Stephanie first.

Thank you, to all of you who were kind enough to encourage this, so here it is, the sequel to SS, and you didn't even have to clone Ranger for me. I hope you all enjoy it, and find it suitably warped.

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…Chapter 1…

My life was in a really weird position. I knew lots of people periodically got into weird situations in life, but I was pretty sure did not have an advice manual for me. Normally when someone says they feel like they're living someone else's life, they mean it philosophically.

Maybe that's my problem- I never got the hang of philosophy. So when I encountered this problem, mine turned literal. I really was someone else. At least I was pretty sure I was someone else. Okay, so I had the fingerprints and apparently the same genetic make-up of the person I was supposed to be, but I didn't have her memories.

I'm not sure what happened, one minute I was falling down the dorm stairs after a slightly drunken accident and the next I was in a hospital apparently playing the role of my favorite book character. I tried to pretend and play the part, but you know something? It sucks doing that. So I didn't. I did it my own way and things really got weird.

Stephanie's totally traditional family was suddenly rearranged and my own parents showed up. Her dad was now my dad, and her mom was now my stepmother. My mom appeared as, you got it, the mom.

I know, it made no sense, but there you are. I had decided to give up on trying to explain it. Maybe I was having some kind of Matrix experience because my body was in a coma at the foot of the dorm staircase. I could be Stephanie with a freaky sort of amnesia. I could be a figment of Janet Evanovich's twisted imagination. Thinking about it had gotten me nowhere except to bring up new questions.

I'm not a philosophical person, I guess because I just decided to try and adjust to the way things were. Unfortunately at some point I also kind of fell in love with Bruce Wayne aka Ranger Manoso, ultra scary, utterly gorgeous, multimillionaire mercenary. Not such a bad thing since he loved me back, except for he seemed to be in a 'forever' state of mind.

See, no one knew where Ranger lived, except his core team (who more or less lived there) and now me. And this particular Bat Cave was forever. Once you were in, you were in. I was in.

Welcome to the world of Moonbeam Stephanie Alyssa Plum. My world, my life, at least that's what I liked to think of it as.

So now I was living in the Bat Cave, possibly forever, with Ranger and a couple of his guys. It had been six weeks since I moved into Wayne Manor. Maybe that wasn't the right way to phrase it, because 'moved in' made it sound like I packed up and actually did a move-in thing, with U-Haul and boxes and such. In reality it was more like I was packed up and some of my stuff magically transported itself.

It was only supposed to be for two weeks, the two weeks my doctor had said I needed to take off and just vegetate to let myself heal emotionally and physically from getting kidnapped and then rescuing myself and my step-sister from this sociopath called Eddie Abruzzi. Except that when the two weeks was over and I brought up me moving back out, I just got a blank look followed by various comments.

"Moonbeam, you know you'd make a great platinum blond…" from Lester.

"There's a new Vin Diesel movie coming out. Why don't we see if anybody gets thrown through a window?" from Tank.

"You seen that new Vin Diesel movie yet?" from Bobby.

"Babe," from Ranger.

So, because I'm female and at least not totally insane, I gave up and decided they'd let me know when they thought I should leave. Probably I might have made a little more fuss except that I was spending my night's curled up in Ranger's bed. And even if I wasn't up to actual sex yet, it was a bed with a warm semi-naked Ranger.

I snapped back to the present, and pretended I wasn't breathing a little heavier than I had been. I needed to focus, for crying out loud, or I was never going to get through this file. My ribs were pretty much healed and Jack Ryan, Rangeman's resident psychologist, had been putting me through weekly sessions of talking. Actually we chatted like friends now, and I was really glad I hadn't dated him. He was much more Valerie's type.

Anyway, he had okayed me to go back to work on the small stuff, but he said I needed to have some help. So here I was with Lula, reading through the file on a new FTA and trying not to think of the utter injustice that I had to end up in a relationship that defied actual categorization with the only 'opportunist' who was apparently totally un-opportunistic.

And to make matters worse, aside from sleeping in the same bed I'd barely seen Ranger for the last couple weeks. I was starting to think I might have to get serious about not going back to the Bat Cave.

At least I wasn't pregnant.

"You sure Ranger didn't give you this car?" Lula asked. I looked at her, dressed in a hot pink spandex skirt, faux tiger print top, with a yellow angora sweater over it to ward off the cool early morning air. Jersey in June. I wasn't expecting to like it.

Lula was a former ho, and life had never been great for her. I honestly wished for a moment that Ranger had given me the car. As it was, I felt myself blush. It was a little embarrassing to admit the car's true source to Lula.

"No. It's not black," I pointed out. "Ranger only has black cars."

"So where'd you get it? That teacher of yours- Mac?"

I frowned. Mac was affiliated with Ranger, somehow. I sort of thought they were partners in RangeMan, but I wasn't sure. And my only dealing with Mac was that he taught me self-defense and how to use a gun and how to drive a clutch when Ranger loaned me a Porsche and refused to let me try my luck at a CR-V or something with an automatic. Of course, Ranger had thought I knew how to drive a clutch, but that was aparently part of the... the whatever was going on that I was not going to think about.

I looked around us at the cute little white Jeep Wrangler. I preferred sports cars, but being a bounty hunter didn't make them practical.

"No, I didn't get it from Mac. I got it from my dad."

Lula stared at me. "Your dad gave you a car?"

I cleared my throat and shifted my weight as I nodded. Dad was a rancher, and he'd had a little luck with other interests after he helped a friend get a restaurant started and it had taken off. So now Frank Plum, three-time National Rodeo Association Bull Riding Champion, was a bona fide business man. He'd happened to meet my stepmother Ellen on a business trip a few years ago and had decided to marry her.

Since she wouldn't leave her precious Chambersburg, he decided to split his time between New Jersey and Oklahoma and guess where that left me, seeing as my mom was off chasing New Age knowledge around the globe? You got it, it left little old me stuck in Chambersburg, a land of Catholicism, cholesterol, and button factories. At least, this was the intel I had gleaned from my mom, dad, step-grandmother and stepsister over the last few weeks. Ellen wasn't speaking to me. I couldn't say I minded.

So here I was, goddess knew why, a 22-year-old bounty hunter, still in Trenton, New Jersey. But like I said, it had some perks. Good friends, hot guys, and an interesting life.

However, the skip we were going to have to go after today was not on my list of perks. Punky Balog was a fat, furry fungus who'd committed grand theft auto and skipped out on his court date. Since I worked for my step-cousin, Vinnie the Duck-humping Weasel, I got the pleasure of apprehending him.

Problem was, for reasons that continue to defy any amount of explanation to myself or others, I knew exactly what was going to happen, provided this was the day I thought it was. We were going to drive to Punky's, get mooned, get flashed, and I was going to get covered in Vaseline while trying to apprehend his fuzzy drunken butt.

So it was written, so it would not be. Hopefully.

I've discovered that sometimes when you know these things you can make them slightly less unpleasant with a little planning. Unfortunately I didn't see how I was going to manage it this time.

"Let's go, Lula," I suggested, and she nodded affirmative, slipping on a pair of Raybans. I slipped the Jeep into gear and headed for Punky's house, hoping I didn't get lost on the way. I had a print out of directions from Yahoo, but sometimes not even those helped.

Luckily for me, Lula had an excellent sense of direction so she kept us on-target until we drove past Punky's house. I was unpleasantly surprised to find that he lived in on a block of row houses. My small town, Midwestern sensibilities had serious issues with row houses. They gave me an urge to run the other direction.

I drove down the block and parked around the corner, trying to gather my thoughts. "All right, Lula, you take the back, I'll take the front."

"Shouldn't we do some surveillance, see if he's there?"

"If he isn't there I'll worry about surveillance." No way was I going to sit around and wait to get mooned by a fat hairy butt. "His house is the fourth one down. Don't miscount." I climbed out of the car and stared down the sidewalk, feeling uneasy. Hopefully Punky wouldn't be home. Hopefully I was totally wrong about what would happen today.

"What you waitin' on, white girl?"

"Nothing. Let's go."

Punky Balog answered the door on my second knock. He was weaving on his feet and as his piggy little eyes looked me over he leered. "What you want, sugar? Need anything from Punky?" God his breath was 90 proof—

Punky swung the door open wider and I reeled backward. He was naked as a fat, furry ugly balding baby.

I was never having children.

"Yeah, Punky," I said, trying to smile while forcing the vomit back down my throat. Focus on the head. Piggy little eyes. Don't look down. Good god, don't look down…

"I need you to come with me."

"Anything specific in mind?" he asked, moving so the… package jiggled along with his belly. I was going to hurl.

"Yep." I pulled out my stun gun and lunched straight at him. For such a fat little fungus, he sure moved quick. He dodged the stunner, turned his fuzzy tail, and ran. I yelled at him and chased after.

He was on the bottom step when I got him, right on the nape of the neck. Punky fell like a sack of drunken Irish potatoes. Backward. I staggered as his flabby bulk knocked into me.

"LULA!" I yelled as I overbalanced and stumbled back until I smacked into the wall. I stood there dazed, staring down at the naked fat man. What the hell was with Janet sticking me with ugly naked men? Was it karmic retribution of getting to see Ranger naked?

I was glad I'd only had some granola and yogurt that morning as I used my foot to turn Punky over. I cuffed him a little more tightly that was strictly polite and wondered what to do about his nakedness. Maybe I could just take him to the cop shop and pretend I didn't notice. Like the white elephant in the living room or whatever. I never understood that saying. Did someone actually have an elephant in their living room once? Where did they live? Why didn't they mention it?

My brain was on its pattern of ultra-random. Good. Ultra-random was useful for situations like this. I had found that in this life, thinking straight was vastly over-rated.

Now about the white pinky Punky…

In the end I had to go get a blanket and sit around waiting for him to wake up. He was just showing some signs of life when there was a slamming door nearby and Lula stormed in the front door.

"Geez, I get the wrong house and the lady goes ballistic. Not like I was stealing anything." True, thieves usually didn't wear hot pink spandex miniskirts and Via Spigas. Lula was very big on Via Spigas. Apparently it was a shoe line dedicated to pricey hooker heels. Personally I adored shoes of any brand as long as they looked cute.

"Hmm," I said trying to look sympathetic, but was saved by Punky jolting awake with an indignant scream.

"Get these things off me! What the hell did you do to me!"

"Want me to shoot him?" Lula offered, eying him distastefully.

"I wish, but Vinnie'd have a coronary. Just help me get him down the stairs out front. We can always drop him."

"Girl," Lula said as she helped drag Punky's squirming self toward the door, "you been spending too much time with Batman."

I sighed. "Maybe…"

Lula shot me a look and Punky took her moment of distraction to ram an elbow into her stomach. I saw her gasp and moved before I even thought, sweeping my left leg and catching him around the ankle, then jerking it back as I let go of his sweaty, grimy arms.

Punky yelled as he did a face-plant in the dirt. Damn, I'd been aiming for the cement.

I turned to Lula, who had a hand clutched around her middle and was leaning against the house while she caught her breath.

"You okay?"

"Let me at him!" she growled. "I'm gonna bust a cap in his ugly ass…" I saw the fire lighting in her eyes and recognized the signs of Rhino Rage coming on. I stepped aside and let her storm down the steps.

His mama should have taught him not to hit a lady. Cause it wouldn't have been nearly as painful as the way Lula taught him. At least it was now a pretty safe bet there would never be any little Punky Jrs.

I got some funny looks at the station as I hauled in a docile, slightly limping, very naked skip with a black eye.

"He fell down the stairs," I sighed, hoping to keep the desk sergeant from asking any silly questions.

"Yeah, don't you hate it when that happens?" Carl Constanza said, coming into view behind the sergeant.

I allowed myself a smile. "It's a bitch." I would have said more but my cell phone rang.

"Steph," Connie sounded stressed, "we got a problem. Get here."

I grimaced. This knowing the future stuff was not what it was cracked up to be. And I really needed to stop being called Stephanie.

My cell began to play the theme song to Practical Magic and I sighed as I flipped it on. "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, sweetie. I just wanted to check on you."

I stopped on the front steps of the police station and scowled. Lula was by some miracle still waiting across the street in the parking lot, but that wasn't nearly as odd as my mother wanting to 'check' on me. Rhianna Ravenstar, Mom's preferred name as well as her penname, did not 'check up' on her gifted and capable Old Soul daughter.

"Is this about the Jeep?"

"What Jeep?"

Oops. "Never mind. What's wrong?"

"Are you all right?"

Well, other than I'm probably crazy and my sort-of-roundabout boyfriend-ish person is being totally distant… "I'm good. Men are pigs. I''m crazy. It's the norm."

Mom was used to feeling crazy and being called crazy. She was a New Age author. She wore crystals and robes. She danced naked under the full moon. It tended to upset some people.

"I'm glad to hear it," she sounded relieved. "I'd like you to come to dinner tonight if you can."

"You're marrying Derek?" I guessed, smiling and letting myself continue down the steps. Mom laughed.

"Don't be ridiculous. I want to show you the new book!"

"Awesome. I'll be there."

"Not bringing Ranger?" Mom sounded amused now.

"Nope. Should I?"

"I had wondered. Well, don't be too hard on him, sweetheart. And remember to at least let him explain himself."

"Okay. Gotta run, Mama. Love you!"

"Love you, Moonbeam." I wrinkled my nose as I shut the phone.

She must have really taken a liking to Ranger if she thought he deserved the right to explain himself.