Bombs, Bullets and Blood

Chapter 1

Melanie Banks has bondsman Rollo Parks up against the wall of his office, her trusty commando knife is against his head, not the one on his shoulders. She's an auburn haired, tall, well-shaped woman, wearing jeans, boots and a western style man's shirt, but right now, her good looks are the last thing Rollo has on his mind. Mel hollers, Are you gonna pay me what you owe me, or do I start slicing and dicing, you bastard!

"Mel, you don't understand. Mel, I can't now. It's not that I don't want to, any check I write you would bounce, and I wouldn't want you coming after me when that happens. I'm overextended on bonds, until the court releases the bond on Lefty Salazar, I just don't have it to give you. That was a huge bond, requiring a cash deposit, not just my signature guaranteeing it."

Mel still speaks in a very menacing tone, Just how the hell long is that going to take?

It's Friday afternoon, there's no way it will happen before Monday, at the earliest.

Hand over the keys to your Mercedes, the pink slip too. You know very well how it works, you owe me, so I want some damn collateral.

Oh no, not my Mercedes, I've got plans this weekend, I'll need it.

That's too bad, hand it over or lose what little manhood you've got. I'm sure your plans included using that, too. Which will it be? Your Mercedes or your manhood, choose, and choose fast, I'm running out of patience with you.

If you call this patience, I'd hate to see anxious.

You sure would, now give me the keys and the pink slip.

"All right already. I'm going to reach for my keys and my wallet, don't get impatient."

Mel replies vehemently, Don't try anything stupid, or my knife will be the least of your worries.

Rollo nods, Don't think I don't know that. Rollo digs his keys out of his pocket nervously. He takes his home and office keys off the ring, then hands the keys with the remote for the alarms and door locks to Mel. He places them in her left hand, since her right hand is still holding the knife at his crotch. A quick search of his wallet finds the pink slip, which he also hands over.

Mel growls, "Okay, Rollo, you keep your parts for now. You've got until next Friday to pay me every dime you owe me, or I keep the car for good. Don't be looking for me to go hunting any more bounties for you until you're paid up. I have other clients, you know."

Yes, I know.

Mel backs off, as she turns to leave, Rollo makes a mistake, he reaches into a desk drawer, Mel knows he keeps a pistol in that drawer. She turns quickly, then throws the knife. It sticks in the desktop, right in front of his hand. Rollo looks up with a scared expression on his face. Her pistol is now leveled at his head. Don't get stupid, Rollo. Don't be reporting the car stolen, either. If I should go to jail, you'll be right beside me. I have plenty of dirt on you, don't forget that.

I'm reaching for a smoke, is that okay by you?

I don't give a shit about that, but if you pull out that pistol, it'll be the last thing you ever do.

You don't have to tell me that. I just hide my smokes here so Nancy won't find them.

Mel walks closer, pulls her knife out of the desktop left handed, puts it in her belt sheath, then backs out, pistol at the ready, she doesn't trust Rollo any farther than she could throw him -- since he's a big bastard, that wouldn't be very far.

As Mel walks out the rear door of the offices, she pushes the button on the remote to Rollo's Mercedes. It doesn't beep off, but on. That seems strange to her, he always sets the alarm then double-checks it. When she pushes the button to unlock the doors, BOOM, a blast knocks her on her ass. Shrapnel from the car flies over her, some strikes her, cutting her up a bit, but her bulletproof vest stops any from being immediately deadly, since she had enough sense to cover her head with her arms, but her arms get cut severely, she's losing blood fast. She crawls back inside the rear door of Rollo's office, then her world goes black.

Chapter 2

What the hell … where am I, is this hell? It certainly smells like hell.

A woman in the traditional green hospital scrubs speaks in a soothing voice, Honey, that's just the antiseptic smell all hospitals have.

Mel quips, Not unless somebody farted it.

Oh, that's Mrs. Jenkins in the next bed, she has gastric problems that cause her to have a lot of gas.

Mel barks out, I want another damn room, pronto.

The nurse shakes her head, No can do, we don't have one. Now that you're awake, you probably won't be staying long.

Mel's tone changes to one of concern for herself, How long have I been here?

The nurse replies, I don't know when you were brought to the emergency room, but you've been in this room for about a day and a half.

Melanie tries to move her arms to hold her nose since Mrs. Jenkins just let go another blast. She finds them bandaged and tied down, with an IV running into her left arm. What the hell am I tied down for?

That's so you wouldn't move around and rip out your IV or stitches. You were restless in your sleep, or half-coma, whichever it was.

Pissed off now, Mel spits out, So untie me, I can't be laying here all tied up and defenseless, for all I know, somebody is trying to kill me.

The nurse calmly replies, The police don't think so, they think the bomb that got you was meant for a guy named Rollo Parks. I take it you work for him?

Sometimes, but probably never again, though it's smart to never to say never. I certainly have a bone to pick with him before I ever do, that's for sure.

The nurse shakes her head, You won't be picking those bones dear. He got blown up at his house, what was left was incinerated as the place burned. The same evening you came in, I believe, just somewhat later. Whoever blew up that car took no chances, they wired his house with a hell of a big bunch of explosives too, so I hear. The cops don't exactly tell me outright, it's just what I overheard, they tend not to pay attention to me as I go about my duties.

All of what she said doesn't really register in Mel's somewhat cloudy mind, Why would that be, you're not a bad looking woman, though those scrubs don't help things much.

The nurse gives her a slight smile, Around here, I like to blend in as much as I can. Now if they saw me off duty, I'm sure I'd attract their attention. When I'm fixed up, I'm a good looking woman for an old gal.

You're not old, what are you, maybe thirty-five at the most?

The smile brightens a bit, I'm forty-six. Too old for most of these young cops and doctors to be looking at in that way.

Mel is a good ten years her junior, but knows how that feels, I haven't got looked at that way much lately myself. Now are you going to undo these straps, or do I have to gnaw them off?

The nurse replies in a practiced, pleasant tone, I can't do a thing without doctor's orders. Let me go see if I can find one. This time of day, they're fairly scarce. Sunday nights are usually kinda slow around here.

Mel can't believe it, It's Sunday night? Shit, last I knew it was Friday afternoon.

"Well, you were near dead when they brought you in, so I hear. I don't work ER. You lost so much blood, had to have a couple of pints pumped into you in a hurry."

Anything else wrong with me?

No, other than tons stitches in your arms and a couple of spots on your legs. It was the leg that did most of it, a major vein got cut.

Damn … well hell … I guess I'll be all right.

The nurse nods, You should be, I'll be back when I find a doctor.

The nurse leaves the room, just as Mrs. Jenkins lets fly with another gas attack. That makes Mel think the nurse won't be back any sooner than she has to be.

Mel does her best imitation of an ostrich, trying to hide her nose in the pillow, it helps a little, but not a hell of a lot. The nurse does come back in a few minutes, she unties Mel's hands, then removes the IV, putting a Band-Aid on the spot on Mel's upper arm where it was put in, an unusual spot, probably made necessary by all the cuts on her arms, but Mel doesn't know for sure, she's yet to see them, they're bandaged thickly.

The nurse nearly whispers, The doctor wants me to wheel you down to an exam room. She's not going to set foot in this gas chamber, the coward.

Mel grins, or maybe it's a grimace, she's not sure herself, I can't really blame her for that. Just then Mrs. Jenkins punctuates the line with another long blast. Lets go, I don't want to be in here either.

Just a second, I have to grab a wheel chair.

I'll hide out in the bathroom.

Okay, you might want to put on one of the hospital robes, those gowns don't hide much.

That's a fact. Mel catches a look at the nurse's nametag, it says, Judy Hodgkins, LPN. Judy helps Mel to the bathroom, making sure she has a robe to put on. They're not much better then the hospital gowns, but they do cover her ass better.

Mel sits down to have a tinkle, then suddenly finds she has to make a stink of her own. The couple of days her most recent meal has been inside her doesn't do anything good for it's bouquet, it's aroma puts Mrs. Jenkins to shame, the gas that comes with it makes Mel's eyes water, she could swear the paint is peeling off the walls. Flushing while still sitting there doesn't help much, the gas keeps escaping.

Mel finishes up the paperwork on that job, difficult to do with her bandaged arms. When she stands to wash her hands, she notices a second switch by the light switch. When she flips it, a vent fan comes on. It's too little, too late, but it might help some.

When she opens the door, Judy is standing there with a wheel chair. She quickly backs away from the chair as the nasty aroma makes it's presence known. Judy has the strange voice a person gets when they're holding their nose, Damn, Miss Banks, trying to get even with Mrs. Jenkins are you? That's not even a fair fight. I'll have them run X-rays on you to see if something crawled inside you and died there.

Mel has to chuckle, Whatever it was, I flushed it, but its memory lingers on. Lets get the hell out of here. Mel plops her butt in the chair. Judy wheels her out of the room quickly, then down the hall to an exam room. They're both happy to only smell the antiseptic scent that is common to all hospitals.

In a couple of minutes, a young woman waltzes into the room, the nametag reads Beth Weiderstein, DIM. The DIM makes Mel laugh out loud. The doctor looks at her with a puzzled expression, then notices she's looking at her nametag. That stands for Doctor of Internal Medicine, not that I'm not bright.

Mel chuckles, I take it you get that often?

Beth nods, More often than I care for, it's about made me want to change my specialty several times. I guess it's better than Doctor of Urological Medicine.

DUM, well, only slightly. All I want to know is if I can get out of here?

Just a minute, let me check you over. The doctor performs her cursory examination, then checks the chart Judy gives her. I think you can get out of here. Is there anyone you can call to bring you some clothes, and give you a ride?

No, there's nobody close enough to this town. How about you lend me some surgical scrubs, then I'll get a taxi.

Beth nods, Okay, I'll have Judy take care of that. Your wallet and other personal belongings are at the nurse's station, locked up. She can get you those too. The remains of your bloody clothes, the police have in their forensics labs, I suppose.

Great. I can't wait to get out of here.

I'll go get the paperwork started, you'll have to sign a bunch of forms but it shouldn't be too bad. We found your insurance card, so that's already being taken care of.

Thanks, Doc.

Chapter 3

Mel doesn't take the taxi home, she takes it close to Rollo's office, where she collects her pickup out of the Pay 'n Park lot. The cab fare to her little house outside of the greater metro area of Dallas-Fort Worth would have been much too expensive. She could afford it, but can't see doing that, then having to do it again to come back for her pickup truck.

Her truck isn't fancy looking, it still looks like a beat up twenty-year-old Ford F-150 with four-wheel drive. Its underpinnings are completely updated, the 302 V-8 engine has been massaged to a displacement of three hundred and forty-eight cubic inches, with dual Paxton superchargers, and a number of other improvements. She left it looking rough, since it blends in better and is less suspect when trailing most skips. It's the four-door crew cab model, common as dirt in this part of Texas. Being common looking is the idea, the inside is fixed up a little. The interior has a couple of roll bars, with steel loops welded on to cuff perps to. The interior itself isn't all that fancy, but serviceable, the one big improvement on the inside is a good sound system, though it's hidden when not in use. The CD player is actually under her seat, it holds forty-eight discs. The controls for it look like a standard stock AM radio.

The truck also has bullet-stop material inside the doors, the glass isn't real glass, it's the new fangled lightweight bulletproof polymer. All the improvements cost a lot, but have already been more than worth their cost, since they saved her from being shot on more than one occasion.

My lightweight new fangled vest probably saved my ass when the bomb went off. Too bad I don't have a long sleeved model. Maybe they make some that's like long underwear? Oh, that reminds me, I'll have to get another vest, I guess the cops have mine. Getting it back will probably be a lot of hassle, but I should try. They're not cheap, though the price is down considerably from what they cost a while back.

Just to be on the safe side, Mel checks out her truck thoroughly before she even turns off the alarm. She checks it again after she turns off the alarm, checking under the hood first, then under the passenger compartment. No bombs here, I guess they really were after Rollo, not me.I wonder why anyone would go to such an extreme to get him? A simple bullet from a sniper's position would have been so much easier. He must have ticked somebody off big time. I don't know a hell of a lot about his personal life, but then, so long as they're not after me, it's not my worry. I wonder … would this bozo come after me too, maybe thinking I know something I don't? Hmmm, that's hard to say right now.

Mel gets in her truck, checks under the seats, under the dash, everywhere she can think of, no bombs, so she starts it. On the drive home, she wonders: Rollo owed me a hell of a bunch of money, a hundred and forty-eight thousand to be exact, how the hell can I collect now? I guess I'll go to the courthouse in the morning, perhaps I can manage to get Salazar's bond money released to me, as Rollo's agent? Might be tricky, but what the hell, it's worth a try. If I can't do that, I'll need to be there to put a lean on his estate. I hate to do that, but it's too much money to just let slide.

Mel rides the fifty or so miles to her little house well outside of the metropolitan area, at least it is for now, at the rate the city keeps growing someday it might be right in the middle of it. A couple of big bounties paid for the little place, it's not all that much, just a little two bedroom house somewhat in the hacienda style, but too small to really have that look. It does have five acres of ground, enough of a buffer zone so that when and if the city grows up around it, she'll still have some privacy. It's paid for, all she has to worry about are the taxes and utilities. They're steep enough, but a hell of a lot better than worrying about mortgage payments, when her income isn't steady. She's either got plenty, or next to nothing coming in, it's hardly ever regular. Right now, she's fairly flush from the last few jobs, but it won't last long without the big payday she worked so hard to get from Rollo.

When Mel wheels into her yard, she gets the feeling something isn't right. She's not sure what, but something isn't quite the way she left it. She gets out of her truck, armed with the shotgun she keeps in it. Where her pistol and knife wound up, is anyone's guess. Supposedly they should be in the police forensics lab, but the cops might have absconded with them, she wouldn't put it past them. Some of the guys are great, but there are some that are likely to do anything.

Mel turns on the flashlight that's slung under the short barrel of her shotgun, by pressing a button near the trigger. It's not totally dark yet, but the extra-bright LED light tends to accentuate anything it illuminates.

At first, Mel doesn't spot anything. When she gets to the back of the house, she notices that a section of the screened latticework that's there to keep animals from crawling under the house is loose, it wasn't before she left, the best she remembers. Carefully, she pulls it back, then shines the light under the house, while she's on her belly to get a good look.

Damn, something's there…what is it. I'll crawl in closer to get a better look … no, I think I'll just call the bomb squad … how? My cell was on me when I went down, I don't have it now. Shit! There's only one thing to do.

Mel crawls under the house slowly, keeping her light focused on what she thinks might be a bomb, for the most part. She also thinks it might be wise to check the rest of the crawlspace, whoever put it here might still be here. She sweeps the light all around, nobody else is here. She focuses on the bomb again. When she's close enough to it, she gets a good look at what was meant to do her in. It's a simple bomb, really, just a battery, with one lead going to a detonator in some C-4 type explosive, it might be some other kind of plastic explosive, she's not sure, it's not like it's labeled. Where the other detonator lead goes, and the one coming back to the battery, she's not sure. It's simple enough to disarm though, remove the battery, there's no chance of it going off. She does that, then removes the detonator from the explosive itself. Whoever planted it, wanted people to think it was a gas explosion, since the bomb is planted on the incoming gas line.

With this bomb safe, she goes into the house, via the back door. Her bag of belongings did have her keys in it, at least that's something. She uses her home phone to call the sheriff's office, telling them to be sure to bring their bomb squad and sniffing dogs to her house, just to make sure. She gives them the address, though they probably already know it. Mel has a good relationship with the sheriff's officers, not so the city police, they think she's just a mercenary at best, a nuisance at worst. Maybe it's the other way around, she's not sure, but some of them really don't like her at all, for no real reason she can think of.

Half an hour later, the sheriff's bomb squad shows up. They remove the rest of the bomb under the house, and search thoroughly for any more. They find another, in her garage, attached to her pristine, totally redone 1967 Pontiac GTO. It was originally a hand me down from her father, he got it from his father. She redid it, doing most of the work herself, though she's not knowledgeable enough to do the engine work, she did the bodywork all herself, and most of the interior, though she had new coverings made professionally for the seats, she installed them herself, learning much about it in the process.

Some asshole trying to blow up her GTO, makes her as pissed as she can be. She lovingly calls it a goat, in this case the blue goat, since it has a fire-mist metallic blue paint job. I'm going to find the bastard responsible for this and he's going to pay big time. Trying to kill me is one thing, hell he might have cause, but screwing with my car, that's going to get him dead if I get hold of him. The bomb squad officer that showed her the defused bomb just shrugs, If anyone asks, I didn't hear that, but I don't blame you a bit. Anybody that would do that, needs killin'. That's a legal defense in this state, just tell the judge he needed killin, if they catch you.

Yeah, I know I shouldn't be shooting my mouth off, but I'm ticked.

Yeah, you should be … ticked, that is, not shooting your mouth off. Any ideas why somebody would go to these lengths to see you dead?

In my line of work, it's easy to make enemies. This is more than that. Somebody about got me when they blew up Rollo's Mercedes, that I was taking for collateral. I hear they blew his house sky high too.

The officer nods, Yeah, we got called in on that to help the city squad figure out what the hell happened. They must have loosened the pipes and let the gas leak for a while. It took the whole place out in one big bang. If I hadn't found a small piece of the detonator, they would have written it off as a gas explosion.

Yeah … oh damn, you think they loosened my gas pipes?

No, the sniffer would have caught that.

All right, thanks George. I guess I'll get some clothes packed and go stay somewhere else, since apparently whoever this is knows where I live. Do me a favor, will you George, take my Goat to your place?

Really, I get to drive that?

Yeah, as far as your place, don't be putting a ton of miles on it. I know you'll want to sneak it out next weekend. Feel free to do so, but, with somebody out to kill me, that might not be a good idea.

George looks at the bomb in his hands, Yeah, I think you might be right about that. Mel hands him the keys to the Goat, then goes in the house to change clothes and pack. She gets all her weapons and ammo into the truck first, then changes into a long sleeved western shirt that hides the bandages on her arms, for the most part. The jeans are a little trickier to get over the bandages on her legs, as they're fairly tight fitting. After a few moments, the pressure on them seems to help them feel better.

Mel grabs her stash of cash, extra ID's and credit cards. She won't be wanting to use any that are in her real name. It's not unusual in her line of work to need different identities, so she's prepared for that. She packs some changes of clothes, underwear, and other things, then hauls the suitcases out to the truck one by one, that's all she can manage in her weakened condition. She stops to wonder if there's anything she's forgetting, since she won't want to come back to the house until this thing is over, whatever this thing is.

Mel grabs some of her camping gear, along with some freeze dried meals, since she has no idea where this mess will take her. Mel packs up some dressy clothes too, since she really doesn't know what she'll need. She takes them out to the truck, puts everything in the back seat, not the bed. She returns to the house to lock up, and reset the alarms, for all the good they did when the bomber came around.

Mel drives away, pissed off at being driven out of her home, even temporarily. Whoever is doing this better hope the law catches them before I do. I guess I'll go find a motel somewhere for tonight. I'm really in no shape for this shit yet. I should get something to eat, I'm starved. Barbecue sounds good.

Chapter 4

When Salazar is brought into court, there's a hubbub in the crowded courtroom. The press is snapping pictures, clamoring for quotes. The judge gavels the proceedings quiet. There will be quiet in my courtroom, or I'll have everyone but the principals removed, am I getting through to the members of the press? It's only by my good graces you've been allowed in the courtroom, and you're trying my patience.

The courtroom gets eerily quiet. Judge Whitmore uses his most authoritative voice, Bailiff, call the case officially, even though we all know why we're here.

The bailiff does his thing, The great state of Texas versus Enrico Lefty Salazar. Are all parties present?

There are calls of present from several places, accompanied by their names and titles. Mel calls out her name and official title of bail enforcement agent. She's not happy to see that Rollo's family attorney, Michael Peterson, is also present.

Judge Whitmore starts the proceedings, Okay, let's get the housekeeping out of the way before we get into specifics. Who represents Parks Bail Bond Agency?

Both Mel and Peterson say they do at the same time. The judge calls them both forward, with his hand over the microphone, he asks Okay, what gives here, what are you doing here, Peterson?

I'm here representing the heir of Mr. Parks, he was killed Saturday, along with his immediate family. I represent his sister, Michele Brentwood.

And you, Miss Banks?

As you know I worked for Rollo, this bounty was mine, I'm still owed on it. I'm just trying to get what's mine.

Okay, Peterson, I'm going to release the million and a half cash bond to you for the heir, to be held in escrow until formal probate, however, I'll order that Miss Banks be paid everything Rollo owed her, right now, when I release the funds, is that understood?

Yes, your honor.

Okay, step back. The judge makes his formal ruling, then they go on to other matters. Peterson and Mel step out of the courtroom, since what happens from there on is no concern of theirs. They walk down to the office that handles such things. They cut Mel a check as soon as the clerk gets the judge's order. She's happy about that, since it's drawn on the county account, not Rollo's, she won't have any trouble cashing it. Peterson takes his check, made out to an escrow account, then walks out with her.

Mel, there's a couple of things I need to ask you.

Go ahead, I got my money, I'm in a good mood.

First, how the hell did you ever manage to take down a murdering scum like Salazar?

He wasn't that bright. He's mean and nasty, but not all that smart. He thought he could hang around here, use his henchmen and reputation to keep anyone from taking him in again. He figured if the state got the bond, they wouldn't care about him any more. I think he was wrong about that, they didn't spend the time and energy to take him down for those killings just to let it go for some cash. Anyway, being a woman worked for me, he didn't even suspect I might be a bond agent. I lured him away from his troops, then knocked his ass out and brought him in. That part was easy, really, for big money. The hard part was the research and stake outs to track his movements.

As they walk outside, Peterson asks, Okay, that brings me to the second thing I need to ask. Would you consider running Rollo's business, at least temporarily?

Mel shakes her head, I don't think so, but I could look things over and get it straightened up for you. I don't really want to be the one writing the bonds.

Technically, you couldn't. You could see that all the outstanding ones are taken care of. You won't be financially responsible.

I'll do that, but I need a few days to rest up. I was nearly blown up too. This business suit hides the bandages fairly well, but I'm not up to par yet.

Peterson nods, Okay, let me know when you're ready.

Just give me a set of keys, I'll go into the office in the next few days, whenever I have some time. I'll start going through the paperwork. I'll have to find out how many bonds are outstanding, which are close to default, and so forth. I may have to have other bond agents take care of them, since I'm not really up to it right now, especially if they're risky ones.

Whatever you think. His sister knows nothing about how to run it. I know very little, it's not my usual thing.

Yeah, you mostly do wills and such don't you?

Oh, I primarily real estate law, but for Rollo I did a little of everything, except criminal stuff.

All right, give me the keys and your card. I'll try to update you when I've figured out what's going on.

All right, here you go. Peterson props his briefcase on a handy bench, opens it, hands her a set of keys, then a business card. Let me know something as soon as you can. His sister isn't well off, she can sure use the money he's got tied up in that place.

Mel shrugs, I suppose we should look at either selling the business or shutting it down, huh?

Peterson nods, The way things are, it's better to shut it down, with the licensing and so forth, he really doesn't have anything to sell, except the building itself, of course.

Okay, I'll work toward that end … oh, I should be paid for my work, how is that going to happen?

Peterson shrugs, I'll have to check into that. You'll be paid, of course, I think when it's all settled at probate. All this is a little out of my usual line. I'll know for sure by the time you have something for me.

All right, see you later.

Bye for now.

Mel walks toward her truck, cautiously, eyes roving. Too bad Peterson's a damn lawyer, he's not a bad looking guy. At least he's not an ambulance-chasing lawyer. I really didn't want to mess with Rollo's business stuff, but this way I have an excuse to go through his records. There may be a lead there.

When Mel gets to the pay n' park lot where her truck is waiting, she takes a small mirror on a telescoping wand out of her purse. She uses it to check the truck out, it beats having to get on the ground and get dirty. She finds nothing, so she pops the hood, nothing of a boom variety there either. She steps back to use the remote for the alarm system, it works fine. She checks the inside, as she did before, which is now becoming a habit. There are no bombs, so she starts it.

Mel drives out of the lot, wondering where to go now. She decides cashing the check is the best idea at the moment, so she drives to the bank it's drawn on, not very far from the courthouse.

Mel gets the cash without any problems, only having to sign the IRS paperwork for it. Now where do I go? I don't really have the energy to go looking into things now. I don't dare go to my parent's house or mine. Wait a minute … those keys Peterson gave me … I wonder?

Mel pulls into a grocery store parking lot. She checks the set of keys. Yes, the keys to Rollo's hideout cabin are on the ring. Nobody knows about that cabin, it's not even listed on the property tax rolls under his name, he used his mother's maiden name. I'll bet I could camp out there for a while. I'll be safe until I'm stronger. After that, I'll send these bastards to hell, whoever it is. I'll find that out, somehow. If I have my way about it, they won't get a chance to go to jail, pass go, or collect two hundred dollars.

Mel goes into the grocery store to get plenty of