Fireman Edition (8 page)

“Where’s my dress?”

“Mark! Let’s go man!”

As he climbed off me and down the ladder, he yelled, “I threw it somewhere and I think it’s on the garage floor. Wait a minute and then crawl down when we’ve all left. Sorry, Jane!”

Doors were slamming and engines were revving. I turned over to peek down over the top of the truck and watched Mark and the other men climb into the vehicle as it tore out of the building, sirens blasting and red cloth flapping from one of the back tires.

“No! My dress!”

Off it went and I was left alone in an empty building with nothing to wear but a pair of panties and a heavy blanket of shame.

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.” I looked around again, praying that nobody was around that would see me climb down the ladder in all my naked glory. Spotting a pile of folded up brown blankets on a shelf in the garage, I plotted my escape route. The station wasn’t too far away from the restaurant and my car. If I wrapped a blanket around myself I could run as quickly as possible and make it to my car before anybody noticed. Luckily, it was late and there wouldn’t be many people on the streets.

This would work!

Quickly crawling down the ladder, I tiptoed over to the blankets. Don’t ask me why I tiptoed, but for some reason it made me feel more stealthy – like a ninja.

I grabbed the blanket on top and wrapped the rough and horrible feeling material around my body. But at least I wasn’t naked.

Well, dammit. My choices were to go back through the firehouse and look for real clothes, or hurry it out off the garage and hope I reach my car before anybody noticed.

I decided to attempt the firehouse first. Tiptoeing again, I reached out for the handle and realized the loss of that option.

It was locked and there was nobody here to let me in.

I was hoofing it in nothing more than a blanket and a shoulder bag.

This was going to be fun.

Poking my head outside the large, open garage door, I noticed that all was quiet. Thank you universe for small favors. Like a thief in the night, I moved my ample butt through the city, praying like hell that nobody would be around to see me.

Things were going good, and by the time I was within two blocks of the restaurant, I was feeling really proud of myself for having avoided a near catastrophe.

Until I looked up.

Fire shot into the sky, smoke billowing out so thick that I was coughing when a strong draft forced it in my direction. It was as if the black clouds that had always hung over my head were now covering my entire body.

From where I stood, I couldn’t see above the trees to identify which building was on fire.

I didn’t know what to do. A quick perusal of the road didn’t give me much more than a dumpster behind which I could hide.

“Just need to make it to the car,” I said to myself, thankful that I’d at least been able to locate my purse and keys.

Inching my way up the street, I turned the final corner and wanted to cry. The entire road was blocked off by fire trucks and police cars, plain citizen gawkers and news media.

In the center of all it was my car.

I guess the manager of that restaurant was having a really bad night because the issue of the lack of signage over the bidet was a small problem when compared the flames that were now dancing above his crumbling establishment.

I bet it had something to do with that fireplace in the back of the dining room.

Defeated, I sighed.

There comes a moment in every person’s life when they have to realize they have no control over the situation. You can battle and fight, you can scream and throw yourself down like a headstrong toddler, or you could just say ‘fuck it’ and let what’s going to happen simply just happen.

I was having that moment.

Not only was the fire and emergency activity blocking my path to my car, the street where all of it was happening was the only way back to my crappy apartment. Oh sure, I could have turned back and then walked an extra ten blocks around the city to go around the activity, but I was tired and pissed off, beaten down and ready to go home.

How much worse could it really get?

I angled my chin into the air and rolled my shoulders back, bound and determined to walk through this mess with nothing more than a blanket and what little pride I had left.

Towards the mass of confusion, I walked, all the while imagining that I looked like a warrior moving through a dusty and dangerous battlefield. You know the scene in the movie that I’m talking about: The smoke always clears like a curtain pulled aside as the hero and his beautiful girl come striding out wounded, but alive.

I was that hero and I was that beautiful girl.

People stared as I passed them, some pointing and others narrowing their eyes against the smoke to see if a girl in a blanket was really walking by. I hoped that the fire was more of a distraction so that I could navigate the crowds like a ghost and barely be noticed.

Unfortunately that wouldn’t happen. An intrepid young reporter moved in front of me and shoved a microphone to my face. “Ma’am? Were you a victim of the fire? Were you inside when it started? Why are you in a blanket?”

From the tag she wore, I knew she wasn’t from a major news station and that was the most probable reason for her to be trolling the witnesses in search of a new facet to the story. Her eager eyes looked me up and down, the light of the camera behind her blinding me and stripping away the little pride I’d had just moments before.

“Ma’am? Are you hurt? Do you need medical attention?”

If she meant
psychiatric
when she said
medical
, then yes. Yes, I did need medical attention. I’d had enough. The night was a total wash and I was left naked as a jaybird on a smoky road with no car and no orgasm to make up for it.

I was sunk.

“No,” I answered. “I’m not hurt. I’m just a normal girl walking down the road in a blanket and carrying a purse. I just wanted one decent date. One! You know? Is that too much to ask for in a city this size? What does a girl have to do to have a nice and exciting evening with a good looking guy without disaster happening?”

The words were pouring from my mouth faster than I could consider what I was saying. So many horrible things had built up inside that I was reduced to a geyser spewing negative words just to relieve the pressure.

“All I wanted was to date a standard romance guy. And here I am, in a blanket, with nothing to show for it, talking to you in front of a fire that is blocking my car. What do you think about that, news lady? Huh? Did you want a copy of the ad in the paper too? Would that be a good story? Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home!”

Skirting around her, I ignored the people staring and whispering and marched myself home.

The entire journey took another fifteen minutes and left me exhausted, heart broken and embarrassed as hell.

I hated Stephan. I hated Mina. I hated the stupid author that wrote that book.

I wanted to give up on everything and decided that I’d remove the ad in the morning because this was a stupid idea.

Letting myself into the house, I was glad to find that Rich had already gone to bed. A shower and a set of warm pajamas later and I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling.

I’d remove the ad the next day.

I had to.

Chapter Ten

My eyes fluttered open to find a new day waiting for me. The smell of bacon wafted through the apartment air, causing my stomach to grumble at the thought of food. Sitting up in bed proved to be difficult when the effects of the wine came back to tighten around my skull.

“Ow. Sonofabitch.” Cradling my head against my palm, I threw my legs off the bed and left my bedroom in search of aspirin.

Rich stood in the kitchen with a smile on his face and an apron covering his body.

“How’d the date go?”

I didn’t know whether to lie or what, but considering he had that ‘I told you so’ look on his face, I decided to lie and see if I could get away with it.

“It went good. Mark was a nice guy. Sorry, I got home a little late. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Well, that’s great! And nope...” He grinned. “…You didn’t wake me.” Moving back to the stove to continue cooking, he broke an egg over the pan and asked, “Do you want breakfast?”

Sighing out my relief that he was going to just let it go and not ask questions, I said, “Yes. And some aspirin. I think I drank too much last night.”

“Which is why I’m cooking you breakfast. I know you have work this morning, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling like crap when you left. I was just about to wake you so you would have time to get a shower.”

I remembered that my car was at the burned-down restaurant and I hoped that it was in one piece. Luckily, the bookstore where I worked was in walking distance. Judging from what I could see outside, it looked like a beautiful day. That was definitely a plus.

We sat down at the table and Rich filled my plate with all the breakfast fixtures. Eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast sat beneath my nose, the smell rising up to tempt my palate.

I’d just shoved the first forkful in my mouth when he said, “So, you might want to dress nice today. You wouldn’t want to be caught off guard or anything. I hope you’re feeling up to seeing people.”

I chewed my food and peeked up at him from behind squinting, suspicious eyes. “What do you mean? I’m just going to work. There’s no people.”

He smiled. “I know. But I think you should make yourself look nice. You never know who you might run into.”

Was this about Mark? Did he know something I didn’t know?

“What’s going on, Rich? Did Mark call or something?”

I realized the error of my question. The only number Mark had for me was my cell phone and that was still in my room. There would have been no way for Rich to answer it. Maybe Mark did something really romantic – something that would make up for leaving me horny and naked inside an empty firehouse. It didn’t have to be a grand display. Anything would have made me feel better.

Twisting in my seat, I looked around the room for flowers or candy or anything that might have been dropped off personally or sent to the apartment. Everything was as it had been the day before: messy, mismatched and desperately in need of repair. There wasn’t a single rose, daisy or carnation in sight.

“No. Mark didn’t call. I just realized that you are going out into the world today because of work and I think you should make sure you look nice.” He shrugged. “I mean, if the date was as great as you say it was, Mark might stop by the bookstore unexpectedly and you’ll want to look nice. I know you’re new to this dating thing, Jane, and I thought I’d give you some advice. If I had a great date with a girl, I’d want to see her the next day as well.”

I wouldn’t call it great – but I wouldn’t let him know that.

I eyed him funny before relaxing again and deciding that he had a point. “Okay. I’ll wear my nicest pair of jeans, I guess. Maybe some sandals and a pretty shirt?”

“Sounds good.” After taking a swig of orange juice from his glass, he smiled. “Eat up. You have to jump in a shower soon if you hope to make it to work on time.”

Breakfast moved along quickly and within an hour I was dressed and ready for work. Thanks to the aspirin, my head was no longer pounding and thanks to Rich, my stomach no longer felt like a science experiment gone awry.

Switching the contents of my fancy purse to my everyday purse, I checked my phone to find no new messages and about a million emails in response to my ad.

What the hell?

I didn’t understand and I didn’t have time to investigate. I hoped that Brad wouldn’t be into work on time and I’d have a chance to get on the computer in his office and delete the ad.

Shrugging the whole thing off, I shoved
Flirting with a Fireman
into my bag and remembered to grab the rest of the books on my way out. I was done with romance and I didn’t believe there was anything in those books that was true.

“Okay, I’m leaving. Have a good day, Rich. I’ll see you when I get home.” I gathered the books in my arms and moved to open the door. Rich zipped around me and opened it before shoving a paper sack into my hand. “Here,” he said, attempting to take the books from my arms. “Let me help you with those.”

I didn’t want him following me to discover that I didn’t exactly have my car. I hugged the books tighter to my chest.

“No, that’s okay. I’ve got them. What’s in the sack?”

“Lunch. I thought that you’ll need it since you weren’t feeling well this morning.”

That was weird. “Okay. Thanks for that. I’m just going to be on my way.”

He smiled and continued holding the door open for me. “I’ll walk down with you. I need to check the mail anyway.”

“Fine,” I answered, hoping like hell that he would stay inside the building and get the mail without feeling the need to escort me to my non-existent vehicle.

We took the stairs in silence, except for a quick observation from Rich that I looked nice. I didn’t quite understand his sudden bout of kindness and chivalry, but I wasn’t going to complain either.

Maybe he simply felt bad because I wasn’t feeling well.

Approaching the front doors to the building, I waved goodbye to Rich. He waved back, but then moved around me to grab the handle to the door.

Giving me a quick grin, he explained, “Your hands are full, so I’ll get that for you.”

“Thanks! I appreciate it.”

His wrist twisted, the doors opened and I looked out towards the front of our building….and froze.

The sound of camera shutters filled the air, lights flashing here and there and a mass of reporters springing forward to shove microphones as close as they could get them to me.

Doing the Duke
,
Boinking the Billionaire,
Corralling the Cowboy
, and the rest of the titles I held in my hands dropped one by one to land on my feet.

“Ms. Taylor! Can you tell us what happened last night that left you walking the streets in a blanket? Ms. Taylor, did you find love on your first date? Ms. Taylor, what made you decide to post an ad looking for thirteen different standard romance heroes? Ms. Taylor…”