by Teagan Kade
Both Poppy and I stop with the same guilty expression on our faces.
Lacey shakes her head, smiling. “You are so much like your Dada, Pops. That’s all he ever used to do when we were at fire academy.”
Poppy jumps up clapping her hands together. “Tell me about fire academy, Mommy. Tell me about fire academy!”
I’ve never known any kid to be so excited about anything firefighting related. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve got the local lieutenant and chief as parents.
People often assume I’m the chief, whereupon I direct them to my lovely wife. I don’t know of many stations with a husband and wife team, but I think it’s worked in our favor. Austin’s a surprisingly busy city when it comes to emergencies, and while you won’t find a cowboy around every corner as I’d hoped, true Texas spirit is there if you look hard enough. I see it every day in the men and women of our station.
Lacey was lucky to slip into the position so quickly, but the old chief put in a solid word for her appointment, managed to have a word in the Commissioner’s ear and get her in. No one argued. They all love her here, and Poppy. It’s like a goddamn swoon session whenever I bring her in.
But Poppy is beautiful—the love of my life… not that I expected anything less given her genes.
You might think I somehow feel emasculated being under my wife, so to speak, but I’m proud, happy to take on the extra workload at home because she’s at the station late. When she was studying I’d do what I could. I even learned to make a meal that wasn’t mac ’n’ cheese, even though said abomination remains Poppy’s favorite.
Some people don’t like the heat out here, but I love it, baking in the sun with my daughter. And the way her imagination works. It’s spellbinding.
Lacey gets down onto the grass with us. The sunlight catches her hair, shorter now but no less sexy. In fact, she’s become more beautiful in motherhood, if that was even possible. We still make love almost every day.
“Would you like to go see the fire academy?” Lacey asks Poppy.
I shoot her a puzzled look.
“Yes, Momma!” Poppy cries, jumping into her arms. “I want to see where you and Dada went to fire school!”
Fire school. I love that.
“I know it’s a drive,” says Lacey, “but it’s Sunday and we’ve got nothing better to do, right?”
She’s right, so we jump in the car and take the two-hour trip out into the desert, Lacey tensing as we pass the spot Ryan’s pickup crashed.
I place my hand on her knee, her jeans warm from the sun. “You alright?”
She looks out the window, an elbow resting on the sill. “It feels so long ago, doesn’t it?”
I shift my hand down into her crotch. It’s scorching hot. “Funny, I remember it like it was yesterday.”
She snaps her legs closed, nodding to a sleeping Poppy in the rear-view, her cheeks rosy. “We’ve got company, remember?” Her hands close around her belly. “And we’re about to get more.”
I miss it at first before it registers. “You’re pregnant again?”
The smile that spans across her face is wide and all-encompassing. “Either that or really sick of eggs all of a sudden, but yes. I did the test last night.”
I lean over and kiss her on the side of her head, almost causing us to swerve off the road in the process, Lacey reaching across to steer us right.
“Wow. Anyone would think you’re excited.”
“Excited,” I laugh. “I’m fucking ecstatic.”
*
We arrive at Pemberton around lunchtime, Poppy wide awake in anticipation.
Both Lacey and I spot the new tower—twice as tall as the first just as the Captain promised. The rest of the campus hasn’t changed a bit since we were here five years ago, right down to the woman behind the admin desk.
“Oh, you,” she says simply when we arrive. Clearly she’s still yet to discover happiness. She does give us free rein of the academy, though, tells us to take our time.
“Wow,” says Poppy, her head tilting to take in the Tower in full. “Did you and Mommy climb all the way to the top?”
I wink at Lacey. “We did, with a short breather on the way down.”
Lacey slaps me across the chest.
I spot something in the corner of the quad, heading over. “Look at this,” I call.
Lacey and Poppy come up beside me.
It’s a plaque dedicated to Hernandez, an etching of his face in gold.
“Seems like yesterday, doesn’t it?”
I’d know that voice anywhere.
We both turn to find the Captain approaching. He’s a fucking time capsule, still wearing the same hat, shirt, and shit-face grin, his trusty clipboard underarm.
I reach out to shake his hand. “Captain.”
“Lieutenant.”
He reaches for Lacey’s. “Chief.”
“Captain,” she nods, smiling.
“Why don’t you call me Jerry?” he says. “I think we’re all on equal footing now.”
The Captain crouches down to Poppy’s level. “And who might this beautiful young lady be?”
“Poppy,” she replies, her lips puckering on the first syllable.
“Pleased to meet you,” says the Captain, tipping his hat.
He stands and shouts something to a group of students headed into the middle of the quad. “Get down and give me twenty, all of you. Consider that an appetizer.”
He turns back to us with a smug grin. “Sunday detention. I’m sure you remember, Cox.”
“I do,” I laugh.
I look behind myself. “I like the new tower.”
The Captain stands at attention, his hands behind his back looking proudly up at his baby. “Twenty stories of pure terror, a proverbial phoenix risen from the ashes. She’s a beauty. How’s Austin treating you?” he asks. “Hell of thing you guys pulled off with that school fire.”
He’s referring to a large, deliberately lit fire at a high school in Lakeway, but we got everyone out, even managed to save most of the school. I was the last one to leave the building, a thirteen-year-old girl in my arms with the same color hair as Poppy’s. Lacey and I performed CPR on her right there on the front lawn, saved her life.
“All part of the job,” replies Lacey.
“Well,” says the Captain. “You’re doing a damn fine one. I’m proud as a peacock in a glass of punch at you two. You’re the reason Pemberton exists, the reason I put you through the wringer.”
I lift my knee. “I’m still hurting from all those stairs.”
“What stairs?” asks Poppy.
The Captain crouches down and takes a plastic toy badge out of his pocket, just like the ones we used to give to school children who came to tour the campus. “How would you like to be honorary commissioner today?”
Poppy nods, beaming.
Once he’s pinned it to her dress, the Captain stands again. “Well, I’ve got asses to kick, but you two have fun… but not too much fun, if you know what I mean,” he says, tapping his cheek.
We watch him walk away.
“He hasn’t changed,” remarks Lacey.
“Not a god damn bit,” I laugh.
We meet a few more familiar faces on our way around campus, discover Jackson went on to become an EMT over on the east coast. He has a family of this own, apparently, two boys who are his supposed spitting image—poor bastards.
Back at home, Poppy safely tucked into bed with Dolly—her 1994 firefighting Barbie doll—I slip under the covers beside Lacey. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” she smiles, lifting up her knees and sliding off her panties. “But you know what would really make it a perfect day?”
“One of your extra sloppy blowjobs?” I reply, my hand running up her leg, my cock growing hard in expectancy.
She spreads her legs, my fingers finding the wet heat of her pussy. “You know the price.”
I slide under the covers, lifting a leg to get my head into place.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her hands fall on top of my head. “Call me ‘Chief.’”
I go to bring my head up, but she pushes it back down. “Just kidding. Never call me that in bed. Now, get to work. There’s a fire down there that can only be put out with an orgasm of epic proportions.”
I lick up her seam, the tip of my tongue flicking over her clit. “Will that be one or two?” I question.
She replies by thrusting her hips into my face, her fingers pressing into my scalp. “Shut up and start sucking, mister.”
Two orgasms each later, we lie spooning. Now I’m holding her, I can tell she’s pregnant, another addition to the Cox family. I’m excited and nervous in equal parts.
Lacey’s cell starts to dance across the dresser. “Duty calls, I guess.”
I take in her body as she stands to take it, that same peachy ass I fell in love with, the slender curve of her back. I never thought it was possible to love someone this much—a thought that was turned on its head again when we had Poppy.
It takes me back to our wedding at Antebellum Oaks, the ceremony framed by the towering giants. Even my family showed up, probably the only time we’ve got along for years. All of the politics and stress were pushed aside for that one, perfect day when my wife-to-be walked down the aisle, a garland of flowers on her head. ‘Angelic’ was the only word for it.
If I had of known then the super-sperm I was packing, maybe we would have taken precautions, but were both so eager for the consummation. She left the wedding dress on, for crying out loud.
But Poppy was worth it. The happiness she brings us, the small memories that will only bloom and glow brighter in the years to come, are gold.
The sense of satisfaction as I lie in bed is suddenly overwhelming. We’ve been through trials, every couple has, but we’re stronger together—in work and play.
And boy do we play.
Our jobs can get hectic, there’s always an ever-present element of danger, but I know we’re still partners. We still have each other’s backs. My old jock life seems a million miles away in this moment, even if I do pull out some of my old moves from time to time.
Lacey ends the call, already headed for the closet. “They need me at the station.”
“Do you need me?”
She walks over to kiss me. “Only to keep the bed warm.”
She dresses and leaves.
I lie back once more smiling.
Our relationship has survived because our loves burns brighter than the firestorm around it.
We can do anything together.
I want Poppy to know that too, that she can be whatever and whoever she wants no matter what people tell her.
Because an original is worth more than a copy.
Because you don’t need approval to follow your own path.
Because the only way through life is to live it in full.
So live, I will tell her.
Love.
Set your heart ablaze.
THE LIFEGUARD
Teagan Kade
* * * * *
Published by Teagan Kade
Edited by Sennah Tate
Copyright © 2019 by Teagan Kade
CHAPTER ONE
ARCHER
“What’s up, motherfucker!” Robbie enters the lifeguard tower with his usual enthusiasm.
I thumb towards the beach where hundreds of Spring Breakers are gathered. “Perhaps you should be down there.”
Robbie takes hold of my shoulder, pointing towards the azure water of the Atlantic. “Everyone knows the action’s out there, brother.”
He’s not wrong. It’s barely ten AM and we’ve done thirty preventions and three rescues. I shake my head. “Fuck Spring Break. Seriously.”
Robbie picks up a pair of binoculars. “Come on now. This is Miami—sun, sand and sex, and plenty of the latter.”
I face him smiling. “Oh, so you found some poor girl to handle that inch-long appendage you call a penis?”
He laughs. “Two girls, actually. Sisters, I think—Greek or blood I have no fucking idea only that those Bible Belt types are freaks between the sheets. Besides, aren’t you confusing inches with feet again?”
I look down to his pants. “How about I kick you in the balls? That’s a foot for you.”
“Hey, at least my dick doesn’t sleep in a matchbox with a cotton swab for a pillow.”
“At least the condoms I use don’t look like the thumb of a latex glove.”
“Your dick disappears when you breathe in and out, bro.”
“Heard you had sex with a shower head the other night,” I counter.
That gets him. He holds his chest in laughter, trying to keep the binoculars fixed to his eyes. His expression turns serious.
I pick up my binoculars and scan the water. “What is it?”
“Out back, far left.”
There’s a guy struggling in silence, his head bobbing under the water. “On it.”
I race out of the tower towards the sand, doing my best to cut a path through the human thicket of intoxication.
A girl with duct tape over her nipples jumps out in front of me with her lips puckered together. “How about you save me, handsome?”
I push her aside and keep powering towards the water, grabbing the nearest surf ski and throwing it past the first breaker.
It doesn’t take me long to get to the victim, but I’m just in time, reaching into the water and dragging him onto the board.
The idiot’s still wearing his shirt, shoes… skin pale as a sheet of paper.
I yell at people to clear a path, bringing the board onto the sand and dragging the victim past the wash.
I check his pulse as a crowd starts to gather around us. He’s unconscious.
Phones come out.
Fucking great.
Robbie will be on his way down with the kit, but there’s no time to waste.
I clear the guy’s mouth and prepare my CPR shield just as a group of guys busts through the crowd.
One of them shoves me back into the sand. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Another, with a fanny pack over his shoulder and an Angels cap back to front, steps between me and the victim. “None of that faggot mouth-to-mouth shit, you hear?”
Are these guys serious?
I stand brushing sand off myself. I’ve got to remain calm. You can’t take the risk with social media these days. Everyone’s got a camera. Everyone wants to be a star. “If you’re his friend, you should know he’s probably going to die without treatment, so either you stand aside and let me work or you explain to his parents why you’re bringing him home in a wooden box.”
The guy’s the dictionary definition of a ’roid junkie, a water-filled human balloon of testosterone and jungle juice, but he stands aside.
Thankfully, Robbie and Beach Security arrive at the same time, hustling people back.
“Compressions?” queries Robbie, unzipping the kit bag and taking out an air bag.
I nod and start, counting as I work.
It doesn’t take long before the poor prick shuttles back to life, water spewing from his mouth.
We roll him sideways and let him get it out.
The crowd applauds and whoops.
I let the rush sweep over me. This is what draws me to lifeguarding, dragging people from the clutches of Death himself. I can’t think of many jobs that offer that kind of hit, that allow you to work outdoors in the sun, on what remains—seasonal assholes aside—one of the greatest stretches of sand in the world.
That ain’t a pool out there, with confines. It’s a literal fucking ocean with deep and shallow spots, rips and currents, a shifting, constantly changing ecosystem of its own.
I’m breathing hard when we arrive back at the tower, the victim safely with paramedics and a whole slew of paperwork waiting.
“So,” says Robbie, picking up the binoculars again, “Bar None after shift?”
I take up my own binoculars. We’ve still got
eight hours to go, eight hours where you can’t let your concentration drop for a second. Doing so could be the difference between life and death, especially with so many people on the beach. There’s no Facebook up here, no Instagram for screwing around. You watch the water—simple as that. That said, if I have to keep dragging obnoxious frat boys from the water, I’m not going to need one drink later, I’m going to need three or four.
“Fucking hey,” I reply. “Fucking. Hey.”
*
Bar None is the kind of tiny backstreet institution only locals know about. Lonely Planet hasn’t found it yet, nor have the hordes, which means it’s frequented largely by servicemen—cops, rescue, security guards. There’s not a string bikini in sight.
I join Robbie and the others at the bar.
Amy, a newly minted lifeguard with Miami Beach Ocean Rescue, lights up when I sit, brushing her honey-blonde hair over her shoulder. “Rough day?”
I signal for a beer. You won’t find fishbowls and kamikazes at this bar. “You could say that. It’s just the god damn stupidity of some of these kids.”
“Kids?” she laughs, “says the twenty-something who enjoys playing board games.”
I punch Robbie in the shoulder. “You told her about that?”
Robbie shrugs, already on his second beer. “Tell him how much you loved to play Monopoly, or Candy Land. He loves that shit.”
Amy’s cute, but she’s spoken for. I’ve got an endless line of morally loose Spring Breakers to sink my dick into and get off with. God knows the last thing I’m looking for is something long term, especially not with someone I work with—not again. “Everyone knows Hasbro is the Comcast of board games.”
“So tell her what’s hip,” Robbie suggests, leaning on his hand. “I bet she’s, like, super interested.”
I roll my eyes. “Ignore him. How are you doing?”
She holds the area around her ribs. “Still getting used to these workouts. You guys are brutal.”
She’s not wrong. Not many people realize how grueling the work we do is. Our workouts are simple: Run, swim, run, swim, run, swim, wash and repeat. We might do some calisthenics, push-ups, sit-ups… whatever we need to keep the blood flowing during our shifts, because when it’s on, it’s fucking on. You’ve got to be ready to go at any moment. It ain’t Baywatch.