Dark blue against flawless light, brown skin—and somewhat considered an anomaly, but I never let it bother me. My great-grandfather had blue eyes too. It’s just a family trait that pops up every now and then. With a shrug, I open the medicine cabinet, my hand hovering above the tube of toothpaste, when something suddenly hits me.
All of these bastards have a calling card.
I turn my face away for a moment.
Think Makena, he must have left something.
And that’s when it hits me.
The one thing he has left over and over that I’ve always dismissed as just a burn pattern, even though it looked almost exactly the same each time.
I drop the tube into the sink and walk quickly to the small office I have in my home. Sitting at the desk, I power on my computer, then tap my fingers impatiently as I wait for the damn thing to turn on.
I enter my password into the home screen, then open the internet, and log into the Ventura County Fire Department Mainframe. I have a secret folder on there aptly titled Pain in the Asses, that not even the best tech in the county would be able to find, and if they did, they would have one hell of a time opening. I double-click the folder, quickly scanning the sub-folders I have in there, and click again on the one titled LAGPFB—short for Latest and Greatest Persistent Firebug.
I open the pictures inside the file and set them into slide show mode while I sit back and bring a foot up onto the chair. I chew my lip as I watch the pictures go by slowly.
I see it—once, twice, three times—and when I see it the fourth time, I stop the slide show and enlarge the picture to full screen.
Well, I’ll be damned.
“Gotcha,” I whisper softly as I print the picture out and feel a little grin of triumph spread across my lips.
Chapter 6
I’m sitting on my couch staring at the broken television.
I hurled the apple through it in anger when nothing was mentioned about the fire. It seems that she isn’t as impressed yet as I hoped she would be, and she hasn’t found what I’ve been leaving for her.
I know this because the news is notorious for letting little details “slip” onto the air. The more they think they know, the higher the ratings. But they don’t understand this isn’t a game to me—it’s my fucking life—our lives that hang in the balance and I won’t be let down.
I fucking refuse to let my work go unnoticed by the one person that’s ever seen me, instead of through me.
The only way to get her attention is to start at the beginning. Maybe show her something she hasn’t quite seen yet and hope for the best.
I have to start at yellow.
She has to see the true level of destruction that I can reach, and if that doesn’t work, then I’ll move to orange, then red. And if the three colors fail me, I’ll step up my game to reach white—the one color of fire that scares me the most. It burns with such an intensity and melts even the strongest of irons, but I’m willing to swallow my fear and do this for her.
For us.
So that we can be the way we were before.
I have to help her remember, and tonight, I’ll paint the skies a beautiful tint of yellow that she has yet to witness.
I’ll watch her.
I’ll wait.
When it finally settles in, I’ll approach her and ask her if she remembers me, and if she hasn’t …
Yellow, I think as I lean my head back, let out a breath, and smile slightly.
Yellow has always been my favorite, anyway.
Chapter 7
“Dom, I think I’ve found something,” I say into my cellphone as I watch my coffee pot brew.
“Washington? Isn’t it your day off?” he asks curiously.
“Once upon a time,” I reply dryly as I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder, “but listen. There’s a scorch pattern that I’ve never really paid much attention to and I think I finally see it.”
“Before we get into that, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” he interrupts nervously.
I roll my eyes as I set my mug down on the counter, walk over to the fridge, and pull out a carton of half and half. Leave it up to Dom to not want to talk about work off hours.
“What’s up?” I finally ask before I take my first sip of coffee. I make a face, then reach up into the cupboard and retrieve the sugar bowl and mix some in while I wait.
“Um…”
“Spit it out, Dom. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you at a loss for words before,” I tease him as I lean against the counter in the kitchen and take another sip.
“You can feel free to say no, but I thought I would at least try, okay?” He clears his throat and I raise an eyebrow curiously. “Tonight, my wife is throwing a last-minute black-tie benefit for the servicemen and women of the county and I was wondering if—”
“Want me to be your date, Dom?” I ask him with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure that would piss off the missus. Plus, I’m not into anyone that’s spoken for.”
“No,” he says with emphasis. I can just hear the shade of crimson he’s turned at this point. I take another sip of my coffee. “I was hoping you’d be willing to go with my son. He needs to get out of the house for once.”
I purse my lips, ready to decline, but remember that Dom’s been one hell of a friend when I need him to be and bite down a sigh.
“I guess so,” I say, trying to hide the dejection in my tone. “Now can we talk about what I found?”
“Of course!” he replies in relief and I stifle a giggle. Dom has three sons and a daughter. Which one it happens to be is honestly of no consequence to me. I’ll put on a pretty dress, some low heels, and a little bit of make-up. I’ll smile brightly and hold onto his arm for the duration of being rented out by the Police Chief. When it’s all said and done, I’ll come home and crash and hope to never speak of it again.
I’ve glanced out the window for what seems like the tenth time in twenty minutes.
Apparently, Dom’s son is supposed to pick me up, but he’s running late and I’m wondering if he’s had a change of heart. To be honest, it would suit me just fine since I’m pretty sure his father has more than likely warned him about how stand-offish I can be when in the presence of strangers.
I’m dressed in a wine-colored dress, have my hair pulled up into a neat ponytail, and decided to dab on a little bit of gloss to make my full lips pop. I don’t really care for jewelry, so my hands, wrists, and neck are bare, and since I’m not looking to really make an impression on someone I don’t know, I really just want to get in and get out.
Hopefully, Dom’s son will be as easy to coerce as his father.
Whichever one it so happens to be.
I let out an impatient sigh and glance out the window again, this time feeling a small tremor of nervousness start to course through my body when I see a black sports car pull up.
When a tall, strikingly handsome young man gets out of the driver’s side and glances at the door, I let the curtain fall into place and hope he didn’t see me.
This is becoming embarrassing already, I think with a rueful shake of my head.
A few moments later, the doorbell rings and I close my eyes, take a deep breath, then open the door with a wide smile on my face.
“Hi! I’m Makena,” I say brightly as I hold out a hand toward him.
“Tanner,” he replies with a slight smile as he quickly shakes my hand. “I’m sorry that you’re being forced to do this.”
I look into his light brown eyes for a moment, smiling at how they seem to crinkle around the corners when he grins. He has deep dimples on either cheek that accentuate his jawline, and his black hair that he has slicked back in place seems to shine slightly. He’s definitely not hard on the eyes at all. I feel that flutter of nervousness inside of me again when he lets go of my hand and holds out his arm for me.
“Let’s go. We have a circus to attend,” he states with a friendly eye roll and I smile shyly.
Okay, so maybe this won�
�t be as bad as I thought it would be.
Especially if it gets my mind off the fires we’ve had lately.
Chapter 8
The first time I remember seeing her, we were children. I had noticed that she had fallen and scraped her knee and I attended her cuts. It turned out that when I spoke to her, she told me that some of the girls in her class didn’t like her and pushed her to the floor.
They hated her for having pretty eyes and a beautiful face, but I showed them.
After I patched her up, I asked her if she would meet me at the small park down the street from the school and we could sit on the swings until the sun went down. We’d race to see who could go highest and fastest, then I’d walk her home to make sure that no one would ever push her again.
It was the first time I noticed the orange in the skies when the sun begins its descent over the horizon. It was also the first time I felt the heat burning deep inside of me, and the higher we swung, the faster we raced, the more I thought about how easy it would be to set the skies on fire myself.
I kept my promise.
When the sun went down, we hopped off our swings, and I took her by the hand, letting her lead the way to where she lived. She told me that I was her new best friend and even kissed me on the cheek before she ran up the steps to her home.
A sincere moment of kindness that meant more than she knew to the perpetually sad eleven-year-old boy in front of her.
I crack my neck as I continue walking.
I’ll paint the sky the same color it was when I first had the chance to spend time with her and she’ll see me coming on the horizon. She’ll remember our moment so many goddamn years ago, and she’ll come find me. She’ll tell me that she’s never had a friend in her entire life that lived up to what I was to her and we’ll be together.
The way we were always meant to be.
Not just as two children who hid from their parents and the bullies that made fun of us for being different, yet so much alike.
A smile creases my lips.
Sometimes, the best plans are the ones that happen in the spur of the moment, and the longer I walk, the more I realize I don’t have a designated target for tonight.
I only have the will I need and the power in my pocket to get her attention.
Chapter 9
I give Dom a small wave when Tanner and I walk into the ballroom of the Marriott. It seems that for something so last minute, the place is packed, and everything is pretty well planned.
When the opportunity presents itself, I go over and ask him how long it took for him to grow a pair about me being his son’s date tonight.
On the drive over, I’ve learned that Tanner is almost twenty-seven, works from home as some kind of computer tech wiz, and didn’t really want to be here tonight. It’s also when I made up my mind to show him a good time since I kind of feel like he doesn’t get out too much.
It’s a shame considering what a good-looking guy he is. I’m sure he could easily have the ladies kicking his door in, but he doesn’t seem to really be interested in anything outside of what he already knows.
It was evident from how one-sided our conversation was for the most part.
“We won’t be here long,” he leans down and whispers into my ear. “I’m sure you have better things to do than be paraded around in front of Mom and Dad’s friends.”
“Oh, um, I don’t mind really,” I say to him with a clumsy shrug. “But I’ll be ready to go whenever you are.”
He nods, gives the hand that’s gripping his forearm a squeeze, and leads the way straight to the bar.
I’m a little confused as to why we haven’t gone to say hello to his parents first. When we reach the spot I have a feeling we’re going to call home for the remainder of the time we’re here, I decide that maybe it’s for the best.
Tanner orders a scotch neat, then turns to me and raises an eyebrow. I blush slightly under the weight of his gaze, tear my eyes away from his, and glance at the selections.
“I’ll have a Midori Sour, please,” I tell the pretty, young girl behind the bar that I’m not even convinced is old enough to be working the event.
She nods as Tanner tosses his black Amex card onto the bar-top, grabs it, and walks away to make our drinks. Knowing that he has one of those makes me wonder if I should switch careers, then almost immediately, I feel a little ashamed at the thought.
He’s probably worked hard for what he has now and it’s not my place to hope and wish for things that others have. That’s envy, and that is a deadly sin I won’t have on my conscience.
When the bartender comes back with our drinks, Tanner hands me mine, then takes a swig of his before turning his back to the bartender and leaning against the bar. He narrows his eyes as he scans the crowd, then rolls his eyes. I take a sip of my drink, gazing over the top of the rim and smile when I see his mother approaching us.
“Hey, Mrs. G.!” I call out enthusiastically. Tanner sighs loudly next to me and I elbow him in the ribs. I don’t know what he’s got against his parents, but at least he still has his, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t appreciate them when he’s around me.
“Why don’t you look lovely tonight, Makena,” she states approvingly when she reaches us. I smile at her in thanks and glance at Tanner who’s now standing with his back to his mother. The bartender seems to be a better choice than his Momma for some reason, but I reach over and poke his side nonetheless.
“Say hi to your Mom,” I chide him as kindly as I can.
He levels an even stare at me for a moment before clearing his throat, then turning to face her.
“You look nice tonight, Mother,” he tells her with a nod and a tight smile.
“Don’t mind him, sweetheart,” Mrs. G. says to me in a loud stage whisper. “He’s only ever content when he’s holed up at home working on those programs of his.”
“Yet, here we are,” he intercedes testily.
I thought computer nerds were supposed to be pacifists, I think miserably. Tanner is doing his damnedest to have a bad evening out tonight and the only thing left for me to decide is if I’m willing to let him.
Chapter 10
I stopped walking twenty minutes ago.
I’ve been on the outside looking in wondering how it is that she’s in a place like the one in front of me with some man I don’t know.
My God, she looks beautiful tonight, but she shouldn’t in there. Not with him, not with them, and not without me.
I run a hand over my mouth, trying my best not to catch her attention. I need to be there with her—near her, touching her perfect skin, having her watching me with the same adoration she seems to be watching him with.
This isn’t right.
I slide a hand into my pocket wondering if yellow is the right color to draw her back to me. Maybe orange would be a better choice, or maybe red. The options are going through my mind like a turnstile and each time a small voice whispers white, I recoil and go back to the beginning.
White is not an option—it can’t be. That will mean I’ve reached the end of my rope and more than just buildings will have to burn. I haven’t decided if that’s a road I want to go down yet.
I’m not opposed to it, but I’m not ready for that level of chaos.
They deserve it, I think as I begin to run my thumb along the lighter in my pocket. I use my forefinger to push it to the side and graze the box of matches I keep tucked away for comfort.
I take a step closer when he leans down and says something to her.
I watch as she looks up at him and laughs, taking a sip of her drink, then placing the empty glass on the counter. He waves over some girl that doesn’t belong in there with her either and she takes the glass away before returning with another one.
It would be so easy to bring this building down.
To watch them all scramble for their lives.
To rush in and save her.
To make her see me like she did before.
But I can’t jeopa
rdize her life.
At least, not this time.
With a grunt, I turn away from the seemingly festive scene inside and begin to walk away.
Tonight is definitely a night for orange.
Chapter 11
I'm feeling a little abandoned.
Tanner excused himself to go to the restroom about forty-five minutes ago and I’m still waiting for him to come back. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ditched this entire scene since he seemed genuinely unhappy being here, but I would have appreciated a little warning.
It would have given me a reason to go home too.
I let out a sigh as I glance around the room from where I’m still standing at the bar, a glass of wine in one hand, while my free arm is wrapped around my body. I could always make small talk with Dom and the rest of his police staff, but it would probably lead to questions as to where his son went, and I doubt he’d be impressed if I told him my suspicions.
I shoot back what’s left in my glass, turn to place it on the bar-top, and wave the young bartender over. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he left me holding the tab either, but I really just want to go home now.
She smiles at me as she approaches and takes the glass before she walks toward the small point of sale device and begins to tally up my bill. I guess I should have known that something like this would have been open bar, however, fancy little shindigs that I feel the most uncomfortable being at should foot the entire bill.
I don’t mind paying to get in because I know that money goes to help the foundation we’re supporting, but damn. Open bar and a “required donation” to get in is going to put a dent in my vacation fund.
The bartender comes back and slips a receipt in front of me, face down, and walks away to take care of some older, clearly drunk gentleman that’s hollering for her attention.
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