A Low Blue Flame

by A. J. Downey

  19

  Backdraft…

  “Hey.” I helped her out of the back seat of the car in front of the house.

  “Hi,” she said shyly, and I think she was surprised when I bent down and kissed her. She darted a nervous gaze at the house and I laughed.

  “You’re not a secret with me, babe. Never again.”

  She swallowed hard and gave a nod. I still had a way to go, it seemed, when it came to her confidence. I sighed inwardly and smiled outwardly. I wanted to break Junior’s dick in two for making her feel like she needed to be kept some dirty little secret. I wanted even more for her to find a happy medium, a balance between who she was out here around everyone else and who she was when she was just with me.

  “Oh, um, I brought a bottle of wine,” she said. “But looking back on it, I guess that was pretty dumb. I mean, you guys probably can’t drink it while on duty, right?”

  “Hey, slow down.” I stopped her halfway up the driveway to the garage doors and put my hands on her shoulders.

  “Sorry,” she said taking a shaky breath. “I’m nervous.”

  “Why?” I asked gently.

  She swallowed hard, “These people are your co-workers, they’re important not only to you, but to your livelihood. I don’t want to be an embarrassment to you.”

  She was terrified, yet so bravely frank and the contrast was endearing. I massaged her shoulders through her coat and smiled at her.

  “There ain’t shit you could do, or say, to embarrass me, babes. I love you and I’m so very proud to be walking in there with you to show your sweet ass off.” She laughed and yet none of her nervousness diminished. I sighed and asked her, “What’s really going on in that gorgeous head of yours?”

  She raked her lip between her teeth and sighed, gazing somberly at the firehouse. “I’m afraid it doesn’t have much to do with you,” she confessed.

  “Old ghosts?” I guessed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Your mom?”

  “Bingo.”

  “She’s not here, baby. You never have to see her again if you don’t want to.”

  She laughed nervously and nodded saying, “I can’t tell you how many times I had to go with her to a work thing of hers and she would get just hammered and when the consequences came? They were never her consequences. Somehow she always made it my fault for letting her drink or whatever.”

  I nodded somberly and smiled, “You’re fine. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

  “So nervous about this and look at me! I bring a bottle of booze.”

  I chuckled. “Wine, baby. You brought a bottle of wine. It ain’t no thing. You don’t even gotta bring it out of that purse of yours. No one has to know it’s here.”

  She nodded and I put an arm around her and led her to the man-sized door off to the side of the bay doors. She went with me and I opened it up and held it open for her. She took a deep breath, gave me a grateful look and went through into the garage. I followed her in and took her coat and purse, hanging them on the peg down here by the door.

  She glanced around and asked, “Where is everybody?”

  “Upstairs, come on.”

  I led her up the back flight to the second floor. Some of the guys called out enthusiastically and Lil blushed.

  “Hey-ey! There she is!” Captain Walden called out from the kitchen.

  “Holy shit, you were really for real!” Brody called from where he was setting the table.

  “What the hell, you thought he was lying?” Ripley demanded.

  “No!” Brody barked back defensively.

  Barnaby and Angel cracked up, and Lil said, “Angel, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah, nice to meet you! Backdraft has some nice things to say about you,” he said and winked. Lil blushed.

  “Thanks for looking out for him,” she murmured and Angel grinned.

  “No sweat.”

  “Angel’s not only an EMT and Paramedic with the house, here, he’s also an Indigo Knight, babes.”

  “Oh, a two for one?” she asked and looked impressed.

  Angel laughed and said, “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Don’t let him pull one over on you,” I told her. “He has a twin, Golden.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one to play that game,” Angel said throwing a wadded-up paper towel in my direction. I laughed, it was true.

  “Yeah,” I rolled my eyes, “It’s true, Angel is pretty true to his namesake. Golden is definitely the evil twin.”

  “I’ma tell him you said that.”

  Lil laughed but I was on the fence a little, Golden could be unpredictable sometimes. Not in a bad way, but dude had a temper. I think his time overseas had knocked a few screws loose. Still, dude was as loyal as they came and was a damn fine cop and hero.

  Lil took in the upstairs. The kitchen was almost loft-like and, along with the living room, looked out over the garage. I pointed out the bathroom up here, the locker room was downstairs closer to where we came in so we could clean up without tracking soot and other shit up here. The bunks were toward the back and the traditional fire-pole dropped us in front of the locker room doors between them and the rigs. I showed her around and introduced her to the rest of the dozen or so guys on shift.

  There was Mason and Griggs, along with a few others. Lil was perfect and polite and the more she got to know everyone, the more relaxed she became.

  “You seriously write dirty books?” Griggs asked, and she blushed.

  “They’re um, Paranormal Romance, but yes, they have sex in them.” Griggs raised an eyebrow and shot me a look. I shot him a withering one in return for even thinking about it.

  “That’s cool, that’s legit,” he said, nodding.

  “Come and get it, boys and girls!” Captain Walden called and we all migrated to the table.

  Lil smiled warmly at Linden, the only female we had on duty. She was a bull-dyke lesbian and proud of it. She also could whoop any one of our asses at a vast majority of the shit we did, even though she was actually partnered with Angel. She was built for this kind of life, a lot like that blonde giant knight woman on that fantasy epic everyone was crazy about. She kept her hair high and tight except for a long shock of it on top she let fall to one side. She was a natural blonde but dyed her hair brunette, but either color worked on her. She smiled at Lil and nodded back.

  Marquez turned down the news on the big-screen mounted to the back wall while we all took a seat and said grace. None of us but the Captain was particularly religious, but we all believed in our higher power and were good with it, so we said our grace and dug in.

  “Hell, yeah, Captain! That’s what I’m talking about!” Linden declared, dishing out some of the boss's famed mashed potatoes onto her plate.

  The meal was good, the company awesome, and Lil fit right it. Everybody loved her, like I knew they would. I had more than one of the guys catch my eye and give me a nod of approval. Considering how much they all just put up with Torrid while secretly pretty much loathing her behind her back, Lil was a breath of fresh air.

  She smiled and Brody looked up and choked on his food, swallowed it down and yelled out, “Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo! Our boy’s on TV!”

  A hush fell over the table and Captain Walden grabbed up the remote and turned it up so we could all hear. Those of us with our backs to the TV, twisted around in our seats to see.

  “Backdraft is just a good friend,” Lil said from the TV. The microphone disappeared from in front of her face and the voice of the hostess asked,

  “How good?”

  Lil dazzled with her smile and walked away with me and it cut back to the studio with the blonde chick and her brother-from-another-mother co-host.

  “Well, we have it on good authority that life is imitating art when it comes to this particular friendship.” Lil and I froze.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Angel asked.

  The next image on the screen was devastating. Lil’s face fell and I felt my jaw drop open when
there we were, in our barely-blurred birthday suits, in Lil’s bed. Drone, I thought to myself. It had to be.

  “What the fuck?” someone demanded, to the sharp clatter of silverware falling from fingers. Lil had a hand on her stomach, the other over her mouth like she was going to be sick.

  Then the real nightmare unfolded, the scene cut to an interview seat with fucking Torrid in the shot.

  “Now, Victoria, I know this is hard, but who is that man with Timber in the picture to you?”

  “He ‒was‒ my boyfriend, but not after this," she said tearfully. Images of me and Torrid flashed across the screen as the guys erupted in a fit of rage on my behalf. Lil stood up and looked like she was going to be ill when the shot panned out, revealing Douchebag next to Torrid.

  “You dumped that cunt’s ass months ago!” Angel cried, appalled.

  “I need to go,” Lil said, voice breathy. Her hands shook, but she managed to shoot off a text.

  “Lil, wait, I had no idea ‒” The fucking media was tearing her life to shreds on the screen and she looked up at me, humiliation and pain radiating from her in waves.

  “It’s okay,” she said, tears spilling over, “It’s not you, it’s me… I have to go, I have to get away from you.”

  “Lil, no, don’t do that,” I begged but she was already making strides. I went after her and the guys all stood around in stunned, angry silence while Torrid made an ass out of Lil and me on international syndication or whatever. I felt fucking helpless and I didn’t want Lil to leave.

  “Lil, wait, babes, don’t leave, not like this!” I caught up to her at the door. She already had her coat and purse down.

  “No, no, don’t!” she cried when I tried to pull her in to hold her. She pushed away from me, chest heaving, her heart breaking. Her eyes were wide and so pain-filled as she said to me, “I need some time alone. Please. This could mean my whole career. Just give me some time to sort it out.”

  Her phone started blowing up and I wanted desperately to fucking shield her from this. I reached for her again but she took a step back into the crash bar on the door and out into the night. I stopped and let the door swing shut in my face at a loss for what to do.

  “What the fuck just happened?” I whispered, stunned.

  Torrid. Torrid just happened. I seethed and went for my phone ready to call the bitch up, but stopped.

  That’s exactly what she fucking wants, dude. Don’t do it.

  “Fuck!” I screamed and threw the goddamn phone against the truck, where it shattered.

  I looked up at the loft, all the guys and Linden lined up at the railing looking down at me, all of their expressions a mix of rage and sorrow. I put my hands on my hips, bowed my head, and tried like hell to breathe around this thing. Regret burned the back of my throat with acid as I looked at the shattered pieces of my phone on the ground.

  20

  Lilli…

  I huddled in the middle of my bed and stroked Jaspar’s fur while Marigold huddled miserably at my hip. I stared at my phone on the sheets in front of me, the screen black, and tasted the bitter bite of bile. I was waiting on Veronica to get here, to help me with damage control from the broadcast two nights ago.

  I’d tried to call Backdraft after the lawyers and PR firms were mobilized and he hadn’t answered. I hadn’t left a message. I hated talking to machines and I was sure that this wasn’t something to leave a message about. This deserved a conversation. Of course, I may not get the chance. Backdraft may not want to talk to me ever again.

  Of course not, you’re poison. Everything you touch turns to ash…

  Funny, how that derisive voice in my head sounded so much like my mother.

  I sniffed and mopped at my eyes with a soggy Kleenex. I had two boxes on the bed, one half-empty; the other half-full of the soggy ruins of the many dead Kleenex that’d gone before.

  Everything was on its head. The hate and vitriol pouring in from social media had me shutting down my computer completely and walking away. There were videos out there of readers burning my books and studios were pumping the brakes on further production of any of my works into film for the time being until the media stopped having a total field day.

  Veronica had already launched a volley of lawsuits against the paparazzi responsible for the photos of the inside of my bedroom and the show for putting them out there. It was heartbreaking and humiliating on so many levels, and it was all a lie.

  I wanted to curl up in Backdraft’s arms so badly but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I needed to just stay far away from him. Staying away from him would keep him safe, I hoped, but I knew better. I’d seen the footage of the media and paparazzi camped outside his firehouse and it made me sick for him. I hurt for him more than I even hurt for myself. I was afraid that he blamed me; that he was angry with me and thought I blamed him when this was all my fault.

  “I’m so sorry you have such a shit mom,” I warbled, tears blurring my eyes and wrecking my voice as I spoke to my furbabies, my sole comfort in the total ripping, tearing, shit-storm that had become my life.

  I hugged my knees, rocking back and forth, and gave in to the despair eating me alive. What else could I do?

  21

  Backdraft…

  “Veronica!” I called out, and the tall redhead whirled to tell me off, the rage in her face smoothing out when she realized it was me. I shut off the bike and jogged over to her.

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” she demanded by way of greeting. “She thinks you hate her!”

  I cursed and sighed. “I smashed it, right as she left the damn firehouse,” I told her. “I went to call Torrid, to ream her a new asshole and I realized that’d be playing right into her hands and I threw the damn phone without thinking. I just got a new one, but I lost Lil’s number when I destroyed my old one like an idiot.”

  “And you didn’t try to come here?” she asked.

  “Yeah, the security turned me away, said Lil wasn’t taking any visitors.”

  Veronica swore and dug around in her purse saying, “She’s a wreck. The lawyers are on it, the PR firm has told her to keep her mouth shut and –“

  “Yeah, I know, they called me, told me to keep my mouth shut, too. I been toeing the line, but it’s fucking ugly, Ronnie. I mean, I thought Chrissy had it bad, this is… I’m speechless.”

  “Welcome to the land of celebrity,” Veronica said dryly. “It’s true what they say, though.”

  “What?”

  “That no publicity is bad publicity.” I frowned and she rolled her eyes, clarifying, “That there’s no such thing as bad publicity! Her sales are through the roof, she’s making bank off the scandal. People are so stupid. They have to buy those books to burn ‘em.”

  “I don’t care about money,” I seethed. “I care about Lil. She’s my fuckin’ life and this? Being apart from her? It’s killing me!” I swallowed hard and said, “I don’t know what to do.” She looked at me with sympathy and my voice cracked when I said, “Just tell me what to do… please?”

  “Can you prove any of it is a lie?” she asked. I straightened and thought about it for a few. She held out her hands, a pen in one of them, what she’d been digging for in her purse, and I held mine out. She pulled up my sleeve on my jacket and wrote along the inside of my wrist. “Call Lil,” she said sternly and when she took her hands away there were two numbers scrawled along my skin. “The second one is mine in case you need it.”

  “I will, and thanks,” I said. “I need to get back to the house. Captain is letting me skate for a little while but I can’t leave them a man down for long. I get off the day after tomorrow, in the morning.”

  “Okay, program those numbers into your phone and don’t smash it this time. And if you think up any proof, you call me. We can take it to the PR firm. They’ll likely tell us to stuff it and to stay the course, but we can always try.”

  I didn’t like that answer. I swallowed hard and nodded, and she made her way into the obsidian tower holding my pr
incess high and far away from me. I sighed and went back to my bike, cameras snapping away across the street. I gave them the finger and fired up my bike and took my ass back to the station.

  The guys had the doors up and stepped aside from where they were washing trucks and rolling hoses for me to park in the back near the locker room doors. Fucking paparazzi motherfuckers had fucked with my bike the night before to get me to come out so they could grill me. As soon as I was parked, I programmed the numbers into my phone.

  I shot a text to Lil first thing:

  I don’t hate you. I love you more than life itself. I’m so sorry.

  I didn’t have time to do anything other than hit ‘send’ when the fucking house lit up in a full alarm.

  “Structure fire! Let’s roll, boys!”

  I got off my bike and laid my colors over the back, leaving my phone lying on top. I was in my uniform, had just thrown on my jacket and cut over everything when the Captain had told me to go run my errand, that he’d look the other way for me.

  I ran to my gear hanging along the wall and suited up. Brody was pulling on his gear next to me and asked, “How’d it go?” I pressed my lips into a grim line and shook my head.

  “Shit,” he said. “Sorry, bro.”

  “Fuck it for right now, we got a fuckin’ job to do.”

  “Right, we do. Let’s go be a fuckin’ hero,” he said. I nodded and marched to our truck, pulling myself up into my seat.

  The structure fire was a projects building six blocks away and it was bad. Smoke billowed out of the third-floor windows. The building itself was six stories tall.

  “Going down from the top!” I yelled and the ladder was already moving into position. I shouldered my tank and put my mask over my face. I bundled up, making sure my jacket was secure and my gauntlets were in place. The smell of campfire was strong and cloying, the harsh overtones of burning plastic riding the air and stinging the eyes. I made sure I had airflow, that comms was working with a swift radio check, and I moved my ass, hauling balls up the ladder with more of our guys on my six.