by Myra Scott
Hey you. Would you be interested in meeting up for dinner tonight?
Then, staring down at my phone, I thought better of it. Why just message him when I could call and hear his actual voice?
CHAPTER TWENTY - LUKE
“And did you at any point see anyone behaving oddly toward the front of the crowd?” I asked the bartender, who was leaning against the bar in the bridge’s nightclub with her hands clasped in front of her. I could tell she was wracking her brain, but it didn’t take long for her to start shaking her head and frowning.
“Sorry, but no. I was focused on the people in front of me all night, and the crowd was too dense up at the front to be able to tell whether anyone was doing anything. I wish I had more for you.”
I wanted to take a deep breath and pull out a bottle of whiskey, but instead, I kept a stern face and nodded calmly.
“No, that’s reasonable, you were doing your job. What about any odd customers you had that night, did anyone stick out to you in any way?”
She shook her head, and I nodded.
“If anything comes to you,” I said, “let me know. You have my email.”
“Of course,” she said. “Anything to drink while you’re at it?”
I started to frown, then rolled my eyes and nodded. “No, but thanks.”
“You got it,” she said, and I checked my phone quickly.
I’d spent the past few days running nearly constant interviews with the various workers and guests who had been present at the concert to try to get any scrap of missed information that I possibly could. I felt like I was in limbo, but nothing was helping.
The bartender made her way down the bar, wiping an already clean surface.
She wasn’t the only person I’d tracked down on the job to interrogate. Dragging people into my office day in and day out not only disrupted the workflow around the casino, it also made people nervous and let them know something was wrong.
I was a hands-on kind of guy. That was always how I had been. So, I made it a point to tackle this myself. Anyone else would have fallen short of my standards.
But no matter who I asked, nothing came through for me. Nobody who was close up to the stage was around anymore or willing to talk, and the ones who were just didn’t see anything.
I finished my drink and started making my way to the next person on my list. Over the next hour or so, I pulled aside two more security guards who had been working that night, as well as a few of the other workers who happened to be in the area. But all of them had the same answers: they either couldn’t see anything up there or didn’t notice anything suspicious.
By the time the end of the day rolled around, I felt exhausted and frustrated, and I had a pounding headache, but I was far from being defeated. I was a persistent man, and I got what I wanted when it came down to it.
But as I headed up to my office, I felt my phone buzz, and I checked it to see a message from the engineer in charge of the third-party investigation of the stage equipment. It said that the inspection was finished, and I had an email in my inbox that I’d want to see.
I hurried up the rest of the way to my office, and I sat down to pull up the email and start scanning over the report.
As I did, my eyes got wider with every line that I read.
I was getting toward the end of the report when my phone rang, and I looked down to see Casey’s name. I smiled, seeing the picture of him I’d taken to use as his photo ID.
“Hey,” I said as soon as I put the phone to my ear.
“Hey there,” he said back, and just hearing his voice made my heart pound faster and my headache feel a little less intense. Casey soothed my soul on a level that no medicine could. “What’s going on? Tied up with work all night?”
“Actually,” I said, sitting back in my chair and crossing my legs, “I just hit a break that I think will make all the difference in the world.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I can’t remember if I told you how we were getting a third-party inspector to come and look over the equipment,” I said, “but I’m sitting in front of my laptop reading his report.”
“Let me guess,” Casey said, “some maniac arsonist rigged everything to blow up in your faces?”
I grinned silently, and there was a long pause between us before I heard his voice speak up again.
“...Luke? That’s not what actually happened, is it?”
“He came to the conclusion that everything was set up as it should be, with one anomaly: someone definitely tampered with the equipment after it was set up. None of the technicians were at fault. This was absolutely sabotage.”
“Sabotage?” he said, suddenly sounding concerned.
“Yeah, the tampering seems to have been clearly deliberate,” I said, scrolling over those pages of the report that said as much. “Which answers one question and takes some of the pressure off me, but now I’ve got a new puzzle to solve.”
“Figuring out who the hell would want a fire to start at the concert,” Casey finished for me.
“Exactly,” I said. “And I have a feeling this wasn’t just some psychotic arsonist in the audience with an antigay agenda.”
“Well, I wouldn’t write that off entirely,” Casey said ruefully.
“No, you’re right,” I said. “I’m going to try doing some research on everyone present that night and—” I paused, taking a deep breath and collecting myself. “Actually, let’s put a pin in that. What’s up? I’m sure you didn’t call just to ask what my latest headaches are.”
“Well, I certainly don’t mind,” Casey said a little playfully. “I like hearing about your day to day life.”
“Me too,” I said. “How was your day?”
“Oh, not nearly as exciting. Just a normal day of work, then asking a cute guy if he wants to do dinner with me after a stressful day.”
“That sounds better than anything I could have come up with, honestly,” I said immediately, a big, stupid grin crossing my face.
No matter how bogged down in work I got, the slightest effort from Casey could pull me right out of it.
“Got a place in mind?” I asked.
“I’ll send it to you,” he said.
“I’ll see you there,” I said, and I hung up, still feeling my heart pounding.
I needed this more than Casey probably realized.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - CASEY
Normally, I was the kind of guy who drove everywhere. I had always lived in the same small town, and if I could not get where I needed to go on foot, I drove. There was no train, no bus system. And when I started working at the fire station, I got even deeper into my love of vehicles. I polished and washed the fire engine like it was my own car, only bigger and flashier. Of course, I had grown up with a healthy appreciation for cars, anyway, since my father had always been the main mechanic in town.
When I was little, I used to sit in the mechanic’s garage at his workplace, perched up on a tall, vintage, metal bar stool next to his pristinely organized work desk. I would eat whatever delicious snack my mother had packed me for the afternoon and watch with rapt attention and amazement while my dad and his crew worked on cars. I was in awe of the way they could take a broken-down, sorry excuse for a vehicle and, within a few grueling hours, turn it back into something roadworthy and shiny again.
My dad was a perfectionist, just like me, and he never let a customer leave in a vehicle he didn’t trust for the ride home. More than once, he had nursed a totally wrecked car back to complete health, holding onto it for longer than anyone anticipated. Sometimes it pissed off his customers, as they wanted their cars back sooner. But Dad was bound and determined to ensure the safety of his customers, even if it made them mad in the process. Between his passion for road safety and my mother’s dedication to her job as a nurse, it was easy to see where I got my deep-seated sense of
duty to community from. As well as my love for cars.
Which was why it felt extra strange tonight to call a cab to take me to the restaurant for my date with Luke. Sure, I had been driving myself around with my messed up leg in direct violation of my doctor’s orders for a couple days now. But tonight, I was driving into the city, and I knew it was stupid to take a risk that big. Besides, I would probably be drinking a little bit tonight at dinner and the last thing I needed was to get pulled over. Chief was lax about a lot of rules and regulations most firefighter crew chiefs would be uptight about. But one thing he had a bee in his bonnet over was drunk driving. He kept a solid zero tolerance rule about that.
And sure, I probably could have asked Luke to pick me up, but he would have had to drive all the way from the city to collect me and that would have made me feel infinitely more like a loser than just taking a cab. So now, here I was, riding in a taxi for the nearly forty-five-minute drive to the restaurant. This cab fare was going to be astronomical, but it was well worth it for an opportunity to spend some time with Luke. I was both excited and nervous as hell. It was crazy how Luke could make me feel simultaneously exhilarated and comforted. He exuded the warmth and safety of coming home, paired with the adrenaline rush of taking a bunch of caffeine pills, crushing and snorting them. Not that I had ever done that, but I imagined it would feel a little bit like how I felt tonight on my way to the restaurant.
“Hey, you know what? You look awfully familiar,” said the cab driver suddenly. I glanced up to see him squinting at me in the rearview mirror.
“I do?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yeah. I think I saw your picture in the paper. You’re the guy who saved that other guy from the awful fire at the Sentry, aren’t you?”
I smiled. “Yes. I guess you do recognize me, then. I didn’t even know there was an article about it. I hope it was flattering.”
The driver chuckled. “Oh yeah. It was. Showed your picture next to the article. You wearin’ some red uniform. You a firefighter by trade?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Damn. Didn’t know I was drivin’ a local hero around tonight. Hey, fare’s on me tonight, buddy. I’m serious,” he said. “My niece was in the audience that night. She got out safely.”
I leaned forward to protest. “Oh, no. That’s not necessary. Thank you, but I really don’t mind paying for it. This is a long drive.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Nope, can’t change my mind. Don’t you worry about it, man. I want to help out however I can. You heading to a date tonight or somethin’?”
“Yeah, how did you know?” I asked, confused.
“Every time I take someone to this restaurant it’s a date,” he answered simply.
“Okay. Can’t argue with that logic,” I said.
“Well, I hope whoever you’re meeting up with knows how much of a hero you are. By the likes of those crutches, I’d say you deserve a good night out,” he said. The car rolled slowly to a stop at the curb in front of the French restaurant. “Anywho, we’re here.”
I tried to hand him a wad of cash but he shook his head vehemently. “I’m tellin’ you, man, keep your money. I won’t take it. Not tonight.”
I gave him a smile. It was hard for me to let him go without payment, but he was adamant about it, and I was eager to go inside and meet Luke. So, I clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Thanks, man.”
“Don’t mention it. Have a good night,” he replied as I carefully got out of the car and hobbled away.
He drove off, leaving me to walk into the restaurant with my heart racing about a mile a minute. By now, I was getting to be an expert with these crutches, and I managed to get in through the admittedly annoying revolving doors without a hitch. I stepped up to the maitre’d and before I could even say a word, his eyes lit up.
“Oh my god, you’re that guy from the Sentry fire!” he gasped, keeping his voice low despite his obvious excitement. My cheeks burned.
“Uh, yeah. I am,” I answered.
“Your date is here already, waiting for you. He’s just at that corner table over there,” he told me, smiling. “By the way, I just wanted to tell you… you’re a real stand-up guy.”
“Oh. Um, thank you,” I answered awkwardly. I made my way over to the table, where Luke was sitting with his cell phone pressed to his ear, a glowering look on his face. But as soon as he saw me, he grinned with pure delight. I sat down across from him, and he hurriedly finished up his call.
“Later. Later, Laura. Yes, this is important. I have to go. Bye,” he said quickly, rolling his eyes as he hung up. He turned to me and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I replied, gazing into those bright green eyes for a moment.
“I missed you,” Luke said. “Work has been utter hell lately.”
“I bet. I missed you, too. I wish I could complain about work, but…” I trailed off.
He gave me a reassuring smile. “You’ll go back to work when you’re ready, Casey. Don’t worry about it. I promise not one soul on this earth could possibly fault you for sitting it out for a while. You’re a hero.”
“Yeah. So I’ve been told,” I replied, looking pointedly at the maitre’d who was still sneaking very conspicuous glances my way.
Luke laughed. “Sorry for turning you into a local celebrity. But that’s what you get for rushing into a fire to save some poor fool like me.”
“It was worth it,” I said, a little too earnestly, perhaps.
“I hope so. The doctor said your leg would be very painful,” he said sadly. “How is it? Still terrible? Do you think it’s getting better?”
I patted his hand reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. It’s already much better than it was. Before long I’ll be back to my old self. I’ve got my physical therapy to bring me back to fighting condition. Although, I have to say, seeing you tonight is the best medicine I could ask for.”
“Damn, that’s one hell of a pick-up line,” Luke laughed, putting an arm around me.
The waiter came strolling over holding a wine list. “Good evening, gentlemen. Could I interest you in a bottle of white or red? We fly all of our wines in from the south of France.”
Luke looked at me expectantly, as if I would have a preference. I panicked for a half second, because even though I considered myself a bit of a foodie, I had no frame of reference for wine. I was a beer or liquor drinker, through and through. But I didn’t want to lose face, so I cleared my throat and asked, “Two glasses of your most… robust red, please.”
The waiter looked satisfied with the answer and left to retrieve our drinks. As soon as he was out of earshot, Luke started laughing. “Robust?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I had no idea you were such a sommelier.”
I grinned, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. In a lowered voice I replied, “I’m going to be honest with you, Luke, I don’t know shit about wine.”
“Fake it ‘til you make it,” he responded. “That waiter didn’t seem to notice.”
“Or maybe he’s in the wine cellar laughing his ass off,” I suggested.
“Nah, I bet he’s just pleased you took him up on his offer of wine instead of asking for some fancy, complicated drink,” he countered with a smile.
“So, earlier tonight you were telling me that the investigators suspect it was arson,” I said, changing the subject. Luke’s smile faded a little, and he nodded slowly.
“Yes. Apparently, somebody did it intentionally,” he said. “Isn’t arson kind of rare?”
I nodded. “Yeah, most of the time it’s an accidental fire. Faulty wiring or a cigarette dropped on the carpet. A bona fide arsonist doesn’t come along all too often.”
“That’s what I thought,” he sighed.
The waiter returned to give us our “robust” red wine and take our orders. L
uke chose the demi Poulet, I selected the osso bucco, and we ordered a plate of mussels and a baguette to share. Dinner went smoothly, the hours ticking away like mere minutes as we chatted and flirted all night. We were so busy talking and cuddling with each other that we kept forgetting to even eat our expensive, fancy food. Not to say that the food wasn’t divine. It was. But not as divine as spending time together.
I had never known this kind of infatuation before. Sure, there had been crushes in the past. Cute bartenders. Flirty cashiers. One time I even helped put out a small fire at a gay club on the outskirts of town and was hit on pretty aggressively by a guy wearing black spandex. But nothing could hold a candle to Luke and the way he made me feel.
I even opened up to him about how I was feeling lately. “It’s just that,” I began, setting down my fork, “I feel like if I’m not at work, it’s like I cease to exist or something.”
“What do you mean?” Luke asked, concerned.
“I don’t know. I’ve given so much of my time and energy to my career that it seems like I can’t be who I am if I’m not in uniform. I can’t just be myself,” I confessed. “I know that must sound really pathetic.”
“No, not at all. Misguided, but not pathetic,” he countered. “You’re just really dedicated to your work. That’s an admirable trait. But you can’t let that be your whole identity. I mean, I got to know you outside of your job and I adore you. Not just because you’re a rugged, badass hero who runs into burning houses to save people, but because you’re a handsome, witty, kind-hearted, passionate man.”
I smiled and looked away, but Luke took my chin in his hands and turned me back to look at him. His green eyes were blazing. “I’m serious, Casey,” he said softly. “You mean a lot to the world. To me. Don’t forget that.”
I kissed his hand, my heart racing. “Thank you. And Luke… I know you’re stressed out about solving the arson mystery. But we’ll get there. I’ll help you. We are going to figure this out and make everything go back to normal.”