Beautiful Burn

by Jamie McGuire

  "Nothing is happening. We're friends."

  "Clearly," Jojo said with a smirk. "You look like you've lost weight. Did they feed you?"

  "Barely."

  She stood. "I brought donuts to celebrate your first day back. They're in the break room."

  "You're a saint, but I've already had breakfast. I'll eat some for lunch."

  "I have a lot to do today. Are you doing that write-up for me?"

  "As best I can. Remember, I'm not a writer. I'll just write what I know, and you can turn it into a story."

  "Yeah, yeah ... I heard you the first time," she said, disappearing around the corner.

  I opened a new document and stared at the blank page for a while before my gaze wandered to the bouquet. I'd been sent flowers before, mostly from my father, but thought had been put into this bouquet. The colors were straight from my room, the roses meaning more than just 'thanks for last night.' Maybe I was reading too far into it, but Tyler wasn't one to make dishonest gestures.

  I shook it off, focusing on Jojo's request. I recounted my first day, the basics like the names of the tools, what they looked like, and the crew's funny nicknames. They all respected one another, but, in my opinion, looked up to Tyler. He settled arguments, led them on the mountain, and they respected the decisions he made when Jubal wasn't around to make them. I talked about fuel breaks and mineral soil and vegetation. Packs, supplies, flight weight, and ten codes. I included my limited knowledge on slutter, fire towers, coordinates, and weather. Then I added stories like the one about the best helo pilot Tyler had ever worked with--an Aussie redhead named Holly who could back in her Huey and swing it around at the last minute to get them on the side of the mountain so they didn't have to hike so far in--and the time Tyler ate a fat, juicy grub worm for two hundred dollars.

  Two hours had passed without me realizing, and Jojo knocked on the doorjamb before walking in. She moseyed across my office to her father's door. She knocked on it twice and then took a step back.

  Wick walked out, his cheeks red and his eyes bright. Jojo stood next to my desk, crossing her arms.

  "What's going on?" I asked.

  "Daddy and I have been in awe over your pictures, Ellie. You've sent us some amazing stuff. You went out in the field and camped in freezing temps with those heathens for nights on end. You were born for this."

  "For what?"

  "To be a field photographer," Wick said.

  "A what?" I asked, feeling uneasy.

  "Daddy is going to hire another assistant."

  "What?" I said, panicking.

  Jojo touched my arm. "It's okay. Your new job with the magazine will pay more."

  "More?"

  Her eyes widened. "A lot more. Daddy wants this to be an ongoing feature for the magazine. He wants you to follow the Alpine Hotshots through fire season."

  "But if you hire someone else, then what?"

  Jojo rolled her eyes. "Who are we kidding? Daddy isn't going to find anyone. I've been doing it for this long. I can wait until fire season is over. You have to do this, Ellie. It's going to be amazing."

  "I ... don't know what to say," I said, both unsettled and flattered.

  "Say bye," Wick said. "I want you back out there starting today. We'll need a continuing story for next month. We've already cleared it with the superintendent. Pack your bags. You'll be bunking at the Alpine's dormitory until October."

  "Oh, thank God," I said, closing my eyes.

  I could practically hear Jojo smiling. She had no idea I was going to be kicked out of my parents' home next month. I had barely saved enough for my cell phone bill, much less a deposit and first month's rent, even on houses or apartments up to half an hour outside of town. Shadowing the hotshots until October gave me six to seven more months to figure out living arrangements. Even if I was sleeping in a truck or tent most of the time, it was preferable to moving into a shelter.

  "We knew you'd be happy! I told you she'd be happy, Daddy."

  "Am I done?" Wick said.

  Jojo sighed. "You're done. Go back to resting your feet on your desk."

  I pulled out my phone and texted Tyler.

  Did you hear the news?

  Just now. I'm your official babysitter. Pretty pumped.

  Thanks for the flowers. They're beautiful.

  It took a while for Tyler to respond.

  I didn't send you flowers. I can't decide if I feel like a dick or if I want to kill whoever sent them.

  You didn't send the flowers?

  No. There's no card?

  No.

  I wanna know who sent them.

  Me, too.

  Not for the same reason.

  ... which is?

  I'm having violent thoughts. All I can say.

  Quit.

  I have a bad temper in general. Sending my gf flowers is not a good idea.

  ... I am not your gf.

  Yet. You're not my gf yet.

  I set my phone to silent and put it in my drawer, shaking my head, a dozen conflicting emotions swirling in my head and heart, including curiosity about the flowers. Who else would send them but Tyler?

  "Ellie?" Jojo's voice came over the speaker, and I jumped. "You've got a call on line one."

  "Is it a guy?"

  "Yes."

  "Is his name Sterling?"

  "No."

  I pressed the button for line one and picked up the phone, fully expecting Tyler's voice to be on the other line. "This is Ellie."

  "Bunny?" My father's deep voice boomed through the receiver, so loud that I had to hold the phone away.

  I slowly pressed it against my ear, speaking softly. "Daddy?"

  "I heard the news. I'm so proud of you," he said, his voice breaking. "I knew you could do it."

  "Th-thank you. Daddy, I can't talk right now. I'm at work."

  "I know. I spoke to Wick this morning. He's impressed with you. He says you're the best assistant he's ever had."

  Wick didn't tell him about the assignment.

  "I actually just got a raise, so I'll um ... I've found a place. I'm moving out this week."

  "Nonsense, bunny. You've proven yourself. Maricela is packing for you now, and your passport and plane ticket is at the house. We want you to join your sister in Sanya. Your plane leaves in the morning."

  "Who's we?"

  "What's that?"

  "You said we want you to go to Sanya."

  He cleared his throat. "Your mother..."

  After a short scuffle, my mother had possession of the phone. "Really, Ellison, you couldn't have found something less ... desperate?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "A secretary? For J.W. Chadwick, no less. That's just embarrassing."

  The blood beneath my cheeks began to boil. "You didn't really give me a choice, Mother."

  "You're going to thank them for the opportunity, and you're going to meet your sister like your father wants, and then you're going to start with his company, under Finley. Do you understand?"

  "Is this what Sally wants?"

  Mother sighed. "Your father felt Sally was too ... restrictive."

  "What about the contract?"

  Mother chuckled. "Well, it wasn't a legally binding contract, Ellison. It was more of an agreement on paper."

  I took a deep breath, relieved that I could be lying on the back of a rented yacht in thirty-two hours, soaking up the sun and drinking mimosas and eating my weight in lobster and Peking duck. The question was whether Finley wanted me there.

  "Have you told Finley?"

  "Not yet. It's the middle of the night there."

  "You just decided this morning that I wasn't dead to you?"

  "Honestly, Ellison. Don't be so dramatic. We forced you to get a job, you did, so you're being rewarded for your hard work, and then you'll work under your sister. No one's dead."

  "Someone's dead."

  Mother tripped over her words. "What do you ... who are you ... what on Earth are you going on about, Ellison? Who's dead?"
>
  I swallowed. "Please thank Daddy for the tickets, but I'm not going to Sanya. I have a job here that I love."

  "You love being a secretary," Mother deadpanned. I could hear my father asking questions in the background.

  "I'm actually taking pictures for them, too, and I'm really good at it."

  "Ellison, for goodness' sake. You're a secretary slash photographer? Listen to yourself."

  "I'm staying."

  "This is about a boy, isn't it? You've met some local, and you're not thinking straight. Philip, talk some sense into her."

  "I'm going to be unreachable at times. If it's an emergency, call the magazine. They know how to get in touch with me."

  "Ellison," Mother warned. "If you hang up the phone--"

  "You'll cut me off?" I asked.

  While my mother stumbled over what to say next, I hung up. I was afraid that if I spoke to my father again, I would change my mind.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The lights were dim at headquarters. Half the hotshots were sitting around the kitchen table, playing cards, while the others were showering.

  The only noise was the water pipes funneling through the dorm to the ten showers plus my fingers clicking on the keyboard. I had pretty much become part of the sofa since we'd arrived back to our temporary home, simultaneously resting and uploading the latest pictures. After the last picture sent, I began typing out the next installment of the MountainEar's "Fire and Ice" series.

  Tyler walked out, his hair freshly buzzed and his cheeks red from the hot shower. When he was clean, the tan line around his eyes from wearing his goggles all day in the sun was more prominent. He was wearing a heather-gray Alpine Hotshot T-shirt, navy cotton shorts, and--from the looks of it--nothing underneath.

  "My turn?" I asked as he fell onto the sofa next to me.

  Tyler frowned. "The shower stalls are side by side."

  "So? I'm just one of the guys, right?"

  Tyler didn't answer, but I could tell the thought of me showering next to his crewmates bothered him. Initially they'd all offered to let me shower first, but I wasn't about to make all twenty of them wait after nearly two weeks on the mountain for me to take a shower.

  I chuckled. "Just kidding. Puddin'!" I called. "You're up! Wash the stink off!"

  "Yes, ma'am," Puddin' said, hopping up from his padded foldout chair.

  Tyler breathed out a laugh, and I nudged him with my elbow. "What's funny?"

  "You've somehow become the boss around here. They take orders from you like they do from the superintendent or Jubal."

  "Maybe they just need a big sister."

  Tyler watched Puddin' walk across the room toward the showers with his bath bag swung over his shoulder. Puddin' ducked under the doorframe, his arms standing out from his body because his muscles were so massive. He was the largest crewmember, followed by Cat and Sugar. Although they had arrived looking like powerlifters, the hiking and arduous labor for twelve to sixteen hours a day had made them leaner. Tyler had said that by the end of fire season, they would all look more like cross-country runners. Puddin' had already lost forty pounds.

  "You think he needs a big sister?" Tyler asked.

  Puddin' poked his head around the corner. "Ellie? Think you could make me another grilled cheese? They're the best I've ever had."

  "I'll make you one," Fish said from the table.

  Puddin's sheepish expression made him look like a little boy. "Nah. That's okay, Fish."

  I smiled. I wasn't the best cook, but I could make a mean grilled cheese. Puddin' didn't mean they were the best; I just made them a lot like his mom had when he was young. "Three?" I asked.

  "If it's not too much trouble," Puddin' said. His voice was so deep it carried like he was speaking through a muffled megaphone, the way a giant might sound.

  "Okay if I do it after my shower?" I asked.

  "Beggars can't be choosers."

  He disappeared around the corner, and I stretched my neck toward Tyler, looking up at him with a knowing smile. "Yes, I think they all need a big sister."

  "Or a mom," Tyler said. "They might not let you leave."

  "If I don't find a place by October, I might not." I was joking, but Tyler watched me for a long time.

  "You need a place?" he asked. "I'm looking for a roommate."

  "I thought you and Taylor lived together."

  "Part-time. After fire season, he travels."

  "I need someplace permanent."

  "Maybe we could look into a three-bedroom. This is Slick's last season. He and his wife have a three-bedroom condo that will be up for sale."

  I thought about it for half a second. "I can't afford to buy."

  "I can. I was thinking about it, anyway."

  I shook my head. "We can't be roommates."

  "Why not?"

  "You know why."

  He nodded a few times, pretending to watch the television. Every few minutes he would smile and start to say something, but think better of it.

  Puddin' came out in a fresh pair of comfortable clothes, and the remaining ash-covered crew looked to me.

  "Really?" I asked.

  They kept staring.

  I sighed. "Go, Cat."

  Cat jumped up, smiling. "I'm her favorite."

  "Bullshit," Tyler said, pointing at him.

  Everyone at the table laughed, and Cat jogged by, smooching his lips at me. "I love you, too, Ellie," he lilted, winking.

  "I'll punch your cock," Tyler said, slapping at him.

  Sage came out, and I sent Jew in. Bucky came out, and I called on Sancho. Soon, all the guys were finished, and it was my turn. I rolled my eyes at Tyler--he insisted again on standing by the door. It wasn't the first time I'd taken a shower at headquarters, and the guys would never peek, but they loved to tease him.

  I stepped in front of the long line of sinks and mirrors, snuggled in my robe--the only thing I had packed that reminded me of the luxuries of home. I scrubbed my hair with the towel, feeling a little more human. Sometimes we would have access to a tractor-trailer full of shower stalls, but when we were too deep in the mountains for the trucks to reach, it was living dirty or bathing in a pond, river, or waterfall. At fire camp, I was a different person, ignoring the dirt and sweat on my body and the grease in my hair. Once, Tyler had taken me down to a waterfall to rinse off, but the water was freezing. For me, at least, being dirty for a few more days was preferable to the sting of just-melted snow that didn't warm, even at the height of summer.

  Tyler knocked on the doorjamb.

  "I'm decent," I said.

  He leaned against the wooden frame, crossing his arms. "You are grossly underestimating yourself."

  "What?" I said, rubbing moisturizer on my face. Spending so much time in the dry mountain air, my skin felt like sandpaper. It didn't help that I'd forgotten my sunscreen one day, and my nose was beginning to peel.

  "Nothing," he said. "I meant what I said earlier. If you need a place, one way or another, we can make it work."

  "We can't live together, Tyler. We've already got this weird friends-with-benefits thing going on..."

  "Not lately," Tyler said, almost pouting.

  "And it would make things really complicated. Look at you. You're standing outside the bathroom door so the guys don't walk by."

  "I'm protecting your virtue," he teased.

  "You're jealous. They like messing with you when it comes to me. Everyone knows--"

  "Everyone knows what?" he asked.

  I cleared my throat. "You know."

  "No, I don't know. Tell me."

  "That something is going on between us." He smiled, his dimple sinking deep into his cheek. I narrowed my eyes. "Stop smiling."

  "No," he said.

  I wet my toothbrush, squeezed out a dot of paste on the bristles, and then wet it again before scrubbing my teeth.

  "I do that," Tyler said.

  "Do what?" I said, my mouth full of suds.

  "Wet my toothbrush twice."
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  I rolled my eyes. "We must be soul mates."

  "Glad you agree."

  I bent over and spit in the sink, and then Tyler grabbed me, sealing his lips onto mine. When I pushed him away, he had a circle of toothpaste around his mouth.

  "What are you doing, Tyler? Gross!"

  He wiped the toothpaste from his mouth and licked his finger, winking at me. "I kind of miss you."

  I stood next to the sink, the water running, watching Tyler turn the corner, a bounce in his step. I shook my head, wondering what the hell had gotten into him. Since I'd been at headquarters, he had been professional. No late-night sneaking around, no ass grabs or even a stolen kiss--until now.

  I looked in the mirror at my sunken cheeks and the happiness in my eyes. A giddy feeling swirled in my stomach, different from the tingling I usually felt when Tyler was around. The summer was flying by. He was talking about sharing an apartment, but reality was different in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and seeing the same twenty people every day. I wasn't sure if Tyler would feel the same when fire season was over.

  I changed into a pair of flannel pajama pants, sweatshirt, and fuzzy socks, and then stepped out into the TV room. Nineteen hotshots were standing behind the sofa, listening to Tyler talk to a stranger in a dark suit and tie. The man was sitting on one of the recliners with a notepad and pen.

  I approached the crowd, listening in.

  "So, you haven't spoken to your brother about the fire?" the man said.

  "I mean, yeah," Tyler answered. "I'm an alumnus of Eastern. He's a student. We belong to the same fraternity, and we lost brothers in that fire."

  "But you're sure he wasn't there," the man said. "I would like to remind you that I'm a federal agent, and it's imperative that you're honest."

  "He already gave you an answer, Agent Trexler," Taylor said, his voice firm.

  I swallowed. Tyler had gotten the phone call about the fire back in March. I wondered why they were just now questioning him.

  The agent looked up at Taylor. "Did he speak to you about it?"

  "No," Taylor said. "I heard about it from Tyler."

  Trexler pointed his pen at the twin on the sofa. "And you're Tyler."

  "Correct," Tyler said.

  Trexler looked down at his notepad. "It's interesting that you're a..."

  "Interagency hotshot," Fish said. "And a damn good one."

  Trexler suppressed a grin. "Your father is under the impression that you're an insurance agent. Were you? An insurance agent?"

  "No," Tyler said.

  "Why does your father think that you are?"

  Taylor shifted his weight from one foot to the other, tightening his grip on his arms. I could see his biceps tensing.