by Mia Scott
"Night, Larrington."
"Goodnight, Big."
Chapter 6
If Big had to pick one thing in the world he hated above everything else, it would be rats. It wasn't that he was afraid of rats. No, he was way too macho and badass for that. He hated them because they were disgusting, disease carrying rodents and their beady eyes and ringed tails made his skin crawl. And their creepy squeaking? Forget it. Re-fucking-volting!
So you can imagine the mood Big was in as he and James ran up the stairs of the abandoned burning building when hundreds of rats ran down opposite him, shrieking in stereo. "Fucking rat bastards! You're fucking gross," he spat as they ascended the stairs. Don't even bother calling him a pussy. He'd kick your ass into the middle of next week for even trying. Besides, Indiana Jones hated snakes and that dude pulled in a shitload of tail. No one ever called him a pussy. (And he carried a whip and wore a cool ass hat.) A rat ran under his boot and he stumbled, cursing their very existence while James chuckled at him. "Man, go fuck yourself," Big yelled, to James and the rat alike.
The duo reached the top floor of the building and the haze of smoke surrounding them was black and dense. Big turned on the hose, dousing the flames that licked the walls. He approached a door, saw smoke coming out from under it. Checking for hot spots and finding it okay, he kicked in the door and blasted the room with water before setting foot inside with James towing the hose behind him.
They quickly found the source of the fire in some faulty wiring and had it handled shortly thereafter. As fires went, Big considered it a two on a ten-point scale. And one and a half of those points were due to contending with the nasty rats. He looked over at James and grumbled "Let's get the hell out of here."
Once all of the gear was packed away, he hopped into the passenger's seat, yelling at James to hurry his ass up.
"The fire's already out, dude. What's wrong? The rats mocking you?" James teased as he slid into the driver's seat, laughing when Big scowled and flipped him off. "Why are you in such a shitty mood? Things not go well with that brunette you went home with last night?"
Big's scowl grew deeper. Things had been going amazingly well until he told "Alisha" how much he wanted to fuck her and Jessica (Julie?) got all offended and kicked him out. But he didn't feel the need to share that bit of info with his buddy. "Not really…didn't feel very satisfied after."
"Huh—might be because you're hung up on Alisha."
He looked at James like he'd grown another head. "The fuck did you just say?"
James smiled affably at his best friend. "You heard me."
"You smoke something out of your upstairs hippie neighbor's stash today before you came to work?"
"I dunno, man, something about the way you like to push her buttons—"
"Look," he interrupted, "I'm not denying that she's hot. Hell, I'd hit that six ways from Sunday if I thought she'd be down for some no-strings action, but she seems way too high maintenance and into relationship crap for me to even bother. Plus, she's your girlfriend's friend, so I'll just stay out of it. Literally and figuratively," he chuckled. He was so hilarious sometimes. He laughed even harder at the confused look on James's face as he tried to put the pieces of the joke together. "Don't burn your brain out, Keller. I just meant that I'd stay out of her pants."
"Okay, one, Maggie's not my girlfriend (yet), and two, I don't believe you about Alisha."
"Your hang up, not mine. Like I said, I'd probably fuck her brains out if I didn't think shit would get weird after, but you know me. And you're my bro, so even if I think you're a total vagina for getting mixed up in a relationship, I'm not about to fuck things up for you."
"That's really deep, Big," James said drolly, his hand over his heart, shooting a grin across the rig. "But are you sure that maybe you just haven't met the right girl yet and—"
"Jesus! Better pull over there to the Duane Reade and get yourself some fucking tampons. And maybe a Playboy while you're at it…see if your dick can grow back."
James frowned, not appreciating his manhood being questioned and focused on the drive. Seeing something that piqued his interest, he slowed the rig down.
"Why are you stopping?" Big grumbled.
"Maggie and Alisha," he grinned, pointing out the window, laughing when Big quickly craned his head to get a better look. "Careful, buddy, might give yourself whiplash."
"Get Derek!" He ogled appreciatively out the window. Christ, she had a good pair of legs…and those dark jeans were practically painted on. Screw what James thought. He and Shorty had a semi-decent rapport now and he had a reputation to uphold as far as said rapport went. Rolling down the window he brought his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. "Afternoon, ladies," he drawled.
Alisha and Maggie halted in their tracks and turned. Maggie grinned instantly, spotting James lifting a hand in the driver's seat. "Afternoon, gentlemen," she called back. Alisha was a little more hesitant, seeing the way Big smirked playfully at her from the fire truck. He was always popping up when she least expected it, leaving her completely nonplussed.
He laughed at the annoyed look on Alisha's face and hopped out of the fire truck. "Wanna sit next to your boyfriend, Blondie?" he asked Maggie.
Maggie laughed softly, unaffected by his word choice, and climbed into the truck beside James making introductions with the other crew members.
"Lookin' good, Larrington," he grinned.
Alisha sipped on her slushie, nearly choking on it as he strode towards her in his protective gear, the suspenders holding up his pants and his navy FDNY t-shirt stretched nicely across his broad shoulders. She felt particularly foolish for being so cliché about firemen, but this one was a very hot example…even if he was an ass. Damn him. "Don't you have work to do?" Her tone was bored as she tried not to salivate over the eye buffet in front of her.
"Just finished a run—heading back to the station now." He appraised her up and down, taking in the boots she wore over her jeans, gray sweater and messy ponytail. Her full lips were stained red in the middle from her drink. She was gorgeous.
"My eyes are up here," she snapped.
He smiled wickedly then and met her big doe eyes, which were once again shooting daggers in his direction. "I know where they are. Just appreciating your other—assets first."
"You've got black shit on your face," she informed him, taking another small sip of her cherry beverage. He wiped the wrong cheek with the back of his hand and she smirked, pointing to the other one.
Big smoothly missed on purpose, but she remained rooted to her spot on the sidewalk, chuckling at him. "Why don't you help me then?" he asked in a gravelly voice.
"No," she clipped.
"You're killin' me, Shorty!"
Alisha held the straw in between her teeth and smiled at his Sandlot reference. She found she didn't really mind the nickname much. He angled his head and grinned impishly down at her, and she sighed, resigned. Rolling her eyes, she stepped forward and reached up to brush away the soot off his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. "There," she murmured, then wiped off the soot onto the shoulder of his t-shirt.
His cheek tingled where she'd touched him, and he felt like such a goddamn girl. "Was that good for you?" he asked lecherously, the shit-eating grin stretching across his face. That's better.
"Okay, I'm bored now," she said, even as her fingers warmed.
"Whatever, you find me charming." He snatched the cup from her hand and sipped, his eyes smiling down into her irritated ones.
"Excuse me!" she scoffed, trying to grab the drink back from his thick hand. "Is it really that hard for you to grasp the concept of simple things like common decency and boundaries?"
"Mm, cherry!" he said, ignoring her. He took another sip. "I was wondering what flavor was all over your lips."
Alisha's eye roll was epic, her laugh incredulous. "Do these lines really work for you? Because I find them utterly ridiculous."
"Haven't had any complaints so far."
"Some
how I find that hard to believe. Give me back my drink!"
"Do you know what I used to do with these when I was in high school?" he asked, swirling the cup around in his grasp.
"I'm sure you're about to tell me," she said dryly, fully expecting to hear something disgusting and no doubt sexual.
"I used to throw them in people's faces." He laughed when her jaw dropped.
"That's cruel!"
He shrugged. "It was funny at the time."
"Can I have my drink back now, or are you going to throw it at me?"
James and Maggie watched the back and forth between Big and Alisha from the window of the fire truck. "You could sell popcorn for this," James said, eyes wide.
"Shh, I can't hear what they're saying," Maggie said, leaning closer to the open window, a smile lighting her features. "Oh, Alisha looks annoyed. Big really rubs her the wrong way."
"Watch this," James told her with a sneaky smile. "Hey, Alisha," he called casually out the window.
Both Alisha and Big turned to look at James. "Yes, James?"
"Did Big fill you in on his traumatic experience with the rats this morning?" He met Big's eyes and smirked.
Big frowned. "Hey, Maggie—be sure and ask James about the mailman sometime," he tossed back, sneering when his buddy's face fell. Don't mess with the bull or you'll get the horns. He turned back to Alisha whose eyes were dancing amusedly.
"Are you—afraid of rats?" she asked, stifling a laugh. She found the possibility highly amusing.
"I'm not afraid of anything," he defended. Keller is so dead.
"Just rats, then. Oh, and maybe giving up the frat boy mentality to make room for enlightened thinking."
"Shut up, Larrington," he said grumpily.
She stole her drink back and smiled. "Nice comeback. Hey, Q, you ready? I need to go harangue my worthless landlord before rehearsal."
"Just a sec," Maggie called back, making plans with James for another date and enjoying the sight of him in uniform.
"What are you busting your landlord's balls about?" Big asked, folding his arms over his chest. The thought of this tiny girl unleashing holy hell on her landlord made him smile.
"When I'll be able to get back into my apartment. He won't return any of my calls and I've left him several scathing messages. He's the epitome of unprofessional."
"That doesn't surprise me at all," he smirked. "Be careful going back to your apartment."
He sounded so sincere, and so—unlike him—that it threw her. "Why?" she asked, brows raised.
"Bums tend to set up camp in evacuated buildings," he said plainly.
"Oh. I—had no idea. Thank you for the warning."
"Just don't go there by yourself, okay?"
Alisha was speechless, and whether the speechlessness was due to the possibility of vagrants taking up shop in her apartment or the fact that Big had been uncharacteristically nice to her was anyone's guess. She just nodded wordlessly and sipped at her slushie.
"It's almost like our lips have touched," he teased, his tone smarmy, as Maggie appeared by Alisha's side.
"That was pathetic. You must still be traumatized from the rats earlier. Go save some lives or rescue a cat from a tree—I've got things to do." With one last sarcastic smile, she hooked her arm through Maggie's and started walking.
"You coming to our show or what?" he called, an impish grin lighting his chiseled face.
Maggie nodded while Alisha shrugged noncommittally. "If I'm not busy. See ya around, Big."
He smirked after her and then hopped back into the rig.
James blew out a low whistle. "She's got your number, dude. I love it!"
"Don't make me kick your ass, Keller," he said sourly as a call came in over the radio. James flipped the sirens on and they sped away.
Saturday night rolled around and Big sat backstage of Otto's Shrunken Head, tuning his guitar and drinking a beer, while his band mates, Mike and Matt, argued over whether pirates or ninjas were more badass. Shit was getting heated and he just shook his head, smirking at their ridiculousness. James was around somewhere talking to Maggie on the phone trying to give her directions.
Part of him wondered if Alisha would actually show up and then he cursed himself for momentarily developing ovaries and having a goddamn period. It's not like he cared if she showed up or not. There was never a shortage of hot women at the bars they played, and he never had a problem hooking one for the night. His looks and demeanor usually did the trick, but add his guitar playing and singing to the mix and the panties were dropping all over the place. (Big = Stud)
James walked backstage and picked up his drumsticks, twirling them deftly between his fingers. "Maggie and Russell are almost here," he said, keeping his eyes on Big's face, grinning when he frowned a little.
"Cool," he grumbled, focused on his guitar strings. God, he needed to get the sand out of his vagina. Alisha never told him that she was for sure going to show up and he didn't know why he fucking cared in the first place. Okay, so maybe he wanted to put her in her place a little and wow her with his skills. She'd surprised the hell out of him with her musical ability and turnabout was fair play after all. "You tools about done with your pirates versus ninjas bullshit so we can go on stage or what?" he asked Mike and Matt.
Both of them had crestfallen expressions on their faces. "Dude, not cool," Mike said, while Matt shook his head disappointedly. Big cocked an eyebrow up at James who just shrugged. The M's rarely made sense to them.
"Whatever." He glanced down at his watch and saw that it was time to get this show on the road. "Let's go, dickheads. We've got a crowd to entertain."
"Charming venue," Russell said, turning up his nose as he took in the tiki-themed décor. He picked up his fruity beverage that came in a festive tiki glass and sipped, his eyes going round as he swallowed. "Though this concoction is delish," he exclaimed, taking another hearty gulp.
"Don't be such a snob, Russy-bee," Maggie warned, breaking into a smile when she saw the guys take the stage to the applause of a few eager members in the crowd. James winked at her and she blushed, her smile brightening even further.
"My God, you two are so schmoopy!" he ribbed, catching the exchange.
She grinned into her drink, not caring one bit about his teasing. Date number two had gone even better than the first and she was tumbling for James Keller at an alarmingly fast rate. They opened with Hard to Handle and Maggie bobbed her head and sang along with the band, pleasantly surprised by the voice coming out of Big's mouth. Fire Extinguishers were much better than she'd expected.
Russell leaned in and grinned like the Cheshire cat. She recognized that look in his eyes. "What?" Maggie asked, one perfectly shaped brow arched sky high.
He leaned forward dramatically and folded his hands on the table. "Will our darling Alisha be attending tonight?"
"Ye-es," she said, drawing the word out slowly. "I've told you that five times already—once she's done with her show. Why?"
Russell looked towards the stage and then back at his blonde friend. "She'll be a goner once she hears that voice coming from that man," he pointed.
Maggie turned her eyes towards the stage and listened more closely, realizing that he was absolutely spot on. "I think you're right, Russell. The key to Alisha's heart is definitely through her ears. Maybe then she can put this Gregory business behind her once and for all." The duo shared a conspiratorial grin and fluttered their fingers together in their own brand of a high five.
Alisha stepped out of the cab and looked up at the neon sign outside of the bar. After double checking her texts from Maggie to ensure that she was, in fact, in the right place, she paid the driver and headed for the door. The final strains of a Mellencamp song rang through the air as she showed the bouncer her ID, holding her hand out to be marked by the rubber stamp. She smiled in way of thanks and made a beeline for the bar, desperately needing a drink to unwind after two shows of her own that day.
She was later than she'd planned on b
eing, having gone back and forth about whether or not she really wanted to come. Then there was the indecision over her wardrobe for the night, which was patently ridiculous seeing as it was a cover band playing in a tiki bar. But in the end, her curiosity about Fire Extinguishers won as did her white lace-trimmed tank top, black leather jacket, skinny jeans and red high heels. And if she spent a little more time on her hair and makeup than normal, it was only to avoid Russell giving her a hard time and nothing at all to do with the man playing a mean guitar on stage and singing Mustang Sally.
The bartender handed Alisha a bottle of beer and she took a healthy pull from the top as she scanned the bar for her friends. She walked closer to the stage and finally got a good look at Big who was standing in the center performing. Oh. Her heart pumped just a little harder and in time with the rock notes of the old classic. The graveled edges of his voice had the corners of her lips turning upward as she moved closer still to get a better view. James pounded away on the drums, a look of happy concentration on his adorably handsome face.
Alisha felt a hand firm on her arm and turned to find Maggie, who then launched herself forward and wrapped her arms around her neck. She staggered back laughing, wrapping her arms around her friend.
"Yay, you're finally here!" she yelled over the music. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."
"Sorry—got hung up after the show," Alisha smiled.
Maggie gave her the onceover and whistled. "Getting dolled up, no doubt. You look hot!"
Alisha felt her cheeks blush. "It's just a tank top and jeans."
"And come fuck me heels," she added with a wry grin. "Hoping to get your groupie act on after the show?" She poked Alisha playfully in the stomach. "You might have some competition. Just look at all of these women salivating over him."
"You're ridiculous and so far off the mark."
"If you say so," Maggie said doubtfully.
"I do. Where's Russell?"
Maggie giggled and pointed over to their table where Russell was downing another Tiki Punch and dancing in his seat.