GirlNextDoor

by Lyra Marlowe

  It had been her idea, but Nolan would never understand.

  In the morning he would have to go to work, sit across the little yellow table from his friend, have normal conversation over normal coffee, spend the whole day in the squad with him and never let a hint of this slip…

  And then there was the whole matter of the fantasies.

  John shuddered and Lucy lifted her head. “Thank you, John,” she said, rather formally. “That was exactly what I wanted.”

  “Geep,” John answered. He was still working on breathing. His whole body felt wrung out like a wet towel.

  She smiled sweetly and kissed his lips very gently. Then she reached up for the fire escape, pulled herself off him and lowered her feet to the ground. She kissed him again. “Are you all right?”

  John tried again, “Geep?”

  Lucy took him by the shoulders and turned him so his back was against the wall. He sagged there, trying to gather the wit for conversation. She bent to retrieve her panties. They were red, John noted, matching the dress. He liked a girl who knew how to accessorize. He almost had his power of speech back when she reached for his cock again. She slipped the condom off, then wiped him clean with the silky fabric of her underwear. John slumped farther, sighing. If she wanted him again, he was helpless to resist her, but he was pretty sure he was going to die from it. He wondered if Bennett was on shift tonight, if he’d stand over Krulak’s body and shake his head, with a triple cheeseburger in one hand and mustard in his mustache. And the guys around the firehouse would be sad, but not at all surprised.

  Lucy released him, tossed the condom into the Dumpster and hung her panties rather daintily on the handle.

  “Uhhh.”

  “For the DJ,” she explained.

  “Huh?”

  “For turning the alarm off.” She reached for him again, tucked his cock away as if it were hers, zipped his pants, buckled his belt and adjusted his shirt. John knew without looking that it was all perfect.

  Lucy put her hand flat on his chest. “Walk me to my car, John?”

  “I, um, sure,” he answered, bewildered. He put an arm around her and they walked slowly back to the parking lot. “Can I take you home with me?”

  Lucy smiled, a little shyly. “I’m not the kind of girl who falls into bed with a guy on the first date.”

  John had to laugh. “Pretty demure for a woman in a short dress with no underwear.” He let his hand slide down to cup her buttock, wanting to reach up under the dress, but now there were people around.

  She led him to a navy van. John vaguely remembered something Nolan had said about renting a van, moving some furniture into storage or out of storage, storage locker, something. She unlocked the door. John opened it and leaned past her to be sure it was empty. It was. Except for the passenger and driver seats, there was only carpeted floor space. He backed out and let her climb in, but stood in the door.

  “Lucy,” he said, reluctant to let her leave, “please come home with me.”

  She touched his jaw, kissed him very gently, kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his eyes, like tiny butterflies landing on his skin. “Not tonight, John.”

  “Can I see you again?”

  “Sure.” He stepped back and closed her door. She rolled down the window and kissed him one last time. “I’m coming to the station to have lunch with Nolan tomorrow.”

  John stepped back, dazed, appalled, and watched her drive away. His body still tingled, his mind reeled, and she was gone. How was he supposed to look at Nolan tomorrow? If she was there it would be impossible.

  Maybe he could call in sick.

  He felt a little sick, come to think of it. He could not believe what had happened. Already it seemed like a dream. Had they really…? But if he walked back into that alley, he knew, he’d find the proof.

  John closed his eyes. He should find his car, go home, take a shower.

  Now if he could just remember where he lived.

  *

  Nolan was on the futon couch, watching baseball on his new TV, when she got home. She went and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Well?”

  “Well,” Lucy assured him. “He is all that and a side of fries.”

  “Told you so. I didn’t expect you this early.”

  “Thought you wanted to watch the game.”

  “Oh. Sure.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She went into the bedroom, then the bathroom. The shower started. Nolan nodded to himself. Of course she’d had sex with John. He’d known she would.

  He wondered if he should feel jealous. He’d expected to. But now that she was back, it seemed silly. She’d had sex with John, but she’d come home to watch baseball with him.

  So was she cheating on John, at least emotionally?

  But John wouldn’t expect her to be faithful to him, especially not emotionally. It was just a one-time thing for him—and for Lucy. They might like each other well enough, but it wasn’t any big romance. Just sex. A perfect end to a presumably nice evening. And then home to a quick shower and a baseball game.

  Nolan shook his head. He couldn’t imagine having sex that casually. Even in college, he’d never been comfortable with sex as a game. He had to have some emotional content, something beyond yeah, you’re okay, let’s do it. It wasn’t him.

  Nolan had held out for love, and his heart had been broken. His friends barely thought about love, and they were perfectly happy that way.

  Maybe he’d been wrong all along.

  Lucy came back, wearing his t-shirt and her panties, and slipped onto the futon next to him. “I’ll be glad when the new couch gets here.”

  “Yeah. This is a little lumpy.”

  “A little?”

  “A little.” He glanced at the TV. “At least we don’t need a magnifying glass to see the game anymore.”

  Lucy frowned. “We’re down six in the second inning? I think I want the little set back.”

  They were quiet for a time, while their team struck out. “You okay?” Lucy asked.

  “Me? Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Because I just tagged your best friend.”

  “I knew you would when I set you up.”

  “Ah, nice.”

  “Lucy. I know you. I know John. I figured you’d hit it off.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “I said I was beforehand, didn’t I?”

  “He asked, you know.”

  “What?”

  “John asked. If it would be okay with you.”

  “You know,” Nolan said slowly, “the idea that the two of you are having sex is a little weird. But the idea that you’re both thinking about me the whole time is downright freaky.”

  “Kinky,” Lucy corrected. “It’s downright kinky.”

  “Kinky then.”

  She smiled sweetly. “I like kinky, you know.”

  “I know, Lucy.” Nolan considered. “I bet you’d like a beer about now.”

  “I would, yeah.”

  “Good. Get me one while you’re up.”

  She growled, but she got up and went to the kitchen.

  Chapter Five

  John had been sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but he dozed off almost as soon as he stretched out on his bed. He dreamed about amazing sex, and about Lucy, and about Nolan—in a variety of delicious combinations.

  He woke up with a knot in his stomach.

  He thought again about calling in sick. He couldn’t imagine sitting in the squad with Nolan all day and not saying something stupid. But it was too cowardly. He decided that unless he actually vomited, he had to go in.

  In his nervousness, he got dressed too fast and was at the medic shed much too early.

  The coffee in the pot was probably only a few hours old. He dumped it out and made fresh anyhow. He washed up the few dishes in the sink. He swept the floor.

  He should tell Nolan the truth, straight up. It was the only fair thing to do. Just say it. I slept with
your old girlfriend. Yeah. Just like that. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t plan it, it was all her idea.

  It was, but that didn’t change anything. He could have said no.

  What if Lucy had already told him? That was possible. That was very possible. She was that kind of upfront girl.

  He felt sick again.

  He couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that he had betrayed Nolan. It wasn’t just that Lucy had been Nolan’s lover. That had been years ago, and Nolan had long since renounced any sexual interest in women. But he had trusted John with his old girlfriend, and John had taken advantage of it. And more, he had the uneasy feeling that he had somehow cheated on Nolan.

  John heard a car outside in the lot. He slumped with relief when he heard the fix-me-now grind of Jack Waldron’s brakes. Having the captain here when Nolan arrived would make things easier. At least it wouldn’t be just the two of them. Until they were out in the squad.

  Waldron came in yawning. He grunted a vague greeting and ambled past to the coffee pot, sniffed it cautiously. “This fresh?”

  “Just made it.”

  “Good man.” He poured a cup, came back to the table and sat down with another grunt.

  “No coffee up at the big house?” John asked.

  Waldron shook his head. “All the chiefs got a nasty-gram. Seems we’re neglecting our paramedics. I don’t want you to feel neglected.”

  “Oh.” It was true, of course. Except when they were on a run together or there was a problem, Waldron didn’t spend much time with the paramedics. On the other hand, they didn’t mind the neglect. They were generally too busy for hand-holding anyhow.

  The chief stared into his coffee cup. He had deep, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and a tired gray cast to his skin. “Rough night?” John asked carefully.

  “Fight with the wife,” Waldron answered tersely.

  “Another one?”

  “Should have never married her in the first place.”

  John nodded. “Why did you?”

  The captain glared at him over the rim of his coffee cup. “How was your date?”

  “Huh?”

  “Nolan’s friend.”

  “Oh. Lucy. Yeah.” John took a long drink of coffee to gather his wits. Of course everyone at the firehouse knew about it. They all gossiped like a bunch of teenage girls. “It was fine.”

  “She howl at the moon?”

  “Uh, no. Not in the way you’d think.”

  “Huh.”

  The older man was clearly done talking, but John couldn’t seem to shut up. “We went dancing. Up at Old School. The girl has got some moves on her.”

  “Uh-huh. And I bet you put some moves of your own on her.”

  John felt his cheeks go hot. “Uh… I, uh…”

  Waldron set his coffee mug down with a thud. “Holy crap, Krulak, you banged your partner’s girlfriend?”

  “She’s not his girlfriend. And I didn’t exactly…” What? John wondered. You’re going to say it wasn’t technically sex because nobody got horizontal or naked? Or that it was all her idea? He shut his mouth. Then he said, “It’ll be okay.”

  The captain shook his head ruefully. “There better not be any shit about this.”

  “It’ll be fine,” John said with much more certainty than he felt. “It’ll be okay.”

  “It better be.” Waldron pushed himself to his feet and went to refill his coffee. “Damn, son, I might have married stupid, but you just take the cake.”

  “Did Nolan get the computer fixed?”

  “What computer?”

  The big doors opened and the squad rolled in. In a moment, Tim Griffin and Emma Hensley, the regular night shift crew, came into the shed. They reeked of kerosene. By the time they shut the door, the little room was smothered in it.

  Nolan came in right behind them. “Anybody got a match?” he asked innocently.

  “Funny,” Hensley snapped. She was fifty years old, small but solid as a drill sergeant. She had a no-bullshit manner Krulak had seen get through to the most raging crackhead when kinder voices completely failed.

  “This stuff is never going to come off,” Griffin complained. He was half his partner’s age, dark-haired and blue-eyed, and he’d been a father for five weeks. “I can’t believe people are so damn dumb.”

  “What happened?” Waldron asked. He stepped around them, opened the little window and the door, and turned on the box fan.

  Hensley rolled his eyes. “There was a party. About four a.m. they decided they needed to cook some burgers on the grill. But they didn’t have any propane in the tank.”

  “So some bright boy,” Griffin continued, “decided to get the space heater out of the attic and cook on that.”

  “Was there drinking involved?” John asked.

  “You think?” Hensley barked. “I don’t know how they managed not to set themselves on fire. But the moron chef saw the burgers start to burn and picked them off with his bare hands. So he’s all burned to crap.”

  “And of course when we get there,” Griffin reported, “he’s so drunk he can’t walk, so he has to hang all over both of us all the way back to the squad.”

  Nolan asked carefully, “Did you, uh, leave the windows down?”

  “No, we put them all up so you could reek as bad as we do,” Hensley answered sarcastically.

  Waldron shook his head. “Why don’t you two go over to the fire house and shower off? Hensley, you can use my office. Just, uh, put those clothes in a trash bag or something.”

  “We gotta get the damn report done.”

  “It’ll wait,” the chief said. “Seriously.”

  “Hey, we don’t smell that bad,” Griffin protested. “I want to get home.”

  “Believe me, your wife would much rather that you were late and clean. Go on, get cleaned up before you catch fire.”

  They went out, muttering. Nolan sat down with his own coffee. “That smell’s going to be here a while.”

  John met his friend’s eyes across the table. Nolan was half-smiling, casual. His eyes had their usual morning calm. As if he didn’t know about Lucy.

  Relieved, he glanced at Waldron. The captain shrugged. “Crane,” he said, “us chiefs got chewed out for not spending enough time with our paramedics. So I came over this morning and had a cup of coffee with you.”

  “Oh.” Nolan nodded gravely. “Well, Chief, we certainly appreciate your time.”

  “Yeah. You got problems, you know where to find me.” He filled his coffee mug a third time and stalked out.

  Nolan glanced over at John. “Fighting with the wife?”

  “Yup.”

  “Let’s go see how bad the squad is,” Nolan said.

  And that was that. Nolan either didn’t know or didn’t mind. They sprayed the cab of the squad down with air freshener, which didn’t cover the kerosene smell, but did add the cloying scent of flowers. Then they had a better idea and wiped everything down with vinegar. It helped, a little. Before they had time to try anything else, they got a run. Fistfight outside the middle school, possible broken nose. Which of course meant possible concussion too. By the time they got it cleared, they had a call to an elderly man who had trouble breathing.

  John was glad to be busy. It kept his mind off things.

  They were headed back to the shop for lunch when they got another call. Baby not breathing.

  Nolan drove fast and without speaking. John knew that his partner hated kid calls as much as he did. Too many things could go wrong with a kid. Tiny veins, tiny airways. Hysterical caregivers. And sometimes it was a straight-up accident or sudden illness, but too often they saw other bruises and marks from previous injuries, or evidence of gross neglect. Once they’d arrived at the scene to find the baby three days dead and his mother falling-down drunk. They never talked about it, but John knew they were both saying the same one-word prayer in their heads—Please, please, please.

  This day their prayer was answered.

  The “baby” was actually
two years old. Her name was Amelia, and her airway was clearly obstructed, but she was sitting up and breathing with effort. Her lips and nails were blue. John got her started on oxygen. The mother was clearly upset. She kept clenching her hands and biting her lip, but she kept her voice and face calm in front of the child. A penny, she thought. The toddler had pulled over mom’s purse and a bunch of change had spilled out. The mother thought she’d picked it all up, but maybe a coin rolled under the couch.

  It made sense. Except for her troubled breathing and a light scrape on her knee that was several days old, John couldn’t find a mark on the child. She was clean, well-fed. And most importantly, she was managing to breathe just enough on her own.

  “Transport?” Nolan asked quietly.

  “Yep.” John turned back to the toddler. “Would you like to go for a ride in an ambulance?”

  Amelia’s big brown eyes studied him suspiciously over the top of the tiny oxygen mask.

  “Your mommy will come with us,” he added quickly.

  She nodded solemnly. “Sick.”

  “What, honey?”

  She looked to her mother. “Mommy, sick.”

  “You feel sick?” the mother asked quickly.

  Before anyone could react, Amelia leaned forward and vomited. John pulled the oxygen mask off so she didn’t suffocate. It got vomit all over her face and hair. She heaved again and managed to splash the carpet and couch as well.

  She’d had grape juice for breakfast, evidently, and Cheerios with milk.

  Amelia tried to breathe and couldn’t. Her brown eyes grew wide and frightened, her little hands waved frantically as she realized she couldn’t pull in any air. John felt his own anxiety rising. They could try to trache her and hope they were below the obstruction. Otherwise there weren’t many options.

  Nolan walked behind the child, reached around to put both hands on her stomach just below her rib cage, and gently picked her up. She pitched forward and vomited a third time.

  The penny splashed onto the coffee table in a puddle of bile.

  The child took a deep breath and began to scream.