He straightened and practically bristled. I’m sure his mustache quivered with indignation, and I wondered what or whom could possibly elicit such a response from this grown man.
“What is it?” I asked quietly.
“Sheila, my ex-wife.” He nodded in her direction and I saw a plump, bleached-blonde woman in shorts and a tank top. I noticed the large, unattractive tattoos on her upper arms. She was with another woman who had even more tats than her.
I agreed that he was better off without her.
“Which one?”
“The fat one,” he replied, with a grunt.
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say, so I tried to bring his attention back to me. “You want another beer?” I asked, toying with the empty bottle.
“Naw. Do you?”
“Not if you don’t.” I touched his hand. “I had a nice time. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. His face had closed up, and the laughter fled from his eyes.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” His hard face had turned to stone.
“I don’t know. But since your ex walked in, you’ve gone all silent and moody.”
“I’m not moody,” he snapped. “I just think this was a bad idea. I told you I don’t date, and yet, here I am.”
“I didn’t force you into this. We can leave anytime.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll get the check.” He signaled to the waitress who hurried over. “Check please.”
She presented it, and I offered to pay. “Come on, you rescued my cat.”
“And that’s another thing. I did no such thing. I know you put him up in that tree so you’d see me again.” He glared at me. “You women are ridiculous.”
Tears welled in my eyes, but I wouldn’t give him the benefit of wiping them away. I glared back. “Don’t worry about it. You won’t have to put up with me anymore. You want me to back off. Fine. Consider it done.” I tossed my head back. “Your loss.”
He stood. “You ready to go now?”
“You bet your ass I am.” I picked up my handbag and marched out of the restaurant, not caring if he followed me or not. When I got outside, I shivered. It wasn’t a cold night, but I was cold inside.
He didn’t say anything. He just walked over to the jeep, started it, and waited until I climbed in.
“This isn’t your fault,” he said in way of an apology. “I just don’t want to get mixed up in a relationship. I have plans and a woman would get in the way.”
“I see. I have plans too, and they certainly don’t include you.” I hugged myself all the way home and sat as close to the door as the seat would allow. When he pulled up in front of my building, I jumped out and slammed the door shut, without so much as a goodbye.
He gunned the car, the wheels spun, and I was glad to see him go. I entered the apartment and ignored Pepe’s greeting. “Who’s home? Who loves me?”
I kicked off my shoes and threw myself on my bed, sniffling a little. Milo jumped up to lick my face.
I turned to him. “I’m sorry I tossed you into that tree. Poor baby. I’ll never do that again. No man is worth upsetting you. Especially not someone who’s cruel and heartless.” I hugged him tight until he meowed and squirmed out of my arms.
I got up to undress, put on an old worn nightie, and laid awake for hours.
CHAPTER NINE
JOHN
After dropping Fran off, I returned home in a foul mood. I’d been having a nice time with that she-devil right up until Sheila appeared, and then things turned sour fast. It wasn’t Fran’s fault—not at all. Matter of fact, I can’t remember when I’ve laughed so much or became aroused watching a woman eat.
The way she’d licked the butter off her fingers made me squirm in my seat. I’d felt the urge to grab her hand, take those fingers into my mouth, and suck on each one.
What was it about her that made me want to get down and dirty? She wasn’t a beauty, but she had a special glow about her. Whatever the hell she possessed got my heart pumping.
Just as well Sheila showed up and ruined the night, or I might have been tempted to ask her out again. Hell, I might have done more than that. The way she’d been turning me on, I might have taken her home and wormed my way back into her bed. She’d probably have welcomed me too. I could see it in her eyes. She wanted me.
Knowing this, I should stay clear. I have big plans for the future, and I don’t need any femme fatale messing with my head.
Funny, but last week, if I’d seen her walking down the street, I’d never have taken a second look. She wasn’t my type—if I had a type. But sheesh Louise, now I had erotic images of her thighs spread wide, and me doing things to her that I hadn’t thought about in years. I was a sick man.
Hard work was the solution. It helped to forget what I was missing and to remind me why I didn’t want to drive down that road again.
* * *
I got out of bed around five and went down to one of my real estate properties that I’d been fixing up. When I purchased this beaut, there’d been a serious mold problem, but I’d quickly taken care of that. The insides were gutted and a few carpenters and myself had put up new drywall. Not the cheap shit that came from China either.
The hardwood floors had been restored, the tiles were still in good shape, but now, I’d discovered a plumbing problem in the master bath. Once I got that figured out, all I had left to do was paint, and get some new appliances and lighting fixtures, then find someone to rent the place. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood, but the development had been built just before the real estate market plummeted to hell.
I was down on my knees, checking a leak behind the toilet when a pipe burst, and the damn thing exploded in my face.
“Crap!” I sputtered, jumping back and covering my face from the spray. “What the hell was that?”
I don’t know if my tapping around actually caused the more serious problem, but I decided to shut the water supply off until a real plumber could get over here and take a look.
I cleaned myself the best I could and went into the garage to get the cans of paint. May as well make the most of the morning and get started with something I could actually do right.
Earlier, I taped the ledges, windows, molding etc, so I put the drop clothes down on the new floors and got to work. After a couple of hours, my cell rang and I saw it was the station.
A building had just gone up in one of the old neighborhoods and it looked like arson. “I’ll be there right away. Give me the address.”
When I heard the familiar address, I sputtered in disbelief, “Repeat that for me.”
He did, and I dropped my paint gun. “I just bought that property.”
I raced over and sure enough, the place was ablaze. Police already had the property cordoned off. I showed my ID and was allowed through.
Jeff, one of my guys, saw me. “Hey, Chief. It’s about time you showed up.”
“Who’s in charge?” I demanded, skipping the bullshit.
He pointed to Inspector Aaron Stedman, a man in his forties that I’d met on numerous occasions. I darted past my crew of firefighters and their big hoses to speak with the arson investigator.
“Inspector Stedman,” I extended my hand. “I happen to own this building, so I won’t say it’s good to see you here.”
He gave me the briefest of smile. “Chief. Sorry to hear that.” He shook his head. “They’re doing their best to save it, but between the wind and the extreme temperatures it could be a lost cause.”
“Have you any idea what started the fire?” I shouted over the noise and confusion.
“No, we just got here. You know how it goes. We’ll do a physical and trace evaluation once we get inside.”
“I know. Sorry. I’m just so damned pissed off. What would make a guy wanna do a thing like this?” I ran a hand through my unkempt hair. “It’s just so fricking pointless.”
“You know as well
as I do about the crazies out there, getting their jollies by making things blow. In this heat, it wouldn’t take much. Hell, probably a match would do the trick.”
It was May in Miami, and they were having a heat wave. It had been in the upper 90’s for weeks and the humidity was unusually high for this early in the season.
“I’d like to think this was a natural cause, but like you, I expect otherwise.” John ran a hand through his hair, and breathed deeply. Frustration, fury, burned deep and he wanted to get his hands on the asshole. “If it’s the arsonist I want him caught. He’s probably in the crowd right now, watching, laughing at us.”
Aaron Stedman nodded and glanced around at the curious onlookers. “He’s here, all right. I feel him.”
The inspector had a long thin face, a sharp chin, and flinty grey eyes that made me think of a wolf. He’d been in the business for a long while and very little ever got past him.
“The police are questioning anyone that looks suspicious, but he’s not going to give himself away.” He lowered his voice. “He’s been at this for some time by the looks of things.”
“What do you mean?” I coughed from the swirling smoke.
“This fella, whoever he is, knows his stuff.”
“You’re pretty sure about this, aren’t you?” I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “Building’s been empty for nearly a year. You don’t think it could be faulty wiring or something like that?” My gut told me it was the arsonist too, but I didn’t want to believe it. “I just had an inspection done before I bought the place and it needs considerable work.”
“You got a copy of that inspection?”
“Of course.”
“I suggest you keep it then. We’ll let you know the cause of this fire once we’ve had a look and the report is in.” The inspector walked off, leaving me standing there, mouth gaped open, fumes raging inside of me, as hot as the infernal inside my house.
It was my crew inside, they were the first responders, but a second team arrived to contain the fire. It was a zero lot area, and the homes tightly nested together. If it started to spread, the row of housing could go up.
Before the inspection could properly begin, the raging fire would be ashes. After that, they could determine if there were multiple areas of origin and check for smoke patterns or charring. Accelerants identified, samples sent to a lab for analysis.
It all took time.
My shoulders sagged, and the bitter, acrid taste of smoke and soot clogged my lungs. I was losing the taste for this job. This piece of property was purchased as a means to get out. Well, there might not be anything left to renovate, but the land should still be worth something.
CHAPTER TEN
FRAN
“What a jerk,” Candy said, when I told her about my dinner with John. “I can’t believe he said those things. I mean, what was the point of taking you out if he felt that way?”
“I don’t know. He’s a hard man to figure out.” I shrugged, pretending not to care when really his rejection stung. “We were having a nice time until his ex showed up. Then he got all moody and I called him on it. Big mistake. I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“No way. He’s got issues to work out, and meanwhile, you have a lot of living to do.” Candy gave me a warm smile. “We’re going to have a good sized crowd tonight. I’ve heard nothing but positive feedback from your performance last week.”
“Did you? That’s great.” I made an effort to sound upbeat because Candy was giving me a leg-up, career wise, both by letting me sing here and by paying me. When she’d bought this place years ago, it had been in a seedy, neglected area, but now seedy had turned hip, and she’d done wonders to the place. A couple of years back, she got a clever idea to host a talent night once a month for local artists to showcase their talents, get recognition, and live their dreams.
Susie gained recognition after putting on an art show, and now, Candy was giving me a big opportunity as well. I was not afraid to write music or sing my heart out, but if I attempted and failed, it might be worse than not trying at all.
“I wish you hadn’t left so early. People were really warming up to you.” She hugged my shoulders. “I’d hoped you’d go back on stage and give us a few more numbers, then that magic thing happened and you got distracted.”
“Oh, Candy. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want any part of it, you know that. The last thing I need is magic. My life is enough of a circus. And romance? Heck, I didn’t see that coming.” I grinned. “But I must admit, I did enjoy getting laid. It’s like riding a bicycle—some things you never forget.”
“But a lot more fun, I hope.”
I laughed. “Definitely.”
“I’m glad it was good for you,” Candy said, putting a hand over mine. “You’ve gone way too long being the grieving widow. You need some loving in your life.”
“And just look who’s talking?” I gave Candy a pointed stare. “You’ve raised Billy on your own, and you haven’t had a boyfriend since I’ve known you. And that’s what? At least three or four years.”
“Well, I was kind of sweet on your brother—if you remember. Then life intervened. He did the right thing by staying with her.”
Hank’s been married for eighteen years to a woman he’s got nothing in common with—no kids, no common interests. Just a marriage certificate holding them together.
He’s a PI and helped Candy find her son when he disappeared for several weeks. During that time, Hank was getting ready to leave Heather and then the fates intervened. She was in a very bad accident, and now has chronic back pain. She’s on disability, stays at home all the time, and does nothing but complain. Both Hank and Heather got a rotten deal, I’m afraid.
“I know, Candy.” I squeezed her hand. “He was very fond of you too. I feel sorry for him now, but you have to go on with your life and find someone exciting and new.”
“Good idea. I will. Right after you.”
We laughed then got down to business. “Okay, what time do you want me to come on? I promise I’ll stay until closing and sing as long as they want me.”
We were going over the list of songs when Susie flew through the doors, heading right for us.
“I’m so glad I caught you.” She was out of breath, and her cheeks flushed. She’s exquisite looking with her model figure, shoulder length blonde hair, delicate features, and always so perfectly put together. Now she was clearly distraught.
“Brett’s at the hospital. There was a bad fire today.” She panted and fanned her face. “He’s been trying to get hold of me for hours. I had to go over the menu with the catering manager and make some last minute changes.”
“Susie,” I put my hand on her arm. She was normally hyper, yet her words were coming out so fast, it was hard to make sense of them. “Slow down. Take a deep breath. Tell us what happened.”
Candy poured her a drink and she slugged it down, then wiped her eyes, and sucked in a couple of quick breaths. “One of the chief’s houses was torched today, and they couldn’t save it. A neighboring property was damaged too. It looks like arson.”
“Was anyone hurt?” I asked, as my thoughts flew to John.
“Yes. Mike.” She released a shuddering sigh. “They’d been fighting the fire for hours when suddenly, the roof caved in. Mike was trapped. A beam fell on him, he’s in a coma.” She sniffled. “He’s got a wife and two little daughters. It’s so horrible.”
I knew Susie was worried not only for Mike and his family, but for Brett. He’d been terribly burned and she’d suffered with him throughout his painful ordeal.
“My God. Poor Mike. John must feel awful. I bet he’s blaming himself.”
“Don’t feel too sorry for him, Fran.” Susie’s eyes met mine. “Apparently, he’s got all kinds of properties. He’s been buying up a lot of foreclosures, fixing them up, and making a mint. Rumor has it, he took out an extra big policy on this pile of rubble.”
“What do you mean? You aren’t saying…”
“I’m
not saying anything, but there is plenty of talk going around.”
I sat down, feeling sick to my stomach. “I don’t believe it. I refuse to believe it,” I said stubbornly. “It’s just not possible.”
“I don’t believe it either.” Candy patted my hand. “Why, the whole idea is ridiculous. In my line of business, I’ve become a very good judge of character. I’m sure he would never do anything like that.”
I looked at her with gratitude. “He’s spent his whole life fighting fire. Why would he start one?” I shook my head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Susie bit her lip. “I’ve known him a long time and it is crazy. Everyone’s so upset about Mike and they need a scapegoat. John happens to be the easiest target.” She kept her eyes straight ahead, as she said, “It is strange, though, that no one knew he had all these homes and was setting himself up for retirement.”
“So what? Is there a law against that?” I snapped. I couldn’t help it.
“Of course not, silly. But why the deep, dark secret? The guys talk about everything. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Neither does blaming him. He’s making money and doing it honestly—why would he sabotage his reputation, his career, hell—his freedom, by setting his own home on fire?”
Candy opened a bottle of wine and poured three glasses. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m sure this mess will get sorted out very soon and his name cleared. Mike is the one we need to focus on.”
“Let’s all pray for him,” I whispered and shut my eyes.
We all said our silent prayers then sipped our wine. I had to perform tonight and pretend to be something I’m not. Then again, I’ve been doing that most of my life.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FRAN
Singing was a chore tonight. It was difficult to keep a smile pasted on my face and warm up the crowd when all I could think of was John and Mike. I could see from Candy’s expression, and Susie’s too, that they were worried too. Still, the show must go on, and I did my best to put on a good performance. The patrons in the bar were drinking and having a good time with or without me, and a few sang along to the more popular tunes.
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