“I don’t think they’re bored. Bedazzled is more like it.” Her hand felt good in his, soft and cool. Too bad she dropped it when they reached the production truck. A crew of two filled the small space packed with monitors and editing machines. They pointed out the two monitors that showed what was happening in the fire station. On one of them he saw Dina showing Vader how the mixer worked. The other camera hadn’t been set yet, and it was pointed directly at the hairy legs of the lighting guy.
Melissa exchanged some technical talk with the director, gave a satisfied nod, and led the way out of the production truck. “I have to check on Ella, I’ll see you in a little bit,” she said, and hurried off. But the next time he saw her, she had another crisis on her hands. The tablecloths were apparently the wrong color, and Melissa sent the intern to return them. When she came scurrying back, they had to quickly reset and redecorate the table.
Over in the kitchen, where Ella would be shown stirring cranberry sauce and basting the turkey, Melissa had to do some last-minute “set dressing.” Brody felt a bit guilty about that—the night before, there had been a barbecue sauce incident, and no one had cleaned up properly afterward. Melissa decided there wasn’t time for scrubbing, so she cleverly positioned a pile of plates and a scattering of autumn leaves over the worst of the stains.
Brody stayed out of the way, watching with bemused admiration. Melissa seemed to be everywhere at once, but never looked rushed or panicked. The intern almost had a breakdown when it turned out the new tablecloths were still the wrong color. But Melissa quickly soothed her. “As long as they’re not white, we’ll make it work.” She spoke into her headset. “Burt, how do they look?”
She listened, then gave the tearful intern a quick thumbs-up. “He says fabulous, darling. Don’t worry about a thing. Now run and take this script change to the prompter. The black-haired guy in the corner.”
The grateful intern trotted away.
Ryan appeared at Brody’s side. “This is something else, huh Cap?”
“Sure is. I didn’t know what I was getting us into. I hope I don’t live to regret it.”
“Why would you? It’s the most exciting thing around here since that big apartment fire last year. And no body bags here.”
“Unless that lighting guy bugs me again,” muttered Brody under his breath.
“And check out Hollywood. She’s all over this thing. Really knows her shit.”
Brody watched Melissa cross the room. She was wearing soft black pants that were probably meant for comfort, but happened to cling to her ass in a particularly sexy manner. When Brody saw Ryan checking her out, he stifled an urge to smack him.
“She does,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stare at her.”
But Ryan was now staring in a different direction, his jaw nearly on the floor. Ella strolled in as a hush fell over the room.
Even Brody gave a silent whistle. Among the raggedy crew members and uniformed firefighters, she looked like someone from a different species, an exotic butterfly landing among a crowd of sparrows. Her hair had been molded into soft brown-sugar waves, and her eyes, outlined in smoky black, were a dazzling china-blue. Her lips shone glossy pink. A clingy dress the color of a ripe plum caressed her tiny golden body. She looked fragile and perfect, like a doll.
Until she opened her mouth. “Melissa, this intro is crapola. Who cares about the Pilgrims anymore? That was, like, centuries ago.”
Melissa hurried to her side. “Little children love the Pilgrims. I think it’s because of the hats. But if you want me to take out that line . . .”
“Fine, never mind. But what about—”
“You look amazing, Ella. That color really brings out your eyes.”
“Thanks. Do you think it’s appropriate for Thanksgiving? Rust tones seemed so boring.”
“I think it’s perfect. Now take your first mark, so we can fine tune the lighting.” Ella obediently moved toward the pieces of tape on the floor in the dining room. She smiled at the camera and, as Dina helped her put on the mic, she whispered something sultry into it. The stage manager gave a shout of laughter. Brody realized this was Ella in her element. All the things that seemed over-the-top and absurd about her under normal circumstances seemed glamorous and fascinating under the lights and concentrated attention of a production crew.
Brody looked over at Ryan and saw he was completely transfixed. Poor Hoagie. In his lazy way, he’d fallen for Ella Joy, even though he complained about her high-maintenance ways. Ryan had been spoiled by all the girls who fawned over him, did his laundry, filed his taxes. Brody could have told him it was a full-time job to keep the attention of a flirt like Ella.
Ella sent a teasing smile to the slack-jawed firefighters. “Are you guys ready to make TV magic?” A little cheer went up from the dazzled crew. “You’re all going to be superstars, and no one’s going to remember me at all. Now gather round, let’s take a group photo before the show starts.” She beckoned imperiously toward the intern, who dug in her fanny pack for a digital camera.
“I told you she earns her money,” murmured Melissa, at Brody’s side.
“She sure is a sight to behold.” He shook his head admiringly and felt Melissa’s sharp gaze on him.
“So you’ve changed your mind about her?”
“It’s the first time I’ve seen her in action. Now I see what the fuss is all about.”
“Right.” Melissa looked away, fiddling with her headset. “Well, like I said, she’s good. Don’t you want to be in the photo? I’m sure she’ll sign it for you.”
“I’m happy where I am,” he said firmly. He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Good luck with the show. Do you TV people say break a leg? Or in Ella’s case, a nail?”
“Very funny.” Melissa smiled. “Good luck carving that turkey. Untold millions of people will be watching.”
“Trying to make me nervous? I’ll have you know I have nerves of steel.”
“Any problems, just imagine the cameramen naked.”
“Not the producer?” He gave her a devilish wink and a quick flick of his eyes down her body. Imagining her naked seemed like a fine way to pass the time.
Oh boy, Melissa thought faintly. She had a show to produce, just minutes away. And now her knees felt a little shaky and butterflies fluttered in her belly. In her headset, she heard the director say, “Two minutes.’’
“Two minutes,” she called, for those without headsets. Leaving Brody’s side, she hurried to her spot next to the big monitor the guys had set up for her.
Suddenly the atmosphere turned serious. Ella took a last-minute look at the scripts she held in her hand. The stage manager settled the firemen and women into their spots. He adjusted his headset and called out, “Thirty seconds.”
Everyone else fell silent as he continued the countdown. Then he gave Ella a hand gesture, and when the red light went on, she beamed a huge smile at the camera.
“Good evening, and happy Thanksgiving! We’re so glad you’re joining us for this very special dinner with the Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel. I’m sure all you little children out there . . .” Melissa winced at this ad lib, but Ella took no notice. “You know all about the Pilgrims, and how they cooked the very first Thanksgiving dinner for the Native Americans who had helped them survive here in the New World. These firefighters you see behind me devote their lives to helping us survive, and that’s why we decided we should cook them a Thanksgiving dinner. First, let’s meet these brave men and women who put their lives on the line . . . all in a day’s work.”
At this point, the camera closed in on the firefighters sitting behind Ella. Melissa, watching with an eagle eye, saw their expressions of mingled self-consciousness and embarrassment, and quickly spoke into her headset to tell the director to dissolve to the prerecorded story about the station.
As the piece ran, quiet
reigned in the room. Ella looked over the next script, and the firefighters sat as though afraid to move an inch. Melissa listened to the audio from the prerecorded piece. It was one of her favorite parts of the show—she’d pieced together the best parts of all her interviews with the crew.
In the piece, Ryan talked about how he could instinctively feel the flames and guess their next move. Double D told the story of the time they managed to save the local church, with a congregation trapped inside. “I figure we got an automatic pass to heaven after that one,” he joked.
Vader gave Ella a ride in Engine 1. The cameraman got some great shots of Ella wearing a helmet, Ella climbing into a set of turnout gear, Ella talking on the radio.
And then came the aerial segment. They’d shot the segment very carefully. Melissa had climbed up the aerial while the cameraman stayed on the ground, zooming in over her shoulder, while Ella provided the voiceover.
“Look how high we are, and how precariously we’re perched. This is called manning the ladder pipe. Now imagine you’re holding a hose shooting six hundred gallons of water a minute at the flames. Someone’s property is being destroyed. Lives depend on you. Sometimes being a firefighter is a lonely job.”
Tricky editing hid the fact that Ella wasn’t actually on the aerial. Only one shot of the side of Melissa’s face gave it away, but it was so quick no one would notice it. The piece turned out well, in Melissa’s opinion. Until she caught a glimpse of Brody scowling at her from across the room.
She braced herself.
When they reached the end of the first segment, Brody instantly appeared at Melissa’s side. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“You said no Ella in the aerial. I followed your orders. She never went up. Sorry”—she brushed past him—“I have to get ready for the cooking segment.” She hurried toward the kitchen, where the intern was setting pans on the stove and Ella peered at the glass front of the oven to fix her hair. Brody stalked after her.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”
“Nothing happened, did it?” She fussed with the pans. There wasn’t really anything for her to do—things were on autopilot at this point—but Brody didn’t have to know that. “Besides, how’d you know it was me?”
“You were right there on the tape.”
Why did he have to be so freakishly observant?
“You were goddamn lucky.” He turned her by the shoulders to face him.
“No, I’m goddamn smart,” she shot back. “I’ve done much scarier things than that. But I don’t take stupid risks.”
“Two minutes,” yelled the stage manager.
“Do you mind?” Melissa glared at Brody, who still had her by the shoulders.
“We’re not through with this.”
Melissa shook him off and took her place by the monitor again. Her shoulder still tingled from where he’d touched her. Why did he always have to be so absolutely sure he was right? Okay, in this case, maybe he was. She shouldn’t have fudged it like that. But still, did he have to be so . . . fierce about it?
An odd smell brought her back to the present. They’d reached the middle of the deep-fried turkey segment, and something didn’t look right. Or smell right.
Smoke poured out of the rented deep fryer that sat on the stove. “Oh shit,” muttered Melissa. She’d known that deep fryer would be trouble. That’s why she’d made Ella practice the technique.
Ella blinked smoke out of her eyes and smiled brightly, gamely trying to act as though nothing were wrong. “In this case, we seem to be getting a smoked deep-fried turkey. Smoked turkey sandwiches are one of my favorite lunches . . . oh crap!”
A flame leaped into the air.
“Cut!” yelled the stage manager. Ten firefighters jumped to Ella’s side, milling around her in a clamor of voices. Melissa, hypnotized, watched the flame leap higher. What if the kitchen caught fire? What if they burned down the fire station?
A stream of liquid from a handheld fire extinguisher shot through the crowd and smothered the deep fryer in white foam. At the same moment, Ella, turning to run, stepped into the path of the chemical blast. The nasty white stuff drenched her chest. She let out a shriek. “Are you crazy?”
Captain Brody, holding the spent fire extinguisher, glowered at Ella and his crew. In a room filled with firefighters, only one had the presence of mind to grab a simple fire extinguisher.
Ella danced around, shaking white foam off her body. “What is this nasty shit? This is disgusting! Get it off me! Melissa?”
Melissa pushed her way through the crowd to reach her bedraggled anchorwoman. “Thank God you’re okay, Ella! You could have been burned . . . maybe even disfigured!” Ella gasped—Melissa had evoked her worst nightmare. Melissa gestured to the intern. “Take Ella to the bathroom. It’s time for an outfit change anyway. This dress wasn’t working with the apron.”
As the intern helped Ella out of the room, Melissa raised her voice over the din. “Let’s have a big hand for Ella Joy, everyone, what a trouper! We’ll take a break until further notice. But don’t go far. The show will go on.”
Melissa made her way toward Brody, who loomed over his crew while they cleaned up the mess. His grim expression made her wince. So far she’d disobeyed his orders and set his kitchen on fire. How much trouble was she in? “Thanks for saving the day. I’m really sorry. I don’t know how it happened. The deep fryer worked fine in rehearsal yesterday.”
“Goddamn TV news,” he growled in response. “I knew this was going to be trouble.”
“It was an accident.”
“I can’t risk any more accidents.” He spread his hand across her back and marched her into his office. “Melissa, I have to pull the plug on this thing.”
“What? You can’t do that. We’ve sold the commercials already.”
“The commercials aren’t my problem. My problem is how to keep this firehouse in one piece.”
“But . . .” She swallowed. Loudon would be furious if the special didn’t get shot. He might fire her. Her entire career would disappear in a puff of smoke from a deep fryer.
“Brody, I don’t blame you for being upset. We’ve made a mess of your station. But you’re overreacting. One little grease fire is no reason to cancel the whole special.”
“My guys were so bedazzled no one remembered to grab a fire extinguisher. I can’t have them incapacitated.” He headed toward his desk. “I’m going to call the PIO and explain.”
“It was a freak accident. They were caught off guard.”
“Firefighters aren’t supposed to get caught off guard by a fire.”
Melissa ran to block his path to his desk. “Brody, please. It wasn’t that bad. I mean, it was bad, but not bad enough to cancel the whole thing.”
“Maybe not, but what’s going to happen next? A freak blow dryer explosion?”
“That’s not fair. Nothing’s going to happen next.”
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“Nobody can! Isn’t that what fighting fires is all about?”
“Come again?” He planted his fists on his hips. At least he wasn’t making the phone call yet, the one that would end her career.
Melissa scrambled for words that would make sense to this scowling man. “Fires happen. That’s what you guys are for. What would life be like if fires never broke out?”
A hint of something, possibly confusion, crossed his face. “Go on.”
“You can’t play it safe your whole life. Isn’t it better to take chances and deal with the mess afterward?”
Gray-black eyes drilled into hers. Something leaped between them. “Take chances . . . Just what kind of chances are you talking about?”
“I . . . um . . .” All her words deserted her. The breath left her body. She felt behind her for the edge of the desk, just in case she collapsed under the intensity of h
is gaze.
“Chances like climbing a hundred feet up in the air?”
He let his arms drop and, his eyes never leaving hers, took a deliberate step in her direction. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that aerial is? Do you know how it felt when I saw you up there?”
Spellbound, she shook her head.
“It took ten years off my life. No training. No gear. Never, never do that to me again.” The heat in his gaze made her faint.
“I thought . . . you were mad because I went against your orders.”
“I am. But mostly the thought of you falling from that—” He broke off. “I can’t think about it.”
“I’m sorry, Brody,” she whispered. “I thought you were just being a jerk when you said no.”
“You think I’m just an ass, don’t you? What did you say before? Typical male arrogance.”
“No, I don’t. I mean, I used to, but I swear, Brody, I don’t think that anymore.” Suddenly all she wanted was to throw herself into his arms. He’d actually been worried about her. Her heart expanded like a happy balloon.
The sound of a blaring alarm punctured the moment.
Melissa snapped out of her Brody-induced trance. “The turkey’s on fire again? I thought they put it out—”
Brody held up a hand to silence her.
A clear female voice spoke over the intercom.
“Reported structure fire for Task Force 1, Task Force 2, Engine 5, Engine 7, and Battalion 1. Respond to the reported structure fire at 100 Jacinto Avenue. Incident number 502, Time of alarm 19:05. We’re receiving multiple calls and reports of possible victims trapped inside.”
“100 Jacinto. That’s City Hall,” said Melissa, but Brody was already on the run.
“We’re not done with this,” he snapped, then joined the other firemen racing for their gear.
Chapter Fourteen
All of a sudden, no one cared about the cameras, the lights, or the TV special. Every man and woman in a uniform ran toward the apparatus bay, with Captain Brody leading the way. Melissa heard no yelling, no panic, just an intense surge of activity. Even Stan the dog knew to get out of the way.
The Fireman Who Loved Me Page 14