Tough Going (Tough Love Book 2)

by Trixie More

  “It’s probably nothing, love. You stay here.”

  “Open the door slowly!” she yelled as he started to turn the knob. “Air can rush through!”

  “It can’t be a fire that big yet,” he said calmly. “It just happened.” He turned the doorknob and pulled the door toward him a fraction of an inch. White smoke billowed through. Allison moaned. He glanced behind him. Allison’s eyes were wide and round, the whites showing clearly, her lips pulled back from her teeth. She was off the damn bed. He shoved her back. “Stay here.” He pushed through the opening, pulling the door shut behind him. The smoke was mostly by the ceiling, opening the door had disrupted it. Behind him, he heard the door open.

  “God damn it, Allison, shut the door!” He didn’t wait to see what she would do, he was moving down the hall toward the living area. What the hell had the cat done?

  He felt the heat before he saw the flames, bold and orange, flickering yellow and racing through the rug that lay before the TV. How the hell?

  Then he saw the window, the broad and ragged hole, felt the cold air rushing through, saw the broken bottle on the planking of the floor. As he raised his head to try to see how far the fire had spread, a rock came through the next window, bouncing wildly as it landed on the floor. So that answered that. A bottle with a flaming plug came in next, rolling crazily toward the kitchen. Someone had a hell of an arm. The next bottle smashed harmlessly against the glass, fire racing down the glass outside.

  “Here!” Allison was shoving a wet towel at him. Wordlessly, he snatched it and tossed it over the bottle. Without shoes on, there was no way to step on it to smother the flames. Before he could find something, the towel caught in a whoosh and the smell of gasoline rose, thick and overpowering, flames surging across the floor, bisecting the apartment, a low river of fire blooming between them and the door.

  “We’re going to have run for the door, Allie.” He reached behind him, and her hand landed in his. He turned to glance at her. Her nostrils were flared, her cheeks pale. He hoped she wasn’t in shock.

  “Understand me?” he shouted. Allison nodded. Thank God. “I’m going to lift you up.” She shook her head, no. “YES! I’m going to jump over it. I don’t want you near it.” He grabbed her around the waist, and she didn’t fight him. Her ass sunk as he put an arm under her knees, lifting her up to his chest. She flung her arms around his neck.

  “I’m too heavy, we should both jump.” She was yelling at him even as he backed up and started to run. The flames were lowering now, the problem was the width of the spread, about three feet wide. He launched himself, clearing the fire quickly, amazing himself. Allison felt no more substantial than a pillow. She jumped out of his arms. Derrick turned to the door.

  “Come on!” He pulled the door open and turned for Allison, stunned to see her racing away from him, toward the worktable. Another bottle crashed against the window, teetering in the jagged opening, the burning rag slipping out of the neck, gasoline running down the inside of the window. Now the hole sat above a flaming stream. The fourth bottle didn’t miss, careening through and hitting up against the kitchen half wall, fire blossoming around it.

  “Allison, come on!”

  “Grab the fire extinguisher!” She was coughing now, yelling back to him. He peered through the smoke, billowing black and gray now, the flames climbing high, eating the paint on the walls, the furniture, the ceiling tiles. Pieces of the ceiling started to drop around him.

  “Fuck it, Allison, come on!”

  “The cat! Derrick, where’s the cat?”

  The cat. Derrick spun around. Where had the cat gone? Behind him, he heard a crash. Allison had turned the metal worktable on its side and was pushing it toward the windows, making a fire break between the kitchen and wall, creating a safe zone behind it. She turned and raced down Ben’s hallway, ducking into his bedroom, looking for the cat.

  Derrick’s eyes were watering freely. He ducked out onto the landing, grabbing the fire extinguisher. He’d never used one in his life. How the hell did it work? He blinked the tears from his eyes, trying to read the damn instructions on the side of the canister. The whole time, he was screaming for Allison to get the fuck out here, forget the damn cat. Of fucking course, she didn’t do a single thing he told her. EVER.

  Pin. He had to pull the pin. He gripped the red plastic circle, yanked on it too hard and the canister slipped from his fingers, rolling to the edge of the stairs, one end spinning between the railing, balancing over the precipice. He rushed over, his toe catching the ass end of the can and the whole thing teetered and slipped, crashing to the floor below, the sound echoing in the hall.

  “Fuck!” He was just starting to run down after it when he heard the cat and Allison both shriek at the same time. Derrick turned and ran back into the apartment, stunned at the rapid increase in flames and smoke now engulfing his home. He had to call 911 and find Allison. He froze and noticed a gadget on the floor, something of his that had spun away from the worktable when it fell. He grabbed it and stuffed it in his pocket. It wasn’t the cell phone he’d been hoping for, it was the controller for Christopher Robot. Derrick was already moving on, pressing into the apartment, calling for her.

  “Allison!” he choked, moving behind the overturned table.

  “Derrick!” She sounded like she was back in the living room. How could that be? “I’m over here!”

  “Where?” He ran back to the door, and looking over, saw her pressed against the wall beneath the TV, the cat clutched in her arms, trying to scramble up her face. She yanked it roughly down, her arms banded around it. The end of the cat’s tail was smoking. As he watched, the ceiling above her started to break down, raining a storm of cinders down onto her hair. She shrieked and to his amazement, ran straight through a low wall of flames, turned, and raced back down his hallway, barreling into his bedroom. He heard the door slam.

  “No!” She couldn’t stay there. Why hadn’t she run toward him? He bowed his head and plunged into the flames. The fire grabbed at his pants, the smoke was thick in his eyes and throat. He didn’t stop, crashing into the bedroom door, knocking it back, finding her, whirling in the smoke, slapping at her hair, at the cat. She came to him and beat at his legs as he grabbed her under the arms, dragging her and the cat and the fire, all into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind them, shoved her into the shower and turned on the water. He pulled off his sweatpants and tossed them onto the wet tile, where they landed with a hiss. Then they were both soaking towels and stuffing them around the doorframe, blocking the smoke, filling their hands with water and splashing the door.

  “This is not going to last long,” he said. “We have to break the glass blocks.”

  Allison stared at him, her chest heaving. “Why did you come back? You should have run!”

  “Fuck you.” He looked around the room. What could he use to break the glass? He turned on the exhaust fan, and it started sucking the smoke to the ceiling. “That won’t help for long.” He wondered if they could get to the outside through the vent. They were so screwed.

  Allison was dragging him back into the shower. “Stay wet.” She was pulling their clothes into the shower too. “Put on clothes.” Shoving her feet into her boots, letting them fill with water, while she batted the shocked cat into the corner.

  Derrick pulled on his jeans, then grabbed his sweatpants. He could stuff them around the door. In the pocket, he felt the controller. He pulled it out.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’d hoped it was my phone.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No. Do you know where yours is?”

  “By the door, where I dropped my purse when I came in. Where’s your phone?”

  “Must be on the charger.” He stared at her.

  “In the bedroom?” Her eyes lit with wild hope.

  “Worktable.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I must have been right next to it.”

  Derrick didn’t say anything.

  A
llison started the tub filling with water and began kicking at the glass block, turning sideways and jamming her whole foot at it. The resounding thuds were quiet and dull. Nothing moved. She let another flurry of kicks and then began pulling at the bench.

  “Can we get this off the wall and put it through the glass?”

  It was a thought, but Derrick wasn’t optimistic. Using it like a battering ram, they both shoved the bench into the block. He thought the reverberations might dislocate his shoulder and still, there was no change to the glass. They dropped the bench in tandem.

  He turned the controller over and turned it on, looking through the camera attached to Christopher Robot’s head. He maneuvered the robot toward the stairs. There was the fire extinguisher. Smoke was billowing down the stairs. He moved Christopher Robot towards the red cylinder. Allison was digging under the sink now, coming up with a small cleaning bucket, filling it with water. Derrick moved the robot, picked up the cylinder, turned the bot toward the stairs. Behind him, Allison crouched, keeping the cat in the shower with one hand, her other resting on his shoulder.

  One step. Christopher Robot raised his foot and clumped it awkwardly on the next one. Derrick made the bot hold the hand railing and lift the other foot. They both sighed when it steadied itself there. Three more steps took a lifetime. Another set and the bot was at the landing. The towels around the door started to steam. Allison doused them with water, tossed bucket after bucket at the top of the doorframe. They heard it sizzle as the little that escaped ran down the outside.

  Christopher Robot was ascending the second set of stairs and gained the top. The camera saw just smoke and dull flames now, punctuated by flurries of sparks as the ceiling fell here and there. No point in trying to find his phone.

  Derrick turned the camera. Her purse was there, in flames. The view down the hallway, toward the bathroom was daunting. Smoke and flames stood between Christopher Robot and the bathroom.

  “Can it use the fire extinguisher?” Allison was watching as she brought bucket after bucket of water to the door. MW was now huddled, miserable and soaked, behind the bench.

  The first flames broke through at the top of the door, and Allison shrieked, letting a barrage of water fly, as she bailed from the tub to the door. The flames sizzled out.

  “I don’t know. And I don’t know how long the extinguisher will last.” He turned the bot toward the hall, the canister held close to its metal body. It was only a matter of time before the metal heated and the wiring melted. It was now or never.

  “Go, baby,” Derrick prayed and set the bot on high, its clunky stride bringing it straight down the hall.

  The first thing Allison saw on the monitor Derrick was holding, was the toes of the robot start to glow red. It’s always the feet, she thought, then she slammed another bucket of water at the door, the droplets raining sweet salvation around her. The robot tilted and fell against the wall, showers of sparks raining around it, the red cylinder still clutched against its body.

  “I’m going to wet you down,” she said and waited for Derrick to put the controller aside. She poured the water over him, re-soaking his shirt. “I wish we could go out the drain like this water.” Derrick just grunted and kept the bot moving. It was even with the bedroom door now, only about twelve feet from the bathroom. Through the camera they could see the baseboards flaming, the doorjambs blazing. Around the door, the towels were steaming again. Allison tossed a flurry of water, four bucketfuls in a row, at the door. The wood around the door was starting to fall away, smoke creeping through. She was out of towels. Soon, they’d have to huddle in the shower and pray for a miracle. She wondered if they’d boil alive. Beneath the bench, the cat meowed.

  “Shit!” Derrick cursed, and Allison’s attention flew to the monitor. The camera showed the floor, the red extinguisher rolling toward the bathroom door. “This is it, Allison. This is our only chance.” He stood. She looked at his bare feet.

  “I’ll go first.”

  “The fuck you will.” Derrick spun on her, his lips pulled back showing his teeth, snarling at her. He was ferocious. Her teeth clacked together as he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “There’s only room for one boss now.” He pushed her back, her head snapped forward. “It’s me.” He brought her back to him. Shook her again. “It’s me, Allison. You do what I say.”

  She nodded her head, shocked.

  “SAY IT!”

  “OK,” she said. “You’re the boss, but aim low, at the fuel, not the fire.”

  Derrick’s heart pounded. She better the fuck keep her word.

  “Grab the cat, and stay close.” He heard her boots slopping through the water. He started pulling the towels from the door, the sound of water hissing as he dunked them into the tub and then slapped them over her head, her shoulders, the cat, and then, covering his head and shoulders. One towel left. He wrapped it around his right hand and used his sweatpants to open the door with the left. The wood jamb fell in, crashing against his arm in a shower of sparks and flames, thankfully hitting the towels.

  He tried to speak but the first breath was agony, and it left him coughing. Water hit the walls around him. She was slinging buckets of it at the hall, and he felt panic rise in him. She had better be following him. Another rush of water pelted the area near the extinguisher, and then he felt Allison’s hand on his back pressing him forward. He had the canister in his hand, the towel hissing and drying as it touched the red metal. For the first time, it occurred to him that the damn thing could explode. He aimed it ahead and pulled the trigger, white foam gushing out, flames hissing around him and then they were running, past the slumped carcass of his robot, through the reaching flames, hissing against their wet clothes. The only thing he cared about was Allison’s hand on his back and the pain in his feet singing to him as he ran.

  At the door, the extinguisher gave out, and he turned, grabbing her up under one arm and throwing her ahead of him, the two of them pounding down the stairs and out the door onto the street, the nighttime sidewalks full of gawking neighbors and the sound of sirens rising in the distance.

  The onlookers parted as the pair of them ran, staggering across the street, angling by some shared instinct, away, as if they expected the walls of the building to fall behind them. When they got to the lawn in the park, they collapsed together, Derrick dragging Allison onto his lap, the cat wedged between them, coughing spasms wracking them both.

  The cat struggled in Allison’s grip but she had her fingers dug into its harness, and it gave up, lying on its side, ribs heaving. The damn thing better live after this.

  Derrick looked at Allison, taking in the smell of burnt hair, her face covered in soot, a towel, desert dry, plastered to her shoulders. His feet hurt like a mother.

  “Well,” he began and stopped to cough his lungs out. He tried again. “This should settle it.”

  She turned her face to him, one hand stroking MW’s side, the other restlessly roaming over his chest, as if she didn’t know where she could safely settle.

  “What?” She coughed.

  “It doesn’t matter if you deserve me or not.”

  “I don’t.” Her eyes, already watering, started to drop tears through the black soot on her face.

  “Not relevant.” He tugged her closer, then pulled the cat over, getting them both in easy reach. “After that, you’re mine.”

  She started to speak, and he put a finger over her lips.

  “I’m the man who just hauled you out of a fire.” He gave her his fiercest look. “Tell me you love me.”

  “Oh lord, I’ve loved you since you took coffee cups down without being told where they were!”

  Honestly. Women spoke another language.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I love you so much, I’m stupid with it.” She got that look, the one that meant her mouth was about to go again. He put his hand over her lips.

  “Uh-uh. Done.” He paused for a nice long choke. “And when I rebuild …”r />
  Allison pulled his hand away. He waited for her to finish coughing.

  “When I rebuild, two things.”

  “What?”

  “We’re making room for your dad.” White teeth flashed in the black soot on her face. “And no more pets.”

  Chapter 26

  “This is insane!” Sophia paced around Allison’s living room.

  Ben slammed his hand against the wall, making the window rattle. Allison startled, and Derrick put his hand on Ben’s shoulder.

  “It has to stop, Sophia,” Ben said.

  It was a week after the fire, the middle of the afternoon and Allison was sitting on her couch with a bag of cash next to her.

  “It’s done, folks,” she said. “We’re paying them.”

  “Where did you get the cash?” Sophia narrowed her eyes at Allison. “You’re supposed to be broke.”

  “Well,” she replied. “Now I am.”

  “You had money this whole time?” Sophia looked apoplectic. In fact, it was the first time Allison had ever seen an ugly expression on the woman’s face. When she was furious, Sophia was more frightening than fabulous.

  “Look, some of this money is from Ben’s folks, some is from Rose. I mortgaged my father’s house for the rest. I’ll pay it off when I sell it.” Allison threw a quick glance at Derrick and Sophia wondered if some of the money in that bag was his.

  “You’re selling your father’s house so you can give everything he worked for to a bunch of punk-ass slime balls?” For the first time, Allison could imagine her future sister-in-law as a prosecutor.

  “I’m selling my father’s house, because I’m going to move in with Derrick, and my dad is coming too.”

  “And what about you, Ben? Where will you live?”

  Ben hesitated, then seemed to silence himself. He raised his eyebrows, shrugging. “With my folks, then on the second floor.”

  Together Allison and Derrick said, “We get the second floor.”