Up in Smoke (Firehouse Three, #4)

by Sidney Bristol

  “Give me this damn tree and keep your nose out of my business.”

  Drake barked a laugh and slapped Chaz’s shoulder.

  Payton washed her hands in the bathroom, focusing on the methodical soap and rinse steps.

  Chaz had good people in his life. That redhead, Abby, was so much better suited for him than she was. The right thing to do would be to back off, go away, never come back. Let him have little redheaded fireman babies.

  She threw the paper towel in the trash a bit harder than was necessary.

  “Wow, you okay?” A blonde-haired woman in a blue polo layered over a long sleeve shirt exited a bathroom stall.

  “Yes, sorry.” Payton stepped out of the way and pressed her fingers to her temples.

  “You know what helps me when I’m having a bad day?”

  Payton didn’t want to know and she didn’t care, but the Chatty Kathy was likely going to tell her anyway.

  “I visit the kitten room.” The blonde grinned into the mirror as she dried her hands, long braids swaying with the motion.

  “Kitten...room?” Payton blinked at her.

  “Yeah. Come on.” She held the bathroom door. “I’m Charlie, by the way.”

  “Payton.”

  “How many football jokes do you get?”

  “A lot.” Payton rolled her eyes.

  “This way.” Charlie led Payton out of the front, public area into the back of the rescue. “During kitten season, this room is so crowded. We only have a couple kittens right now and they’re all starved for attention, so be warned. They’re monsters of cute.”

  Charlie ushered Payton into a six-by-six room. A few kennels lined the wall, but they were all empty. Two of the kennels had their doors open on the bottom row.

  “Oh...my...goodness...” Payton crouched down, offering her hands to the black and white pack of fur on legs.

  “Careful—they’ll...well, they’ll do that.” Charlie leaned against the wall.

  Payton sat back on her bottom, laughing at two of the rascals climbing up the sleeve of her jacket.

  Talk about cute.

  One was solid black, the other looked like it had on a tux, what with the white markings. Someone had put Christmas collars around their necks, complete with bells, but they were a bit shredded looking.

  “The others are around here somewhere.” Charlie bent, peering under things. “Those two are my favorite, but don’t tell Everly that.”

  “Who?” Payton bumped noses with the all black kitten.

  “Oh—Everly owns the place. She’s my boss. We aren’t supposed to have favorites but those two are so stinking cute. I really want them to go to a home together.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “They’re bonded. Unlike—there you are!” Charlie reached into a kennel and pulled out three blinking, sleepy fuzzballs. “These guys. They’re sweet, and if they went to a home together they’d be fine. Those two? If they don’t go together or to a home with another cat, they’re going to have some adjustment issues.”

  “Poor things.” Payton unzipped her coat and tucked the far more mannerly tuxedo kitten into her jacket. She could feel its tiny body vibrating from the purrs.

  “See why this is my favorite place?” Charlie grinned.

  “Yeah. Thanks for showing me.” Payton stroked the black kitten who was busy playing in her hair. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be a bitch.”

  “You’re fine. The holidays are stressful.”

  “You can say that again.” She groaned.

  “Anything a kitten can solve?”

  “I wish.” Payton stared into the big eyes of the black fur ball and wished her problems were that simple. Her life was no place for a cat, much less Chaz.

  “Is it something to do with Chaz?”

  Payton glanced up at Charlie, but unlike Abby’s, there was just open curiosity on her face.

  “Sorry, I’m totally nosy.”

  “How do you know Chaz?”

  “He volunteered back in the spring for a bachelor auction we did to benefit the rescue. Poor guy got the short end of the stick on that one.” Charlie shook her head.

  “What happened?”

  “You have to ask him.” The woman’s grin said it was a story worth hearing.

  “If it’s that juicy, he’ll never tell me.”

  Charlie bit her lip.

  “Come on. He’s so painfully perfect. Give me some dirt, please?” Payton needed to hear this.

  “Only on one condition.” Charlie dropped the smile. “You can’t tell anyone else. Not because of Chaz, but...well, because—because.”

  “Cross my heart with a kitten.”

  “Okay, so the whole deal was a bunch of hot, shirtless guys walk a dog around and get donations. Then that night, they were auctioned off as dates for charity. I guess...I’m not totally clear on the details of the date, but he left a good impression on this grandmother. She buys him at the auction...to take her grandson to some sort of spring formal thing at his college.”

  “W-what?”

  “Yeah.” Charlie grinned. “His face when she told him what she wanted him to do was—oh my God. Priceless. You could tell he was freaked out but didn’t want to be rude or anything.”

  Payton could picture Chaz’s face...

  “Anyway, the grandma sent us pictures of Chaz and her grandson. They really just looked like two buddies hanging out. She was very appreciative of Chaz.”

  “That...sounds like Chaz.” She leaned her head back, imagining the moment. Sure, it might have made him uncomfortable at first to take another guy out, but first, it was for charity, and second, it sounded like there was more to the story than Charlie knew.

  All the more reason why Chaz was simply...the best.

  The black kitten perched on Patyon’s shoulder and head butted her cheek.

  “I think they like you.” Charlie let the trio of sleepy kittens curl up on her thighs. “You sure you don’t need a kitten? They’re good therapy.”

  “I don’t think I’d be around enough to take care of them.”

  “Yeah, with babies like these, you kind of have to be around. Can’t blame me for trying.”

  Payton snuggled the little black troublemaker under her chin.

  To have more with Chaz, she’d have to make time. She’d need to be...normal, and she’d never be that. She could never be what the kittens needed, much less Chaz.

  8.

  Dion rolled up to the address he’d been texted. One of his guys said he’d seen a woman with black and silver hair outside of a tree stand. One of those places selling live Christmas trees.

  The parking lot was full of people, at least two of them plain-clothes cops Dion recognized on sight.

  Fuck.

  He let off the brakes and continued to ease past the site, peering at the people milling around.

  There’d been a day not that long ago when he wouldn’t have done this. When he’d had people to do the work for him.

  That was before the warehouse explosion and someone raiding his cache, then his storehouse. Usually when someone pulled off a raid like that, they bragged about it. But no one was celebrating it, rubbing Dion’s nose in it. Which was worse.

  His stuff was just gone, and now he was in deep debt with so many people.

  Foot soldiers were quietly abandoning his ranks, thinning them down to just a couple dozen guys with no sense and too much loyalty.

  “Damn it.” Dion pressed his head back against the seat and held his breath.

  That guy, the black cop, knew Dion. Maybe even this car.

  He couldn’t chance the pigs right now, not even for Mr. Smoke’s promises.

  Dion gassed it, heading away from the site.

  A couple blocks away, he paused to text the guy who’d given him the tip; see if he was still in the area. He needed photo evidence that the Smoke imposter was here. It wasn’t enough to be told she was there. It’d been days and so far—nothing.

  Mr. Smoke would
be here tonight. Dion needed something—anything—to show her he’d been on the hunt for their target, because everything depended on their success. If he didn’t turn a profit soon, he was looking at maximum losses and then there wouldn’t be anything left for the cops to worry about.

  Chaz smoothed the tree skirt out under the Douglas fir they’d ultimately decided on. Abby had nailed it, the tree fit in the space directly in front of the three-pane window at the front of the house. It was between his sofa and the entertainment center, with plenty of room around it for presents or whatever they decided to do.

  Shit.

  Presents.

  If Payton was staying through Christmas—and he was starting to count on it—then he’d have to figure out a gift for her. Or a few. In the past, he’d gotten her a couple gift cards, because what did he know? It didn’t seem right to get her that now. He’d need...something thoughtful. Something she’d like. And he was drawing a big, ol’ blank.

  A selfie stick?

  He’d already bought her new panties during their shopping trip, but maybe a few more wouldn’t hurt. Still, it wasn’t the kind of present that said stay with me. Panties were more the fuck me gift.

  “I found these in the attic, I don’t think they’re what you were hoping for.”

  Payton brought two rectangular boxes in from the garage. Dust clung to her jeans, likely from her trip up into the cramped attic space. He frowned at the small boxes. He didn’t recognize them but they were labeled “Christmas” in big, bold letters by his mother’s hand.

  Chaz lifted off the lid and sank to his good knee.

  A dozen memories hit him from all sides.

  “I’ve never seen these before.” Payton picked up a dusty glass globe nestled in the tissue paper.

  Chaz swallowed and plucked the red and white ribbon sticking out. His throat tightened.

  The box should have been labeled “Hazardous” instead of “Christmas.”

  He’d made the frame in...elementary? It was popsicle sticks covered in paint and glitter around a photograph of him. His mother. And his father. His biological father.

  “Oh...Chaz...” Payton wrapped an arm around his shoulder and squeezed.

  The globe.

  He glanced at that.

  The Fairchild Family was written on it in careful script. Below that were the names, Chancelor, Martha and Richard. The year 1992 was at the very bottom.

  There were more of them, documenting the years from his birth up until the year before his father had died.

  “Do you want me to put these back?” Payton asked.

  “No.” He swallowed.

  She stroked his back, a quiet, strong support.

  Chaz removed a wad of paper and pulled out other ornaments. Ones he’d made. Others that were pictures, snapshots of their lives with Dad.

  “Wow, you really look like him,” Payton whispered. She touched the image of his dad with an arm slung around a much younger, smiling Chief Donaldson.

  Dad.

  It was weird seeing him next to the chief. Chaz had a good four inches on the man. Dad was about the same height. Strange. Chaz still remembered his dad as this towering giant.

  “Chaz? You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he managed to get out despite the tightness in his throat.

  “You want to put these away?”

  “No.” He sat back on the floor and pulled the box into his lap. “I was just thinking...if Dad was still alive, I’d be taller than him. It’s weird, you know? Kinda doesn’t seem right.”

  “Yeah.” Payton curled up at his side. “You have his smile. When you decide to smile.”

  “Oh, man. Look at this one.” He uncovered handmade, fabric frame. “You know what this is?”

  “No.” Payton ran her finger along the fabric. “Is that...”

  “It’s the material of my dad’s old turnout gear. The one in this picture.” He tapped the image of him as a baby, swaddled inside his dad’s helmet with the jacket pulled up to his chin.

  “Man, you were a cute baby. What happened?” She chuckled and prodded his ribs.

  “Hey.” He grabbed her hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

  There were dozens of family ornaments. Things they’d bought and personalized or ones he’d made. Moments of a life he’d mostly forgotten about. The pain of losing his father the way they had overshadowed so much of the good.

  “What was he like?” Payton wrapped her arm around him and laid her head on his shoulder.

  “He was funny. He liked pulling pranks, making jokes, getting people to laugh. I think that’s why Mom needed someone like Calvin. He made her remember to smile.”

  “Dad was always good at that.”

  He covered her hand with his, pressing it to his chest.

  The reality of being a firefighter was that there was no promise he’d come out of every fire. Sometimes they died doing what they did.

  “I’ll never forget the night Dad didn’t come home. It was just...different. He was late for shift because we were horsing around in the kitchen. He pissed Mom off, so he had to spend some time making her laugh. I kept pretending like I was going to hurl in his boots. Most of the time he’d just...make a joke and say he’d see us later; apologize to her when he got off. That day...it was like he knew he needed to leave her with a smile.”

  Payton’s arm tightened around him. Had he ever told her all of it? She knew, it was hard to live under this roof and not know, but...the details. He’d forgotten the smell of his dad’s boots, how there was always baby powder around them. That weathered gray T-shirt he’d worn out the door...Chaz had lived in that thing when Donaldson had delivered it to their house a week or two later.

  “He usually called to say good night, but he didn’t, so we knew he was on a call. I just...assumed he’d be there when I got home the next day.” Chaz swiped his finger over his dad’s smiling face. “Mom woke me up sometime close to midnight. One of the guys had come over to get us. Take us to the hospital. They knew he wasn’t going to make it and didn’t want Mom to have to drive us.”

  Chaz could still hear the rush of activity. They’d let Mom back to see Dad, to say goodbye, but not Chaz. Between of the burns and the trauma to Dad’s body, they hadn’t wanted Chaz to see that. The nurses had used a phone, and he could remember plugging one ear, desperately trying to block out the buzz of the ER to make out his Dad’s rasping voice.

  “The last thing he said to me was, I love you, son. Take care of your mom.” He’d said more, but it’d been hard to hear him over everything else.

  The other firefighters had sat vigil with him for the hours it’d taken Chaz’s father to pass. He’d known the moment it happened. The sounds of his mother’s anguished cries weren’t easy to forget.

  Losing him had broken them. If it weren’t for the other firefighter’s families coming by, the parade of casseroles and people checking in on them, Chaz wasn’t sure they’d have made it through that year. Dad had been their heart. Their laughter. Mom and Chaz were too alike. They were serious. Dependable. In the years between losing Dad and finding Calvin...there hadn’t been a lot to be happy about.

  Chaz still wasn’t sure what he thought about Mom and Calvin, and the lies they’d told him. But he did know that Calvin had brought the smiles back. Sure, in the beginning Chaz had resented Calvin. Wanted to hate him. But it was hard to hate a man who’d tie socks to a belt, wrap it around his head and walk into a shop advertising free cookies to aliens. The girls behind the counter had laughed so hard they’d sent them home with nearly a dozen chocolate-chip cookies and Chaz and Payton had gobbled them up while laying on that damn old trampoline.

  “I wish I could have met him,” Payton whispered.

  “I think he’d have liked you. Maybe even Calvin.”

  Chaz flipped through the rest of the ornaments. It was so strange facing that chapter of his life again.

  “Sometimes I wonder how Martha went from him to my dad.” Payton picked up an
old Firehouse Three ornament with Dad’s face on it.

  “I often wondered the same thing. I guess now I know.” Chaz swallowed down the bitterness.

  Mom had needed companionship. Something Chaz couldn’t give her. An adult connection. So, she’d filled his father’s place in their life with someone who told lies to get by. Knowing the truth made it worse now. Before, he’d only known that Calvin had a history, that he hadn’t always been the law-abiding type. Now, he knew how deep that river ran. All the way to Calvin’s rotten core. He might have been what Mom needed, but Chaz didn’t have to like him or the choices he’d made.

  At least Payton wasn’t like him. Yeah, she’d screwed up a couple times—who hadn’t?—but she had a good heart.

  “Chaz...”

  He turned to face her, the frown wrinkling her brow, worry in her eyes.

  “I get why no one told me back then. I had a very black-and-white way of seeing things. I don’t have to like being lied to all these years.”

  “I’m sorry, Chaz, I—”

  “You were a kid.” He pulled her to him and kissed her cheek. “You did what you were told to do.”

  Payton laid her head against his shoulder and they both watched the lights twinkling on the tree.

  When Mom got back, he was going to have a long chat with her. Get this whole thing out on the table. His own mother had lied to him. And for what? To have a partner? To help a friend? At some point, she could have told him the truth. She wasn’t like Calvin. She was a good person. She’d just...needed someone to fill his father’s shoes. And no one could. His dad was a hero.

  “You picked a good tree.” Payton’s voice rumbled against his chest, her fingers stroking his shoulders.

  “Thanks.”

  “You talk to your friend?” Payton asked.

  “No.” He didn’t have to ask which one. Fuck. What was he going to do about Abby?

  Abby was ignoring his texts now, and likely him. They’d have to sort it out soon. He’d be back on regular duty in six weeks and they were on the same shift.

  “She’s cute. You should consider it.”

  Chaz stared at Payton a moment. She lifted her head, expression too innocent. Her shoulder lifted in a partial shrug.