Caught in the Flames

by Kacey Shea

  Nothing like having to Uber home from the party. Jill was supposed to DD, and under normal circumstances she takes that role very seriously, but I play some part in her decision to get plastered. We needed her for flip cup, and it was all downhill from there. Great first impression to Chase’s friends. Though, from what little I recall, I don’t think the company he keeps looks down on that sort of behavior. I still wish I had stopped drinking. Then I could have basked in the joy of showing everyone how fun I can be. Instead, between hurls into the toilet, I’m picking through the pieces of last night to remember exactly what happened.

  I curl up on the hardwood floor in my master bathroom and wad a bathroom towel into a makeshift pillow.

  I recall the flip cup victory.

  The almost altercation with Pancake Bitch. Tiff. That’s her name.

  Back inside to Chase. Drinks. Laughs. Kisses.

  Alicia making out with at least two of the guys from the station on the couch in front of everyone. Troy first and later with Pants. I assume Pants is his nickname. And she may have flashed a boob.

  Jill arguing with Cameron and then disappearing down the hall with him for thirty minutes. Or maybe it was longer? They totally hooked up. I need to ask her about that.

  More kissing my boyfriend.

  Then it’s just shots, shots, shots, until Jill dragged me outside and into her Uber sometime in the early morning. Funny, I don’t remember when Alicia left the party, but it must have been before us.

  Cameron insisted he’d get my man home safe and for that I’m thankful. There’s no way I’d want Chase to see me in my current state.

  Ugh.

  My stomach rolls. My head pulses with a deep pounding pain and I close my eyes. The morning sun attempts to sneak inside and overwhelm my senses but I extend my foot to swing the door closed. I let myself find temporary peace in another hour of sleep on the makeshift cocoon of my bathroom floor.

  Dammit!

  I can’t find my phone.

  My purse, wallet, and keys are all accounted for from where I tossed them inside my entryway last night. After emerging from my bathroom weak and feeling like death warmed over, I edge to the kitchen for water and two aspirin. It’s only then I become coherent enough to wonder about Chase, Alicia, and Jill. Since then I’ve frantically scoured through my purse until I finally dumped all the contents onto the hardwood floor.

  Still no phone. It’s likely somewhere in the apartment from last night’s party. But without my phone I can’t get the address and I wasn’t really paying attention to directions. Fuck.

  Replacing the contents of my purse, I drag myself off the floor and take a deep breath before I have a mini panic attack. Think, Callie, think. I hate not having my phone, and the concern that I might not find it has my nerves going haywire. Maybe Jill will remember exactly where the apartment was since she was driving. I just need to get hold of her. I move to locate my computer in the other room, hoping to catch her with a message via social media.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  I halt and then take six steps back toward the front door to peek through the hole. Jill stands outside the door. Her slim frame leans against the column archway, dark shades cover her eyes, and her normally iron flat hair is piled messily atop her head.

  I crack the door open and wince as the midday sun glares off the concrete driveway just over Jill’s shoulder.

  “Jill.” My voice is scratchy and I have to clear it before continuing. “You came.”

  She doesn’t smile, doesn’t speak, just looks me up and down and then pushes past and walks directly into my bedroom. I close the door and follow.

  “Jill?”

  “You look like hell, Callie,” she says as she gingerly picks clean clothes from my dresser and lays them across my bed.

  “You don’t look so hot yourself. What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking you back to your car at Alicia’s. Then I’m going back to bed. I waited as long as I could. I’ve been texting you all frickin’ morning. I get that you were sleeping it off, but next time text me back. I started to worry you drowned in your own vomit.”

  I hold out my hand to stop her words.

  “Please don’t say vomit,” I whisper as my stomach rolls and flips. Deep breathing eases it steady again. “I lost my phone. Must be at the apartment.”

  Jill nods and exhales a deep breath. “Sorry. I should’ve thought of that. It’s just, I can’t get hold of you or Alicia and I’ve been experiencing an insane flood of survivor’s guilt. I kept imagining the worst and felt like a selfish asshole for not staying here last night to watch over you.” She wraps me in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re alive!”

  I pull her arms off and chuckle softly. “Me, too. I’m just hungover, Jill. It’s not my demise.”

  “I know. Sorry. It’s just weird not being able to get hold of you. Alicia falls off the radar all the time. But you never turn your phone off. That, and it’s been a long time since we’ve had such a crazy night. Now, get dressed.”

  “I’m gonna shower first.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No!” She glances away and exhales in a rush. “I’m actually not going back to bed. I have a date in two hours. I need to get back home.”

  “Oh? Date? Could it be with an older man whose name sorta rhymes with salmon?” I waggle my brows as I retrieve her clothing selection for me and head into the bathroom to change.

  “Blah. Don’t say salmon,” she calls after me with disgust. She hates seafood. I can’t help but mess with her.

  “You and Cameron totally hooked up last night. I wasn’t that drunk not to notice,” I say through the door as I pull my head through the clean T-shirt and then slide on the cotton shorts. Jill’s groans carry her frustration through the door. I fling it open, my hands on my hips and pin her with my most serious stare.

  “What? Did he not come through in the bedroom? Maybe he should take lessons from his li’l bro?” I waggle my brows.

  Jill groans again, this time hiding her hands in her face as she flops onto my bed. I flip on the water at the sink and give my face and teeth a much needed rinse.

  “I get it. Chase is amazing in bed. And the talent apparently runs in the family. That’s not the problem.” Jill stares at my ceiling fan as I attempt to work a brush through my hair.

  “What is it, then? Is it because I’m dating his brother? I get how that could be weird, but I’m sure if you really like him we can work through it.”

  “No. I don’t even really like Cam. I mean he’s hot, for an older guy, but he’s cocky and arrogant. That’s not it. I wish that were it. God, I’m so stupid.”

  “What is it, then?” My hair is a lost cause. I toss the brush on the counter and plop myself next to Jill on the bed. “Hey, you can tell me.” I touch her hand and she meets my gaze.

  “I’m dating someone else.”

  “What?”

  “I know! I should have told you but it’s still new and we work together so we’ve been keeping it on the down low. We haven’t slept together yet, but we aren’t seeing other people. And last night I had no intention of hooking up with anyone! But Cam made me so angry! And then when he dragged me down the hall to his room . . . Stupid. I’m so stupid. I should have seen it coming and I should have said no, but he was so good and hot and—fuck! Callie what do I do?”

  “First, you take a deep breath. Everyone makes mistakes and like you said, this guy and you aren’t sleeping together so it’s not really cheating.”

  Jill turns her chin to face me and raises her brow with a pointed stare. “It’s cheating. We’ve already had the discussion about not seeing other people. We’re together. I’m sure you know what I mean since you’ve done the same with Chase.”

  My stomach drops at her words. “Do you really have to have that conversation to be considered exclusive?”

  “Wait? You and Chase haven’t discussed that yet?” Her eyes widen and it’s my turn to look away.
>
  “Not in so many words. But I trust him and we’re together together. I mean, you saw how he was with me last night, right?”

  “Hey, of course I saw. He’s totally into you. Had eyes for no one else.” Jill squeezes my hand and I meet her stare. “I’m sorry, my problems aren’t yours and I shouldn’t have said anything. I just don’t know what to do. I feel guilty. Don’t say anything to Chase, please?”

  “You know I won’t. Now, let’s go get my car, and if you remember where the party was, I need directions.” I stand and pull her hand until she’s off the bed.

  “Yeah, Palomino and Fifth. The Groves. Over in Fairmount. Hey, didn’t you say Chase lives in Fairmount?” We walk outside into the hot sticky midday heat to her car.

  “Yeah, he does.”

  “If it’s close you should stop over and give him a little McLovin’.”

  “Um, have you seen how gross I look? There’s a possibility I still have puke in my hair. There’s no way I’m popping over without a shower.” That and the fact I still don’t know exactly where he lives, so I couldn’t stop by if I wanted. I’ve been holding out for an invite, but if he doesn’t deliver soon I’ll have to come out and ask. Maybe I can make up some bogus excuse so it won’t be weird. Like, “hey, babe, Alicia’s family wants to include you in their holiday party and I know it’s not for another four months but they’re working on the invitations now.” It’s a stretch, but that could work.

  The twenty-minute ride from my place to Alicia’s is mostly silent but for the radio station that plays on the car speakers’ lowest setting. The only other interruption is a periodic vibration of Jill’s cell. Text alert after text alert comes in. Each time she glances at the screen and then exhales her distaste, flipping the phone screen down into the little plastic nook in the dash.

  The cell buzzes again and this time I grab it before Jill can.

  “No! Don’t!” she yells, but it’s too late. I’ve already seen something I can’t ever unsee. I drop the phone. The image burns my brain.

  “Jill! That’s Cameron! My boyfriend’s brother, Cameron!”

  “I know! I know!”

  “He just texted you a pic of his dick!”

  “He’s been doing it all day! I swear, I asked him to stop at first, but it’s kinda hot. You should actually read the messages. He’s a great sexter.”

  “How am supposed to act like I didn’t see that?”

  “I’m sorry, I was trying to keep it away from you. That’s what you get for snooping.” She chuckles.

  “And why is his name programmed into your phone as Cam the Man? You said you were done with him.”

  “He must have added his number last night. And no, I didn’t say I was done. I said I don’t really like him, which I don’t. Though he is a persistent little bugger.”

  “Not so little.” I shake my head. Jill nods and licks her lips. God, that dick has been burned into my retinas. How am I supposed to see Chase’s dick without thinking of Cameron’s? That’s so wrong. Oh, my God, my friends never fail to make my life crazier than it should be.

  We pull up to my car and Jill lets her engine idle.

  “Look, I’m sorry if this is weird for you, Callie. All of this. I know you have your own stuff you’re still figuring out with Chase. Just don’t let this become an issue. It’s my problem. Not yours.”

  “It’s fine, Jill. You’re a grown woman. You don’t need my approval to sext someone, even if that someone is Cameron.”

  “Thanks for understanding. Hey.” She looks over at the empty space next to my car. “Alicia’s car isn’t here. How is it she’s already up and moving after last night when she drank more than us combined?”

  I step out of the car and lean inside with a grin. “She’s a pro, an elite athlete at drinking and partying. You know her, she’s probably already had brunch with her parents and is spending the afternoon at the spa.”

  Jill laughs. “Sadly, you’re probably correct. Good luck finding your phone!”

  “Thanks for the ride.” I shut her door and walk to my car. The drive to the apartment complex is short but my hangover is back in full force. Must have been the car ride. I’m fighting the urge to hurl and my head pounds with every tap of the brake.

  I pull into the complex, except I don’t exactly remember the apartment number. I wander around for a few minutes, hoping something will jog my memory. I have to resist the urge to bang on all the second level doors. I really want my phone, but something tells me that won’t go over well with the neighbors.

  I thank the heavens when I spot a man come around the building ahead. His hat’s pulled low and with two coffees in hand, he trudges my way. He looks a lot like Pants. His chin lifts. Yep, that’s Pants.

  “Hey, Hugh’s girl, right?”

  “That’s me. I guess.” Seriously over this Hugh thing. “You wouldn’t happen to know why everyone calls him that?” I try to bat my eyes to charm Pants into telling me but I’m almost certain some of the mascara residue from last night has melted in the humid warmth of day, binding together my top and bottom lashes.

  His gaze narrows. I lean forward to flash a little boobage, but the movement unsettles my stomach and I have to swallow the urge to gag and heave. His gaze widens.

  “Sorry, Hugh’s chick, no can do. As kickass as you are for winning Ten the flip cup bragging rights, and for your reenactment of the 1992 winter Olympics ice skating routine sans ice, I can’t tell you that. Bro code. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yeah, I get it. My name’s Callie, by the way.”

  “Callie, cool. I’m James.”

  “Nice to meet you, James. Look, I’m here to get my cell phone. I think I left it inside.”

  “Oh, your sex kitten friend just left with it.” His grin widens.

  “Alicia was here?”

  “Yeah, and she volunteered to take it back to you. I’m guessing she’s headed to your place now.”

  “Okay, well, thank you. And thanks for throwing the party last night. I hope we didn’t trash the place too badly.”

  James studies me with a strange expression and then shakes his head slowly in the negative. In my attempt to pay attention to him and not my splitting headache I must move my head in unison. I feel all the blood drain from my face with the movement.

  “Damn, you look like shit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sorry. You don’t always look like death. I’m assuming it’s because of the kitchen sink you consumed last night. And the pizza.”

  “Shhh . . . your words are only making this worse.”

  “Right. Hangover. You’re a fun chick . . .”

  “Callie.”

  “Callie, right. See you around.”

  On the drive home I’m careful to avoid every bump, dip, and curve. A manila envelope awaits me on my doorstep. Inside are my phone and a note that reads, “I hope you didn’t die. Call me! Alicia.” It causes me to laugh. I walk inside and plug my phone in the kitchen charger. Not so patiently waiting for it to power up, I down a glass of water and two slices of toast.

  Chase: Fun night. Text me when you wake up.

  I type out a reply, thanking him for including me and my girls in the party, and let him know I’ll talk to him later. I take a quick shower and don’t bother to dry my hair. It’s only one in the afternoon but I need a nap, even if it’s a short one. Next I text Alicia and Jill, informing them I’m home safe and sound, and thanking Alicia for retrieving my phone. I stretch out on the couch and drift off. With the A/C running strong and the midday sun warming my skin through the window, it’s the perfect mix to lull me to sleep.

  I love family.

  My dad and I are really close. Growing up, it was just me and him. My parents divorced when I was little and I don’t have a relationship with my mother. She wanted freedom to find herself, aka, she didn’t want to be my mother anymore. My dad insists he was a horrible partner and he accepts partial blame for why she left, but it’s something I’ve never understood.
She moved across the country to the California sun, then called once a year to wish me a happy birthday—the extent of our relationship. I’m not angry about it. It is what it is.

  Dad has always been enough for me. A mechanic by trade, he raised me to work hard and respect myself and those around me. And to love cars. We lived in a cookie cutter home just outside Minneapolis. He was somehow able to balance being a single dad during the school year, but each summer I went to stay with my aunt and uncle. His sister’s family. They treated me as their own and I looked forward to every visit. In their old farmhouse just north of Richmond, I joined my older cousins and the neighbors for “normal” family experiences I only read about in books, like playing in the stream at the edge of their property or roasting marshmallows over the fire pit every Friday.

  It’s probably the main reason I wanted to move here for school. That and I couldn’t take another frozen winter. At least here we only have to endure a few snow storms a year. I sort of thought I’d move back to Minnesota after graduation, but I grew to love my life here. The one I’ve made for myself. Alicia and Jill are the sisters I never had. And Alicia’s family practically adopted me, guaranteeing I never spend a holiday alone.

  My dad calls every Sunday evening to check on me and tell me how much he loves me. Without fail, he’s done this since I left for college, five years now. But it takes me a moment, when I awake in a room cloaked in dim light, to remember why I’m on the couch and why my phone is singing from so far away.

  I quickly recall the events of the day and race to the phone, feeling immensely better than when I passed out earlier. My dad’s name flashes on the screen and I pick up.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Callie, my girl. How are you?”

  “I’m good.” I check the clock and realize it’s only just past four, then glance outside to where rainclouds fill the sky, cover the sun, and give the illusion it’s much later.

  “You sound sleepy. Did I wake you?”

  “I dozed off for a nap. I need to get up anyway. How are things at the shop?”