by Brandy Ayers
“Okay, thank you for the information.” Charlotte typed in the little tidbits just in case something turned out to be bigger than originally thought.
“No problem. Talk to you again in a few hours,” Marge barked out.
The rest of the rounds calls went much the same way. Each commented to some degree on the tardiness of her calls. She found it totally embarrassing. Of course, she knew how much she clung to her schedules and routines. But was she really so regimented that even strangers on the other side of a phone line picked up her slightly OCD need to be on time?
By her last call, Charlotte felt shaken. A feeling that only increased when an unfamiliar voice picked up at the zone seven dispatch center.
“Zone seven, this is Trey. What can I do you for?”
Holy shit, that voice. It brought to mind honey, or maple syrup. Something smooth and sticky, that would coat you in the sweet warmth, placating you in its richness until you drowned in it, not caring one bit that it brought with it the end of your life. A deep, bass voice which Charlotte felt straight down to her panties. Something that shocked her more than anything else ever had.
She’d been attracted to people before, got aroused rather easily actually. But when she considered all the horrible outcomes that could come from a night of passion with a man, the fires of desire were quickly banked. And the one time she had tried to get intimate with a guy had been an unmitigated disaster.
But just this man’s voice had her wanting to drop the phone and run to the restroom, so she could shove her hand down her panties and frantically get herself off.
“Hello? Anyone there? Do you have an emergency?”
The deep voice took on a commanding tone, snapping Charlotte out of her dirty thoughts. “Um, no. I mean, yes. I mean, fuck. Yes, I’m here. No, it isn’t an emergency. Sorry.”
Trey chuckled on the other end of the line. A sound so thrilling, Charlotte nearly whimpered.
“No problem, what can I do for you?”
Oh god, so many, many things. Charlotte shook her head. This wasn’t her. She didn’t go weak at the knees over a man. Especially not just the voice of a man. The charms of men were largely lost on her. She saw through their games and bravado right away and couldn’t bother to try and look past all that. So why couldn’t she calm the racing of her heart over this simple conversation with an unknown man?
“Um. This is Charlotte Orlov, calling from WQUZ News, I’m checking to see if you were doing anything, I mean, if there was anything of interest going on. Tonight. In your zone. For the news.” Holy fucking shit. It wasn’t unusual for Charlotte to get tongue tied around people in general. The constant fear of saying something wrong, revealing too much, meant that she over analyzed every word that came out of her mouth. But nothing to this extent before. Never this verbal diarrhea.
“Charlotte, huh? That is a fantastic name. Old fashioned. Makes me think of gutsy novelists and regal nobility. Is that you? Gutsy and regal?” His voice held a teasing note, but she didn’t think Trey meant to make fun of her. She almost thought that was the way his voice must always sound. Like he held his own inside joke.
“Not even close. More like shy and neurotic. What about Trey? Makes me think of professional athletes and the creators of gross cartoons about foul-mouthed little boys.” Charlotte froze. What the hell had she just said? To a stranger? The phone began slipping from her grasp before she stopped it at the sound of his uproarious laugh.
“Definitely not an athlete. Though I can run up a twenty-story building in full gear carrying a fire hose and not keel over dead. So, I guess that is something. But I can’t draw for shit.”
“You’re a firefighter? What are you doing answering phones in a dispatch center?” A firefighter. Holy hell, that was hot. An image of a tall, buff man, dripping in sweat, carrying her out of a burning building invaded her mind. Stop that! Firefighter fantasies, really? That wasn’t her. Charlotte embodied everything safe and boring, craved all things safe and boring. Not men running into fires.
“That I am. Been with the PFD for going on six years now. But my aunt runs the zone seven dispatch center, and half her staff is out on sick or maternity leave, so she asked me to pitch in on nights until she can get more people trained. I worked here to put myself through college, so it made sense I’d help out while my knee recovers.” A tense note of frustration seemed to slip into Trey’s voice, and Charlotte became even more fascinated by this unknown man on the phone.
“What happened to your knee?”
“Eh, blew it out carrying a severely overweight old man out of his house a few weeks ago. No big deal. Should have waited for help but didn’t think there was time. Another week or two, and I’ll be good as new, ready to get back to what I love.”
God, it didn’t even matter what he looked like at this point. Just that explanation alone made her want to track this man down and thank him for his service by having her way with him. Which was hilarious considering Charlotte had never had her way with anyone, let alone a heroic, injured firefighter. She had never gotten around to losing her virginity.
Thought about getting drunk at some point and just getting it over with since it seemed like something she should have done by twenty-four. But she would need to actually enjoy drinking to do that. She hated the way alcohol made her feel, like she had no control of her own mind and body. She had done it once as a teenager when her cousin talked her into sharing a bottle of peppermint schnapps over Christmas vacation one year, but hated the fuzzy gaps in her memory so much, she never repeated the experience.
“Anyway, you called for a reason, not just to entertain the incredibly bored guy sitting in a near deserted dispatch center.”
“Oh my God, yes, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take your time. I’m sure you have more important things to do.” Heat crept up Charlotte’s neck to wash over her cheeks. She’d been so distracted by the syrupy voice and sexy firefighting man, she’d totally forgotten the whole purpose of the call.
“I wouldn’t say I have more important things to do. I could honestly listen to your sweet little voice all night, sugar. But I should get back to work. I can’t be flirting with pretty young things all night, unfortunately.” There was that teasing tone again.
Why did Charlotte love hearing him talk to her like that? And when he called her sugar? Oh god. “Right, of course. So, anything we should know about happening there?”
“Nope, all is quiet on the southern front. Talking to you has been the most excitement I’ve seen all night.”
“Wow, I feel sorry for you then.” It went without saying that talking with Trey had been the most exciting thing to happen to her in weeks. Maybe in her whole life.
“You shouldn’t. I’m hoping you plan on calling back again real soon. I didn’t find out near enough about you.”
“Not much to know, trust me.” Tears stung Charlotte’s eyes. Despite their borderline inappropriate conversation, she spoke the truth. Not one single thing about Charlotte could ever interest this man. Or any man. For some reason, that knowledge made her incredibly sad. An emotion she stuffed firmly down.
“I guess I’ll get to find out. When are you calling back?” His voice left no room for discussion. That domineering tone did something to Charlotte’s stomach she didn’t recognize. It tumbled over itself, trying to find a way to please the bossy man.
“Around three a.m.” Her voice slid out reed thin.
“My shift is supposed to be done at two, but I’ll make sure I’m still here to answer. Until then, sugar.” Then he hung up.
Charlotte stared at the phone. What had just happened? Did she flirt with a man over the phone? Did he actually want her? Or was he simply entertaining himself?
A throat clearing behind her at an unnecessarily loud volume reminded Charlotte that she was not alone in the newsroom as she usually would be at that time. She looked over her shoulder to find Bekah staring at her in disbelief.
“What was that?”
Charlotte looked back down
at the phone. “I have no idea.”
Chapter Two
Phones were such deceivingly innocuous objects. They just sat there, dormant most the time, unassuming in their everydayness. But the thing about phones was they also had the ability to change everything. You could get good news through the phone. Life altering bad news. And you could have a conversation with a stranger which totally throws your world upside down.
Charlotte contemplated her previous misjudgment of the offending object as her gaze darted between the large digital clock on the wall and the black block of plastic and wires taunting her from the desk. Never before had she hated the seconds ticking by on the clock so much. Something people didn’t realize about working in news was you figure out real quick exactly how much you can get done in sixty seconds.
Charlotte had once witnessed a director get up, run to the bathroom, get coffee with the works, sit back down and mark his scripts, all in a sixty second commercial break, and never missing a cue during the show. Wardrobe changes, camera turns, entire crews came and went in those precious few moments.
If all that could happen in sixty seconds, it didn’t surprise Charlotte one bit that in the roughly twelve thousand seconds since she talked to Trey on the phone, she had managed to completely freak herself out. She freaked out about a great many things.
Speaking in front of a room of people, eating in front of strangers, being judged by other people for things she wasn’t even aware of; they all wreaked havoc on her psyche. But she had never freaked out over a guy before. Not in this capacity. Not because she both couldn’t wait but also never wanted to talk to him again. School girl crushes hadn’t been a part of her childhood. She left mooning over boys to the girls who didn’t second guess every word that came out of their mouths for fear of being judged.
However, she couldn’t avoid making rounds calls. The time had come. She had to. It actually said it in her job description. Charlotte’s heart jumped and drummed in her chest as she watched those stupid big red numbers count up to 3:00:00 a.m. on the dot. Her hand shook as she reached out to grip the cool plastic. This was stupid. She was stupid. She made the same phone calls every night.
Blowing out a huge breath, Charlotte shook her free hand, flexing her fingers to release some of the tension. The first six of her calls turned up a shots fired call, a missing woman from a nursing home, and a break in that could be part of a string that had been plaguing the city lately. That could be a story for the next day. Finger hovering over the buttons, Charlotte tried to calm her pounding heart and churning stomach before gathering her strength and dialing the number for zone seven.
“Zone seven, this is Stacey. How can I help you?” Charlotte recognized the woman’s voice as a dispatcher she had talked to on several occasions before.
Disappoint dropped like a rock into Charlotte’s stomach. Trey hadn’t stayed to talk to her again, like he said he would. She knew it was ridiculous to be so disappointed over not being able to talk to a stranger. Especially when under normal circumstance she would avoid talking to strangers at all costs. But still, it sat there weighing her down.
“Hi. It’s Charlotte Orlov from—”
“WQUZ. Yes, hi. We just had a call for a dumpster fire that might be spreading, so I can’t talk right now.” The dispatcher talked quickly, obviously wanting to get off the phone.
“Of course. Can I have the location of the fire in case it turns into something?” She tried her best to put on her fake professional voice. That voice got her through many occasions in the newsroom when she had to pretend to be a take charge, take no shit person. The act exhausted her, but she found slipping into that character helped her focus on the job at hand.
Stacey gave her the address, and immediately, she recognized it as being in the same general area as several other small trash and seemingly random fires that she’d been keeping track of over the past few months. “Stacey, any chance this is related to the other trash fires in the area?”
“I honestly don’t know. I have to get back to work.” Before Charlotte could say anything in response, Stacey hung up, and the scanners crackled to life once again, fire engines being called out to the address she had just been given.
Charlotte shoved the unreasonable sadness she felt at not talking to Trey again to the back of her mind, concentrating completely on the action taking place over the scanners. From the sounds of it, the fire had started in a dumpster which stood against an apartment building, and it jumped to the building. First responders were organizing the evacuation of the apartments while more crews attacked the fire in the back of the building.
In a moment, Charlotte made the decision to pull the trigger and send a photographer to the scene. More than likely, they would put the fire out before it caused any major damage. But she had a feeling this fire would end up being connected to the suspected fire bug who had been setting smaller fires around the area for months.
And if it was the same person, that meant they were increasing their confidence. Starting bigger fires with more damage potential. If police and fire investigators didn’t figure out who the arsonist was soon, things could potentially get a lot worse, fast.
Charlotte picked up the phone, punching in the code to do a broadcast over the building’s PA system. “Ryan to the newsroom. Ryan, please come to the newsroom.”
As she waited for the photographer to make his way to her desk from the edit bays, she began texting all the relevant information to his phone, so he could leave as soon as possible.
“What’s up Charlotte?” Ryan’s tired voice echoed across the empty newsroom. He still wasn’t used to the overnight hours having only been filling in for Cory for a few weeks.
“We have a two-alarm fire in the southern section of the city. I just texted the address to your phone. Fire started in a dumpster and looks like it is spreading to an apartment building.” Charlotte sucked in a breath, steeling her nerves and slipping further into the professional role she played while giving orders to photographers. “I have a feeling it might be connected to these smaller fires. I need you to go get footage at this fire. Ask around about the other fires if you can, but keep it quiet. I’m pretty sure we’re the only station that knows about the fire bug.”
“Got it. On my way.” Ryan turned toward the back room where all the photogs kept their equipment.
Before he made it two steps, Charlotte stopped him. “Call me once you get there to let me know if I need to send a reporter for the morning show.”
He gave her a thumbs up and continued without missing a step.
The moment Ryan pushed through the door separating the newsroom from the equipment room, Charlotte slumped back into her chair, taking deep breaths and willing her heart to stop racing. The one thing she absolutely hated about her job was the moment she had to tell a photographer to go some place. It had never been a desire of hers to oversee others, but it came with the territory, and her little trick of playing a role had served her well in the past.
Still, each time she got finished handing out someone’s marching orders, a rush of adrenaline would sweep through her, and her body’s fight or flight instincts would kick in. Thankfully, working nights, it wasn’t something she had to deal with often. Several times, she’d turned down positions on the day crew because she didn’t want the added pressure of managing half a dozen reporters and photographers in the field at any moment. Even though the switch would mean an increase in pay. At the moment, her career satisfied her, and she saw no need to change anything.
The breathing exercises helped her nerves to calm, and she returned to listening for updates on the scanner. Other than an occasional request for more manpower in a certain position at the fire, things seemed to have settled down. They had gotten to that point in an event when crews were busy working on the fire, and dispatchers were no longer involved. Charlotte would just have to wait until Ryan called to check in to see if the fire would be a story or not.
***
The door to her ap
artment squeaked open as Charlotte trudged in two hours later than she normally liked to get home. The dayside assignment editor and her son had been hit by the flu, so Charlotte covered until someone else could be called in. If she were lucky, she’d get maybe five hours of sleep before she had to wake up and start the whole day again.
The moment her purse hit the coffee table, her cat came ambling out from the bedroom. Weasley was an orange huge beast of a cat, and no matter how hard work had been, he always managed to bring a smile to Charlotte’s face. Her mother was found of saying Weasley looked like he ate small children in his spare time, but Charlotte just rolled her eyes and ignored her. He was just big boned. And true, his face was scrunched up in a way that made those not accustomed to his unique personality take a step or two back. But really, he was a sweetheart, if only with his human.
“Hey Weezey, how was your night honey?” She leaned over, scratching behind his ears to see if he would willingly allow her to pick him up this morning. Apparently in a good mood, he tilted his head into her palm and purred a low rumble. “That good, huh?”
She circled her hands under his pleasantly plump stomach and hoisted him up into her arms, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur at the back of his neck, sighing in relief at finally being in her comfort zone.
“You hungry?”
Weasley let out a baleful meow in response, perfectly communicating his displeasure with having to wait an extra few hours for his meal.
As Charlotte toed off her flats and made her way to the kitchen, she once again thanked her ex-therapist for the suggestion of getting a pet to help with her shyness. She was fairly certain the older woman meant a dog, and meant it to get Charlotte out of the apartment more. But when she went to the pound to look at puppies, Weasley caught her eye first. The staff had let him wander around in the office, and as she sat filling out the paperwork for a background check, the cat trudged up and plopped himself right on her foot, looking at her as if she needed to do his bidding immediately or suffer the consequences. Charlotte never looked back.