by Naomi Niles
SHOOTING FOR LOVE
By Naomi Niles
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Naomi Niles
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Chapter One
Peter
There was something special about Sunday evenings. It was the only day of the week when I could invest in a well-planned, home-cooked meal. I had been to the farmer’s market that morning, and the kitchen was rich with the smell of fresh, homegrown produce.
I put some rosemary, thyme, salt, and pepper into a little silver bowl and mixed it all in together. I crushed some pine nuts and added those in, too. Once that was done, I rubbed the herb mixture over the ribs I had marinated the night before and popped them into the oven in a large, deep pan.
Then I cut up some carrots and potatoes and dropped them into a deep pot with garlic, onions, and salt. I was just finishing up the polenta when Sam and John walked into the kitchen.
“Hi, guys,” I greeted. “Nice of you two to get here early to help me cook,” I said sarcastically.
They exchanged a smile. “We thought we’d leave it up to the expert,” John said as he fell into a chair at the table. “And that was obviously the right call because it smells amazing in here. I’m starving.”
Sam opened the fridge and grabbed a beer from the bottom shelf before joining John at the table. “Smells like a bullet wound in here,” Sam said, sniffing the air suspiciously as he gave me a sly look.
“The wound’s well and truly closed now, you cock,” I laughed. “And, are you eating at the table or should I put a bowl down on the floor, the way you like it?”
“Oh, ha-ha,” Sam scoffed. “If I didn’t sit at the table, you guys wouldn’t have any interesting dinner conversation.”
“Do you mean interesting?” John asked, with raised eyebrows. “Or juvenile?”
“Fuck off,” Sam laughed. “You guys wouldn’t know what to do without me.”
It was typical of the way we started our Sunday evening meals, with a bunch of inane banter and back and forth insults. I moved around the kitchen, trying to get my meal together. The ribs were almost done and everything else was ready to go.
“Sam,” I called, as I shoveled the polenta onto a dish. “Can you get your lazy ass out of that chair and put the potatoes and carrots into a serving bowl?”
“Lazy ass?” he repeated in mock outrage. “I just finished a ten-hour shift.”
I looked at him unimpressed. “Just before this stupid bullet wound put me out of action temporarily, I did a twelve-hour shift.”
John snorted at the both of us. “I had a fourteen-hour shift two days ago.”
Sam and I exchanged a glance and decided to give John that one. Once all the food was on the table, I got out the cut bread I’d bought at the farmer’s market and handed it to John. Then, I got four plates out of the cupboard and placed them around the table.
“Four plates?” John asked, with raised eyebrows. “Again?”
“Yes,” I said firmly.
I saw Sam and John exchange a glance. “Just in case,” I added with a shrug.
“This is the fourth week in a row that he’s missed Sunday dinner,” Sam pointed out. “I think it’s safe to assume that he won’t be here.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said firmly. “If Alan was in town, we’d have a plate ready for him.”
“True,” John nodded. “But Alan would be here. Talen’s made it perfectly clear that he has no interest in these family dinners of ours.”
“He has made it for a couple,” I pointed out.
“How about we get him a plate if he actually shows up?” Sam suggested.
“We’re keeping his plate on the table,” I said firmly. “Talen has a habit of showing up late when he does show up, and I don’t want him to think we’ve forgotten about him. If he comes, he’ll see his plate waiting for him.”
John sighed. “All right,” he conceded. “The plate stays.”
“Fine.” Sam nodded as he grabbed a rib from the large oval dish in the center of the table and bit into it heartily.
I reached out immediately and smacked Sam on the back of the head.
“Oww!” he complained. “What was that for?”
“What was that for?” I repeated, shaking my head at him. “You realize we do this dance every other week. We don’t start eating until we say grace.”
He sighed heavily. “Fine,” he said, setting down the rib in his hand. “Let’s get on with it then.”
I nodded and lowered my head with my eyes closed. “Dear Lord, thank you for the food you have seen fit to provide us with. Thank you for the protection you have seen fit to bestow on us. Thank you for the lives you have blessed us with. Amen.”
“Amen,” Sam and John echoed together.
The moment that the prayer was out of the way, Sam picked up his rib and started attacking it with single-minded purpose. “Starving,” he managed to spit out mid chew. “So good.”
John and I shook our heads at him as we dug in, too. Once our plates were full and the edge had been taken off our hunger, I looked up at my brothers. “I spoke to Alan this morning.”
“What’s new with him?” Sam asked. “I missed his call yesterday because of the bakery fire down Bernard’s Street.
“He’s on a high at the moment,” I smiled. “Not only does he have a shiny new gold medal, he also has a pretty girl on his arm.”
“I would argue that’s the real prize,” John said. “She’s a nice girl.”
“Jessica’s awesome,” Sam nodded. “I’m not an advocate for long-term commitments, but with a girl like Jessica, it’s hard not to approve.”
“Do you think he’ll propose anytime soon?” John asked.
I looked up at him in surprise. “It hasn’t been that long…only a few months. Do you really think he’ll propose?”
“It seems pretty serious between them already,” John shrugged. “And he, loves living with her… I suspect that it could be heading in that direction.”
“Well, what do you know,” I said, in mild amazement. “One of the Burbank boys might actually settle down, get married, and start a family. It seems…strange.”
“Good strange, though,” John said.
“Good strange,” I agreed.
I knew what all three of us were thinking of at that moment. We were thinking of the woman who had left all five of us with a stigma against marriage and family. For a while there, I had really believed that we’d all end up as cranky, old bachelors, tottering about our lonely homes with no one around to listen to us. It was nice to know that at least one of us had a chance at escaping that fate.
Personally, I happened to believe that it wasn’t such a bad future to look forward to. When I thought about myself fifty years down the line, it was easy to picture myself in this house, alone and content with my lot. There was something absurdly comforting about it.
“Sam?” I asked. “What about you? What’s new in the firehouse?”
“Sam old, same old,” he replied, with his mouth stuffed with polenta. “We put out three fires last week. Did you hear about the gas leak at a house dow
n Crestor Lane?”
“I read something about it,” I nodded. “What about it?”
“The owner’s name is Serena,” Sam replied with a pointed smile.
“Oh boy,” John said knowingly. “Let me guess, young and attractive?”
“And terrified that her house was going to blow up,” Sam nodded. “So I was forced to comfort her, obviously.”
“Obviously,” I nodded with a laugh.
“Just out of curiosity, little brother, how did you manage to comfort her?” John asked, as though he didn’t already know the answer.
“Well, after my shift was done, I went by her place – you know, to see how she was doing,” Sam said, enjoying telling the story.
“Of course,” John nodded seriously.
“And, you do this for every terrified citizen?” I asked.
“No, no, Pete,” John said, before Sam could reply. “Just the hot, young ones.”
“Right,” I nodded. “Silly question.”
“Will you two shut the fuck up and let me tell my story?”
John and I laughed, but we nodded easily.
“Anyhow,” Sam said pointedly. “I went over to check on her, and she was obviously incredibly flattered by my concern. So she invited me in for a drink, and of course, I didn’t want to be rude, so I accepted.”
“Naturally,” John nodded.
“And, I ended up comforting her on her couch,” Sam said, with a sly smile. “And, the foot of her bed…and up against her wall.”
“Geez,” I said, shaking my head. “Talk about a tough shift.”
“Right?” he nodded. “But I do what I do to save lives and keep people happy and safe. Even if it means working over time.”
“I don’t think that qualifies as over time, buddy,” John laughed.
“Are you kidding?” Sam said. “I was already exhausted when I went over to her place that day. I know it’s been a while since you two had any sex, but it’s actually quite tiring.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Well, aren’t you just a local hero.”
Sam bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Why thank you, kind of you to notice.”
I laughed at his gawky expression and turned to John. “What about you?” I asked. “Any overtime shifts – and by that, I mean legitimate ones?”
John laughed as Sam rolled his eyes at me. “It’s been a little hectic of late,” he admitted. “The practice is going well, but…”
“But?”
“It’s gets to be a little overwhelming sometimes,” he sighed. “There are moments when I actually thinking taking a step back might be a good idea.”
“Really?” Sam asked, with his mouth full. “You’d actually quit your practice?”
“No, of course not,” John said quickly. “I’m not talking about quitting. I’m talking about…taking a break, like a medical sabbatical of sorts.”
“Can you do that?” Sam asked.
“I could,” John replied. “But I’d have to finish up with my current clients and re-route any patients to a trusted colleague before I took a break. At this point, it’s just wishful thinking. I don’t know if I’ll actually go through with it.”
“You’ve been working like crazy recently,” I pointed out. “Maybe a break would help you out in the long run. You know, refresh your body and mind.”
“Hmm, that does sound good,” John nodded. “But is it doable?”
“You’d know better than anyone else,” I pointed out.
John nodded and turned back to his plate of food. Sam was busy sucking on the bone of his third herb-crusted rib. “So, I’m going back to work in a couple of weeks,” I told them.
They both looked up at me at the same time. “A couple of weeks?” Sam repeated.
“Is that wise?” John asked.
“Sure,” I nodded. “The doctor cleared me for work at my last appointment. He said my wound’s healed beautifully and everything’s on track.”
“Have you spoken to the chief?”
“A couple of days ago,” I nodded. “He was happy to welcome me back after I gave him the doctor’s recommendation.”
“Well, damn,” Sam said. “That’s great news.”
“It is,” I nodded. “It’ll be nice to get back to work after months of sitting around the house doing nothing.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘nothing,’” John was quick to point out. “You’ve been working on the house, and it’s already looking ten times better now than it did two months ago.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “So, that’s one good thing that came out of getting shot at the carnival by your little brother’s old gang and current nemesis.”
I laughed off Sam’s dramatic spin on the incident and tried to get to my point. “Considering I’ve got a few more weeks left before I have to get back to work, I thought I’d make use of the opportunity and start a new project.”
“Which would be?”
“An addition,” I said. “To the house.”
“That’s a great idea,” John nodded. “It’s time we breathed some new life into these worn-out walls.”
“Can I count on you two for some help when you’re free?” I asked.
“My shifts are crazy,” Sam replied. “And unpredictable, but I’ll be happy to pitch in when I can.”
“Same here,” John nodded. “And, I can take care of the all the expenses.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“I know,” John nodded. “But I want to. I live here, too.”
“All the same, I’ll pitch in, as well,” I insisted.
“Great,” John smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter Two
Madison
I stared at my computer screen, feeling little pings of excitement flutter through my chest. Professor Murray’s email was short and concise, but it was also extremely positive. I had twenty-one more hours of study to log in. That amounted to roughly seven more classes and two more assignments, and then I would be eligible to graduate with the rest of the class.
“Madison Ann Wright,” I said, saying my full name aloud. “Graduate of Colorado State University. It does have a ring to it.” I looked down at Apollo, who was at my feet, staring up at me with his big Spaniel eyes. “Don’t you think so, Polo boy?”
He just blinked at me and then put his head back down onto my legs. I turned back to the computer screen and read Professor Murray’s letter again with a smile.
I would be the first one in my family to graduate. I would have an alma mater. I would forever be known as a graduate. It had taken me six years to reach this point, and at long last, I could finally see the finish line.
I felt a sense of relief, but it was pervaded by a lingering fear that had followed me through most of my life.
Apollo whined at my feet, reminding me that it was his dinnertime. I rose from the desk and walked the five steps it took to reach the kitchen. I poured some kibble into his bowl and set it down in front of him. He set to work on his meal while I grabbed some iced water from the fridge.
I leaned back against the sink and watched as Apollo devoured his food. Minutes later, he finished and turned to me with his tongue hanging out in a goofy imitation of a smile.
“What do you think, Polo?” I asked. “Do you think I’ll actually be able to make something of my life?”
Apollo cocked his head to the side as though he were considering my question. It didn’t matter that he never answered me; I knew intrinsically that he was listening.
“Who knows?” I continued. “Maybe with my degree I can work on getting a real job with a decent pay. Then maybe one day, I’ll be able to afford to live in an actual apartment instead of this shoebox we call a home.”
Apollo gave me an understanding woof, and I nodded. “Exactly,” I said. “I think it’s possible, too. I’m glad you agree.”
The smile froze on my lips as I heard the sound of heavy footsteps just outside the apartment. A second later, the key turned in t
he door and I rushed to my computer to close the page with Professor Murray’s email. Apollo scurried under my desk with his tail between his legs, and my heart broke at the sight.
“What’s for dinner?” Kameron asked as he stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. “I’m fucking starving.”
It was obvious he wasn’t in a great mood. His blue eyes were distant and moody and his body was rigid with tension.
I took a deep breath. “You told me you would bring home dinner, remember?” I reminded him.
Kameron stared at me for a second and then groaned in frustration. “You fucking serious?”
“Yes,” I replied. “You sent me a text this morning.”
“Fuck!” he groaned. “That was before the deal blew up.”
“Which deal?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“We had this great hook up and then one of the guys backed out at the last second,” he said in frustration. “I lost out on two thousand dollars because that fucking pussy Greg got cold feet and didn’t show this morning.”
“So, that was why you forgot dinner.”
Kameron looked up at me as though I were stupid. “Isn’t that what I just fucking said?”
I averted my gaze and walked to the kitchen. “I can make something,” I said, hoping to avoid another fight.
“Your cooking is fucking terrible,” he told me bluntly.
“I can go out and buy something from the corner?” I suggested.
“I’m too hungry to wait,” he said as he walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “What have we got?”
“Some stale bread, two pieces of four-day old pizza, and a couple of eggs.”
“You can make French toast, right?” he asked as he grabbed a piece of cold pizza and stuffed it into his mouth. “It’s hard to fuck up French toast.”
“I can make French toast,” I replied quietly.
“Good.” Kameron smacked me hard on the ass. “Hurry up; I’m starving.”
I moved around, getting together the eggs and bread, but Kameron didn’t leave the kitchen. Instead, he started rifling through the cupboards as though he hoped to find a secret stash of chicken wings or something. He came across Apollo’s kibble and opened up the bag curiously.