Hook & Ladder 69: Eighteen Authors...One Sexy Firehouse.

by Anthology

  “Honestly, I wish you hadn’t been there. I hate worrying about you. But it is what it is.” He drew in a breath. “Look, if anything I should—”

  His phone rang on the side table, and we both looked over. Joey’s name flashed on the screen.

  “You should get that. I’m sure he’s been worried.”

  He nodded and reached for the phone.

  My brother’s loud voice came through clear enough for me to hear every word. “It’s about time you answered your phone, man. How you feelin’?”

  “I’m good, but I’m right in the—”

  “Cool. Well, the guys were wondering if nap time was over. Should we come pick you up from pre-school now?”

  “Kiss my ass.”

  “Hey, is that any way to talk to your hero?” Joey laughed so loud Eddie pulled the phone away from his ear.

  “Look, man. I really can’t talk right now.”

  “Fine. But when that nurse finishes giving you the sponge bath, you better call me back and tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  “Later.”

  He set the phone down and faced me wearing a sweet smile that warmed my heart. It told me that his happiness was my happiness—that meant we better figure this damn thing out. I folded my arms and narrowed my eyes at him. “So your hero was checking up on you, huh?”

  He laughed, took my hand in his, and brought it to his mouth. “What do you want me to say? I was out of it when they asked me who pulled me out of the building. I guess I said Lewis, and they all assumed it was Joey.”

  “If you hadn’t been worried about me—”

  “No, that’s not true. I wouldn’t have done anything different today if you weren’t there.”

  I lowered my head and wondered…hoped…that could be true.

  “Trust me.” He lifted my chin to look in my eyes. “And if it weren’t for you dragging my sorry ass out of there, I wouldn’t even be here. I don’t know whether to kiss you or toss you over my knee and spank you. Risking your life…”

  He stopped and shook his head because we both knew that’s what we did. It’s what we had to do. There’s a motto printed on the wall of our garage: All in. All out. I allowed myself a small grin, enjoying that I put a little kink in his male ego.

  “But,” he said causing my smile to fade. “If I can’t be with you...if I have to go another day without you, I will get distracted. If I’m not in your life, I can’t know that you’re okay. And that makes me crazy.”

  Instinctively, I reached to the open part of his shirt and rested my hand on his chest. “I know.” Wanting to be independent and strong didn’t mean I had to be without Eddie. I just wasn’t sure how to make something like this work. But the look I saw in his eyes, feeling his heart beat beneath my touch, was more than enough incentive to try. I leaned forward and kissed him softly on the side of his mouth.

  His hand landed on the small of my back, pulling me close. I gazed up and his eyes captured mine. “If you want this as much as I do, Kate, we can make it work.”

  I paused for a moment. Not because I had doubts, but because I knew that was a moment I’d cherish for a long time to come.

  “All in?” he said, waiting for my response.

  “All in.”

  Chapter 10

  Untitled by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  “You need to loosen up, get laid. Captain’s not gonna let you back unless you do.”

  “Yeah, is that what he said?” Cage growled, shoving the last of his things into a cardboard box. “If I go out and get laid, my suspension will be lifted?” Pausing, Cage took one last look at the dorm that had housed him for so many nights. The only person they’d sent to watch him pack up his life was Alfie.

  Fucking Alfie. Bleached yellow hair, silver braces glinting as he grinned…Alfie looked more white trash gangster than firefighter.

  “In so many words.” Alfie reached into the box and grabbed a snow globe, tossing it into the air. “It’s not suspension. You’re on leave of absence.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Cage grumbled, walking out of the dorm. In the dayroom, the pool table was barren and no one sat on the leather couch watching TV. Still, he could see them anyway. He saw himself in the mirage, laughing with his brothers as they played pool and watched the game.

  But not anymore.

  Even if Cage hadn’t been formally charged, he may as well have been convicted.

  Alfie slapped a hand on his shoulder and the mirage vanished. “You did this to yourself.” The muscles of Cage's shoulder tightened beneath Alfie’s hand and his fingers turned to fists. “Hold on there buddy—what I mean is, you can’t come to work drunk and expect nothing to happen.”

  The memory of the incident washed over Cage. It had been his only opportunity to come back. After the hearing, they had to give him back his job; they’d found no evidence against him. He’d showed up for work and…

  Well.

  So had Jack Daniel’s.

  Cage brushed past Alfie and grunted, “Just get the fuck outta my way.”

  “What about your snow globe?”

  “Fucking keep it.”

  As Cage exited through the big red four-fold doors, Alfie called out, “You walk around as if you’re the only one who feels the loss. We all felt the sunlight and we all feel the darkness now that she’s gone.”

  “Give me another one,” Cage demanded.

  “I think you’re past your limit.” The bartender raised a brow, setting down the glass he was cleaning. Untitled, a small dive bar nestled between meat factories, had been Cage’s home for months now. He drank until he hit his limit then went home and drank some more. He never blacked out in public. That night, though…that night was different. Having to pack the remainder of his old life into a shitty box while Alfie, the station moron, looked on…

  Well, that had been a little too much.

  “And how the fuck ish that determined?” Cage slurred. The bartender threw a thumb over one shoulder, pointing to a sign on the wall behind him. Cage squinted as he read it and a moment later declared, “No fucking way. I’m not singing Mary Poppins.”

  Shrugging, the bartender took the shot glass away from him. “No drink then.”

  “Super-cali-fragil-istic-expi-ali-docious!” Cage jumped, nearly knocking over his empty glass. He turned to see whom the loud voice belonged to but long, bright white hair obscured his vision. It looked tangled, messy, and bits and pieces were colored various neon shades. Cage blinked, unsure of what he was seeing. The woman looked like she’d stepped out of a comic book, not into a dingy bar on the wrong side of Brooklyn.

  With a scowl, the bartender begrudgingly placed a drink in front of her. She shot it in a second. “See?” She wiped her mouth and grinned at Cage. “Now I have a drink and you have none.”

  Cage shook his head, returning his attention back to the bar. His life was ending, he had no drink, and now a crazy blonde chick was singing in his ear. Distantly he wondered if this was how the world ended.

  The blonde sat down on the barstool next to him. Crossing a fishnet clad leg, she swiveled toward him. Her shoes were mismatched, one foot covered in a red heel and the other in blue. She rested her head in one of her hands and leaned close to him. Despite himself, he noticed how tight her white softball tee was. It must have been two sizes too small, showing off her toned stomach and lacy bra. He grunted, which was usually the universal symbol for Go the fuck away. Instead, she opened her mouth.

  “You’re not a good guy, are you?”

  “No,” Cage barked, turning away.

  “Good.” The blonde nodded to herself. “I hate good guys.” She took a small sip of her drink, fuchsia-colored lips smiling against the dirty glass. “Mmm, battery acid, just like mutter used to make it.”

  “Do you always talk this much to strangers?” Cage snapped.

  “Only when my fiancé has just died.” She raised her brows as she took another sip of her drink, a smile on her face.

  He shook his
head, brown locks falling over his eye.“You’re fucking nuts.”

  “You wanna hear a secret?” the blonde asked, leaning closer to Cage.

  “Is it that you’re going home?” Cage looked into the face of his barren drink, trying to get lost in the amber dregs.

  “I’ve heard dark, scandalous rumors…” The blonde leaned in, a devilish glint in her bright eyes. “There was an arsonist. A big, broody firefighter set a fire and then lost his wife…”

  It was instinctual. The moment she started talking about it, his core ignited. One minute he was sitting, the next his stool was shattered in pieces on the floor, the glass of his drink along with it. Cage barely realized he had the blonde by her neck until he saw her face purpling.

  He kept her pinned to the bar, knee pressed between her thighs. With his hand around her throat, he stared into her eyes. They were heavily lined with charcoal and the neon shadow matched the tips of her hair, but something about the watery irises spooked him.

  She was smiling—a big wide fuchsia-colored smile. Her chest heaved. It was almost like she enjoyed it, like she expected it. She even rubbed against him a little.

  “Don’t talk about her.” He quickly dropped his grip and stepped away, shaking his hands out. “Ever.”

  “Really puttin’ those rumors to rest there.” She coughed and rubbed her neck, but her smile was wider than ever. His handprint was blazing around her neck.

  “Shit…” Cage rubbed a hand over his forehead and turned away. “Look I’m sorry. That’s not me… I don’t know why…” How he’d gone from a respectable firefighter, a good husband and man, to an unemployed, woman-choking ass in less than a year was…something for the liquor to figure out.

  When he turned back to apologize, the blonde was already leaving. She saluted him and pushed open the heavy wooden door with her back, disappearing into the dark night.

  “Fuck…” Cage threw cash on the bar and followed her out. “At least tell me your name,” he yelled to her back.

  She stopped, but didn’t turn around. Under the dim streetlight, she was like a ghost—a ghost in six-inch stilettos, fishnets, and a tiny baseball tee, but still a ghost.

  “Come on…” Cage pleaded. “I’m sorry. Let me walk you to the subway… I… Fuck. I don’t know.” Maybe he was the guy they all said he was.

  The blonde jumped, spun around, and ran up to him so fast she was in his face before he could blink. “You can call me Crazy.”

  Cage frowned. “I’m not calling you that.”

  “You’d be the only one.” She batted the lashes of her heavily made up eyes. The neon blue glowed under the fluorescent streetlights.

  “What’s your name?” He asked again, shame beginning to give way to annoyance. She shrugged and stepped back. Leaning against a black metal streetlamp, a smirk spread on her lips.

  “Whatever, it’s not like I’ll see you again…” Cage walked away. He had the heavy wooden door of Untitled open when he paused to look back, dark brown hair falling over his jaw as he muttered, “…Zee.”

  After leaving the blonde chick—err Zee, Cage went back to Untitled. He would have spent the rest of the night there, but the bartender refused to serve him. So he left. He walked around the city and ended up at the graveyard…staring at her headstone…wondering why he had bothered paying for a casket when nothing went inside.

  But he knew.

  For nights like this.

  So he could stare at the name.

  By the time he got home, it was the middle of the night and he was sober again. Angry again. Standing on the sidewalk, he gripped his keys and stared at the brick face of his brownstone. While trying to sum up the courage to go inside without the veil of liquor, he saw a flicker of light. He was about to pass it off as delirium when he saw it again.

  A flashlight. There was someone inside.

  He exhaled through his nostrils. How dare someone enter his home? The last place they’d been together…it was like ripping apart a mausoleum. Cage walked up to the door and checked the knob: still locked. Quietly, he entered.

  His concealed carry was kept in a box when he went out drinking. Lately, that was all the time; something about guns and liquor didn’t mix. Now, though, he wished he’d screwed that rule. As he entered the kitchen, he saw a shadow dart down the hall. He ran after it, latching onto an arm. The shadow yelped when he threw it against the wall.

  “You?” he exclaimed, letting his release drop a little. “Why are you here?” It was Zee, the blonde from the bar. He kept his chest pressed against hers, knee parting her thighs, pinning her to the wall.

  “Why are you here?” Zee countered, trying to wrestle free. Unkempt blonde hair fell over her face; she blew it off with fuchsia lips. She’d changed out of the fishnets and was now in a skintight black shirt and black leather pants.

  “I live here.”

  “I suppose that’s a good reason…” Zee lifted a brow as if weighing his response. Cage examined her while he pinned her against the wall. Earlier he’d thought she was pretty, maybe even beautiful. She had sharp cheekbones, full lips, and it was almost a sin to see her in leather. Now, though, he saw where the Zee in Crazy came from. Her bright blue eyes were lined with blurry charcoal, neon shadow smeared against the skin. Her eyes darted back and forth, and she chewed her lip incessantly.

  He was such a goddamn idiot. She really was crazy, and what did he do? He’d talked to her, even offered to walk her to the subway. She’d probably gleaned his address off his ID back at Untitled. Was he so desperate for companionship that he’d hung out with this hot mess?

  “I’m not going to call the police,” he declared, letting her go. “Do you have family? A doctor?” The question hung in the air and while he waited for an answer, their eyes locked. Her lips parted, breath hot. For a moment he thought he could see the woman beneath the paint and posture. Shivers ran up his arms; once again, he felt spooked.

  “I…” Cage pulled away. In the same instance, Zee clasped his collar and dragged him to the floor. With her back flat against the hardwood, he was on top. He could smell her, a light scent like springtime. He could see the tiny beads of sweat on her brow, see how flawless her skin was, even beneath the pound of makeup on her face. He could see how thin her shirt was when it wrestled against his own…

  “What the fuck!” Cage exclaimed, attempting to stand.

  “Hush!” Zee refused to let go her hold on his shirt, eyes darting to the window. Blue and red lights streamed through, painting his dark house like the Fourth of July. Realization overcame him.

  “It’s the cops.” Maybe a neighbor had seen her breaking into his house and called; it would have been the one nice thing they’d done since the hearing.

  “A bad cop, you idiot.” Zee huffed. His shirt still firmly fisted, she rose up and smushed her cheek against his, as if trying to get a better angle to listen. He nearly stood right then at the ridiculousness, but he saw something that stopped him. Falling back on Zee, he pressed them both flat.

  A firetruck had rolled up behind the detective car.

  “Why is my station truck here?” Cage muttered, mostly to himself.

  “Am I going to have to walk you through all of this?” Zee hissed.

  Cage lifted himself back up, arms bracketing either side of her. “Tell me what’s going on, or I throw you to the wolves.” Slowly, Zee looked to the side, and Cage followed her gaze.

  The bartender’s body lay lifeless underneath his bed.

  Zee watched Cage pace around the room. He was different than she’d imagined, different than what the files had described. His hair was long, brown, and shaggy, hanging just above the neck. It seemed to constantly dip over one eye. Then again, his head seemed to constantly dip as well. She almost never got a look at his green eyes. There was a haunted aura about him, a shadow that clung to his toned shoulders.

  But that was to be expected. She had that now, too.

  She was Zee now.

  The other girl was dead.r />
  “He was just with me,” Cage muttered. “I was sharing drinks with him only hours ago.”

  “Get down!” she hissed. “Or come here!” Cage followed her command, walking over to where she had pasted herself against the wall. Instead of next to her, though, he pressed himself so they were chest to chest. He put his forehead flush against hers and demanded answers.

  “He was just with me. Why is his dead body in my home?”

  Zee pushed her forehead back against his with equal pressure. “He’s decomposing in your house and if we don’t leave, he won’t be the only thing rotting.” She pushed Cage off and gestured to the vehicles outside.

  “We need to tell someone,” Cage replied, staring at the flashing lights that danced against his window.

  Zee laughed. “Good luck with that.” She walked away and into the kitchen. Lifting one long, leather-clad leg, she started to climb out the window. She perched herself on the sill, fingers gripping the edge above her. “Are you coming or should I let the morgue know they’ll need two body bags?” Cage muttered something rude underneath his breath.

  “I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Zee replied, jumping before he could speak. She rolled over to brace her landing. On her back, she stared up at a sky where stars were hidden by city lights. She knew by the muffled groan to her side that Cage had landed.

  “I take it we can’t just go and tell the truth?” Cage asked.

  “No.”

  “Of course not; that would be too simple.” Taking no time to respond, Zee jumped up and started to run. If the cavalry had arrived at Cage's, then they were catching up. She tried to be five steps ahead of everyone, but maybe that wasn’t enough. Maybe she had to be ten steps ahead.

  Zee’s foot was in the air when Cage grabbed her by the neck of her shirt and pulled her back.

  “Scheisse!” she yelled, as he held her up in the air.

  Cage raised a brow. “What fucking language are you speaking?” She threw an elbow into his chest and he dropped her.

  “God dammit, fine!” He grunted, flinging out an arm. “Run away! I just thought we might get away faster on this.” Zee followed his outstretched arm to an open shed.