Smoke and Mirrors

by Lillian T. MacGowan

  “A Dave? Just one?” Naim laughed. “Why don’t they just call him Dave then?”

  “Because nobody remembers which one he is. I’m not kidding. I have no idea who Dave is.”

  Naim blinked. “That’s kind of awesome.” He really couldn’t think of a better word.

  “Yeah,” Jen agreed, giggling. “It really is.”

  She gave Naim a tentative look. “Soooo…”

  Naim stopped laughing and gave her the stink eye.

  She ignored him. “Speaking of the boys.” Jen eyeballed him.

  Naim sighed and wiped hamburger grease off his hands with a paper napkin. “Jen.”

  “What? I just worry about you.” She leaned toward him over the table, such a sweet look on her face that he couldn’t be annoyed.

  “Don’t be. I’m fine.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Really. I promise. I talked to Frannie today.”

  Jen breathed easier, visibly relieved.

  “And I’ll see her Saturday, regular time.”

  “Okay. I’m glad to hear it.” She sat back, relaxing, but she didn’t pull her hand away. “But still—”

  “Oh good Lord, Jen.”

  “Look, I’m glad you’re talking to Frannie about this, and I’m not trying to be…” She struggled.

  “A cock block?”

  “No! … Okay. Yes. And, by the way, three days. Three days and they’re already a bad influence on you.” She took a breath and resettled herself. “Naim, I’m not trying to be anything but a friend. I love Deck. I really do, but what I was trying to say the other day—”

  “When you called him big and hunky?” He was still trying to be helpful, and Jen gave him a snippy look.

  “What I was trying to explain was that he lives big. He doesn’t do anything halfway. He just sort of plows through life, and he throws himself into things…hugely.”

  Naim looked at her silently.

  “All right,” he finally said. “But what does that mean to me?”

  “He…he’s really very taken with you, Naim. You should have heard him when he found out about the arson.”

  Naim looked down, uncomfortable with how warm that made him feel.

  “I can see him waking up tomorrow morning, throwing up his hands, and saying, ‘That’s it. I’m in love. Let’s get married.’”

  Naim yanked his hand out of Jen’s and put them both up in front of himself as though to ward off an attack. “Whoa! Hey! Take it easy.”

  “That’s my point, Naim.” Jen took his hand back. “I’m not exaggerating; that’s Deck. And if that happened—tomorrow—it wouldn’t surprise anyone who knows him.” She spoke gently.

  Naim blinked and frowned. “Does he do that sort of thing often?”

  Jen seemed taken aback for a moment. “No, no. That’s not what I meant.” She thought for a moment, “Actually, I don’t…hm.”

  “What?” Naim’s stomach started to hurt.

  “I don’t know that he’s ever even been in a relationship.” She tried to think. “He used to date a lot. But not really since—” She stopped and tried to hide a grimace.

  “Since Adam?” Naim offered reluctantly.

  Jen looked stunned. “Deck doesn’t tell people about Adam. Deck doesn’t talk about Adam. Ever. But, yes. Since…then. He told you about that? Wow.”

  “It was probably the Dilaudid,” Naim mumbled, knowing it wasn’t and squirming in his seat.

  “Naim, you also have to consider, well, have you thought…have you thought at all about the ethics of this?”

  Naim squirmed more. “Of course. I was his bloody doctor. I know I’m not supposed to get involved with him, but…” He sighed and looked at her pleadingly.

  Jen couldn’t help but smile at him. “Naim, you have the oddest definition of professionalism of anyone I know. You’ll have an imperious, huffing fit if anyone questions your ethics, but sometimes you do kind of make them up as you go along.”

  “So you’re saying—as my supervisor—that I’m not to get involved with him?” He wasn’t defensive as much as defeated, and a little embarrassed to have not thought of the issue before. Maybe it didn’t matter anyway. Maybe Deck was mistaking gratitude for attraction.

  Probably.

  “No, Naim. I’m not saying that. Given the fact that you were his doctor for all of three days, and I know you both so well, I’m not overly concerned. But I needed to bring it to your attention. I’m not going to forbid you from seeing him. I truly believe that would just be an arbitrary demand with no real legitimacy, but it does worry me because sometimes I don’t get how you think. I just want you to understand that.” Jen’s expression was etched with concern, and Naim had to remind himself that she really couldn’t help but mother him. It was her nature, and he knew he evoked it even more than usual in her. He wouldn’t think about why.

  “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Naim.”

  Naim lowered his hands, pulled back from his anxiety, and thought carefully about what she’d said. And what Frannie’d said. A thought occurred to him; everyone, including Naim himself, was so worried about him getting hurt but… “Do you think he would?” he asked. “Hurt me, I mean?”

  Jen jolted and frowned. After a moment she answered. “Truthfully, no. No, he wouldn’t.”

  Naim nodded, thinking hard on her answer—the one he’d already suspected.

  “I think you might hurt yourself.”

  Naim stared at her silently for a moment, then blinked. “I’m not paying you.”

  “What?” Jen made a face.

  “I don’t care how much you repeat Frannie. I’m not paying you.”

  Jen laughed and took his hand again.

  Naim’s apprehension started to get the better of him as he stepped off the lift onto the rehab floor. He could hear them from halfway down the corridor—raucous and full of energy. What the hell did firefighters eat anyway? Maybe they were drinking.

  He was uncertain that this was the right decision. He’d thought about visiting Deck—but later, after visiting hours. He really didn’t want this—whatever it was—to be put on display in a goddamn fishbowl with all of Deck’s friends sitting around watching and commenting. But he wanted to talk to Liebgott and Laura about the fire, and he knew they’d be there.

  He considered changing his clothes before coming here. He’d left the house this morning in jeans with a small hole in the knee, a faded red T-shirt with Visit Blackpool printed across the front on top of a retro beach scene, and his grimy trainers: the very height of professionalism. He could throw some scrubs on with his white coat, but after last night that didn’t seem like the best idea. Plus he was thinking—and he sighed—that maybe he shouldn’t go in there as Dr. Moreau. If he was going to try this, he had to start off right. What was the point if he was just going to keep hiding behind his doctor persona?

  Deck had called him brave.

  Huffing out a deep breath, he strode down the hall with infinitely more confidence than he felt. He stopped at Deck’s room. Without letting himself think, he reached out for the door handle when it flew open, almost smacking him in the face.

  “Oh my God. I am so sorry,” Laura exclaimed over the sounds of laughter behind her. She stopped and blinked as Naim stepped back, startled.

  “Naim?” She sounded surprised.

  “Hi.” Naim gave her a shy smile and braced himself.

  He heard a lot of obnoxious coughing come from inside the room at the sound of his name and one growling, stage-whispered, “I will fucking end you dickbags.”

  “You…wow.” Laura was still in the door, now smiling and examining him carefully. She shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. You surprised me is all.”

  “I get that. You okay?” he asked quietly.

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” She looked behind her into the room, and he could see her purse her lips and glare. “C’mon in. I was actually just stepping out to call you.” She stepped forward and held the door for him.

  “Thank
s,” he mumbled, stuffing his hands into his front pockets. Trying to remember to breathe, he stepped inside.

  His gaze landed on Liebgott first, who sat directly across from the door and was giving him a calm, kind smile. “Hello.”

  Naim nodded, hoping the small smile plastered on his face didn’t look like a grimace. “Hello, Lieutenant.” He looked around the room as innocuously as he could, wishing desperately for a hole to open up and swallow him alive as seven pairs of eyes twinkled at him.

  Then the most extraordinary thing happened. They all greeted him warmly and politely, without a hint of mockery. A chorus of heys and hiya, Docs, and that was all. Okay, there was one low catcalling whistle, but he was pretty sure that came from Freya, especially since she was grinning lecherously, and Mac was elbowing her in the side. She punched him in the head.

  He took another step inside and greeted everyone with a low, slightly relieved, “Hello.” Then, with a breath, he turned toward the bed and looked up through lowered lashes to Deck, who was staring at him shamelessly, his eyes huge.

  Naim took another deep breath, grateful as the others returned to somewhat quiet talk among themselves and to their game of glove-balloon volleyball. Evidently firefighters were nothing if not resourceful.

  “Hey,” he said, his tone softer than he intended.

  “H-HI,” DECK STAMMERED, completely floored, and his heart pounding like some kind of ancient slave-ship drum.

  What. The fuuuuck. He was too beautiful. He was just too beautiful. Naim stood still, looking down at him shyly through impossible lashes and deep chocolate eyes, bigger than the sky, and Deck would swear they pierced another hole right through his chest.

  Deck blinked slowly, his skin going hot, absorbing the sight of Naim. Since when were jeans and a T-shirt unearthly? No. His hair. His hair was fucking unearthly. If he could, Deck would have leaped out of that fucking bed just to wrap his hands in it and touch it to his face. It was loose and heavy and the front fell around his forehead and those ridiculous eyes and the rest draped, shiny and thick and black like the devil himself.

  There was something perfect and ethereal and a little bit unholy in Naim, and Deck was done.

  “How…” Naim’s voice was still too soft, so he cleared his throat. “How are you?” he asked, unmoving.

  “Better,” Deck replied. He smiled hugely, and Naim smiled back, a little relieved.

  Liebgott broke the moment as he batted a glove balloon out of his face and approached Naim. “We’re glad you’re here, Doctor. Laura and I were just discussing some things.”

  Naim broke the eye contact with Deck to look at Liebgott, who was eying Deck anxiously.

  “Yes, good, thank you.” He nodded at Liebgott and Laura joined them where Naim hadn’t moved, still just inside the door. “And please call me Naim.”

  Liebgott nodded and smiled at him. “You spoke with Jen today, yes?”

  “I did, yes. She told me that Keller and your friend—”

  “I CAN’T HEAR YOU GUYS.” Deck shouted from the bed. All three looked at him in unison, and Naim coughed back a laugh.

  “Maybe we should, eh—” Naim started.

  “STEP OUTSIDE?” LAURA supplied, looking toward Mac, who was tying the fingers of a glove balloon to his hand and suggesting a boxing match to Spellacy.

  Liebgott went to open the door, and Deck flat out whined, “You guuuyysss.”

  Naim didn’t bother holding in his laugh this time. “Actually, I was going to suggest…” He gestured toward the bed with his head. “We…we should include Deck in the conversation, I think. I mean, he’s sort of involved with it. It, I mean, not me. I mean, involved like he got hurt, not like involved like anything to do with… I mean…” Naim stopped, sighed, and grimaced. “I just think it would be fair to include him.”

  Ignoring the boxing match already in full force, Liebgott looked a little surprised, but Laura smiled and they wandered over to the bed, letting Naim lead. Deck held his breath as Naim hesitated for a second at the foot of the bed, looking at him again. Deck smiled happily, and Naim chose. He walked over to Deck’s uninjured side and sat down. Deck could see his hands trembling.

  Pushing the chair back a little, he shifted to make room for Laura, who placed herself on its arm with an odd familiarity, and Liebgott sat, half-on, half-off Deck’s bed.

  Deck was staring again. Naim looked at Liebgott.

  “So—” Liebgott began.

  “Fuck so. What in the bag of fucks is going on, Lieb?” Deck demanded.

  “Jesus, Deck.” Laura gave him a smack in the head.

  “Fucking—”

  “Stop.” Liebgott put his hands up. “Let me talk, for God’s sake.”

  DECK GRITTED HIS teeth but looked sheepishly at Naim, who gave him a small, hesitant smile.

  “So, I talked to Dixon.” Liebgott took a breath and eyed Deck. “An accelerant was definitely involved.”

  Deck immediately began to turn colors but managed to remained silent.

  Laura put a hand on Naim’s shoulder as he looked at the floor.

  “How… I mean—” Naim stammered.

  “Where was the point of origin? What did it fucking look like, Lieb?” Deck was holding on but just barely.

  “A storage cage in the cellar.” Liebgott looked to Naim.

  “There? But the cellar door was kept locked at all times. No one could get down there. Not unless—”

  “They were very talented at picking locks?” Liebgott asked.

  Naim blinked and visibly cringed. He blinked again. “It… Yes.” He slumped. “It could easily have been picked.”

  For half a second Deck wondered how a classy surgeon would know about locks, then stopped caring when Naim glanced at him and they made eye contact again.

  “You were busy Sunday. A lot of people were in there. What’s the likelihood anyone would have even noticed?” Liebgott asked.

  Naim sighed. “A talented criminal?” He closed his eyes. “Someone like that could have slipped by.”

  “So what was the accelerant?” Deck asked, dropping his head onto his pillow.

  Liebgott cringed. “Isopropyl alcohol.”

  “Aw, fuck.” Deck smacked the bed, then rubbed his eyes, and Laura groaned.

  Naim’s lip curled in disgust. “But that’s—It was a fucking medical clinic,” he snapped.

  Deck’s head popped up, and he blinked at Naim.

  “Right.” Liebgott held a hand out. “But the artifacts they found at the point of origin all looked to be bigger pieces of dry equipment: wheelchairs, crutches, that sort of thing. Do you know the area I’m talking about?”

  “I do, and I have an inventory backed up to an external server. We didn’t keep any type of alcohol or even prep pads in there. It’s just as you said. That closet was for ortho equipment only.” Naim frowned. “In fact, anything with any sort of flammable content at all was kept upstairs.”

  “I was just going to ask you that.” Deck relaxed back. “It’s city code.”

  “Yes.” Naim finally looked at him and agreed enthusiastically. “We kept all of the flammables in one of those fire safety closet things.”

  Laura nodded. “So given the point of origin and the accelerant, there’s no way it could have been anything other than deliberate.”

  “Right.” Naim agreed, nodding.

  “So. We’re calling it then.” Liebgott looked to Deck.

  “Arson.”

  They all looked at one another for a moment, various expressions of discomfort and anger traveling across their faces.

  “Someone really burned down my clinic.” Naim deflated in his chair. He had immediately turned bleak and despondent over the news.

  “I’m really sorry, Naim. We—for what it’s worth—we can figure this out. You’d be amazed by the evidence we can pull out of a burned-out building.”

  “Some of my off-duty friends are keeping an eye on the location too,” Laura offered.

  Naim grimaced. “Do y
ou think that’s necessary?”

  Deck jumped in again. “Just in case anyone tries to mess with the scene.”

  Naim relaxed a little and sat back, closing his eyes again. “Thank you.” He breathed. “Thank you all. I’m sorry for snapping.” He rubbed at his closed eyes as Liebgott looked at Deck and laughed, causing Laura to laugh as well.

  “Aw, fuck you, fuckbags,” Deck moaned, making a face.

  “What?” Naim opened his eyes, confused.

  “They’re being assholes; ignore them.”

  Naim looked to Liebgott, confused. “We welcome your snapping, Naim.” Liebgott chuckled. “It beats the hell out of the bellowing Neanderthal we had to wrangle earlier.”

  Naim huffed a laugh. He pointed a finger at Deck. “You. Are not to terrify our PT staff anymore. According to Jen, poor Kevin is ready to go on disability.”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was mad.” Naim was smiling a little, so Deck pretty much didn’t give a fuck about poor Kevin.

  “So I heard.” Naim’s eyes crinkled. “Don’t make me drug you again.”

  “Heads up,” Peyton shouted from the other side of the room as a stray tongue depressor bounced off Deck’s forehead and landed in his lap.

  “GODDAMN IT, YOU GUYS.” Deck flung the tongue depressor back across the room with a wince.

  “Lieb…” Laura started.

  Liebgott sighed. “Right. You guys know that stuff gets counted, and our insurance company has to pay for it, right?” He got up, patted Naim on the shoulder, and wandered over to try to herd cats.

  Laura stood too. “I’m going to text you right now,” she said, pulling out her phone, “so you have my number. It was silly of me not to give it to you yesterday.”

  “Of course.” Naim smiled up at her, unsure whether or not he should leave.

  “Shady cow. I knew you weren’t telling me shit,” Deck grumbled.

  “Oh shut it, you big whiner,” she said, not looking up from her phone. “Be nice to me, or I’ll tell him about the underwear.” She winked at Naim and wandered off.