by Olivia Rush
“I can’t, actually,” I said, still doing my best to keep my tone cool. “I didn’t get all the work done today that I needed to, so I really ought to get back to my apartment and work.”
I looked away as I spoke, and I could sense that Stone knew there was more to what I’d said than I was letting on.
“Sure,” he said. “Work’s work—I know that better than anyone.”
I gave another quick nod, flicking my eyes up to his for a brief moment. I slipped my body past his, Stone’s scent wafting into my nose and sending a tingle through my body that, for a second, threatened to pull me right back into his arms.
“Hey, dude,” I said to Jason as I grabbed my things. “I gotta take off. It was fun whooping your butt in the game.”
“What!” he cried out, as though I’d tried to seriously pull one over on him. “I beat you!”
“See you around,” said Stone.
“Yeah,” was all I managed to say before I opened the apartment door and slid through.
I hurried down the street, as though I might lose my nerve at any moment and turn around. As soon as I was on a bustling block, I needed a glass of wine and fast.
I found a suitable place and ducked in, pulled up a seat at the bar, and ordered a glass of cab as quickly as I could. I told myself I’d take advantage of the time to get some work done, but once the glass was in front of me all I could do was ruminate on what had happened.
I pulled out my laptop and opened up my article notes, but all I could think about was how much trouble I’d be in if my and Stone’s little tryst was found out, and how much I wanted to be in his arms again. It was troubling—I’d sworn that I’d be a career-first sort of woman, and now here I was, drowning my sorrows and mooning over some square-jawed jock. It was like I was back in high school all over again.
I took a sip of wine, typed a little, took another sip, typed a little, and after a time I looked at my screen to see that I’d only written about five sentences over the course of the last half hour.
Something was going on, and I wasn’t all that crazy about it. But I knew all I could do was be strong and power through alone, just like I always did.
12
STONE
Something about the way Callie took off so suddenly left a strange taste in my mouth. It was almost like she’d found out something that totally changed her opinion of me and she couldn’t wait to put as much distance between us as possible. It was especially strange for her to be acting like that after we had such an…eventful evening. Not to mention it sounded like she really had fun with Jason.
“Where’d Callie go?” asked Jason, setting down his controller and turning toward me.
“Guess she was busy,” I said.
I ordered the pizza for us, and while we waited for it to arrive, I poured a fresh cup of coffee and sat out on the balcony. So much had happened so quickly, between the fires and what was going on with me and Callie—it was starting to seem like a little much to handle all at once. But handling pressure was no problem for me.
The rest of the evening flew by, and before I knew it the weekend was over, and I was back at the station for my next few days on. I hadn’t heard a word from Callie over the last few days, and I was starting to wonder if there was something wrong. I put it out of my mind, figuring that if she was having a problem she could be the one to let me know about it.
That didn’t mean I didn’t want to see her again, however. The damn girl wouldn’t leave my mind. It seemed like every other second I’d close my eyes and there she’d be, in either a snippet from our encounter or just her as she was, flashing that beautiful, slightly devilish smile of hers.
“Yo, Stone!” called Mike, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Stoney-Stone-Stone!”
I came back to reality to see that I was in the barracks at the station, Mike and a few other guys sitting around me and staring.
“Cut it out with the damn snapping,” I said, swatting his hand away.
“You just seem like you’re off in space or some shit,” said Mike. “Gotta bring you back to Earth, you know?”
I grumbled and sat back in my chair.
“Shit,” I said. “Boring afternoon like this, sometimes zoning out’s the only thing to do.”
“Yeah,” said Mike, “but that didn’t look like your normal kind of zoning out. It looked like you had something on your mind.”
Then Joel butted in.
“Or someone,” he added, an expectant smirk on his face.
“Nah,” said Mike. “No fucking way. The great pussy-slayer Stone Black doesn’t get hung up on any one girl—that right, buddy?”
“I swear,” I said, “you go on a little bit of a one-night-stand tear and that’s who you are for the rest of your life.”
“Geez,” said Mike. “The way you went through girls was fuckin’ legendary, man. I couldn’t believe the trim you pulled down.”
Joel plopped into the seat next to mine, an eager look on his face. “You gotta tell me how you did it,” he said. “’Cause I’m having no luck in this town. I’ve been going out wearing the T-shirt, you know? I figured as soon as they found I was a fireman I’d be beating them off with a damn stick! But no, they still expect you to talk to them or some shit.”
“Fancy that,” said Mike with a laugh. “You can’t just plop your ass next to them, point to the station logo, and have them polishing your dick in the bathroom five minutes later.”
“What?” asked Joel. “I mean, girls like firemen, right? Not too crazy to imagine they’d get up to some serious shit trying to get in our pants.”
I couldn’t help but smirk at how naïve Joel was. Kid had a lot to learn about women.
“Seriously, though, Stone,” said Mike. “You’re not hung up on some chick or something, are you?”
Though the truth was I couldn’t get that girl out of my damn mind, I didn’t think the entire station needed to know what was up with me and Callie.
“Nah,” I said. “It’s those damn fires. Can’t shake ’em.”
Mike nodded, understanding just what I meant.
“No shit,” he said. “Totally suspicious, and there’s not a thing we can do about it other than wait until the NYPD finds out who did it or until the next one breaks out. One of the things I hate about the job, you know? Feels like we’re just reacting to things sometimes.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” I said.
The boys and I finished our conversation, and soon we moved off to work and or play video games or whatever else we were up to. My mind jumped back and forth between the fires and Callie, not sure what it wanted to obsess over more.
It didn’t take me too long to decide I was too restless to just sit around. I pulled out my laptop and headed to one of the station’s small workrooms. Once there, I went through the fires, one by one, trying to find out what I could.
One fact jumped right out at me the more I did my research—all of the companies affected were financial firms. I’d noticed this earlier, but I couldn’t help but focus on how all of these places were the kinds of companies who simply moved money around—they weren’t places like banks that would have actual, physical assets to worry about.
After a time, I decided I wasn’t content to just sit around and investigate on my laptop. Grabbing some gear, I let the boys know I’d be out for a bit, and to call me if anything came up. I got a few suspicious looks, but no one asked any questions.
On the subway seat next to me, I had a map of all the fires. There were five in total, and they seemed to be spread out pretty far around the city. I went from one to the next, checking out the scenes and seeing if there was anything to notice. I wasn’t able to do much poking around—these were still technically crime scenes—but it was easier than expected to sneak in and go straight to the server rooms. And once I was there, it wasn’t hard to notice that each one of the places had the same electronically-controlled sprinkler systems.
Back at the station, I assembled all of m
y notes and tried to paint a bigger picture of what was going on. All financial holding firms, all of them with similar fire safety gear. So far, that was it—not exactly something I could put together a case with.
I was frustrated as I looked over the information I’d managed to pull together. I knew right away that I was going to need more than just me if I hoped to figure anything else out. I was only a fireman, not a damn detective.
What I needed was someone who didn’t mind snooping where she didn’t belong in order to find out what she wanted to know. I needed someone persistent, maybe even a little annoyingly so.
Then at that moment, a strange urge come over me. I opened my computer again and pulled up the website of the weekly mag that Callie wrote for. Once there, I typed her name into the site’s search bar and hit “enter.” Moments later, I had a long list of all the articles she’d written for the site.
I scanned over the titles, most of them things like “So-and-So Socialite Stuns in So-and-So Dress” or “This-and-That Charity Ball is ‘X’ Season’s Hottest Event”—the sort of that I wouldn’t be caught dead reading.
Finally, I settled on one of them, a profile of some rich, Upper-East-Side woman. With a click, I pulled the article open and started reading.
It was really, really good. Callie had a way with words, able to paint a complex picture of the woman she was interviewing, showing both a clear command of style and an investigative eye. Every now and then she’d reference one quirk or another that the woman displayed, like twisting the ring on her finger when she spoke or dragging her tongue over her lower lip before she went in depth about a perhaps-uncomfortable topic.
The girl had skills—there was no denying that.
I went through article after article after that, noticing the same traits—a careful eye, attention to detail, and a total lack of fear in asking whatever questions it took to get the information she wanted.
It was at that moment I realized what, or who, I needed—Callie. She was just the girl for the job I had in mind.
I grabbed my phone and headed up to the roof. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky blazed with evening colors all around me. Phone in hand, I dialed Callie and waited for the answer.
“Yeah?” she asked, the voice on the other end a little cold and sharp.
“Hey, Callie,” I said, running my hand through the back of my hair and standing up. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she said, her tone still flat.
Damn, I couldn’t tell if she was trying to play it cool or if she really, really didn’t want to talk to me. Regardless of whatever was going on in her head, I went forward with what I planned.
“OK, nothing. Great,” I said. “Nothing sounds thrilling and everything, but what would you say if I had something a little more exciting than ‘nothing’ in mind?”
Silence for a moment, then she spoke.
“Depends on what you have in mind, I suppose,” she said, her voice reminding me of someone who was on the phone with a person they were sure was about to launch into a sales pitch at any moment.
“You still interested in some behind-the-scenes information on the FDNY for your article?”
“Yes!” she said, the word shooting out like a bullet. “I mean—sure.”
“Cool,” I said. “Because there’s something I could use your help with. Something to do with the fires around town.”
“You want my help?” she asked, sounding very incredulous. “Weren’t you the one trying to get me to quit sticking my nose into all of this to begin with?”
“Sure, but that was back when you were doing it all on your own, doing your best to get in the way. I figure if I’m there with you, you’ll be a little less likely to end up with some NYPD detective screaming in your face.”
“That’s very kind of you and all, but something tells me there’s more to your motivations than just keeping me from getting yelled at by a big scary officer.”
“OK,” I said. “I’ll level with you—I need help.”
“…What was that?” she asked, seemingly taking a little pleasure in hearing me ask for help.
“You heard me,” I said. “Listen, this fire situation is driving me crazy. I’ve got the biggest suspicion that there’s something really shady going down, and I don’t know for how much longer I can stand sitting on the sidelines and just putting out the fires as they happen.”
“And Stone the fearless fireman wants the help of little ol’ Callie, the gossipmonger.”
“OK, OK,” I said. “I might’ve been a little too hasty in my assessment.”
“Oh?” she asked. “And what, exactly, do I have to thank for this little change of heart?”
“Well, I read some of your stuff.”
I could almost hear her shock through the phone.
“Oh, did you?” she asked. “You actually deigned to visit my humble paper’s website and go through some of my work?”
“I did,” I said.
I got the sense she was going to wring every last drop out of this one.
“And big serious fireman Stone Black found my work acceptable?”
“Hey,” I said, “I’m not that serious.”
“Serious enough to think my work is gossip-fluff for empty-headed Manhattanites.”
“Well, I was wrong. Kind of wrong, at least. The stuff is definitely gossip-fluff for empty-headed Manhattan socialites, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad gossip-fluff for empty-headed Manhattan socialites.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“You’ve got a great eye for detail, and you’re a hell of an investigator. I mean, the level of detail you were able to pull out of those interviews was just amazing. You could work for the NYPD if you wanted to.”
“Ha, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“But seriously, I want to get to the bottom of these fires, and I know you do too. So, if you’re willing to put your prodigious talents to work, I’d love to have you at my side. Think about it—you could have an insider’s look at what’s going on with these fires, and you’d have an FDNY employee with you to keep anyone asking questions off your back. And I might even give you some of that behind-the-scenes info you’ve been looking for. Within reason, of course.”
Silence came from the other end of the line, and I could practically hear the gears turning in her head.
“Let…let me think about it,” she said finally.
“What’s there to think about?” I asked. “Isn’t this what you were bothering me about from the get-go? And now that I’m offering it to you on a silver platter, you want to think about it?”
“It’s a tempting offer, Stone, but there are factors at play here that I need to take into consideration.”
“Like what?”
“Just…stuff I have to think over. Trust me.”
There was something serious in her tone, something that made me understand right away that there was no forcing the issue—that this was something she was going to need to take her time on. Whatever it was.
“OK,” I said. “Fine. Think it over and get back to me. The sooner, the better.”
“You got it,” she said. “Talk to you soon, Stone.”
Click, and that was that.
I stood there for a time, trying to figure out just what it might be that she had to think about. Then, it occurred to me that it most likely had to do with what had been going on between us. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I probably should’ve been doing some thinking of my own.
After all, what I’d been feeling toward Callie wasn’t exactly common. She wasn’t just one of those girls I’d taken home for a night back in my player days and sent packing in the morning. Callie was something else, something different, and as I considered the matter more and more, I began to wonder how much wanting to see her again was a factor in my decision to bring her on board.
Bad idea or no, however, I was about to find out.
13
CALLIE
I took a lo
ng sip of my wine, setting the glass down to reveal Meg’s incredulous face across the table. The two of us were splitting a bottle at a wine bar after my conversation with Stone. She stared at me for a good long while, her mouth open slightly and her eyebrows raised just enough to make it clear she couldn’t tell just what the hell I was thinking.
“That’s what he said to you?” she said.
“Yep.”
“And you told him…”
“I’d consider it.”
She shook her head.
“You know,” she said. “My biggest fear since moving to Brooklyn was that one of the A/C units hanging out of the apartment windows I pass would just come loose and fall right on my head. But I had no idea it would actually be you that it happened to.”
“What?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Well,” she said, “that’s the only reason I can think of why you would’ve said something like you did, that you got hit on the head and got all the sense knocked out of you.”
I reached across the table and gave her arm a playful slap.
“You think I’m being stupid or something?”
“I think you’re being very, very unlike the Callie Sullivan I’ve come to know and love, the girl who would do anything for a story.”
“See,” I said. “This is what I’m talking about—this all feels like I’m banging him for info or something.”
“But you’re not doing that,” she said. “You’re not sleeping with a guy for info, you’re getting info from a guy that you happen to be sleeping with.”
“Ah,” I said. “A very subtle and important distinction that I’m sure will be taken into consideration should Danvers find out about any of this.”
“I mean, it looks bad, but it’s not like you don’t know the truth of what’s going on.”
“It just all feels strange,” I said. “And besides, I’m not sleeping with him—I slept with him.”