Fireworks

by Sarina Bowen

  “Benito?” I can’t even believe my ears.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’d leave Vermont for me?” That doesn’t even make sense.

  He props himself up on an elbow. “Baby, I would. It wouldn’t be the best career move, but I wouldn’t even hesitate. Career isn’t everything.”

  I’m speechless.

  His phone is not, though. It chirps on the bedside table with a new message. “Hold that thought,” he says. “Or hit the shower? I know you need a few hours to get ready.” He pinches my hip.

  “You don’t appreciate my efforts,” I say, sitting up.

  “Oh, honey I do,” he purrs. “But the coffee is waiting and…” His eyes narrow.

  “What?”

  Still frowning, Benito crawls toward me in all his naked glory. “Jeez.” He places a gentle hand over the bruised spot on my collar bone. “God, I hope I didn’t hurt you last night when we were…”

  I cover his hand with mine. “I’m fine, tough guy. Now answer your messages.”

  Rolling away from him, I take myself into the bathroom. Because I do need a nice long time to do my face. He’s just going to have to learn to live with it.

  Forty minutes later we arrive in the coffee shop, but there’s a problem. “Someone is on our sofa,” I grumble as we wait to order.

  Benito chuckles. “Shoulda gotten ready faster, baby. You know I could clean up all the crime in Colebury in the time it takes you to paint that stuff on your face.”

  “Really? Because I think it just took you twelve years to clean up all the crime in Colebury.”

  He makes a disgruntled noise. “All the crime in Norwich, then.”

  “I plan to be on camera today. That takes extra makeup.”

  He gives me a heart-melting smile. “You’ll let me mess up that lipstick later, right?”

  Someone makes a gagging sound, and I realize it’s Zara. “You going to order or just stare at each other like goobers?”

  Whoops! I turn my attention to Zara, who looks exhausted. “Don’t you ever get a day off?”

  “She won’t take one,” says Roddy the hot baker. “Not until Audrey comes back from maternity leave.”

  “But she should,” says Audrey, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen, the baby in a carrier on her chest. “I swear—having a newborn is easier than running a coffee shop.”

  “Can I hold him?” I blurt out. Just seeing those chubby legs dangling from the carrier fills me with the need to give them little squeezes.

  “Sure!” she says. “I’ll bring him over once you sit down.”

  We order our coffee and bagels, and once again Zara tries to prevent Benito from paying.

  “Look,” he says. “Get over yourself. Why are you doing this?”

  “The better question is why are you fighting it? Everyone grumbles when I don’t give ’em free stuff and now you’re grumbling that I want to? Which is it?”

  Ben shakes his head at his sister. “You’ve been weird ever since Skye turned up.”

  “Well.” Zara puts her hands on her hips. “I always thought it was my fault you guys weren’t together. I’m the one who texted you when Gage pulled us over. And now I know it’s even worse. If I’d actually explained to Skye why you weren’t there…” Her eyes get red as she passes us two mugs of coffee.

  “Holy Toledo,” Audrey says. “Nothing makes Zara cry. Where’s my camera?”

  “She’s just tired,” I insist. I really don’t want Zara to feel bad about this. “Let’s all caffeinate so we’re ready for the hearing later. And the press conference. Would it be weird to throw an indictment party? Is that a thing?”

  “Let’s make it a thing,” Audrey says. “Which hors d'oeuvres go best with criminal prosecution?”

  Roddy whips out his phone. “Cop party…” he says as he taps on the screen. “A donut theme! Well done, internet. And don’t forget the handcuffs.”

  I make a noise of irritation, and Benito chokes on his sip of coffee.

  “The handcuffs are too much?” Roddy asks. “Sit down somewhere. I’ll fix your bagels.”

  Benito drops a twenty on the counter. “No backsies.” Then he puts a hand on the small of my back and guides me toward a different couch, because ours is still taken.

  We’re eating terrific bagels with bacon cream cheese when Audrey sits down next to me. “Are you still game to hold him? I could run in back and mix up a batch of biscotti for Zara.”

  “Sure!” I set down my mug. “Let’s snuggle, Gus.”

  Audrey places him in my arms, and he looks up at me with dark blue eyes.

  “Hello!” I say softly. “It’s nice to see you again. Have you been well?”

  He answers by closing his little starfish hand around a lock of my hair, and giving it a tug.

  “He just ate, so he should be cheery. Back in a jif!” Audrey says before sprinting away.

  The sofa depresses beside me as Benito scoots in and looks down at the baby. “He can’t take his eyes off you.”

  “Where else would he look?” I stroke his soft little chubby cheek, and he opens his mouth in surprised pleasure.

  “She's mine, little dude,” Benito teases. “Find your own girl.”

  Now that he mentions it, the way the baby is fingering my hair does seem a little possessive. I hope he's doing that just to put Benito in his place.

  “You like babies, huh?” Benito says, wrapping an arm around me. “I never knew that about you.”

  “Sixteen is a little young to be excited about babies. But I love babies.” Gus gives me a thousand-mile stare with his little blue eyes. He looks sleepy. And if he was unhappy, I’d know. “Babies are very honest. They lay it all out on the table. They tell you exactly how they’re feeling.”

  “Yeah? I can do that. How's this? I can't wait to have babies with you.”

  My body actually jerks a little at this revelation. I’m still not used to this version of Benito—the one who says he loves me and takes me to bed. “Okay, wow. How many are we talking about here?” The truth is that having a baby with Benito is a fantasy so lovely that never once have I allowed myself to consider it.

  “Five is a nice number, don’t you think?”

  I make a choking noise of surprise, which alarms little Gus. His eyes widen and then narrow.

  “It's okay,” I whisper. “This man is full of crazy talk. Five is a very high number. Doesn’t three sound more reasonable?” This whole discussion is blowing my mind. Benito as a daddy? I can't imagine a better father. If he guards a child even half as well as he takes care of me, that will be one lucky kid.

  “It’s not so many,” he says, nuzzling my ear. “We can practice making them right after work.”

  “You need practice?” I tease. But my nipples tighten at the idea.

  “Nope,” he whispers. “Twins run in my family. Just a warning.” He kisses my neck.

  That’s when my phone begins to ring in my bag, and Gus looks around with big blue eyes, as if to ask, Aren’t you going to get that?

  “Benito, could you grab the phone?”

  With a sigh, he gives up on his public display of affection to grab the phone and hand it to me. “The caller says McCracken,” he reports. “Please tell me his name is Phil.”

  “Nope, it's John. There’s nothing funny about this guy. Hello?” I say, answering it.

  “Copeland! The van…” I hear static as the connection cuts in and out. “…Brattleboro. We’ll arrive… press conference. Write my… ready to brief me.”

  “Wait, what? Who’s in Brattleboro?”

  “I’m…” More static. “…cover the drug bust. Goddamn this connection!”

  Maybe my boss is actually in Vermont? Where else would he have such terrible cell service? “You want to cover the story?” I shout, trying to catch up.

  “Hell yes! It’s big…” More static. “The flow of opiates has changed direction.”

  “True. But that’s my story.”

  And then the line
goes dead.

  For a moment I just sit there with my phone to my ear, trying to make sense of that call. Why would McCracken come all the way to Vermont?

  Baby Gus gives my hair a tug and makes a noise of impatience. So I click off my phone.

  “Everything okay?” Benito asks, taking the phone from me.

  “Just the usual bullshizzle. I think my boss just mansplained my own story to me. And he may or may not be on the way to Vermont.”

  “That sounds complicated.” Baby Gus lets out a squawk of agreement.

  “Yeah.”

  “My brother picked up your rental car last night. It’s right outside.” He pecks me on the cheek. “Do you need anything before I run off to work?”

  “No, I suppose not,” I admit. “Will you be at the press conference later?”

  “Yep.” Benito stands up and then lifts the baby out of my arms. “Guess what, little guy? You have to go back to your mama now.” The baby blows some bubbles with his tiny lips, and Benito grins.

  My ovaries dance a little jig at the sight of the two of them.

  “I believe it’s my turn to hold him,” Roddy the hot baker says as he joins us. “Hand him over.”

  As Benito passes Gus to Rod, I glance around the coffee shop. All the women are watching with dreamy little smiles. And I swear there’s estrogen rising around us in a mist. There’s nothing like two hot guys holding a baby.

  “Off to work,” Benito says, offering me a hand. I let him pull me up off the couch. “I’ll look for you at the press conference. I’m off to pick up my dress uniform from the cleaners. And get a haircut.”

  “You have a dress uniform?” I squeak. Now there’s a pleasant image I hadn’t considered before.

  “Yeah,” he says, his eyes amused. “Shiny buttons and everything. I’ll let you peel it off me later.”

  “Oh my.” My lady bits give a little shimmy at this idea. So I don’t even have the urge to step back when Benito leans in, brown eyes full of desire. He closes his eyes at the last second and kisses me right there in the middle of the coffee shop. And it’s such a good kiss that I have to wrap my arms around him and return it.

  Public display of affection doesn’t usually sit well with me. Then again, I’m not usually the one who’s lip-locked to a hot guy in the middle of a coffee shop. The rest of the world recedes as Benito’s lips stroke mine. And then his tongue comes out to play…

  “This is a family establishment,” Zara says from somewhere nearby. “Benny cut it out. Mrs. Blake is fanning herself.”

  I force myself to gentle the kiss, and Benito steps back with a frustrated sigh. “I’ll see you later. We’ll break in more of my furniture.”

  “Stop right there.” Zara hooks an arm through his and tugs him toward the door. “I do not want to hear the details.”

  “Fine. But let’s just say that old deck chair is sturdier than it looks.”

  His sister rolls her eyes. “I already knew that.”

  “Wait.” Benito stops cold. “What?”

  Zara bites her lip. “Never mind. Forget I mentioned it.”

  “That’s my sentimental chair. Don’t tell me you actually…”

  She gives him another shove toward the door. “It was just the once. Go catch some bad guys, would you? Bye!”

  He gives her one more grumpy look. But I get a wave and a smile.

  Then he’s gone, leaving me with nothing but half a bagel and a silly grin on my face.

  “You two are endlessly amusing,” Zara says, picking up Benito’s empty plate. “More coffee?”

  “No thanks. I have to prepare for the press conference.” Whether my boss shows up or not, you couldn’t keep me away from news about Gage going to jail.

  “Good luck out there. Did you know your news piece ran on Green Mountain Public Radio this morning?”

  I pause on my way toward the door. “What? Really?”

  “Yep.” Zara lifts a tray of dirty crockery. “I think the story is going to be big. I loved the part where you asked Misty Carrera what Gage was like as a neighbor.” She chuckles. “I always did like that kid. She said, ‘You know how sometimes when a guy is arrested his neighbors say, I had no idea? Well this isn’t that guy. We all knew he was a criminal.’” She laughs again. “God, this is a good day. My mother is going to erect a statue in your honor. Stop by later and tell me what happens at the press conference, yeah?”

  “Sure,” I agree.

  It will be a good day. I run out to the rental car and climb in.

  Forty-One

  Skylar

  Even the weather is on board for today’s events. The sun is shining down on the steps of the Vermont State Police headquarters as the news trucks roll up one after another.

  Zara was right. This is a big story. When I checked the headlines a minute ago, I found Vermont’s biggest drug seizure on all the national news outlets.

  And? They’re all quoting WBTV news coverage. This has got to be good for my résumé, right? I’ll bet Lane Barker will give me a reference now, even if my own boss won’t.

  I’m waiting when the WBTV van arrives. The door opens and Lane climbs out and inhales deeply. “I love the smell of criminal prosecution in the morning! Did you get some sleep?”

  “Some. You?”

  She shakes her head. “I was up all night making sure my station is on top of the scoop you handed us. You’ve got hero status in our office, now.”

  “It’s true!” Jordy crows as he climbs out behind her. “First the penis and now this! You’re a woman of many talents.”

  I wonder if that penis video will follow me for my whole life. But there’s no time to worry about it now. “Here,” I say to Lane. “I grabbed two copies of the press release.”

  “Ooh! A hand-out,” Jordy says, snatching the paper from Lane. “That’s very formal. Very big city. This case must be huge.”

  “It is!” I crow. “And we got there first.” I always thought I’d be celebrating my first big scoop with my own boss. But life is funny that way.

  “Look, about that.” Lane measures me with her cunning blue eyes. “Thank you for that well-timed call last night, and the excellent on-camera work.”

  Uh-oh. “But?”

  “But I can’t use you for the story this morning. Your station threw a fit. Your boss is a real piece of work.”

  Well, crud.

  “We would love to have you continue to report the story for WBTV. But we can’t feature you while you still work for him. He was very clear about that. That’s the only reason Jordy is here this morning. I would never step on your toes…”

  “No it’s fine,” I say quickly. “I completely understand. You guys have been nothing but great.” It’s true, even if I’m disappointed.

  Jordy is speed-reading the press release while the cameraman positions his tripod.

  I step out of the way while Lane Barker presses a phone to her ear. “Jordy, they want to cut to you in sixty seconds.”

  “No problem,” he says. “I’m ready for the intro.”

  It’s fun to watch people I like do this job. Lane counts down and then points at Jordy, who smiles into the camera. “A crowd has turned out here at the state police headquarters to hear the police commissioner unveil preliminary charges against two drug traffickers arrested last night in the largest drug seizure Vermont has ever seen.

  “The state of Vermont will charge the suspects with the sale of fentanyl, possession of fentanyl, and possession of a regulated drug. But this is only the beginning. Sparks and Gage will likely be brought up on federal charges as well. The recent surge of overdose deaths is likely due to the shift toward pure fentanyl shipped from China through Canada. Stay with us as the commissioner makes his statement. Now, back to Jack on the news desk.”

  “You’re clear,” Lane chirps. “Nice, kid.”

  The cameraman grabs his equipment and moves into position to capture the commissioner’s statement.

  “Skylar!” someone shouts.

&nb
sp; I whip around and see McCracken pushing through the crowd to reach me. He’s sweating through his shirt already, in the usual fashion. “What are you doing here?”

  He makes a noise of irritation. “What do you mean? It’s a big story.”

  “Sure it is. But…” I glance over his shoulder and see Rocco the cameraman lumbering in our direction. “I’ve done a great job of reporting it so far. You could have just sent Rocco if you want the story so badly.”

  He wrinkles up his bulbous nose. “Gimme the press release, sweetheart. I don’t have time to discuss this.”

  He reaches for the copy in my hand, but I jerk it away. “Not so fast. I want this story. I told you I was working on it. I know everything there is to know about it. You don’t get to steamroll me on this.”

  “Christ. We’ll credit you on the web article. But after that stunt you pulled last night? Emily Skye can’t just show up on another station’s newscast. That’s some bullshit right there. Where is the loyalty? And moonlighting is not allowed under your contract.”

  He’s right about that, except for one thing. “They’re not paying me. I was just helping out the station who helped you. Where is the gratitude?”

  “Good point, sister,” Lane says with a cackle.

  McCracken casts an anxious glance toward the podium. The police commissioner will arrive at any moment. “Gimme the damned press release, Skye. Or you’re fired.”

  “You can’t fire me,” I snap. And then I really snap. “Because I quit,” I say, taking a step back. “Find your own copy of the press release. Find someone else to do your job for you.”

  “Not funny,” he snarls, stepping forward and grabbing my wrist in his sweaty hand.

  “Hands off her,” barks a voice that I know and love.

  While I love it when Benito turns up to rescue me, it would be convenient if that weren’t so often necessary. So I yank my wrist away from McCracken to show him that I can hold my own. I tuck the press release behind my back like a petulant child. And then I finally turn to look at Benny.