Strike (The Beat and The Pulse #10)

by Amity Cross

  “I always believed work drinks were a bad idea,” I retorted. “There are some people in this world you should never see drunk. Your boss is one of them.”

  “You have a point.” She laughed and shook her head.

  My mood had only soured the closer the tram had carried me home. I’d thought over every little detail from my night with Mark and couldn’t find the point where it had gone so wrong. His default response to most of my questions had been nothing special. Had it been doomed from the start?

  “You look like you need a drink,” Macy said as I sat in the closest chair before I fell on my ass. “I’m making you a cocktail.”

  “I’ve already had, like, three gin and tonics,” I said, slouching against the table and resting my head on my arms.

  “I could do with one anyway, and you can just sip it if you want.”

  Tinkering around in the kitchen, she opened and closed cupboards, gathering ingredients. Retrieving some ice from the freezer, she dumped it into the blender and slapped her hand against the lid. Then she twisted the dial, and the little room was filled with the loud and obnoxious sound of ice being crushed. I watched the little appliance struggle with the cubes, but as they broke down, it began to whirr happily.

  “Now,” Macy said as she turned the blender off and began mixing something bright red. “Tell me about the guy. Did he show?”

  “It was awkward as hell,” I said with a moan. “I felt like a stop on the way to somewhere more important.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Macy said, handing me a glass. “The guy pulled you out of a burning building.”

  “And I bullied him into contacting me.”

  “To be fair, you didn’t expect your post to go viral the way it did.”

  I sipped at the drink, which was some fruity concoction with a heavy tang of vodka. When I posted that message, I wasn’t exactly in a coherent state of mind. I’d just woken from a bad dream, my head was all mixed up, and I had to get it off my chest. In hindsight, maybe I should’ve set the privacy to private and deleted it in the morning, but then I wouldn’t have found him at all.

  “He was so evasive, Mace,” I said, staring at my drink. “He was half an hour late, and when I asked him about it, he said he almost didn’t come at all.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Okay, it is starting to sound a little jerky.”

  “But when I got annoyed and went to leave, he practically pleaded for me to stay. I don’t get it.”

  Macy sucked in a breath and gave me a look. “Sounds like the boy has problems.”

  I frowned. Maybe he did, and I was a speed bump on the way to smoother waters. I wasn’t arrogant enough to think I was the calm in the eye of the storm he’d been looking for. That was a scene out of a movie, not real life.

  “His name is Mark… He is so good looking,” I went on. “Muscled, rugged, an ass to die for… When he pulled me out of that fire, I felt something, and it had nothing to do with his cock. Maybe I was dreaming, but I thought he’d felt it too, but looking at him tonight…” I trailed off, not wanting to say the words aloud. If I said them, then they would be real, and I would still be as lonely as I’d always been. Then I would throw myself into the repairs to the shop so I didn’t have time to think about how awful my heart felt beating just for itself.

  Macy snorted, and I glanced up at her. “Callie, one day, you’re going to see what everyone else does, and what a glorious day that’ll be.”

  “See what?” I stared at her, wondering if it was the alcohol talking.

  “You’re really beautiful, you know. In your own way.”

  “Is that code for something?” I asked with a scowl.

  “No, it means exactly that. There’s only one Callie, and she’s pretty hot.”

  “I’m fat.”

  “No, you’re not!” Macy exclaimed. “You’re normal. There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, you have skin to die for, Callie Winslow. You’re like a fucking porcelain doll, you bitch.” She grinned and lifted her glass. “The grass is always greener, right?”

  Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “Right.” I clinked my glass against hers, and we drank.

  “So how did it end?”

  “As awkwardly as it began,” I replied. “I asked him if he wanted to go out again, and he hesitated. He said he had somewhere else to be. Who has somewhere else to be at ten p.m. on a Friday night that doesn’t involve a prettier woman?”

  “Callie,” Macy scolded.

  “I know, I know,” I said, waving a hand at her. “Almost burned alive on Tuesday, only to have my heart snapped on Friday.”

  “It doesn’t mean he was going to see someone else,” Macy countered. “Do you want to see him again? Did you get the vibe he might be interested?”

  “I’m so confused.” I thumped my forehead onto the tabletop. “Everything’s chaotic, and I can’t handle it. I don’t want a broken heart on top of my burned-out shop.”

  “If you want to see him again, just ask.” She said it like it was the easiest thing in the world.

  I slapped my hands over my face and moaned dramatically. “What if he says no?”

  “Then he says no. But he might say yes, too. Agonizing over it won’t help, so it’s better to put it out there than stew over it.”

  “You’re so wise.”

  “You’re so drunk,” she said with a giggle. “Completely blotto.”

  “Uh, I need to pee really bad,” I said, starting to laugh.

  “Then go pee, and get yourself into bed, girl.” I didn’t move, my smile fading, and she added, “Don’t worry about Mark tonight. Things will look clearer in the morning.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I know so.”

  Dragging myself into the bathroom, I hoped she was right.

  I was too chicken to send Mark a message after that. When Monday dawned and reality knocked, I pushed the awkward encounter to the back of my mind and rode the tram to the city.

  Standing in the charred shell of The Fitzroy Cake Company, I listened to the contractor the insurance company had sent me to meet as he went over the game plan for the repairs. He’d given me his card and introduced himself as Ray Easton. Fifteen years in the business, impeccable safety record, and completely certified and vetted by my insurer.

  “When can you start?” I asked. “I’m keen to let my customers know when they can expect the shop to open to the public.”

  “We’re still waiting on the verdict on the wiring, but I don’t think it’ll take longer than a day or two. Once that was cleared, I can get my guys in straight away.”

  “Sounds great.” I glanced at the kitchen, my gaze not quite reaching the storeroom.

  “Don’t worry,” he added. “We’ll have this place looking a million bucks in no time. You won’t even know any of this was here once my guys are done with it. You’re getting the full treatment.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Easton.”

  “Oh, please call me Ray.” He held out his hand.

  “Ray.” I smiled and shook his hand before he gathered his giant planner that was dog-eared, tired, and full of loose papers and Post-it notes.

  “Thanks, Callie. I’ll be in touch.”

  He left the door open, and I stood in the strange half-light, staring at the destruction the fire had wrought on my little dream. They were going to gut the entire place and fix the plasterboard, the wiring, everything. There was even a painter thrown into the deal. Thank God.

  My insurance covered my ovens, shop fittings, and stock, and thankfully, the landlord had adequate cover for the structural damage. It would all work out in a couple of weeks, but in the meantime, it was just a big pain in my ass.

  Knocking at the door pulled my attention, and I turned.

  “Callie?”

  I saw the backlit outline of a male figure, and my heart leapt. He’d come back.

  He stepped inside. “I was hoping I would find you here.”

  Sq
uinting, I immediately realized my mistake, and disappointment threatened to overwhelm me.

  “Justin the firefighter,” I said. I’d forgotten all about the guy and his innocent flirting, but it seemed he hadn’t forgotten about me.

  “Expecting someone else?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. He was wearing his navy blue uniform, the emblem for the Metropolitan Fire Brigade printed over his left pec.

  “No, I, uh… I was just here with the contractor,” I replied. “I was just about to leave.”

  “So I caught you just in time.” He grinned, looking like the cat that got the cream.

  My fingers tightened around the handle of my bag. I wish you were Mark. The thought alarmed me, and I scolded myself internally for being such a dismissive bitch. At least Justin was interested. That was a plus, I suppose.

  “I just wanted to see how things were going,” he said when I didn’t answer. “I was on my way past and saw the door was open.”

  “I’m okay,” I replied with a shrug. “The insurance is covering everything, so it’ll get fixed. It’s just… It’s a pain in my ass.”

  “Yeah, it takes time, but it’s good that everything is covered.” He stepped closer, forcing me to turn to the side away from the door. “And you’re okay. That’s the main thing.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I stood there awkwardly, my cheeks a healthy shade of red. He was well put together, had a fantastic job, and was completely interested in me. He was handsome, sweet, and everything was perfect on the surface, but… I didn’t really feel anything when I looked at him. My heart didn’t flutter, my pulse didn’t race, and my lady bits didn’t tingle. Not even a little.

  “I’m on my lunch break,” he said after a moment. “Do you want to…”

  “Oh, I have another appointment I have to get to in the city,” I said lamely. “I’m sorry…”

  “Sure, that’s okay.” He looked disappointed, and I began to feel guilty for brushing him off. “I figured it was a long shot.”

  “Sorry.” I shrugged.

  He backed away, smiling, and turned. Man, I felt rotten. Was I making the wrong decision here?

  On the one hand, Mark was handsome and alluring, but was it the mystery I was attracted to or something else? On the other hand, Justin seemed like a genuine, well-adjusted guy and could turn out to be perfect for a girl like me. Was I letting him go too soon?

  After years of zero prospects, now I had two men orbiting my heart. I was so confused.

  “Hey, Justin?” I called out.

  He paused at the door and glanced back.

  “Thanks for checking on me. I really appreciate it.”

  His lips curved into a cheeky smile. “Anytime.”

  10

  Storm

  Thanks to Hamish, my face was a mess. I knew I was getting a range of interesting looks from people, but I generally didn’t make eye contact. Anyway, who cared?

  Walking down Brunswick Street, I pulled my sunglasses from the neck of my T-shirt and slipped them on. The judgmental staring was beginning to bother me, and when I got bothered, I was a handful to deal with.

  Across the street, I saw Callie’s shop and stopped in my tracks. Staring at the boarded-up windows, my breath caught as the door opened, and a man walked out. It was some old dude with a book of some kind under his arm and a pencil behind his ear. Must be her builder. Things were happening to get her back on track to open. Good.

  Realizing I was starting to linger like a stalker, I hissed. What the hell was I doing?

  Turning, I studied the window display of the store behind me. Books and comics were lined up in a colorful array, but I wasn’t really looking at them. The reflection offered me a distorted view of the unconscious reason I’d been walking this way.

  Despite knowing I wasn’t any good for Callie, I still wanted to see her. What was that saying? A glutton for punishment? That was me.

  If the builder was hanging around, then there was a chance she would still be inside, but I would have to be quick. The door was still open, signaling someone was still there. Hastily, I made a rash decision.

  Turning, I dodged some pedestrians, weaved through parked cars, and legged it across the road. Reaching the other side, I approached the shop and peered into the charred interior. My heart was beating fast like I’d been running on the treadmill for an hour. Why was it doing that?

  My lips parted when I caught sight of Callie standing inside, but any positive emotions I had faded away instantly. She wasn’t alone.

  She was talking to a man—I didn’t hear what they were saying—and her cheeks were flushed, and she had that awkward thing going on. The same awkward thing she’d had last night. Pink cheeks, averted gaze, stilted speech. She was into him.

  Studying the guy closer, I realized it was the firefighter I’d handed her to on the night of the fire. Fuck, he worked fast.

  He looked different out of his full kit, but I could still pick his face out of a lineup. It was one of the many skills I’d learned fighting at The Underground. You had to know who was who in case you fell afoul of the wrong crowd. That and it was best to know your opponent before you got into the cage. It made beating them a hell of a lot easier.

  Narrowing my eyes, I turned away. Staring at the traffic crawling along the street, I resisted the urge to curse at the top of my lungs. There was no competition. At all. Jealousy twisted my heart, and I almost snapped.

  Glancing back, I saw the firefighter leave the shop. Knowing Callie was still inside, I could’ve walked in there and hit her for six, but instead, I did what I did best.

  I walked away.

  That night at The Underground, in a spectacular comeback after my beating the day before, I won my fight.

  I pocketed a wad of cash for my efforts, and I rode the high for an hour, but it wasn’t long before I came crashing down again. Money could buy shit, but it didn’t solve any problems. At least not emotional ones. I was still the same guy I was before I’d walked into the cage, win or lose.

  My hair still damp from the shower, I grabbed my jacket out of my locker and fished around for my phone. No point staying here for longer than I had to.

  Checking the time, I was surprised to see a message waiting. Blinking, I stared at the notification and wondered if it was a hallucination brought on by one too many hits to the head.

  * * *

  Callie: Drinks tomorrow?

  * * *

  Drinks tomorrow… Tomorrow? I swallowed hard.

  Even after seeing the firefighter, she was still messaging me. Was she playing us both, or was it more than that? I wouldn’t hold it against her if she were dating more than one guy at a time, I certainly used to have more than one women on the go, but knowing it was me and that douche? It cut. Deep.

  I cursed under my breath and drank in her profile picture. Callie.

  I didn’t know a thing about the guy, but on the surface, he was the complete package. Clean-cut, no prior convictions, stable career, impeccable reputation, do-gooder community hero, and best of all...no scandals waiting to happen. He was the real deal. I was now competing for Callie’s attention, and I’d never had to battle it out before.

  I didn’t know what to do. Keep pushing or pull with everything I had?

  She didn’t know I’d seen him with her today… What could I do with that nugget?

  Ah, fuck it. My heart was too invested to let her go so soon even with the noose already tied around my neck. I wasn’t ready, not when there was a slim chance she might believe my side of the story…if I could grow my balls enough to tell her.

  Unlocking my phone, I opened the app and typed in a response.

  * * *

  Storm R: On a Tuesday?

  * * *

  She replied almost immediately, and I grinned like a moron.

  * * *

  Callie: It’ll be quiet. Unless you have work on Wednesday.

  Storm R: I work unconventional hours.

  Callie: Then you can?


  Storm R: What are you doing now?

  * * *

  There was no reply for a while, and I grimaced. Slipping my phone into my pocket, I slammed my locker shut and went out into the warehouse. Music was blaring, people were screaming for blood as the latest fight played out, and the noise drove me mad.

  Outside, the air was crisp as I sat astride my motorcycle. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from pulling out my phone to check if she’d replied. Was I going home or…?

  * * *

  Callie: I can meet you in half an hour. Does that work?

  Storm R: Yeah. I know a quiet place.

  * * *

  I forwarded her a link with an address. You’re living dangerous, Storm. Were five minutes of bliss worth an eternity of fallout? Thinking about her pretty eyes, pink lips, and forthright attitude, yes, yes it was.

  * * *

  Callie: Looks nice. Half an hour?

  Storm R: I’ll be waiting.

  * * *

  Eleven

  Callie

  * * *

  “I feel like throwing up.”

  Glancing at Macy, I begged her with my eyes to say something reassuring.

  We were currently standing outside the bar I was due to meet Mark at, staring through the window like a pair of perverts. There were so many things wrong with this picture.

  When I finally got a response from the mysterious Storm R—after an hour of stewing in my own juices—I was surprised when he’d suggested meeting tonight. I was flabbergasted, actually. I’d needed time to mentally prepare my battle plan, but Macy had not so subtly pushed me into dropping everything.

  That and she wanted to come and see what all the fuss was about.