The Hotshot

by Myra Scott

  But Mick knew me and knew what I was planning. He and I made sure that this event was as self-sufficient as possible before it was showtime. We ran the stage hands through rehearsal after rehearsal, and I personally talked to the band about how things would go. I talked to all the engineers who set up the stage, and I even checked in with all the caterers ahead of time.

  So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when the hour finally came and Mick told me to take the rest of the night off with a big smile I rarely saw from him.

  At first, I was miffed, because I wanted to make sure my event went perfectly. But deep down, I knew I’d have to thank Mick for thinking ahead.

  Before long, a small circle was forming around Casey and I so that we could dance to the beat with nothing and nobody getting in our way. Even in my tailored suit, I had no trouble moving around like a professional. I was good at dancing—that was one thing I wasn’t modest about.

  Casey and I moved around each other like we were made of water and dancing fire. He let himself be led as if we’d been dancing together for years, and somehow, I just knew what to do. Our arms weaved around one another, and I felt his warmth against mine as our feet moved to the rhythm.

  It was rock music—not even my jam, usually. I could appreciate it, but if you had asked me a month ago if I liked the idea of dancing to a local rock band with a guy I’d only met in person once, I would have laughed in your face.

  But Casey was Casey, and that made things very different in all the right ways.

  When the song finally ended, we slowed to a dramatic finish in our dance, beaming at each other. But when the audience started to applaud, I looked around and realized that the band wasn’t the only thing they were clapping for. The circle of onlookers who’d cleared a space for us to dance were looking at us, grinning with smiles on their faces as they cheered and whistled for us.

  Casey went red as a tomato when he realized what was happening, and he looked at me with wide eyes as he laughed in disbelief. Smirking, I put my arm over his shoulder and led him back toward the bar, getting him out of the spotlight for his sake.

  “Oh god, thank you,” he laughed once we were out of the way. “Okay, are you sure you’re not actually a professional dancer?”

  “Maybe in another life,” I said. “How about another drink before the crowds hit the bar?”

  “Sure!”

  We made our way back toward our bartender, but before we could get there, I saw a couple of familiar faces making their way toward me.

  Zane and Diego were arm in arm, and each of them was holding two drinks. I started to try to make way for them, but Zane veered toward me, giving me a meaningful look and smiling broadly.

  “Looks like we’re about to meet a couple of the guys,” I whispered to Casey.

  “Wait, what?” he whispered back, petrified, but I took him by the hand and gave him a gentle squeeze.

  “It’s fine, they’re great—just follow my lead.”

  Zane approached me first with Diego close behind him, and I was surprised when both of them handed us one of their drinks—another tequila rocks for me, and another of the same beer for Casey.

  “Okay, first of all,” Zane started in a mockingly chiding tone, “when were you going to tell me that you can dance like that?”

  I rolled my eyes, grinning. “As soon as I got a talented fireman to be my dance partner, obviously,” I said with a wink. Casey squeezed my hand back, beaming at me.

  Zane laughed and motioned for us to follow them to a standing table, where Gage and Bart were leaning.

  “Second of all,” Zane went on, “I am loving this concert, Luke, you really outdid yourself. And don’t try to tell me this was all Mick’s doing. He warned me ahead of time that you might be modest.”

  “He did an incredible job,” Casey chimed in, and both me and Zane looked surprised at his sudden assertion. “I haven’t been to many concerts, but I love everything about what’s going on here!”

  “And third,” Zane went on as we reached the table, nodding to Casey, “it’s very nice to finally meet you. I’m Zane, and this is my husband Diego. These are Bart and Gage. We’re three of the four owners of the Sentry casino.”

  I watched Casey’s eyes go from politely interested to wide and surprised, and he glanced at me with a starstruck gaze before turning back to them and stammering.

  “Then let me rescue my poor date,” I intervened coolly, wrapping an arm around his hips, “and introduce him—gentlemen, meet Casey. He’s a firefighter from just outside Vegas.”

  “A firefighter?” Bart spoke up. “Hell yeah, about time we got some more muscle around here!”

  Casey grinned bashfully, and I nodded to Bart, speaking to Casey. “Bart’s our head of security here. I think you two will get along.”

  “Just don’t expect me to go knocking heads together,” Casey joked, and Bart chuckled.

  “We’ll see about that, the night’s young,” he grunted.

  “He’s kidding,” I said quickly to Casey, and the whole group laughed.

  A sixth man pushed his way over to the table, and I felt my back stiffen the moment I recognized him. Bryce was making his way over to us with a drink in his own hand, a fake smile on his face.

  “Hey hey, everyone,” he said, pushing past Casey to lean against the table. “Got enough drinks in you to drown out the music?”

  “Actually,” Casey said, innocently jumping into the conversation, “I love these guys! Their newer work is a lot better than the first album, but—”

  “Excuse me, who are you?” Bryce asked, raising an eyebrow at Casey and glancing between us as if we were intruders on the scene.

  “Bryce, this is my date, Casey. Casey, Bryce,” I said, firing back as much of a cold, fake smile as Bryce dished out to me.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize we were allowing plus-ones for this,” Bryce said in the kind of half-laughing tone that presented itself as a joke but was meant as a minor insult.

  “I sent out the memo,” I chimed, unfazed by him. “But I know it can be hard to find a date with schedules like yours.”

  His smile flickered. The other guys were glancing at each other with raised eyebrows, and I decided it was best to change the subject.

  “Anyway, where’s Mick?”

  “Running things behind the scenes, as usual,” Zane said with a grateful smile. “And no, I’m not telling you where.”

  “Best to leave the technical parts to the technical people, right?” Bryce interjected with a smirk, and I shot a glare at him, getting annoyed.

  “Mick and I have been working rather closely on this one,” I shot back, proud. “I thought he might have filled you in on our arrangement, but I can imagine he saw it as a need-to-know basis.”

  Instead of waiting to see the look on Bryce’s face, I finished the rest of my tequila and beamed at Zane and Diego as Bryce turned to start making small talk with Bart and Gage.

  “I think I’m gonna take this guy for another round before the next song starts,” I said, and Zane gave me a bright smile and a nod.

  “Don’t get crushed. The crowds are getting hyped,” Zane said before turning to Casey. “And hey, nice to meet you. Thanks for your service.”

  “We do our best,” Casey said modestly before I led him away, giving Zane and Diego one last wave before we started making our way through the crowds.

  “Holy shit, what was that about?” Casey asked me once we were out of earshot. “Did you steal that guy’s lunch money in grade school or something?”

  “Bryce? He’s just a dick,” I replied, chuckling at the mental image. “He’s jealous of how well I’ve been climbing the corporate ladder, if you can even call it that here. We don’t have much of an office culture at the Sentry, but Bryce is doing everything he can to pretend like it’s there. I think he’s just upset he didn’t have the idea fo
r this concert.”

  “Yikes,” Casey said.

  “Yikes is right,” I agreed, and as we neared the bar, I steered Casey away, moving him toward the edge of the room. The edges all had high fencing surrounding them for safety purposes, and when I led Casey to a spot near a large planter that held some of the hedging that gave the borders a more organic feel, we had semi-privacy.

  “Uh, taking a detour?” Casey asked as I cornered him against the planter and sat him down with me.

  “Just for a little bit,” I said and set my empty glass down beside me and turned to Casey, smiling. “I just wanted to take a second to get you away from everything and say thanks for coming out here.”

  Casey blinked a few times then blushed when he realized what I was saying. “Oh, come on, it’s not—”

  “I consider it a big deal, coming from you,” I said with a confident smile. “I know what it’s like being out of your element, and you didn’t have to say yes to tonight. That means something to me.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I leaned in and kissed Casey, wrapping my hand around the back of his head and feeling him sigh softly into my lips. It was a wonderful feeling that filled my chest and made me feel whole, and Casey was melting into it with just as much enthusiasm.

  Soon, we were lost in each other, kissing as if we were the only people in the world while the next song started up. The sounds of the guitar ripped through the air, and I remembered something and broke away from the kiss.

  “What’s the matter?” Casey asked, looking adorably flustered and confused at once with a sloppy grin.

  “Ok, so there are going to be some pyrotechnics in this song,” I said. “Do you want to get closer and see it better?”

  “Because I totally don’t get to see fire all the time,” he teased, rolling his eyes.

  “Oh, fine,” I said. “Shall we go actually get another round of drinks, then?”

  “I’ll get them,” Casey offered brightly.

  I raised an eyebrow. “What, trying to ditch me already?” I retorted.

  “On the contrary, I want you to hold this spot,” he said with a wink. “So we can get back to where we were a second ago.”

  I found myself grinning as he turned and headed for the bar. God, I was a mess, but this was fun. Real, uninhibited fun.

  I turned to watch the show while I waited for Casey, and I was happy to see that the crowd was loving the show. The band was into it; spirits were up; alcohol was flowing; and the sky was gorgeous tonight.

  Then a spark flared up from inside the machines used to spew fire up into the air. The next second, I watched plumes of fire blow out from all of them in front of the stage.

  My face went pale.

  The columns of fire that gushed out were much, much larger than what we talked about in our meeting, and I heard a few scattered screams from the crowd in surprise.

  It was when I saw the look on the singer’s face that I realized something was very, very wrong.

  The next moment, one of the fire machines exploded with a loud pop, and the fires shot up again. This time, I watched one of the speakers catch fire up above, and I was on my feet.

  “No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” I murmured as I rushed forward toward the stage.

  The next second, I was swimming upstream in a tide of people who started scattering. This wasn’t a dream. It was real.

  A fire had started in the casino.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - CASEY

  I was standing at the bar when I heard an extraordinarily loud WHOOSH from the opposite end of the event room, toward the stage. I set down my beer and immediately swiveled around, my heart racing. That whoosh was a familiar sound. A painfully familiar one. And it was followed by equally horrific sounds: the screams and shouts of terrified concertgoers.

  There was a rush of gray smoke billowing across the room. I hastily clambered up onto a bar stool to get a better view over the heads of the crowd and saw a bright orange glow. The music had come to an abrupt stop. The microphones squealed discordantly with feedback, and the speakers let out a series of ear-piercing buzzing sounds that made the floors tremble.

  A wave of sudden heat radiated from the stage and across the room, reaching me and nearly knocking me off my bar stool. My pulse quickened. The noise in my head grew to a flat, deafening roar, and my instincts set in. I glanced around the room, squinting. I had to find the exits. I could make out the glowing EXIT signs in two places along the far wall to my right. From my place on the bar stool, I cupped my hands around my mouth and bellowed over the raucous din of frightened people.

  “Attention, everyone! Please remain calm and make your way toward the two exits on the far wall. Move in an orderly fashion. Do not push or shove your neighbors. Move quickly and keep moving. Do not hold up the line for any reason. Move, people, move!” I shouted. The bartenders behind me had climbed over the counter to help shepherd people away from the stage and toward the exits. Meanwhile, there was something more pressing that I needed to tend to.

  Luke. I didn’t see him.

  The last I knew, he was still up near the stage. Near the source of the fire.

  “Fuck,” I murmured. I jumped off of the bar stool and went pushing through the crowds, ignoring my own advice in my desperation to find the man I adored. I could not let this happen. Not here. Not now. I refused to leave this place without him.

  Moments later there was another powerful cracking sound, and a bright flash of sparks and flame, followed by the screams of the crowd. They were no longer moving in an orderly fashion. Terror had taken control of the room, and now the crowds were rushing to the doors like lemmings off a cliff, blindly shoving their way through with no regard for anyone else.

  I couldn’t expect any more from them than that. Normal people were not equipped to cope with this kind of primal terror. They went into fight-or-flight mode instantly, and no amount of cajoling or comforting from me would change that. Besides, as much as I wanted these people to survive, to be okay in the end, I was most worried about Luke. I had to find him. It was the singular thought thrumming like a steady beat in my mind. Find Luke. Help him. Save him.

  As I shoved my way through the screaming throngs of people, I yanked out my cell phone and hammered out 9-1-1. I pressed the phone to my ear, barely able to even hear the dial tone over the din. Finally, I was able to make out the soft voice of the operator and I shouted into the receiver, “Fire at the Sentry Casino! Send everyone! We may have injured people, and the fire is spreading. Hurry the hell up! Now!” Without even waiting to try and hear what the operator had to say, I quickly hung up and then dialed another number: Chief Reyes’s direct office line.

  He answered immediately and asked in his usual jovial tone, “What’s the occasion, Casey? Getting cold feet about coming back to work tomorrow?”

  “Chief!” I yelled into the phone.

  “Where the hell are you, boy?” he demanded, the tone of my voice and the roar of the crowd dawning on him. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m at the Sentry Casino in the city, Chief. There’s a fire! People are hurt, and it’s getting worse. I think something malfunctioned with the pyrotechnics on the stage!” I explained. The receiver all but pressed to my lips as I shouted.

  “Jesus, Casey! Did you call 9-1-1?”

  “Of course, I did! But send our boys, too! Send everybody you can spare! This is bad,” I told him honestly. I hoped he couldn’t hear how frantic I sounded. Normally I was so under control, so calm in this kind of emergency. But this time, it was personal. These weren’t just strangers I had to save—Luke was in here somewhere. Possibly hurt.

  “I’m on it. Hang in there, Casey. Do me proud, boy,” Chief said and hung up with a click.

  I jammed the phone into my pocket and resumed my search. The crowds were dissipating now, the room clearing out slowly as the people hurried out
into the hall. I was sure they were going to break the elevator trying to cram themselves in. But right now, I didn’t care about that. I wasn’t on duty. I was on a fucking date and I was not about to lose him. Not like this.

  I was pushing my way through the crowd, fighting the urge to just shove people in my haste. I could see the stage now, the decorations and the curtains engulfed in bright raging flames. The band was rushing off the stage, abandoning their instruments and disentangling themselves from the cords and wires that had collapsed onto them. They all seemed to be upright and mobile except for the bassist, who looked to have been knocked out cold by a falling amp. I knew I needed to help them escape. But then the other three band members ran over and picked up the bassist, who was limp as a sack of potatoes. They leaped off the stage and ran along with the crowd, the bassist slung over the drummer’s shoulders.

  Now that the crowd was thinning, I started to look down toward the floor, searching for anyone who had been knocked down or had fainted from smoke inhalation or plain old fear. Surely there were people present with heart conditions. Breathing problems. Health issues that would make them the most vulnerable in this catastrophe. Luke seemed to be so healthy, but I knew better than most people that even the strongest and toughest among us were no match for an inferno like this one.

  The fire alarms were wailing, the room being sprinkled with water that was no match for the arching flames. I pushed on, my heart sinking lower and lower with every passing moment. Luke had to be here somewhere. He could not have just disappeared. The fire was rushing down the stage now, swallowing up the spots where the band members had stood mere minutes ago. They were lucky to have gotten out as fast as they did, and I hoped they would make it out of the room with the rest of the crowd. Meanwhile, I pressed on, even as the smoke grew thicker and darker. The sparks shot into the ceiling, no doubt igniting the insulation inside, feeding the fire. The air was getting choked with dark ash, and I covered my head as I bent closer to the floor, creeping along with my mission solidly in mind.